CHAPTER VI.
IN WHICH MISS ARMINSTER PROPOSES TO MARRY AGAIN.
Cecil and Miss Matilda breakfasted alone the next morning. This was notby intention, but by fate. Violet and the Bishop, for obvious reasons,kept their respective rooms. Mrs. Mackintosh had felt it her duty tobreakfast with, and comfort, her friend in distress, likewise to receivean early account of the doings of the day before; while Smith andSpotts, hearing that the fugitives had returned, took an early breakfastand adjourned to the neighboring golf-links. Cecil, however, who sleptwell, came down at the usual hour, quite unconscious of what wasimpending, and calmly walked into the trap.
After the ancient butler had passed the tea and toast, and thenwithdrawn, as was his wont, leaving them to carve out their ownsalvation, Miss Matilda lost no time in opening up the contest. She hadbeen at swords' points with her nephew ever since the evening before, asa result of his stoutly maintaining his father's innocence, and themanner in which she reported her midnight meeting would have made evenMarchmont envious.
"And now of course he'll have to marry her," she wound up her recital.
"Good heavens! I hope not!" ejaculated Cecil.
"I'm glad," remarked his aunt stiffly, "that we've at least one point ofagreement."
"Oh, we are quite agreed on that," he returned. "It would never do atall; in fact it's quite impossible."
"You know, then?" she demanded.
"Know what?" he asked cautiously.
"That she's been married dozens of times already."
"I don't think I can subscribe to more than half a dozen. But MissArminster certainly does seem to have a fondness for that sort ofthing."
"And in the face of such scandalous proceedings do you consider her afit person to marry your poor misguided father?"
"I've told you I don't approve," he said, and added: "How did you cometo know about Miss Arminster's marriages?"
"Mr. Marchmont told me."
"Confound him!"
"Cecil! Mr. Marchmont's a gentleman."
"He's a mischief-maker of the first water."
"Do not let us waste time in discussing his character. The importantquestion is, what are we to do about your father's marriage?"
"Stop it."
"But how?" she asked. "Shall I speak?"
"No, no; leave it to me," he said. "I'll undertake to settle the matter.If you saw the Bishop, you'd only irritate him."
"He told me to go to bed, last night, after that woman had insulted me."
"Insulted you? I thought you told me she'd nothing to say for herself."
"Her presence was an insult, and one of us leaves this house to-day,"replied his aunt, and swept out of the room.
Cecil gulped down his tea, and, ringing the bell, sent an urgent messageto Miss Arminster, requesting a meeting in his aunt's boudoir, which,considering the purpose of the interview, he was sure Miss Matilda wouldnot object to put at her disposal.
Violet received him in about twenty minutes, apologising for hercharming tea-gown, on the ground of being somewhat seedy.
"Our supper last night was rather extraordinary, you know," she said.
"I've only heard one version," he replied.
"Miss Matilda's?" she asked, laughing.
He nodded.
"I fancy it was lurid enough," she went on; "but your good father's outof leading-strings this time, and no mistake."
"Tell me all about it," he said. "I'm most anxious to know."
"Of course you are," she returned. "So here goes."
Banborough enjoyed the recital immensely, and laughed immoderately atcertain passages.
"So the governor knows all about our adventures?" he said, when she hadfinished. "Did he seem much upset?"
"Only about not recognising you when you blacked his eye under the bar."
"What a good old chap he is! Just think of his coming all that way tohunt me up! I wish he could have some fun out of life."
"We must try and help him to do so," she said.
"Yes," he replied, suddenly recollecting the object of his mission."It's just that that I've come about. You see he's awfullyconscientious, and when he's thought things over a bit, helped by myaunt's amiable suggestions, he'll come to the conclusion that he oughtto marry you, you know--and so--well, he'll try to do it," he endedlamely, hoping she would see the point without further elucidation onhis part.
She was quick to take him up.
"And you don't think that's just the best way for him to have a goodtime? Sour grapes--eh, my son?"
"No, no; only he's certain to propose to you."
"Supposing he has done so?"
"Well--did you accept him?"
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I don't quite see how you could--under the circumstances."
"Oh, he'd only had two bottles of champagne," she said, purposelymisunderstanding him from pure joy of seeing him flounder.
"I didn't mean that," he went on. "But, anyway, his consciencewill reassert itself, and he'll probably propose again thismorning--ponderously."
"And you're afraid I might accept?"
"I'm sure you'd make a most charming step-mamma," he replied, "only--"
"Only what?"
"Only the--the others might object, mightn't they?"
"The others?"
"All the men you've married," he blurted out, "if you will have it."
"I see," she said meditatively. "And you don't want to run the 'dearBishop' in for another scandal."
"Of course, if you choose to put it that way--"
"It's the way you'd put it if you only had the pluck," she retorted.
