The Five-Minute Marriage (25 page)

“
We are delighted to welcome you, great-uncle. Pray come to the fire!
”

“
No need to have piled up such a bonfire on
my
account!
”
he snapped, allowing Gareth to shepherd him to an upright chair with arms.
“
Good God! There must be half a stone of coals on the hearth!
”
Despite which criticism he seemed glad enough to sit and warm himself. He still looked far from well, but was dressed very correctly in old-fashioned evening attire. On his right middle finger he wore an enormous ruby ring with a stone large as a pigeon
’
s egg, which flashed dark gleams back into the flames.

It was plain that he did not wish his health referred to; he irritably turned aside any inquiries about it
“
You young ones have no idea what illness is! My afflictions are wretched—wretched! But I make nothing of them—I do not allow them to deter me from my duty, which is,
”
he said to Delphie,
“
to make sure that you and your cousin are properly established together.
”

“
I hope that your doubts on that head are now wholly resolved, Uncle Mark,
”
she said.

“
Ay, ay,
”
he exclaimed testily.
“
You may smile! I dare swear it
’
s all smiles and sherry
now,
while you are new to one another—but how will it be in five years
’
time, when the claws begin to show?
”

“
That, uncle, only time will reveal,
”
Delphie said, beginning, as Lord Bollington grinned his disagreeably malicious grin at her, to feel very sorry for poor Prissy Privett, and to wonder what sort of a wretched life the pair of them had led together until his unkindness had killed her. Delphie could not help thinking Great
-
uncle Mark a dismal old wretch.

Lord Bollington then demanded of Gareth where various heirlooms were which he had expected to see and did not. Delphie wondered if Gareth would tell his great-uncle that they were at Horsmonden, but he merely replied,

“
I sold them, uncle!
”

“
What? Sold your father
’
s Cellini saltcellar—and the pokal
—
and the pineapple cup?
”

“
I was obliged to. Besides, the pineapple cup was hideous!
”

“
Would you not care to come to the table, uncle?
”
Delphie said hastily.

“
Might as well,
”
Lord Bollington grumbled.
“
I hope to heaven you haven
’
t served up a lot of foreign fal-lals and kickshaws that I can
’
t digest.
”

However, on the whole, he was pleased to approve their choice of menu and (for a confirmed invalid) ate an amazing, and, Delphie thought, a wholly injudicious quantity, particularly indulging in the buttered lobsters, the ducklings with cherries, the almond cakes, and the apple tarts. He called for cheese with the latter, which Bardwell was luckily able to produce. Delphie, too nervous to touch more than a few mouthfuls herself, watched his gastronomic prowess with startled eyes, until she chanced to meet Gareth
’
s amused glance, when she was obliged to press her napkin to her lips for a moment or two, and stare resolutely at her plate.

“
Fishbone gone down the wrong way, niece?
”
inquired his lordship.
“
Swallow a little hock and seltzer—that
’
ll shift it.
”

“
Thank you, Uncle Mark—I am better now.
”

“
Brother Lance was devilish fond of hock and seltzer,
”
Lord Bollington observed.
“
Said it would sober him up, be he never so concerned!
”
His tone was melancholy, reminiscent; absently he removed his wig in order to scratch his (perfectly bald) head, then replaced the wig again, somewhat lopsided.
“
Always would have hock and seltzer at the end of an evening, Lance would. If only
—
but there! What
’
s the use to repine! But he was a devilish good fellow, m
’
brother Lance; good seat on a horse; sharp eye for a wench; it was a thousand pities that little twopenny ha
’
penny flibbertigibbet should ha
’
come betwixt us at the end. If I
’
d known how it would all turn out, I
’
d far sooner ha
’
dropped
her
in the moat—so spiteful and vixenish as she turned out to be!
”

“
And did you drop my great-uncle Lancelot in the moat?
”
Gareth inquired interestedly.

“
No, no, boy—no! In course I didn
’
t! We fought fair—but it was a frosty night—leads were devilish slippery—poor fellow lost his footing—wouldn
’
t have had it happen for worlds,
”
Lord Bollington morosely remarked, staring into his glass of burgundy as if he hoped to see his brother Lancelot swimming there.
“
At the time, of course, didn
’
t expect to come into the title—Lance
’
s son still alive—but then your crackbrained brother had to run off and join the Navy!
”
he said, suddenly directing a glance of indignation at Delphie.
“
And get himself killed!
”

“
I think you must mean my uncle Tristram, great-uncle,
”
she said gently.
“
My mother
’
s brother.
”

“
Eh? What? Oh—er—yes, Elaine
’
s brother—yes.
”
For a moment he seemed confused, but presently inquired,
“
What
’
s
your
name, then?
”

“
I am called Philadelphia, uncle, but my name is Elaine too, after my mother.
”

“
Philadelphia?
What kind of a heathen name is
that
?”

