Rule dipped a quill in the standish. ‘If I were to give you a draft on my bankers for five thousand? Or shall we say ten, as a rounder sum?’
The Viscount was moved to sit up. ‘Five,’ he said firmly. ‘Since you’re making a point of it, I don’t mind settling up to five thousand, but give away ten thousand pounds to a lot of tradesmen I can’t and I won’t do. Damme, flesh and blood won’t stand it!’
He watched Rule’s quill move across the paper, and shook his head. ‘Seems wicked to me,’ he said. ‘I’ve nothing to say against spending money, but blister it, I don’t like to see it thrown away!’ He sighed. ‘You know, I could put it to better use, Rule,’ he suggested.
Rule shook the sand off the paper and handed it to him. ‘But somehow I feel sure you won’t, Pelham,’ he said.
The Viscount cocked an eyebrow intelligently. ‘Like that, is it?’ he said. ‘Oh, very well! But I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.’
Nor did his sisters like it when they heard of it. ‘Given you five thousand pounds to pay your debts?’ cried Charlotte. ‘I never heard of such a thing!’
‘No more did I,’ agreed Pelham. ‘Thought for a moment the man was queer in his head, but he don’t seem to be.’
‘Pel, I do think perhaps you might have waited,’ Elizabeth said rather reproachfully. ‘It seems almost – almost indecent.’
‘And it will all go on gaming,’ said Charlotte.
‘Devil a penny of it, miss, so that’s all you know,’ replied the Viscount without rancour.
‘Why n-not?’ inquired Horatia bluntly. ‘It usually d-does.’
Her brother threw her a look of scorn. ‘Lord, Horry, if a man trusts you with a cool five thousand to pay your debts, there’s no more to be said.’
‘I suppose,’ said Charlotte waspishly, ‘Lord Rule requires to see your accounts.’
‘I’ll tell you what it is, Charlotte,’ the Viscount informed her, ‘if you don’t sweeten that tongue of yours you’ll never get a husband.’
Elizabeth intervened rather hastily. ‘Will it meet them all, Pel?’
‘It’ll keep the blood-suckers quiet for a while,’ replied his lordship. He nodded to Horatia. ‘He’ll make you a devilish good husband, I daresay, but you’d best be careful how you deal with him, Horry!’
‘Oh,’ said Horatia, ‘you don’t understand, P-Pel! We are not going to interfere with each other at all! It is j-just like a French marriage of c-convenience.’
‘I’m not saying it ain’t convenient,’ said the Viscount, glancing at Rule’s draft, ‘but if you take my advice you won’t play your tricks on Rule. I’ve a strong notion you might regret it.’
‘I have felt that too,’ Elizabeth said, an anxious note in her voice.
‘S-stuff!’ pronounced Horatia, unimpressed.
Five
The wedding of the Earl of Rule to Miss Horatia Winwood passed off without any unseemly fracas, such as the arrest of the bride’s brother for debt or a scene created by the bridegroom’s mistress (an event not entirely unexpected by the hopeful), occurring to mar its propriety. The Earl arrived punctually, which surprised everyone, including his harassed secretary; and the bride seemed to be in excellent spirits. Indeed, there were those who considered her spirits too excellent for so solemn an occasion. She was not observed to shed a single tear. However, this lack of sensibility was more than made up for by the demeanour of Lady Winwood. Nothing could have been more proper than that lady’s whole bearing. She was supported by her brother, and wept silently throughout the ceremony. Miss Winwood and Miss Charlotte as bridesmaids looked beautiful and behaved becomingly; Mr Walpole’s sharp eyes took in everything; Lady Louisa Quain bore up very well, but had recourse to her handkerchief when my lord took Horatia’s hand in his; Mr Drelincourt wore a new wig, and a look of saintly resignation; and the Viscount performed his part with careless grace.
It was understood that after a few days spent in the country, the bride and groom were bound for Paris, the choice of destination having been left to the bride. Elizabeth thought it an odd place for a honeymoon, but ‘Pho!’ said Horatia. ‘We are not like you and Edward, w-wanting to make love all d-day long! I want to see things, and go to V-Versailles, and b-buy smarter clothes than Theresa Maulfrey’s!’
