Laxton to talk him into anything.
“Well, Laxton won’t talk me into anything,” promised Ravenscar, and took his leave of her.
When he walked away from the house, it was with the intention of repairing at once to St James’s Square, but before he had reached the end of the street he recalled that Lady Bellingham was holding a card-party that night, and stopped. There could be no opportunity of holding any private conversation with Miss Grantham that night, and what he had to say to her could not be said in public. He was obliged to abandon his plan, and to turn homewards, to possess his soul in what patience he could muster until the following day.
His cousin arrived at the house while he was still at breakfast, and for the next hour he was fully occupied in listening to an account of the runaway marriage, accompanied by a rapturous description of young Lady Mablethorpe’s manifold charms and virtues, the recital of which led him privately to infer that she was a pretty little creature, without much sense, and certainly no strength of character. He thought she would do very well for Adrian. For himself, he preferred women of more spirit.
When Adrian had talked himself out, and all the business of settlements had been discussed, it was nearly noon. Adrian, who seemed to have taken his father and mother-in-law by storm, and to have cowed them into a dazed acceptance of the situation, was very anxious that his cousin should call immediately at the Laxton’s house. Ravenscar fobbed him off, however, by saying that he must first consult his fellow trustee; thrust him upstairs to regale Arabella and Mrs Ravenscar with the story of his marriage; and himself made good his escape from the house, and set off for St James’s Square.
The door was opened to him by Mr Wantage, who at once barred his passage. “No good!” he said briefly. “The orders is I’m not to admit you, sir, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Take my card up to Miss Grantham,” said Ravenscar, “and tell her that I must beg her to see me, if only for five minutes.”
“It wouldn’t do a mite of good if I did,” replied Silas pityingly. “She won’t have you inside the house, and if I was to let you in she’d very likely murder me.”
“If you try to keep me from entering the house, it’s not Miss Grantham who will murder you!” said Ravenscar.
A joyful light sprang to Mr Wantage’s eyes. “If that’s the way it is, put up your dabblers, guv’nor!” he said simply.
Mr Ravenscar did more than this. Before Silas well knew what he was about, he had planted a flush hit to the face, followed it up by a lightning doubler which sent Silas staggering back, and was inside the house, with the door kicked to behind him.
Mr Wantage came boring in, trying to bustle his man, received a heavy facer, popped in over his guard, which drew his cork; threw in a body-blow; tried to job Mr Ravenscar in the face; was thrown on Ravenscar’s hip; and went crashing to the floor, where he remained, winded, and bleeding copiously at the nose.
“I owed you that!” said Ravenscar, panting a little.
From the head of the stairs an arctic voice said: “Have the goodness to leave this house immediately!”
Mr Ravenscar looked up quickly, saw Miss Grantham standing above him, with an expression of frozen fury on her face, and went up the stairs two at a time. Miss Grantham’s eyes dared him to touch her, but he gripped her wrist in one hand, saying: “I must and I will speak to you!”
“I have nothing whatsoever to say to you!” flashed Miss Grantham. “How dare you knock my servant down?”
“You may not have anything to say to me, but I have something which must be said to you!” replied Ravenscar. “If you won’t walk into that room, I shall pick you up and carry you into it!”
Silas Wantage, having recovered his wind by this time, picked himself up, holding his handkerchief to his flowing nose, and offered thickly to mill Mr Ravenscar down, if it took him all the morning to do it.
“No, no, go away and put a key down your back!” commanded Miss Grantham, shuddering. “If you have anything to say to me, sir, say it, and then go, and never let me see you again!”
Mr Ravenscar, still grasping her wrist, opened the door of the little parlour on the half-landing, and drew her inside. He then released her, and said: “I have come to beg your pardon, Miss Grantham.”
She looked disdainfully at him. “You need not have been to so much trouble, I assure you. Your opinion of my character is a matter of the supremest indifference to me.”
“There is no excuse for me. If I had not been crazy with jealousy I should never have said what I did to you. I love you!”
“No doubt I should be flattered, but as I can scarcely conceive of a worse fate than to be married to you, this declaration fills me with repugnance!”
He bit his lip. “Forgive me!”
“I shall never forgive you as long as I live! If you have now said what you came to say, pray leave me!”
“I tell you I love you!” said Mr Ravenscar, taking a step towards her.
“If you dare to touch me again I shall scream!” announced Miss Grantham. “I do not know whether you are asking me to marry you, or merely to become your mistress, but whichever it is—”
“I am asking you to marry me!” interrupted Ravenscar.
“I am obliged to you,” said Miss Grantham, dropping him a curtsey, “but even the thought of squandering such a fortune as yours fails to tempt me. I have met many men in my time whom I thought odious, but none, believe me, whom I hated as I hate you! I trust I make myself plain, sir?”
“Yes,” he replied, in a deeply mortified tone. “Perfectly plain, ma’am. I will relieve you of the annoyance of my presence. But I beg of you to believe that now and always I am your very obedient servant to command!”
She made no response to this; he bowed to her formally; and left the room. She heard his footsteps descending the stairs, caught the echo of his voice as he spoke to someone in the hall, and the sound of the front door shutting behind him. Then she sat down on a very uncomfortable chair, and enjoyed a bout of weeping which lasted for half-an-hour by the clock, and left her limp, and much inclined to think that she would have done better never to have been born at all.
This melancholy conviction grew upon her steadily as the day wore on. Her aunt was quite alarmed by her listlessness and began to fear that she might be starting on a decline, until a chance reference to Mr Ravenscar drew from her so scathing a denunciation of that gentleman’s manners and morals that Lady Bellingham was relieved to find that she was still no entirely given over to melancholia. She ventured to deliver Mr Kennet’s message. It was well received, Miss Grantham remarking with unnecessary emphasis that she hoped Lucius would ruin Mr Ravenscar. This put her in mind of the mortgage, and she at once wrested this from the unfortunate Lady Bellingham, wrapped it up in a packet, with all the bills which had accompanied it, and sent it round by hand to Grosvenor Square. Lady Bellingham threatened to succumb to a combination of palpitations, vapours, and strong hysterics, and was only prevented from taking to her bed by the immediate return of the packet, this time containing the torn fragments of one mortgage and half-a-dozen bills. Miss Grantham then burst into tears again, spoke wistfully of the beneficial qualities of racks, thumbscrews, and boiling oil, and shut herself up in her room, refusing all sustenance or comfort.
She was not again seen until the following morning, when she appeared some time after breakfast in her aunt’s dressing room, pale, but apparently restored to calm. She kissed Lady Bellingham, saying penitently: “I am sorry to have been so tiresome, dear ma’am! It was very foolish of me, for I am sure Mr Ravenscar is not worth bothering one’s head over. We will forget him, if you please, and be comfortable again.”
Lady Bellingham refrained from pointing out to her that there was very little comfort to be found in a debtor’s prison, but said instead that a letter had been brought round late on the previous evening from Mr Kennet’s lodging.
Miss Grantham took this missive without much interest, and broke open the seal. The single sheet was spread out, and she read with startled eyes the message it contained.
