The Quiet Gentleman (16 page)

Her egotism did not permit her often to trouble herself with the concerns of others, but Martin was her darling, and if she did not go to the length of putting his interests before her own convenience, at least she grudged no time spent in discussing his welfare. She feared that a lovers’ quarrel must have estranged Martin from Miss Bolderwood; and when Miss Morville, to whom she confided this solution, ventured to suggest that whatever Martin’s feelings might be Marianne had given no one reason to suppose that she favoured him more than any of her other suitors, she was incredulous. She must think it an absurdity that any young woman should not fall in love with Martin.
She
had signified her approval of the match, so what could be the hindrance, excepting only some nonsensical tiff? Could it be that the Bolderwoods had not presumed to think her kindness to their daughter a hint that she would not object to receiving her as a member of the family? She believed Sir Thomas to be a very respectable man, who would be anxious not to encroach: she had a very good mind to drive over to Whissenhurst to set his mind at rest on this score.

Miss Morville was not easily daunted, and although this suggestion might make her blench she contrived to conceal her dismay, and to argue her ladyship out of a decision which could only lead, she believed, to a painful scene with Sir Thomas.

‘Can it be,’ demanded the Dowager, suddenly struck by a new idea, ‘that the Bolderwoods are hopeful of drawing St Erth in? Upon my word,
that
would be a high flight indeed! I had not believed Sir Thomas to be capable of such presumption, for the Earl of St Erth, you know, may look as high as he may choose for a bride, and had there been the least chance of Martin’s succeeding to the title I should not have countenanced the Bolderwood connection for a moment!’

‘I do not think, ma’am, that such a thought has entered Sir Thomas’s head. He and Lady Bolderwood consider Marianne to be too young to be thinking of marriage.’

‘Depend upon it, my dear, a girl is never too young for her parents to be scheming to make a good match for her,’ said the Dowager. ‘I shall drive over to Whissenhurst, and just drop a hint that an alliance with St Erth would be most unacceptable to me. I assure you, I should oppose it with my dying breath!’

Miss Morville found no difficulty in believing her; her dependence on the likelihood of this opposition’s being attended to, either by the Earl or by Sir Thomas, was less secure, and she renewed her efforts to dissuade her ladyship from a mission which could only end in her discomfiture. By dint of discovering in herself a great desire to see Marianne again, and stressing the propriety of discovering exactly how the case might be before her ladyship moved in it, she succeeded in persuading her to postpone her visit to Whissenhurst until she had been put in possession of all the facts. These she engaged herself to discover. It did not seem to her to be incumbent on her to suggest to the Dowager that it was an Austell and not a Frant who had succeeded in capturing the heiress’s affections. The shock would be severe, she knew; and she suspected that nothing less than a public announcement of betrothal would suffice to convince her ladyship that any other than a Frant had been accepted by the Bolderwoods.

Since Theo had formed the intention of riding to Whissenhurst on the following morning, to take formal leave of the Bolderwoods, Miss Morville applied to him for escort. He expressed his willingness to go with her, and they rode there together, in happy ignorance that Martin had set out earlier in the same direction.

It was inevitable that Theo should learn from her the reason for her visit, for he was so much in everyone’s confidence that it seemed the most natural thing to tell him what had passed between herself and the Dowager. He was not so much diverted as she had expected him to be, but said, with a forced smile only: ‘I have lived too long with her ladyship to be surprised by her absurdities. It must have been plain to everyone but herself from the first moment of his clapping eyes on her that Ulverston was much struck by Miss Bolderwood. The fact is that she would not readily be brought to believe that even a Howard or a Percy could be preferred to a Frant.’ He was silent for a moment, and then said: ‘I must suppose that the Bolderwoods, discovering that St Erth had no serious intentions, are anxious to secure Ulverston for their daughter. It is not to be wondered at.’

He spoke in his usual quiet way, but she thought that she could detect an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone, and said: ‘You do them less than justice, I think. Their ambition is merely to see Marianne happy.’

