Faro's Daughter (34 page)

‘Oh, heavens, you have quarrelled with Ravenscar again!’ cried her ladyship. ‘Don’t tell me you have had him put in the cellar. I can’t bear it!’

‘He shall never enter this house again!’ stormed Miss Grantham. ‘He dared to think—he dared to think—Oh, I shall go mad!’

‘I know you will, and it has been troubling me very much,’ said her aunt. ‘I never knew you to behave so in all your life! What did he think?’

‘He thought—oh, I cannot bring myself to speak of it! That is what he thinks me! I have never been so insulted! I wish I had called to Silas to fling him out of the house! If ever he dares to show his face here again that is what I shall do. I would like to boil him in oil! Nothing could be too bad for him, and if I could see my way to ruining him I would do it, and dance for joy!’

‘But, Deb, what has he done?’ wailed her aunt.

‘He believes me to be the lowest kind of creature on this earth! He has insulted me in the worst way any—oh, go away, Aunt Lizzie, go away! And don’t let anyone come up to me, for I won’t see a soul!’

She looked so fierce that Lady Bellingham did not attempt to remonstrate with her, but tottered from the room, feeling: that her days were numbered. She heard the key turn in the lock behind her, and went downstairs to her boudoir, intending to recuperate her own strength by sipping hartshorn-and water, and lying down on the sofa, with her smelling-salts to hand.

She had barely settled herself comfortably, however, when Lucius Kennet walked into the room, saying cheerfully, ‘I hear that Deb has come home. Where is the darlin’?’

‘Shut up in her room, and stark mad!’ moaned Lady Bellingham.

. He stared. ‘The devil she is! Now, what ails her?’

‘I don’t know. Ravenscar has been here, and she says she has never been so insulted in her life! I have never known her to be so angry! She could barely speak!’

‘But what has the miserable spleen been saying to her at all?’

‘It is no use asking me, for I don’t know, but I fear he must have made her an improper proposal. She says she would like to boil him in oil. But understand me, Lucius, if you help her to do any such thing you do not enter this house again!’

‘Faith, I have a better way of punishing Mr Ravenscar than that! I wish you will inform Deb I am here, ma’am: I’ll tell her what will gladden her heart!’

‘She said she would not see a soul, and you know what she is! Besides, she has locked the door. Do, I implore you, go away and leave me in peace! I am sure my head is like to split!’

‘Ah, now, be easy, ma’am!’ he said. ‘I’ll go, and maybe you’ll not be seeing me for a while, but I give you my word I have as pretty a revenge brewing for Ravenscar as even Deb could wish for! You may tell her so with my love—or maybe I’ll be writing her a note to raise her spirits.’

‘Do anything you please, only go away!’ begged her ladyship, closing her eyes, and making a feeble gesture towards the door.

Chapter 17

When Mr Ravenscar stalked inside his house, twenty minutes after he had flung out of the back-parlour in St James’s Square, he was still in a towering rage, which showed itself plainly in his scowling brow, and thinned lips. His butler, unwise enough to make an innocuous remark about the weather when he admitted him to the house, had his head bitten off for his pains, and retired, much shaken, to the nether regions, where he informed his colleagues that if the master had not been crossed in love he did not know the signs.

Mr Ravenscar, throwing his gloves on to one chair, and his long, drab coat across another, shut himself up in his library, and spent an hour pacing up and down its length, a prey to the most violent and confused emotions he had ever experienced. He did not know whom he was most furious with, himself or Miss Grantham, and was dwelling savagely on this quite unimportant problem when he discovered that his bitterest anger was directed against Mablethorpe. He realized that it would afford him considerable pleasure to be able to take his cousin by the throat, and to choke the life out of him. This discovery enraged him still further, and he told himself savagely that he was well rid of a mercenary, heartless, unprincipled baggage. This brought no relief to his feelings; and although the wanton smashing of a Sevres figure which he had always detested, and which some nameless fool had dared to place upon the mantelpiece, afforded him a momentary gratification, its beneficial effects did not prove to be lasting. He continued to pace the floor, torn between a desire to strangle Miss Grantham and throw her body to the dogs, and an equally strong desire to serve Mablethorpe in this way instead, and to think out a fitting punishment for Miss Grantham which would, in some mysterious manner, entail her remaining in his power for the rest of her life.