This part at least of her programme was faithfully carried out. At the end of six weeks the noble pair returned to London, the bride’s luggage, so it was rumoured, occupying an entire coach.
The nuptials of her youngest-born had proved to be too much for Lady Winwood’s delicate constitution. The varied emotions she had sustained were productive of a fit of the vapours, and the intelligence that her son had signalized his sister’s wedding-day by betting fifty pounds on a race between two geese in Hyde Park set the seal to her collapse. She withdrew with her two remaining daughters (one, alas, so soon to be reft from her) to the fastness of Winwood, and there built up her shattered nervous system on a diet of eggs and cream and paregoric draughts, and the contemplation of the Marriage Settlements.
Charlotte, who had thus early in life perceived the Hollowness of Worldly Pleasures professed herself very well pleased with the arrangement, but Elizabeth, though she would not have dreamed of urging Poor Dear Mama, would have preferred to be in London for Horry’s home-coming. And this in despite of the fact that Mr Heron found it easily compatible with his not very arduous duties to spend a considerable portion of his time at his home, not two miles distant from Winwood.
Of course Horry journeyed into Hampshire to visit them, but she came without the Earl, a circumstance that distressed Elizabeth. She arrived in her own chaise, a high-sprung affair with huge wheels and the most luxurious blue velvet upholstery; was attended by her abigail, two postilions, and a couple of grooms riding behind the chaise. At first glance she seemed to her sisters to have changed out of all recognition.
Evidently the day of demure muslins and chip hats was done, for the vision in the chaise wore a gown of tobine stripes over a large hoop, and the hat perched on top of curls dressed à la capricieuse bore several waving plumes.
‘Good gracious, it cannot be Horry!’ gasped Charlotte, falling back a step.
But it was soon seen that the change in Horatia went no deeper than her clothes. She could hardly wait for the steps of the chaise to be let down before she sprang into Elizabeth’s arms, and she paid not the slightest heed to the crushing of her stiff silk gown or the tilting of that preposterous hat. From Elizabeth she flew to Charlotte, words bubbling off her tongue. Oh, yes, it was the same Horry: no doubt of that.
She stayed one night only at Winwood, which, said Charlotte, was just as well for her Mama, whose state of health was still too precarious to enable her to bear so much chatter and excitement.
Had she enjoyed her honeymoon? Oh, she had had a famous time! Only fancy, she had been to Versailles and spoken with the Queen, and it was perfectly true, the Queen was the most ravishingly beautiful creature and so elegant that she set all the fashions. See, she herself was wearing shoes cheveux à la Reine! Whom else had she met! Why, everyone in the world! Such routs, such soirées, and oh, the fireworks at the Tuileries ball!
It was not until they had retired to bed that Elizabeth had any opportunity for a tête-à-tête. But no sooner did Horatia set eyes on her sister than she sent her maid away, and curled up on the sopha with Elizabeth beside her. ‘I’m so g-glad you came, L-Lizzie,’ she said confidingly. ‘Charlotte disapproves d-dreadfully of me, doesn’t she?’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘I am sure you don’t care a rap for her disapproval, Horry.’
‘Of c-course I don’t. I do so hope you will be m-married very soon, L-Lizzie. You have no n-notion how agreeable it is.’
‘Quite soon now, we hope. But with Mama so poorly I don’t think of it. Are you – are you very happy, dearest?’
Horatia nodded vigorously. ‘Oh, yes! Only that
I can’t help f-feeling sometimes that I stole M-Marcus from you, Lizzie. But you do still prefer Edward, don’t you?’
‘Always,’ Elizabeth answered, laughing. ‘Is it very bad taste in me?’
‘Well, I m-must say I can’t understand it,’ said Horatia candidly. ‘But perhaps it is b-because you aren’t horribly worldly, like m-me. L-Lizzie, even if it is odious of m-me, I must say it is delightful to have just what one wants, and to d-do as one pleases.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Miss Winwood rather doubtfully, ‘I suppose it is.’ She stole a glance at Horatia’s profile. ‘Lord Rule – could not accompany you on this visit?’
‘As a m-matter of fact,’ admitted Horatia, ‘he would have come, only I w-wanted to have you all to m-myself, so he gave up the notion.’
‘I see,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Don’t you think, love, that you should have come together, perhaps?’