"Are you awfully angry with me?" he asked, looking at her.
"Not a bit," she replied. "From your point of view it's quitejustifiable, I suppose, and I'm only considering the best way out of thedilemma."
"Are there several?"
"There's only one that I care to choose."
"And that is?"
"I shall marry again."
"Good heavens! not--!"
"Not your father, no; some one else."
"But surely--!"
"You see," she continued calmly, ignoring his interruption, "if I marrysome one at once your father can't have any feeling of--shall we sayresponsibility? And it'll not be necessary for me to go into what MissMatilda would call 'my shameful past.'"
"But I really couldn't allow--"
"Oh, I'm not going to marry you either, so you needn't be alarmed. Can'tyou make some suggestions to help me out?"
"I am afraid you must excuse me," he said, fast becoming scandalised ather matter-of-fact way of approaching the subject.
"Well, of course," she went on thoughtfully, "there are all yourfather's chaplains, but they're young, and prone to take thingsseriously. No, I don't think they'd do. And there's the butler. No, hewouldn't answer, either."
"Perhaps Miss Matilda would lend you Professor Smith."
"No," she said, "I don't think I'd have the heart to deprive her of him.On the whole, I think I'll marry Mr. Spotts. He's nice--and handy."
"But mightn't he have something to say?" began Banborough.
"Probably," admitted Violet; "but he generally does what he's told, andas he isn't married to any one else, I dare say he'll prove amenablewhen he understands the position. I'll try and see him this morning,and," as a brilliant idea struck her, "your father shall perform theceremony. I never was married by a Bishop before. Won't it be jolly!"
"You surely can't seriously intend--" began Cecil.
"Yes, I do. Now don't be stupid, but run along and let me finish mytoilet." And she ran out of the room.
Banborough walked away in a maze. He had thought to straighten mattersout, and he had only got them into a far worse tangle. That MissArminster had no conscientious scruples about adding another husband toher quota was bad enough, but that his innocent, unsuspecting fathershould be allowed to disgrace his cloth by solemnising such a marriagewas really more than he could stand. In his
righteous wrath hedetermined that the Bishop should know the whole truth, soothing hisconscience by the thought that if he did not tell him, Miss Matildawould.
In the hall of the palace, however, he ran across Spotts, laden with theimplements of golf, and all unconscious of his impending fate.
"Look here, old man," said Cecil, "I want to have five minutes' chatwith you."
"I am quite at your service," replied his friend. "In fact I was justcoming to look you up myself. Now that the war's over, I must really bethinking of going away, as I've imposed long enough already on yourhospitality."
"Oh, it isn't about that I want to see you," said Banborough. "It'sabout your getting married."
"My getting married?" queried Spotts.
"Yes. It seems there's a lady who has matrimonial designs on you. Ithought it was only the part of a friend to warn you in due season."
"If it's your aunt," returned the actor, "I'm very much obliged. I thinkI could manage to get packed up and leave by the afternoon train."
"No, no; it isn't so bad as that," said his host. "Or, rather, it'sworse. Miss Arminster has you under consideration."
"As a husband?"
"Yes. I think she means to marry you to-morrow or next day, and have myfather perform the ceremony."
"Oh, I see. And you've some feeling about it."
"Well, yes," admitted Cecil, "I'm afraid I have."
"I suppose you'd like to take my place?"
"No, it isn't that either. Yon don't seem to see the point. MissArminster wants to marry _you_."
"Well, isn't that a question between Miss Arminster and myself?"
"Naturally. But then she's married pretty frequently, hasn't she? Ofcourse, if all her husbands are dead--"
"Oh, no," said Spotts. "I don't think she's ever lost a husband."
"But you surely can't contemplate--" began Cecil.
"Well, you see," contended the actor, "this is the first time she's everasked me to marry her, and one can't be so ungallant as to refuse alady."
"And you'll really add yourself to her list?"
Spotts shrugged his shoulders.
"My dear fellow," he said, "I don't want to appear rude, but thisinterference in my prospective matrimonial affairs seems to meill-timed. Miss Arminster hasn't as yet proposed to me, and if she does,I'll probably consent to oblige her. Anyway, it's doing you a favour, asI suppose your father would wish to marry her if I didn't." And turningon his heel, he walked away.
As he ascended the stairs, he met Violet coming down. They were standingon the broad landing, and for the moment were quite alone and out ofearshot.
"I say!" burst out the actor. "Do you know I have just been warnedagainst you by your friend Banborough. A joke's a joke, but this isgoing too far."
"I know, Alvy," she said, "I know, and I'm awfully sorry. But it'salmost over."
"I hope it is," he replied. "I have held an equivocal position formonths, and it isn't pleasant. Why, I've practically seen nothing ofyou."