It was not to be supposed that this ferocity could endure for long. It wore itself out presently, leaving Mr Ravenscar with a sense of corroding disillusionment, and a conviction that life held nothing further for him. In this painful mood, he went upstairs to change his clothes for dinner, vouchsafing not one word to his valet (who, after one swift glance at his face, was thankful for this forbearance), and attending so little to what he was doing that he allowed himself to be assisted into a coat which he had decided on the previous night that he would never wear again.

His stepmother and Arabella were dining out, a circumstance which relieved him of the necessity of going out himself; and he sat down in solitary state at the head of his long dining-table, and ate perhaps three mouthfuls of every dish which was presented to him, until he came to the syllabub, which he rejected with every evidence of loathing. The only thing he partook of freely was the port. His butler had had the forethought to bring up a bottle of the best from the cellar.

Mr Ravenscar, lost in a brown study, was still sitting at the dinner-table, his half-empty wine-glass in his hand, when the butler brought him a note, which had been delivered by hand.

Mr Ravenscar glanced at it indifferently, recognized Lady Mablethorpe’s writing, and picked it up, his lips tightening. It was brief, and to the point. It requested him to call in Brook Street at his earliest convenience.

There was scarcely any person whom Mr Ravenscar would not have preferred to confront that evening, but he was not one to put off a disagreeable task, and after tossing off the rest of his port, he told the butler to fetch his hat and cloak and walking-cane.

He went on foot to Brook Street, and was ushered immediately into the drawing-room on the first floor. Here he found his aunt, seated alone by the small fire, looking as though she had sustained a severe shock.

She waited only until the servant had withdrawn before exclaiming: ‘Oh, Max, have you heard what has happened?’

He had fully expected to be met by an outburst of wrath, and could only suppose that her ladyship’s first rage, like his own, had worn itself out. ‘Yes,’ he replied curtly. ‘I know. I am sorry, aunt.’

‘It is not your fault,’ she said. ‘I was never so taken aback in my life!’

‘It was my fault,’ Ravenscar said. ‘I had the means to stop it, and I was fool enough not to use them.’

She stared at him. ‘Good heavens, Max, you never said a word to me about it! Do you tell me you knew all along what he really meant to do?’

He came to the fire, and stood with his back to it, looking down at her with a puzzled frown. ‘I don’t understand you, ma’am. Surely we both knew?’

‘But I never knew of the girl’s existence until today!’ cried Lady Mablethorpe, in the liveliest astonishment.

‘Never knew of her existence?’ he repeated blankly. ‘What in God’s name are you talking about, aunt?’

‘I am talking about this child whom Adrian says he has married! What are you talking about, pray?’

‘Child! Am I mad, or are you?’ demanded Ravenscar. ‘Adrian has married Deborah Grantham!’

‘But he has not!’ said her ladyship. ‘He has married one of the Laxton girls!’

‘What?’ thundered Ravenscar.

His aunt winced. ‘For heaven’s sake don’t shout at me! I have borne enough this day! So you did not know! He threw as much dust in your eyes as in mine!’

Mr Ravenscar seemed to experience some difficulty in speaking, but after a moment’s stunned silence he managed to say with tolerable composure: ‘I am utterly at a loss, ma’am, and must beg you to enlighten me! Are you sure that you have understood what Adrian told you?’

‘Of course I am sure! Do you think I am in my dotage? He has married Phoebe Laxton—a child three years younger than himself, if you please! And that Grantham woman helped him to do it!’ Lady Mablethorpe fanned herself in an agitated way, and added: ‘It is the most absurd thing ever I heard! A couple of babies to be setting up housekeeping! The girl is as good as portionless, too! Oh, I do not know what to do about it! There is nothing I can do, but to think that I should be obliged to receive Augusta Laxton with an appearance of complaisance when there is no one I dislike more! It does not bear thinking of!’