‘Oh, no,’ Horatia assured her. ‘He quite understood, you know. I find too that fashionable p-people hardly ever do things together.’
‘Horry dear,’ said Miss Winwood with difficulty, ‘I do not want to sound like Charlotte, but I have heard that when – when their wives are so very fashionable – gentlemen do sometimes look elsewhere for entertainment.’
‘I know,’ said Horatia sapiently. ‘But you see I p-promised I wouldn’t interfere with Rule.’
It was all very disturbing, Elizabeth felt, but she said no more. Horatia returned to town next day, and the Winwoods heard of her thereafter through the medium of the post and the Gazette. Her letters were not very illuminating, but it was apparent that she was enjoying a life full of social engagements.
Elizabeth heard more direct tidings of her from Mr Heron upon the occasion of his next visit into the country.
‘Horry?’ said Mr Heron. ‘Well, yes, I have seen her, but not quite lately, my love. She sent me a card for her drum Tuesday se’nnight. It was a very brilliant affair, but you know I am not in the way of going out a great deal. Still, I did go there,’ he added. ‘Horry was in spirits, I thought.’
‘Happy?’ Elizabeth said anxiously.
‘Oh, certainly! My lord too was all amiability.’
‘Did he seem – could you tell whether he seemed fond of her?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Well,’ said Mr Heron reasonably, ‘you would not expect him to display his affection in public, dearest. He was just as he always is. A little amused, I thought. You see, Horry seems to have become quite the rage.’
‘Oh, dear!’ said Miss Winwood, with deep foreboding. ‘If only she does not do anything shocking!’ A glance at Mr Heron’s face made her cry out: ‘Edward, you have heard something! I beg you will tell me at once!’
Mr Heron made haste to reassure her. ‘No, no, nothing in the world, my love. Merely that Horry seems to have inherited the Fatal Tendency to gamble. But nearly everyone plays nowadays, you know,’ he added soothingly.
Miss Winwood was not soothed, nor did an unexpected visit a week later from Mrs Maulfrey do anything to alleviate her alarms.
Mrs Maulfrey was staying at Basingstoke with her Mama-in-law, and drove over to Winwood to pay a morning call on her cousins. She was far more explicit than had been Mr Heron. She sat in a bergère chair in the saloon, facing Lady Winwood’s couch, and, as Charlotte afterwards remarked, that that afflicted lady did not suffer an immediate relapse was due to her own fortitude rather than to any consideration shown her by her guest.
It was quite obvious that Mrs Maulfrey had not come on any charitable errand. Charlotte, always just, said: ‘Depend upon it, Theresa tried to patronize Horry. You know her encroaching way. And really, I cannot altogether blame Horry for snubbing her, though I hope I am far from excusing Horry’s excesses.’
Horry, it seemed, was becoming the talk of the Town. Lady Winwood, receiving this piece of news, was moved to recall with complacency a day when she herself had been a reigning toast.
‘A Toast!’ said Mrs Maulfrey. ‘Yes, aunt, and I am sure no one need wonder at it, but Horry is not a Beauty, and if she is a Toast, which I never yet heard, it is certainly not on that account.’
‘We ourselves think dear Horry very pretty, Theresa,’ said Miss Winwood gently.
‘Yes, my dear, but you are partial, as indeed I am too. No one is fonder of Horry than I am, and I put her behaviour down to her childishness, I assure you.’
‘We are aware,’ said Charlotte, sitting very straight and stiff in her chair; ‘that Horry is little more than a child, but we should find it hard to believe that the behaviour of a Winwood could be such as to call for that or any other excuse.’
Slightly quelled by that stern gaze, Mrs Maulfrey fidgeted with the strings of her reticule, and said with a light laugh: ‘Oh, certainly, my dear! But I saw with my own eyes Horry strip one of the bracelets off her wrist at Lady Dollabey’s card-party – pearls and diamond chips, my love! the most ravishing thing! – and throw it on to the table as her stake because she had lost all her money. You may imagine the scene: gentlemen are so thoughtless, and of course several must needs encourage her, staking rings and hair-buckles against her bracelet, and such nonsense.’
‘Perhaps it was not very wise of Horry,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But not, I think, such a very great matter.’
‘I am bound to say,’ remarked Charlotte, ‘that I hold gaming in any form in the utmost abhorrence.’