“
It has been a name frequently used in the Carteret—in my father
’
s family.
”

“
Yes!
”
he said, immediately striking off at a new tangent.
“
Then
she
had to run off too—elope—mizzle off! As if life was insupportable at Chase! None of them would stay there! And I dare say it
was
insupportable,
”
he added glumly, after a moment,
“
with that vulgar harpy at the foot of the table—not to mention her two base-born brats. They went off too,
”
he muttered.
“
But then the boy came back. Put in a fair job as agent, but never did like the cut of his jib somehow: always a bit too anxious to please. They
’
re all after me for what they can get!
”
he suddenly cried angrily at Gareth.
“
None of them love me for myself!
”

How could they? thought Delphie dispassionately, gazing at him.

“
It would have been different if I
’
d had one of my own! But that, she couldn
’
t—wouldn
’
t—do. Ah, the best of them all was Mary—your mother,
”
he said to Delphie.

“
I think you mean my grandmother, Uncle Mark.
”

“
Mother, grandmother—what
’
s the difference? Ah,
she
was a real beauty—real class,
she
had. Good enough to be the Queen of England! But Lance had to get in ahead and snabble her—Lance
always
had to get in ahead,
”
Lord Bollington muttered moodily.
“
Still an
’
all, I
’
m sorry I pushed the poor fellow in the moat.
”

Delphie began to feel rather sorry for the poor old scarecrow, fretting away over his griefs, and sins committed so far back in the lost and ineradicable past. Whether or not he really had pushed his brother off the roof, it seemed certain enough that he had at least felt the impulse to do so. Perhaps, Delphie thought, he was one of those poor jealous souls who never crave something unless it is the property of somebody else; it seemed plain enough that he had coveted his brother
’
s wife, his title, and his mistress.

Her eyes met those of Gareth again; now she had no impulse to laugh.

“
Do you think perhaps I should retire?
”
she murmured in a low voice.

“
I think it would be better if
he
did,
”
Gareth responded in the same tone, and added, in a louder one,
“
Are you tired, Uncle Mark? Shall I send Bardwell for your coach?
”

“
Eh? Eh?
”
Lord Bollington jerked himself out of his sad reverie, coming back, it seemed, from an immense distance. His eye fell on Delphie.

“
Did they treat you well at that school in Bath?
”
he suddenly inquired.
“
Queen
’
s Square Academy—whatever it was called? Felt at times I should have had you to Chase—but—well—t
’
tell you the truth—couldn
’
t
stand
the prospect—child on her own, what could I do?—felt too bad about it all.
”

“
Never mind, uncle,
”
she said quietly.
“
It didn
’
t matter. I was quite happy.
”

He raised sad, bloodshot eyes to her face.

“
If only your mother had been alive—
”

“
But—uncle—my mother
was
alive! My mother
is
alive.
”

“
Eh? How
can
she be? Midwife
’
s letter came—saying she had died in childbed—
”

“
Would you not like to see her? To see for yourself—?
”

Delphie was puzzled by his last statement, but all other concerns were obliterated by the knowledge that she could alleviate at least
one
of his many griefs.

“
Wait!
”
she said.
“
And I will see if she is still awake—
”

“
Delphie, are you sure that what you are doing is wise?
”
Gareth said softly as she went toward the door.

“
The poor old man! Surely it must ease at least
some
of his trouble, to see that Mamma is alive and well?
”

“
Mamma!
”
she called, tapping gently at her mother
’
s door.
“
Are you still awake?
”

“
Yes, I am, dear,
”
replied Mrs. Carteret
’
s voice, quite briskly, from within.
“
And, if you have any made, I believe I will take just a taste of tea! I have had such a refreshing nap!
”

The open door revealed that Mrs. Carteret was up, sitting in her armchair, very fetchingly arrayed in her cap and frilled bed jacket.

“
Certainly I will bring you some tea,
”
said Delphie.
“
But also
—
Mamma, would you mind
very
much if I brought Great-uncle Mark to see you, just for a moment? He is so very sad and sorry for all he has done w
r
ong, that I think it would be the greatest kindness if you would do so? He is so
wretched
—about grandfather—about Uncle Tristram—about your running away—about everything!
”