"It hasn't been pleasant for me either, old man. But, to speak frankly,you know as well as I do that it's been largely a sentimental interestwhich has caused Cecil to get us all out of this scrape. However, if hedoesn't tell his father to-day--and I tried hard enough to force him todo so this morning--I shall."
"Good! Then his Lordship's Leopard will be free," said Spotts. Andpressing her hand, he proceeded on his way upstairs.
In the face of his two interviews, Cecil felt he had no option but torefer the whole matter to the Bishop, whom he found in his study. Hereceived a somewhat grim reception from the old gentleman, to whom asleepless night had afforded ample opportunity for reflecting on thevagaries of his son, to which he, not altogether unjustly, attributedhis adventures of the preceding day.
After formal salutations had been exchanged, the younger man, feelingthat a disagreeable business was the better over, lost no time in comingto the point.
"I don't know that there's anything to be said about the past, father,"he began.
"I should think there was a great deal to be said," returned hisLordship brusquely. "But this is perhaps not the best time to say it.I've been told a very astonishing story by Miss Arminster."
"About the Black Maria and--the Spanish plot?"
"About your wretched novel, sir!"
"Ah, yes. Well, I corroborate it all, word for word. Miss Arminster toldme about it this morning."
"You've seen her, then?"
"Yes. We had a chat concerning a number of things. But, as you suggest,we might reserve the discussion of our joint American experiences tillanother occasion, so I won't mention them beyond apologising to you forhaving blacked your eye under the bar; though of course I could hardlyhave supposed that your ecclesiastical duties would have placed you injust that position."
"Say, rather, the search for an unregenerate son," suggested the Bishop,with a twinkle in his eye which showed him to be in better humour.
"Well, anyway, you gave as good as you got," said Cecil. "My ribs weresore for a week afterwards."
"Ah," replied his Lordship. "I thought I must have landed you one. Ihaven't quite forgotten the athletics of my college days."
"Then we're quits," returned Cecil. "But it was more than good of you tocome out there and look for me. A father who could do all that deservesa somewhat better son than I've been in the past; and in the future--"
"Don't say it, Cecil. I know it." And the Bishop gripped his hand in away that caused the mental and moral atmosphere to clear instantly.
"And now," said his son, "I want to talk about Miss Arminster."
"It's the subject nearest my heart," replied his father.
"I asked her to marry me at Montreal," Cecil remarked simply.
"So I inferred from what she said on the yacht," said his Lordship.
"And you proposed to her yesterday."
"Did she tell you?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Well, the fact is she doesn't want to marry either of us."
The Bishop nodded his head despondently.
"But," continued the younger man, "she contemplates marrying some oneelse."
"Ah," said his Lordship, "I'm heartily glad she proposes to_marry_--after yesterday."
"Quite so, and she means to ask you to perform the ceremony."
"Isn't that rather--"
"Rubbing it in?" suggested Cecil. "So it seemed to me."
"Who is the--er--prospective bride-groom?"
"Spotts."
"He seems a good fellow."
"Yes, but--will you forgive me if I speak frankly? There can't be anyfeeling of jealousy between us; we've both been worsted."
"What do you wish to say?"
"That I'm afraid this marriage must not be permitted. You see, MissArminster isn't quite what she seems."
"If you're going to say anything against that young lady--!" began hisLordship angrily.
"You forget," said his son, "I wanted to marry her."
His father remembered; and remembering, said:
"Proceed."
"Well, I found out, for myself I mean, that Miss Arminster had beenmarried a number of times."
"A number of times!"
"Half a dozen at least. Perhaps more."
"Impossible!"
"She admitted as much to me."
"But surely--!"
"As far as I know, none of her husbands has died."
"In America," began the Bishop, "the divorce laws are lax, andperhaps--"
"Oh, no, I'm sure she hasn't been divorced. I don't think she'd approveof it."
"But then--it means--"
"Yes, that's just the point. And so another marriage with this Mr.Spotts--"
"Must be stopped at all costs!" cried his Lordship, growing very red inthe face with agitation.
"I thought you'd feel so," said his son. "And that's why I ventured--"
At this moment Miss Matilda entered the room.
"What are you talking about, Josephus
?" she demanded, assuming adomination of which she felt by no means sure. "Did I hear you mentionthat hussy's name?"
"I was speaking," said the Bishop, "of _Miss Arminster_. Cecil tells meshe's to marry Mr. Spotts."
"That's impossible," snapped Miss Matilda.
"What do you mean?" asked her brother.
"I mean what I say. While you were shamelessly gallivanting down theChannel, I went over to the little church near the ruined abbey whichyou visited the day you met Mr. Marchmont, and there I found a record ofthe marriage, in 1895, of this _person_ who calls herself _Miss_Arminster, and I say she can't marry Mr. Spotts."
"Why not?"
"Because she's married to him already!"