The Convenient Marriage

She kissed him in a sisterly fashion, and replied with energy: “I breakfasted two hours ago, but you may give me some coffee. I see you are just going, Crosby. Pray don’t let me keep you. Dear me, why will you wear those very odd clothes, my good creature? And that absurd wig don’t become you, take my word for it!”

Mr Drelincourt, feeling unable to cope adequately with his cousin, merely bowed, and wished her good morning. No sooner had he minced out of the room than Lady Louisa Quain flung down her copy of the Gazette before Rule. “No need to ask why that odious little toad came,” she remarked. “But, my dear Marcus, it is too provoking! There is the most nonsensical mistake made! Have you seen it?”

Rule began to pour coffee into his own unused cup. “Dear Louisa, do you realize that it is not yet eleven o’clock, and I have already had Crosby with me? What time can I have had to read the Gazette?”

She took the cup from him, observing that she could not conceive how he should care to go on drinking ale with his breakfast. “You will have to put in a second advertisement,” she informed him. “I can’t imagine how they came to make such a stupid mistake. My dear they have confused the names of the sisters! Here it is! You may read for yourself: “The Honourable Horatia Winwood, youngest daughter of—” Really, if it were not so vexing it would be diverting! But how in the world came they to put “Horatia” for “Elizabeth”?”

“You see,” said Rule apologetically, “Arnold sent the ad-vertisement to the Gazette.”

“Well, I never would have believed Mr Gisborne to be so big a fool!” declared her ladyship.

“But perhaps I ought to explain, my dear Louisa, that he had my authority,” said Rule still more apologetically.

Lady Louisa, who had been studying the advertisement with a mixture of disgust and amusement, let the Gazette drop, and twisted round in her chair to stare up at her brother in astonishment. “Lord, Rule, what can you possibly mean?” she demanded. “You’re not going to marry Horatia Winwood!”

“But I am,” said his lordship calmly.

“Rule, have you gone mad? You told me positively you had offered for Elizabeth!”

“My shocking memory for names!” mourned his lordship.

Lady Louisa brought her open hand down on the table. “Nonsense!” she said. “Your memory’s as good as mine!”

“My dear, I should not like to think that,” said the Earl. “Your memory is sometimes too good.”

“Oh!” said the lady critically surveying him. “Well, you had best make a clean breast of it. Do you really mean to marry that child?”

“Well, she certainly means to marry me,” said his lordship.

“What?” gasped Lady Louisa.

“You see,” explained the Earl, resuming his seat, “though it ought to be Charlotte, she has no mind to make such a sacrifice, even for Elizabeth’s sake.”

“Either you are out of your senses, or I am!” declared Lady Louisa with resignation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and how you can mean to marry Horatia, who must be still in the schoolroom, for I’m sure I have never clapped eyes on her—in place of that divinely beautiful Elizabeth—”

“Ah, but I am going to grow used to the eyebrows,” interrupted Rule. “And she has the Nose.”

“Rule,” said her ladyship with dangerous quiet, “do not goad me too far! Where have you seen this child?”

He regarded her with a smile hovering round his mouth. “If I told you, Louisa, you would probably refuse to believe me.”

She cast up her eyes. “When did you have this notion of marrying her?” she asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” replied the Earl. “It was not my notion at all.”

“Whose, then?”

“Horatia’s, my dear. I thought I had explained.”

“Do you tell me, Marcus, the girl asked you to marry her?” said Lady Louisa sarcastically.

“Instead of Elizabeth,” nodded his lordship. “Elizabeth, you see, is going to marry Mr Heron.”

“Who in the world is Mr Heron?” cried Lady Louisa. “I declare, I never heard such a farrago! Confess, you are trying to take me in.”

“Not at all, Louisa. You don’t understand the situation at all. One of them must marry me.”

“That I can believe,” she said dryly. “But this nonsense about Horatia? What is the truth of it?”

“Only that Horatia offered herself to me in her sister’s place. And that—but I need not tell you—is quite for your ears alone.”

Lady Louisa was not in the habit of giving way to amazement, and she did not now indulge in fruitless ejaculations. “Marcus, is the girl a minx?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “She is not, Louisa. I am not at all sure that she is not a heroine.”

“Don’t she wish to marry you?”

The Earl’s eyes gleamed. “Well, I am rather old, you know, though no one would think it to look at me. But she assures me she would quite like to marry me. If my memory serves me, she prophesied that we should deal famously together.”

Lady Louisa, watching him, said abruptly: “Rule, is this a love-match?”

His brows rose; he looked faintly amused. “My dear Louisa! At my age?”

“Then marry the Beauty,” she said. “That one would understand better.”

“You are mistaken, my dear. Horatia understands perfectly. She engages not to interfere with me.”

“At seventeen! It’s folly, Marcus.” She got up, drawing her scarf around her. “I’ll see her for myself.”

“Do,” he said cordially. “I think—but I may be prejudiced—you will find her adorable.”

“If you find her so,” she said, her eyes softening, “I shall love her—even though she has a squint!”

“Not a squint,” said his lordship. “A stammer.”

Chapter Four

The question Lady Louisa Quain longed to ask yet did not ask was: “What of Caroline Massey?” Her brother’s relations with the fair Massey were perfectly well known to her, nor was she, in the general way, afraid of plain speaking. She told herself that nothing she could say would be likely to have any effect on his conduct, but admitted that she lacked the moral courage to broach the subject. She believed that she enjoyed a good deal of Rule’s confidence, but he had never discussed his amorous adventures with her, and would be capable of delivering an extremely unpleasant snub if she trespassed on forbidden ground.

Although she did not flatter herself that her influence had had very much to do with it, it was she who had urged him to marry. She said that if there was one thing she found herself unable to bear it was the prospect of seeing Crosby in Rule’s shoes. It was she who had indicated Miss Winwood as a suitable bride. She liked Elizabeth, and was quick to value not only her celestial good looks, but the sweetness of her disposition as well. Surely the possession of so charming a wife would wean Rule from his odious connexion with the Massey. But now it did not seem as though Rule cared whom he married and that augured very ill for his bride’s future influence over him. A chit of seventeen too! It could not be more unpromising.

She waited on Lady Winwood and met Horatia. She left South Street later in quite another frame of mind. That black-browed child was no simpering miss from the schoolroom. Lord! thought her ladyship, what a dance she would lead him! It was better, far better than she had planned. Elizabeth’s docility would not have answered the purpose near so well as Horatia’s turbulence. Why, she told herself, he’ll have not a moment’s peace and no time at all for that odious Massey creature!

That Rule foresaw the unquiet future that so delighted his sister seemed improbable. He continued to visit in Hertford Street, and no hint of parting crossed his lips.

Lady Massey received him in her rose and silver boudoir two days after the announcement of his betrothal. She was dressed in a negligee of lace and satin, and reclined on a brocaded sopha. No servant announced him; he came into the room as one who had the right, and as he shut the door, remarked humorously: “Dear Caroline, you’ve a new porter. Did you tell him to shut the door in my face?”