Pistols for Two Read online

  ‘Yes, and I fear he will prove to be very disagreeable.’

  ‘Are all your relatives disagreeable persons, Miss Trent?’ he enquired.

  ‘Certainly not! Mama, and my stepfather, and the children are the dearest creatures!’ she replied. ‘In fact, it is for them that I am going to Bath. If only my grandfather likes me better than Joseph, the boys may go to Eton, and Clara have lessons upon the pianoforte, and Mama another servant, and Papa – But this cannot interest you, sir!’

  ‘On the contrary. And is Joseph also bent on winning this fortune?’

  ‘Yes, and he does not need it in the least! You see, the case is that my grandfather quarrelled with both his daughters – my mama, and Joseph’s mama – because they married men he did not like. Mama says he was determined they should make splendid matches, and they did not. Mama ran away with my papa to Gretna Green – only fancy! He died when I was a baby, and I believe that he was not a very steady person. He was related to Lord Cleveland, and in the 1st Foot, only his family cast him off. So, I think, did the 1st Foot,’ she added reflectively. ‘Mama says he was very wild.’

  ‘Most of that family are,’ interpolated Sir Julian.

  ‘Oh, are they? I have never known them. Papa left poor Mama in sad straits, and if it had not been for my stepfather I don’t know what would have become of her. He married her, you see, and they are most happy! But Papa has a very small stipend, and there are five children, besides me, so that when my grandfather suddenly wrote to say that he felt his end to be approaching, and since he must leave his fortune to someone, I might go to spend Christmas with him, and perhaps he would leave it to me, it seemed as though it was my duty to go! And then I found that he must have sent for Joseph too, but I do think that he may like me better than Joseph, don’t you, sir?’

  ‘Miss Trent,’ said Sir Julian, ‘unless your grandfather is mad, you need have no doubts on that head!’

  ‘Yes, but I think he is!’ said Miss Trent candidly.

  ‘Who is he? What is his name?’

  ‘Kennet, and he lives in Laura Place.’

  ‘Good God, not the Miser of Bath?’

  ‘Oh, are you acquainted with him, sir?’

  ‘Only by reputation! Bath used to be full of tales of his oddities. I fear it is you who will not like him!’

  ‘No, but in such a cause one must stifle one’s feelings!’ said Miss Trent.

  He agreed to it with becoming gravity, and for some miles entered in the fullest manner into all her plans for the advancement of her family.

  The journey was a long one, and the weather inclement enough to have daunted most females, but Miss Trent remained cheerful throughout. Sir Julian, who had been sure, twenty-four hours earlier, that he had run through every emotion life could hold for him, realized by the time the outskirts of Bath were reached that he had fallen in love for the first time since his salad days.

  It was dark when the curricle drew up before a house in Laura Place, and the street lamps had been lit. ‘Tired?’ Sir Julian said gently.

  ‘A very little,’ owned Miss Trent. ‘But you must be quite dead with fatigue, sir!’

  ‘I have never enjoyed a day more.’

  Miss Trent said shyly: ‘I – I have not either!’

  ‘In that case,’ said Sir Julian, ‘let us go in and beard your grandfather!’

  ‘You too, sir?’ she asked doubtfully.

  ‘Certainly. I must ask his permission to pay my addresses to you.’

  ‘To – to – ? Oh!’ said Miss Trent in a faint voice.

  ‘Yes, may I do so?’

  Miss Trent swallowed. ‘I have the most lowering feeling that I ought to say it is too sudden, or – or something of that nature,’ she confided.

  ‘Say what is in your heart! Would it displease you to receive my addresses?’

  ‘Well, no, it – it wouldn’t displease me – precisely!’ confessed Miss Trent, blushing in the darkness.

  ‘Then let us instantly seek out your grandfather!’ he said gaily.

  They were admitted into the house by an aged retainer who reluctantly showed them into a bleak parlour on the ground floor. He left them with a single candle. Miss Trent said: ‘It is not very – very welcoming, do you think?’

  ‘Most quelling!’ said Sir Julian.

  In a few minutes the door opened again to admit a buxom lady of uncertain years and improbable golden ringlets. She said without preamble: ‘Are you Mr Kennet’s Sophia? He’s that forgetful he must have forgotten to write! However, if you want to see him you may! Step upstairs with me, dearie! Don’t tell me this is Joseph you have brought with you!’

  ‘Who – who are you?’ gasped Miss Trent, utterly taken aback.

  The lady bridled. ‘The name’s Flint,’ she said. ‘But I’m changing it. I was your grandpa’s housekeeper.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Miss Trent. ‘Then will you have the goodness to take me to my grandfather, if you please?’

  Mrs Flint sniffed, but turned to lead the way up one pair of stairs. She opened a door giving on to a large parlour, and said: ‘Here’s your granddaughter, Mr K.!’

  From a winged arm-chair by the fire a desiccated old gentleman peered at Miss Trent. ‘Well, it’s no use her coming here, because I’ve altered my mind,’ he said. ‘Maria’s girl, hey? Damme if you don’t look like her!’

  Mrs Flint, who had taken up a position beside his chair, said with a simper: ‘Me and Mr K. is going to be married.’

  ‘It’ll be cheaper,’ explained Mr Kennet simply.

  Miss Trent sank nervelessly into the nearest chair. Mr Kennet was meanwhile subjecting Sir Julian to a severe scrutiny. ‘A fine buck you’ve turned out to be!’ he pronounced. ‘What’s your name? Joseph?’

  ‘No,’ said Sir Julian. ‘My name is Julian Arden.’

  Both Mr Kennet and his prospective bride stared very hard at him. ‘Mr K., if it isn’t Beau Arden himself!’ palpitated the lady.

  ‘Are you the son of Percy Arden, who was up at Oxford with me?’ demanded Mr Kennet. ‘Sir Julian Arden?’

  ‘I am,’ said Sir Julian.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked the old gentleman suspiciously.

  ‘To marry your granddaughter,’ replied Sir Julian coolly.

  This intelligence produced an instant change in Mr Kennet’s attitude. He rubbed his dry hands together and ejaculated: ‘That’s good! That’s the girl! Come and give me a kiss, Sophy! I’m proud of you, and I’m sorry I said you was like your mother! Damme if I don’t do something handsome by you!’

  Miss Trent, submitting unwilling to his embrace, was feeling too dazed by the shocks of the past few minutes to speak, but at this her eyes lit with a faint hope.

  ‘I will!’ said Mr Kennet, with the air of one reaching a painful decision. ‘You shall have your grandmother’s pearls!’

  ‘When we’re dead and gone, Mr K.,’ interpolated the future Mrs Kennet firmly.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Mr Kennet, perceiving the wisdom of this. ‘And I’ll give her my poor Charlotte’s garnet brooch for a bride gift, what’s more! I can’t lay my hand on it at the moment, but I’ll send it. Where are you putting up, my dear?’

  Sir Julian, perceiving that Miss Trent was quite stunned, took her hand in a comforting hold, and said: ‘She will be staying at the Christopher, sir. And now I think we must take our leave of you.’

  Mr Kennet brightened still more at finding that he was not expected to entertain his grandchild and her betrothed to dinner, and said that if she liked she might come to visit him again before she left Bath. ‘But I won’t have your cousin Joseph coming to batten on me!’ he added, suddenly querulous.

  ‘Which leads one to wonder,’ remarked Sir Julian, when he had extricated Miss Trent from the house, ‘what is to become of Joseph!’

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