‘Certainly, but they may be pardoned for believing that the happiness of a future Countess is more likely than that of a mere commoner’s wife. I do not blame them: Miss Bolderwood is worthy of the highest honour.’

He said no more, and she did not pursue the subject, but turned the talk, after a minute’s silence, into less awkward channels.

Martin, meanwhile, had reached Whissenhurst a little earlier. As he rode in at the gate, he obtained a glimpse of Marianne through a division in the yew hedge which screened the drive from the gardens. He guessed that she was busy amongst the spring bulbs which had become one of her chief hobbies, and at once turned his horse towards the stableyard. Leaving the hack in the care of the head-groom, he made his way to the succession-houses which Sir Thomas had had erected at such enormous expense. She was not there, but just as Martin was standing irresolute, wondering if, by ill-luck, she had gone into the house again, he heard the sound of her voice uplifted in a gay ballad. It came from the potting-shed, and he strode up to it, and looked in, to find that she was alone there, engaged in transferring several white hyacinths from their separate earthenware pots to a large Worcestershire bowl. She made a charming picture, with her pale golden curls uncovered, and confined only by a blue riband, a shawl pinned round her shoulders, and a small trowel in one hand. She did not immediately perceive Martin, but went on singing to herself, and carefully pressing down the earth round her bulbs, while he watched her. Some slight movement he made which caught her attention; she looked round, and with a startled exclamation dropped the trowel.

He came into the shed, and picked up the trowel. ‘You need not jump and squeak!’ he said. ‘It’s only I!’

She took the trowel from him, and laid it down. ‘Oh, no! I did not mean – That is, I was not expecting – You gave me such a fright! Thank you! See, are they not perfect blooms? I am so proud of them, and mean to place them in Papa’s book-room, for he would only laugh, when I began my gardening, and said my bulbs would come to nothing, because I should forget all about them in a week. He will be regularly set-down!’

‘Marianne,’ he said, disregarding this speech, ‘I came because I must and will speak to you!’

‘Oh, pray – ! Of course I am always pleased to see you, Martin, but I can’t think what you should want to speak to me about! Don’t look so grave! It is such a lovely day, and when the sun shines I can’t be solemn – you must know I cannot!’

He was not to be diverted; he said: ‘You have not allowed me to come near you since the night of the ball. I frightened you – I should not have spoken to you
then
! – but you cannot have doubted my – my sentiments towards you!’

‘I hope we have always been good friends,’ she said nervously. ‘Pray do not pain me by speaking of what happened
that
night! You did not mean it – I am persuaded you did not mean it!’

‘Nonsense!’ he interrupted, almost angrily. ‘Of course I meant it! You know that!’

She hung down her head, faltering: ‘I am afraid I have not always behaved as I should. I didn’t guess – but it was wrong of me, if – if my conduct led you to suppose – that I was in the expectation of receiving a declaration from you.’

He looked at her with a kindling pair of eyes. ‘It was not so with you a week ago!’

‘I was foolish – Mama said I ought not –’

‘It is all since this frippery fellow Ulverston came to Stanyon!’ he interrupted. ‘You have been flirting with him, encouraging his advances –’

‘It is not true! I won’t listen to you! You ought not to say these things, Martin! you know you ought not! Pray do not!’

‘You think you may keep me on your string with all the rest, but you are mistaken! I love you, Marianne!’

She made a protesting gesture, and he caught her hand, and held it in a hard grasp. Words tumbled off his tongue, but she was too much distressed to listen to his vows to make her happy, if only she would marry him. Trying unavailing to free her hand, she gasped: ‘No, no, you must not! Papa would not permit me – indeed, indeed, this is very wrong in you, Martin!’

He now had possession of her other hand as well; looking up at him, she was alarmed to see so stormy an expression in his face. She could as readily have believed that he hated her as that he loved her, and the knowledge that her own light-hearted coquetry had roused so much passion filled her with as much penitence as terror. With tears trembling on the ends of her lashes, she could only utter: ‘I didn’t mean it! I didn’t understand!’

‘You thought differently once! Until St Erth came home! Is that what it is? First St Erth, now Ulverston! You would sing another tune if I were St Erth, wouldn’t you? By God, I think I begin to value you as I should!’