Lady Winwood unexpectedly entered the lists. ‘Gaming has always been a passion with the Winwoods,’ she observed. ‘Your Papa was greatly addicted to every form of it. I myself, when my health permits it, am excessively fond of cards. I remember some very pleasant evenings at Gunnersbury, playing at silver pharaoh with the dear Princess. Mr Walpole too! I wonder that you can talk so, Charlotte: it is quite disloyal to Papa’s memory, let me tell you. Gaming is quite in the mode; I do not disapprove of it. But I must say I cannot approve of the Winwood luck. Do not tell me my little Horatia has inherited that, Theresa! Did she lose the bracelet?’
‘Well, as to that,’ said Mrs Maulfrey reluctantly, ‘it was not staked in the end. Rule came into the card-room.’
Elizabeth looked quickly across at her. ‘Yes?’ she said. ‘He stopped it?’
‘N-no,’ said Mrs Maulfrey, with dissatisfaction. ‘Hardly that. He said in his quiet way that it might be difficult to assess the worth of a trinket, and picked up the bracelet, and put it back on Horry’s wrist, and set a rouleau of guineas down in its place. I did not wait to see any more.’
‘Oh, that was well done of him!’ Elizabeth cried, her cheeks glowing.
‘Certainly one may say that he behaved with dignity and propriety,’ conceded Charlotte. ‘And if that is all you have to tell us of Horry’s behaviour, my dear Theresa, I must confess I feel you have wasted your time.’
‘Pray do not be thinking that I am a mere mischief-maker, Charlotte!’ besought her cousin. ‘And it is not by any means all. I have it on the best of authority that she had the – yes, positively I must call it the audacity – to drive young Dashwood’s gig up St James’s for a bet! Right under the windows of White’s, my dear! Now don’t mistake me: I am sure no one thinks anything but that she’s a madcap child – indeed, I understand she takes extremely, and people think her exploits vastly diverting, but I put it to you, is this conduct befitting the Countess of Rule?’
‘If it befits a Winwood – which, however, I do not maintain,’ said Charlotte with hauteur, ‘it may certainly befit a Drelincourt!’
This crushing rejoinder put Mrs Maulfrey so much out of countenance that she found herself with very little more to say, and presently took her leave of the Winwood ladies. She left behind her a feeling of uneasiness which culminated in a suggestion, put tentatively forward by Elizabeth, that Lady Winwood should think of returning to South Street. Lady Winwood said in a failing voice that no one had the least regard for the frailty of her poor nerves, and if ever goo
d had come of interfering between man and wife she had yet to hear of it.
However, the business was settled in the end by a letter from Mr Heron. Mr Heron had got his Captaincy, and was to go into the West Country in the further execution of his duties. He desired to make Elizabeth his wife without any more delay, and proposed an immediate wedding.
Elizabeth would have liked to be married quietly at Winwood, but her Mama, having no notion of allowing her triumph in getting two daughters respectably married within three months to pass unnoticed, arose tottering from her couch and announced that never should it be said that she had Failed in her Duty towards her loved ones.
The wedding was naturally not so brilliant an affair as Horatia’s, but it passed off very well, and if the bride appeared pale she was allowed to be in great beauty for all that. The bridegroom looked extremely handsome in his regimentals, and the ceremony was graced by the presence of the Earl and Countess of Rule, the Countess wearing for the occasion a gown that made every other lady blink with envy.
Elizabeth, in all the bustle of hurried preparation, had had few opportunites of being private with Horatia, and on the only occasion when she found herself alone with her sister she had realized with a sinking heart that Horatia was on her guard against too intimate a conversation. She could only hope to have more opportunity later in the year, when Horatia promised to come to Bath, which watering-place Captain Heron was to make his headquarters.
Six
Well, if you wish to know what I think,’ said Lady Louisa stringently – ‘though I make not the smallest doubt that you don’t – you’re a fool, Rule!’
The Earl, who was still glancing over some papers brought to him by Mr Gisborne a few moments before his sister’s arrival, said absently: ‘I know. But you must not let it distress you, my dear.’
‘What,’ demanded her ladyship, disregarding this flippancy, ‘are those papers? You need not put yourself to the trouble of telling me. I know the look of a bill, trust me!’