Mr Ravenscar, who was looking extremely pale, broke in on this to say: ‘Have the goodness, ma’am, to be a little more intelligible! This sounds to me like a farrago of nonsense! When did Adrian meet Miss Laxton? How is it possible that he can have married her?’

‘He met her at Vauxhall, when he was there with that dreadful woman. It seems that she had run away from Sir James Filey, whom the Laxtons were pressing her to marry. Well, I must say I think she did right to run away from such a satyr! A hateful man, and if you had but known his mother! But that’s neither here nor there! What must Adrian do—urged on, of course, by that Grantham woman, though why she should I cannot imagine, for anyone must have guessed what would come of it, with a boy of his romantic notions! Well, what must he do but spirit the girl away to Lady Bellingham’s house, where she was kept hidden until Filey chanced to see her looking out of the window one day, and recognized her!’

‘Good God!’ exclaimed Ravenscar, paler than ever. ‘I do recall hearing some talk of the Laxton girl’s being missing! She was in St James’s Square all the time?’

‘Yes, falling in love with my son!’ said her ladyship, with a good deal of feeling. ‘Under the Grantham woman’s nose! She must be a fool, one would think! For what could be more natural than for Adrian to tumble head over ears in love with a child who was calling him her saviour, and thinking him a perfect Sir Galahad, or whoever it was who went about rescuing foolish females! Oh, I can see it all! And I must say, Max, dreadful though it all is, his marriage has improved him already! He seems to have grown up in a flash. If I had not been so angry, I could have laughed to have heard him telling me so sternly how he would have me receive his wife, and how he would not permit anyone to do or say anything that might distress her! He has gone off to call upon Lord Laxton, as cool as you please! A boy of his age! Heaven knows what the Laxtons will say, but they may consider themselves lucky to have married their daughter so well, and so I shall tell Augusta, if she dares to—oh, but, Max, he is too young to be married! I cannot bear it!’

Mr Ravenscar paid no attention to this. ‘But the marriage! Do you tell me Adrian took this girl to Gretna Green?’

‘No, he was not so lost to all sense of propriety as that, I am thankful to say! When Filey discovered her presence in Lady Bellingham’s house, Phoebe was so terrified that she would be dragged back to her parents’ house, and forced to marry him, that there was nothing for it, Adrian said, but to take her away immediately. Laxton’s sister lives in Wales, and seems to have been a good friend to Phoebe from the outset. Adrian hired a post-chaise, bundled her and the Grantham woman into it, told me he was off to stay with Tom Waring, and set out for Wales! With a special licence in his pocket, Max! Only fancy Adrian’s thinking of everything, just as though he were not a perfect greenhorn! One cannot help feeling proud of him! They were married from this aunt’s house, and now Adrian says he means to insert a notice in the
Morning Post
!’

‘My God, my God, what have I done?’ burst from Mr Ravenscar. He sprang to his feet, and began to pace about the room as though he could not be still another instant.

His aunt regarded him with astonishment. ‘I cannot conceive what you should have done! I do not blame you. I could not have guessed that anything so fantastic would happen.’

‘You do not know what I have done!’ said Ravenscar over his shoulder. ‘But never mind that! Where is Adrian’s bride?

‘He has left her in Wales. I declare I could have boxed his ears! He had the effrontery to tell me that he means to bring her to London, but would not do so until he was assured that she would be received with the civility due to his wife!’

Mr Ravenscar smiled for the first time since his meeting with his cousin that afternoon. ‘Capital! I hope he will come and tell me so too. He told me only that he was married and the happiest man on earth when I met him on his way to break the news to you. I daresay I shall receive a stern warning from him when next I see him.’

‘But what is to be done?’ demanded Lady Mablethorpe.

‘There is nothing to be done, ma’am. It might, after all, have been very much worse.’

‘Certainly, if he had married the Grantham creature, but do you tell me I must countenance this match?’

‘Unless you wish for a breach with Adrian, undoubtedly,’ replied Ravenscar.

‘Oh, Max!’ said her ladyship, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. ‘I don’t feel as though I can bear it!’