She was provoked into crying out against this accusation, her tears now falling fast. ‘It is untrue! Let me go! You are hurting me! Let me go! Oh, please, please let me go!’

There seemed to be little likelihood of his attending to her, but at that moment the Viscount, who had come out of the house in search of her, looked into the shed. Two swift strides brought him up to them; his hand gripped Martin’s shoulder; he said authoritatively: ‘That will do! You forget yourself, Frant!’

Marianne was released immediately. Martin spun round, the intervention, coming from such a source, being all that was needed to fan his passion to a flame. The Viscount was granted barely more than a second to read his purpose in his blazing eyes, but he was a quick-witted young man, and it was enough. He rode the blow aimed for his chin, countered swiftly, and floored Martin. Marianne, backed against the wall of the shed, uttered a little scream of terror, pressing her hands to her blanched cheeks.

The Viscount stepped quickly up to her, saying, with a reassuring smile: ‘Beg pardon! An infamous thing to alarm you so! Don’t cry! No need at all – word of a gentleman! Will you go into the house? Miss Morville is sitting with your Mama. You’ll find Theo Frant as well – overtook ’em on the road here! Say nothing about this to your parents! Much better not, you know!’

‘Oh, no!’ she said faintly. ‘But you won’t – you won’t – ?’

‘Lord, no!’ he said cheerfully, drawing her towards the door. ‘Nothing for you to tease yourself about!’

She whispered his name beseechingly, but he said, in a low tone: ‘Hush! Not now!’ and gave her a little push over the threshold.

Martin had picked himself up from among the shattered pots, and was furiously brushing the dirt from his person. The Viscount surveyed him sardonically. ‘Habit of yours – forcing your attentions on females who don’t want ’em?’

Martin’s fists clenched, but he kept them at his sides. ‘You’ll meet me for this, my lord!’

‘Tomfoolery!’ Ulverston said shortly.

‘You may name your friends! They will hear from mine!’

‘Good God, how can I meet you?’ demanded Ulverston. ‘I’m a guest in your brother’s house, you young fool!’

‘It is not my house! You’ve knocked me down: do you mean to deny me satisfaction?’

‘Y’know I’ve no taste for rodomontade!’ said Ulverston. ‘You should be thanking me for having given you the leveller you were standing in crying need of!’

He would have left the shed on the words, but Martin stood in his way. ‘Will you, my lord, name your friends, or don’t you care to pit your marksmanship against mine?’

‘Oh, go to the devil!’ snapped Ulverston. ‘Whom would you have me name? Your brother? Your cousin?’

Martin was for the moment nonplussed, but he recovered quickly, and said: ‘Mr Warboys will be happy to serve you!’

‘Thank you! I shan’t call upon him to act for me.’

Martin’s right hand came up like a flash, and struck him an openhanded blow across the cheek. ‘Does
that
make you change your mind, my lord?’

The Viscount, curbing his instincts, kept his own hands lowered, but he was by this time very angry indeed. He said: ‘Yes, that makes me change my mind! If no one else will teach you a lesson, Martin Frant, I will!’

It was fortunate for the cordiality of the relations between Stanyon and Whissenhurst that before she had reached the house Marianne was met by Miss Morville, who had walked out to look for her. It was evident that Marianne was much discomposed, her bosom heaving, her eyes full of tears, and her cheeks whitened. She uttered the one word: ‘Martin!’ in answer to her friend’s solicitous enquiry, and seemed inclined to fall into strong hysterics. Miss Morville needed no more to prompt her to convey Marianne upstairs to her own room, and to beg her to tell her the whole. The story which was poured into her ears was incoherent, and freely interspersed with self-blame. She unravelled it as best she might, and did what lay in her power to soothe Marianne’s fears. When, shuddering, Marianne told her of the brief fight in the shed, she could not help smiling a little, so very much shocked did Marianne seem to be. She apologized for this insensibility by explaining that she had so often seen her brothers at fisticuffs, and had so often applied raw steaks to their blackened eyes, that she no longer felt on this subject as perhaps she ought. She could even hope that the exchange of blows might have gone some way to relieve exacerbated tempers, but Marianne’s description of the scene, and of Martin’s mien when he picked himself up from the floor, soon put such comfortable ideas to flight. She knew his temper; she could imagine what his chagrin must be: her only dependence must be on Ulverston’s good sense.

