“It was,” he assured her.
She seemed satisfied. “And you do not w-want a wife to interfere with you. Well, I p-promise I won’t.”
His lordship looked down at her rather enigmatically. “And in return?”
She drew closer. “C-could you do something for Edward?” she begged. “I have d-decided that there is only one thing for him, and that is a P-patron!”
“And—er—am I to be the Patron?” asked his lordship.
“Would you m-mind very m-much?”
A muscle at the corner of the Earl’s mouth twitched, but he answered with only the suspicion of a tremor in his voice: “I shall be happy to oblige you, ma’am, to the best of my poor endeavour.”
“Thank you very m-much,” said Horatia seriously. “Then he and Lizzie can be m-married, you see. And you will tell Mama that you would just as soon have me, won’t you?”
“I may not phrase it quite like that,” said the Earl, “but I will endeavour to make the matter plain to her. But I do not entirely see how I am to propose this exchange without divulging your visit to me.”
“Oh, you need not m-mind that!” said Horatia cheerfully. “I shall tell her m-myself. I think I had b-better go now. No one knows where I am, and perhaps they m-may wonder.”
“We will drink to our bargain first, do you not think?” said the Earl, and picked up a small gilt handbell, and rang it.
A lackey came in answer to the bell. “You will bring me—” the Earl glanced at Horatia—“ratafia, and two glasses,” he said. “And my coach will be at the door within ten minutes.”
“If—if the c-coach is for me,” said Horatia, “it is only a step to South Street, sir.”
“But I would rather that you permitted me to convey you,” said his lordship.
The butler brought the ratafia himself, and set the heavy silver tray down on a table. He was dismissed with a nod, and went regretfully. He would have liked to see with his own eyes my lord drink a glass of ratafia.
The Earl poured two glasses, and gave one to Horatia. “The bargain!” he said, and drank heroically.
Horatia’s eyes twinkled merrily. “I f-feel sure we shall deal f-famously together!” she declared, and raised the glass to her lips.
Five minutes later his lordship walked into the library again. “Ah—Arnold,” he said. “I have found something for you to do.”
“Yes, sir?” said Mr Gisborne, rising.
“You must get me a Captaincy,” said Rule. “A Captaincy in the—in the 10th Foot, I think, but I am sure you will find out.”
“A Captaincy in the 10th Foot?” repeated Mr Gisborne. “For whom, sir?”
“Now, what was the name?” wondered his lordship. “Hawk—Hernshaw—Heron. I rather think it was Heron. For a Mr Edward Heron. Do you know a Mr Edward Heron?”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“No,” sighed Rule. “Nor do I. It makes it very awkward for us, but I have great faith in you, Arnold. You will find out all about this Edward Heron.”
“I’ll try, sir,” replied Mr Gisborne.
“I am afraid I give you a deal of trouble,” apologized his lordship, preparing to depart. At the door he looked back. “By the way, Arnold, I think you may be under some slight misapprehension. It is the youngest Miss Winwood who does me the honour of accepting my hand.”
Mr Gisborne was startled. “Miss Charlotte Winwood, sir? The youngest Miss Winwood, I believe, is scarcely out of the schoolroom.”
“Certainly not Miss Charlotte Winwood,” said the Earl. “I have it on excellent authority that nothing would induce Miss Charlotte to marry me.”
“Good God, my lord!” said Mr Gisborne blankly.
“Thank you, Arnold. You comfort me,” said his lordship, and went out.
Chapter Three
The youngest Miss Winwood’s return to South Street was witnessed by both her sisters from the windows of the withdrawing-room. Her absence had certainly been remarked, but since the porter was able to inform the rather agitated governess that Miss Horatia had gone out attended by her maid, no great concern was felt. It was odd of Horatia, and very wayward, but no doubt she had only stolen out to buy the coquelicot ribbons she had coveted in a milliner’s window, or a chintz patch for a gown. This was Elizabeth’s theory, delivered in her soft, peaceable voice, and it satisfied Lady Winwood, lying upon the sopha with her vinaigrette to hand. The appearance of a town coach, drawn by perfectly matched bays with glittering harness, did not occasion more than a fleeting interest until it became apparent that this opulent equipage was going to draw up at the door of No 20.
Charlotte exclaimed: “Lord, who can it be? Mama, a caller!” She pressed her face against the window, and said: “There is a crest on the panel, but I cannot distinguish—Lizzie, I believe it is Lord Rule!”
“Oh no!” Elizabeth fluttered, pressing a hand to her heart.
By this time the footman had sprung down, and opened the coach door. Charlotte grew pop-eyed. “It’s Horry!” she gasped.
Lady Winwood clutched the vinaigrette. “Charlotte, my nerves!” she said in a fading voice.
“But, Mama, it is!” insisted Charlotte.
Elizabeth had a premonition. “Oh, what can she have been doing?” she said, sinking into a chair, and growing quite pale.
“I hope nothing—nothing dreadful!”
Impetuous footsteps were heard on the stairs; the door was opened ungently, and Horatia stood before them, flushed and bright-eyed, and swinging her hat by its ribbon.
Lady Winwood’s hands fumbled with her Medici scarf. “Dearest, the draught!” she moaned. “My poor head!”
“Pray, Horry, shut the door!” said Charlotte. “How can you bounce so when you know how shattered Mama’s nerves are?”
“Oh, I am sorry!” Horatia said, and carefully shut the door. “I forgot. L-Lizzie, everything is settled, and you
Lady Winwood was moved to sit up. “Good God, the child’s raving! Horatia, what—
Horatia tossed the cloak aside, and plumped down on the stool beside her mother’s sopha. “I’ve b-been to see Lord Rule!” she announced.
“I knew it!” said Elizabeth, in the voice of Cassandra.
Lady Winwood sank back upon her cushions with closed eyes. Charlotte, observing her alarming rigidity shrieked: “Unnatural girl! Have you no consideration for our dearest Mama? Lizzie, hartshorn!”
The hartshorn, the vinaigrette, and some Hungary Water applied to the temples restored the afflicted Lady Winwood to life. She opened her eyes and found just strength to utter: “What did the child say?”
Charlotte, fondly clasping her mother’s frail hand, said: “Mama, do not agitate yourself, I beg of you!”
“You n-need not be agitated, M-mama,” Horatia told her penitently. “It is quite true that I’ve b-been to see Lord Rule, but—”
“Then all is at an end!” said Lady Winwood fatalistically. “We may as well prepare to enter the Debtors’ Prison. I am sure I do not mind for myself, for my Days are Numbered, but my beautiful Lizzie, my sweetest Charlotte—”
“M-mama, if only you w-would listen to me!” broke in Horatia. “I have explained everything to L-Lord Rule, and—”
“Merciful heavens!” said Elizabeth. “Not—not Edward?”
“Yes, Edward. Of course I told him about Edward. And he is n-not going to marry you, Lizzie, but he p- promised he would be Edward’s P-patron instead—”
Lady Winwood had recourse to the vinaigrette again, and desired feebly to be told what she had ever done to