‘If they were to meet – and
I
the cause – !’ Marianne said, wringing her hands.

‘Well, they shan’t meet,’ replied Miss Morville. ‘It would be most improper!’

‘Improper! It might be fatal!’

‘I cannot suppose that either would be so stupid.’

‘Not Ulverston, no! But Martin! In such anger! How can you tell what he might do?’

‘You are right: I can’t tell,’ owned Miss Morville, dispassionately considering it. ‘Well, there is nothing for it but to put a stop to a duel – if that is indeed what they intend, and I daresay it may be, for gentlemen have such nonsensical notions that one may believe them to be capable of any folly.’

‘Oh, if one could but prevent it! But they will tell us nothing, for females should never know anything about such things! They would dislike it so very much, if one attempted to interfere in a matter of honour!’

‘I am not in the least concerned with what they may dislike,’ replied Miss Morville somewhat tartly. ‘What I am thinking of is how excessively disagreeable it would be for you and the Frants to have such a scandal in your midst. Do let me beg of you, my dear Marianne, not to mention what has occurred to another soul! There will be no duel, if I have to lay an information against them both to prevent it.’

Marianne looked as though she hardly knew whether to be relieved or scandalized. ‘Oh, that would be dreadful!’

‘You need not be alarmed: I am persuaded there will be no need to proceed to such an extreme.’

Her air of assurance had its effect. Marianne dried her tears, and was soothed. By the time she had tidied her ruffled ringlets, and folded up her shawl, she was calm enough to descend the stairs to the saloon, where Ulverston and Theo were chatting to Sir Thomas and his lady.

There was nothing to be learned from the Viscount’s manner, but Miss Morville thought that Theo was looking grave. Of Martin there was no sign, and since the Bolderwoods did not mention him she supposed that he must have left Whissenhurst without seeing them.

This was soon found to have been the case. The Stanyon party left the Grange together, and while Ulverston was exchanging a word or two with Sir Thomas on the front steps Theo found the opportunity to draw Miss Morville aside, and to ask her if she knew what was amiss between Martin and the Viscount.

‘Yes, and so, I fancy, must everyone! Has Ulverston spoken to you?’

‘Not Ulverston, but I ran into Martin, and I never saw the boy look so wild! Some nonsense he blurted out to me, demanding if I would act for Ulverston in an affair of honour! He cannot, surely, have been serious!’

‘I fear it. What did you reply?’

‘He gave me little chance to do more than to say I should certainly do no such thing. If he had not looked as he did, I should have thought him to have been speaking in jest. But Ulverston – ! Good God, this cannot be permitted! I’ll speak to Martin.’

There was no opportunity for more. The horses had been led up, and Sir Thomas was waiting to say good-bye. Miss Morville was handed into the saddle, and the party set off, the Viscount enlivening the way with a great deal of droll conversation, in a manner that would not have led anyone to suppose that he had been engaged in a violent quarrel not an hour earlier.

Upon their arrival at Stanyon, the gentlemen chose to ride on to the stables. Miss Morville dismounted at the foot of the terrace steps, and went quickly up them. She learned from Abney that his lordship was in the library, and went there immediately.

He was engaged in filling a two-colour gold snuff-box, ornamented with grisaille enamel paintings, with some of his special sort, but when he saw who had entered the room he rose at once, and set the jar aside. One glance at Miss Morville’s face made him say: ‘Is anything amiss, ma’am?’

She let the long skirt of her riding-dress fall, and began to strip off her gloves, saying with a slight smile: ‘You perceive so much more than one might imagine, my lord, that it is almost disconcerting.’

‘Do I? But what has happened to cause you concern? Sit down!’

She obeyed, but said: ‘Well, I don’t know that I am greatly concerned, but there
is
something amiss, and I believe you are the proper person to be told of it.’ She then, in the baldest of terms, recounted to him the story Marianne had poured out to her. ‘I should perhaps not have set much store by it had it not been for what Theo told me later. Marianne was greatly agitated, but that, I think, was largely because she has no brothers, and is consequently unaccustomed to scenes of violence.’

‘Unlike Miss Morville?’

‘Dear me, yes! In fact, I think it a pity that Marianne did not run away at once, for then, you know, they might have had what Jack calls a regular set-to, and I have little doubt they would have enjoyed it excessively, and parted the better friends. At least,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘it is what I should expect of most men, but I own Martin is a little different.’

‘That he tried to force a quarrel on to Lucy I can believe, but that Lucy should let him do it certainly surprises me.’

‘I do not know, of course, what gentlemen consider to be insupportable provocation, but I imagine Martin might offer such provocation?’

‘With enthusiasm,’ he agreed. ‘The devil fly away with that boy!’

‘He is very troublesome. But, although you may not like me to say this, I feel that he has not been quite properly treated. He did receive – and Marianne is fully conscious of it – a degree of encouragement which makes him not altogether to be blamed for his intemperate behaviour.’

‘Oh, I know it! If she were not so innocent, one might call her an arrant flirt.’

‘I am sure she had never the least intention of causing unhappiness.’

‘No, the mischief lay in his being too young to rate her pretty smiles at their true worth, and in
her
being too young to recognize that Martin was no man for her playful arts. What a stupid business it is! Are you expecting me to settle it?’

‘Certainly I am. If you do not, I shall be obliged to lay an information. Should it be to a magistrate?’

He laughed. ‘I hope we may not have to go to quite such a length as that! Will you leave it in my hands, and trust me to do what I can?’

‘Yes, willingly,’ she replied, rising, and picking up the train of her dress. ‘Theo said that he should speak to Martin, but I should not be surprised if you were found to have more influence than he has ever had. At all events, your word must carry weight with Lord Ulverston.’

She then left him, and he returned to his task of filling his snuff-box. It was very soon accomplished, and he had just restored the jar to a cupboard when Ulverston strolled in.

The Viscount instantly picked up the gold snuff-box from the table, and inspected it. ‘That’s pretty!’ he remarked. ‘Where did you find it, Ger?’

‘Rue St Honoré – Louis XV. Not really suitable for day-wear, of course.’

‘Oh, at old Ducroix’s? I bought one from him – genuine Barrière, with lapis panels.’

‘I know you did. He showed it to me, but I thought the marble-enamel displeasing. How did you find them all at Whissenhurst?’

‘Oh, in high gig! Lady Bolderwood is full of schemes for their party next week. The devil of it is that I find I can’t stay to attend it.’

‘No, so I apprehend,’ replied the Earl. ‘You have received a letter which summons you to town, haven’t you?’

Ulverston laid the snuff-box down, and raised a rueful pair of eyes to the Earl’s face. ‘So you know all about it, do you? Has Martin been with you?’

‘No, Miss Morville. I should warn you that she is ready to inform against you to the nearest magistrate, Lucy.’

‘Meddlesome female!’

‘Not at all. She is a woman of remarkable good-sense. What nonsense is this, Lucy?’

‘No nonsense of my seeking.’

‘But you cannot mean to meet Martin, surely!’

Ulverston shrugged. ‘I told him I could not, but when he chose to slap my face what would you have expected me to do?’

‘I can think of several things you might do. They would all of them do Martin a world of good, but they don’t include calling him out.’

‘Boot’s on the other leg: he called me out. Of course I told him not to be making such a cake of himself, but when it came to his suggesting I didn’t care to face his marksmanship, it was the outside of enough!’

‘Oh, here’s a high flight!’ said Gervase, laughing. ‘My poor Lucy, you have great need to prove your mettle! I beg your pardon! But you can’t prove it against my foolish young brother, you know.’

‘Don’t be alarmed! You don’t suppose I mean to hit him, do you?’

‘No, I fear he means to hit you.’

‘I’ll take my chance of that.’

‘Make no mistake about this, Lucy!’ Gervase said quietly. ‘If Martin means to kill you, there will be no chance. He is a very fine shot.’

‘Is he?’ The Viscount looked a little startled. ‘As good as you?’

‘Much better.’

‘The devil he is! The more reason, then, for not drawing back!’

‘Lucy, if you really wish to be reassured, let me tell you that you will earn nothing but praise for withdrawing a challenge to a boy with not one tenth your experience!’

‘You’re quite out. Not my challenge at all: I had nothing to do but accept a quarrel he was determined to force on to me.’

The Earl, who had been twirling his quizzing-glass on the end of its ribbon, now raised it to one eye, and through it surveyed his friend. ‘You said Martin slapped your face!’

‘He did. I gave him a leveller; he asked me for satisfaction, which I refused to give him; he then slapped my cheek, and asked if I would
now
meet him. I call that his challenge, not mine!’

‘How very irregular!’ remarked the Earl, slightly amused.

‘Irregular! The whole affair is quite abominable! God knows I don’t want to quarrel with your brother – not but what it’s time someone taught him not to persecute defenceless girls with his damned attentions!’

‘Forgive me, Lucy, but what is your interest in Miss Bolderwood? I have myself called Martin to book for – unmannerly conduct towards her, but it ought, I think, to be remembered that they are old playfellows, and have not been used to stand upon ceremony with each other.’

‘Oh, yes! Boy and girl stuff! I know that!’ Ulverston said impatiently. He took a turn about the room. ‘Well! I imagine you have guessed! Nothing is to be announced until after her presentation, but you may wish me happy, Ger!’

‘With all my heart! She will make you a delightful wife, and you will have the felicity of knowing yourself to be the object of a general envy!’

The Viscount grinned, as he grasped his hand. ‘Is she not beautiful, Ger? Those speaking eyes! So much countenance!’

‘Indeed she is!’ Gervase responded warmly.

‘I can tell you, I think myself fortunate to have secured her affections before
you
had done so!’

‘I cannot flatter myself that she ever thought more of me than of Martin.’

‘Oh – Martin!’ the Viscount said, his grin vanishing. ‘If I thought I had cut
you
out, I should be sorry for it!’

‘No, you have cut Martin out.’

‘I care nothing for that. It ain’t true, either.’

‘I fancy he has been the most fav – prominent – of her suitors,’ Gervase said, correcting himself hastily.

‘Very likely. They are, as you have said, old playfellows. If he chose to think she cared for him, he must be a bigger coxcomb than I knew!’

Gervase let this pass. He picked up his snuff-box, and opened it, and took a meditative pinch. ‘Will you go halfway to meet Martin, Lucy?’

‘To save you annoyance, yes!’

Gervase smiled at him. ‘Really, you know, Lucy, we cannot have such a scandal! These little affairs always leak out. By the by, was I to act for you?’

‘Exactly what I asked the young fool! He told me Warboys would be happy to act for me! Man I’ve only met three times in my life!’

Gervase burst out laughing. ‘Warboys! I wish he may come to offer his services to you!’

But at that very moment, Mr Warboys was most strenuously resisting all efforts put forward to make him do this very thing. ‘No, dash it, Martin!’ he said. ‘Don’t mind acting for
you
– not but what I think you’re making a cake of yourself, mind! – but I’m damned if I’ll act for a fellow I don’t know!’

‘You do know him! He was at our ball!’

‘What’s that to say to anything? Seen him at Whissenhurst a couple of times too, but that don’t mean I know him!’

‘What does it signify? The circumstances are peculiar, and –’

‘Yes, and that’s another thing!’ said Mr Warboys. ‘No wish to offend you, dear old boy – and it ain’t a bit of use trying to call
me
out if you
are
offended! – but the circumstances are
too
dashed peculiar! Mind, now, I’m not sure, because I haven’t been out myself, but I don’t think this is at all the thing. I’ll ask my father: knows everything, my father!’