The Grand Sophy Read online

  ‘I wish you will stop staring at me in that foolish way!’ said Sophy. ‘You have already peered at me through that hole in the door, and you must by now have convinced yourself that I am not a law-officer in disguise.’

  Mr Goldhanger protested. The insinuation that he would not welcome a visit from a law-officer seemed to wound him. However, he stood back to allow Sophy to enter the room, and invited her to take a chair on one side of the large desk which occupied the centre of the floor.

  ‘Yes, but I shall be obliged to you if you will first dust it,’ she said.

  Mr Goldhanger performed this office with one of his long coat-tails. He heard the key grate behind him, and turned sharply to see his visitor removing it from the lock.

  ‘You won’t object to my locking the door, I daresay,’ said Sophy. ‘I don’t in the least desire to be interrupted by any of your acquaintances, you see. And since I should much dislike to be spied on you will permit me to stuff my handkerchief into that Judas of yours.’ She removed one hand from her large swansdown muff as she spoke, and poked a corner of her handkerchief into the hole.

  Mr Goldhanger had the oddest feeling that the world had begun to revolve in reverse. For years he had taken care never to get into any situation he was unable to command, and his visitors were more in the habit of pleading with him than of locking the door, and ordering him to dust the furniture. He could see no particular harm in allowing Sophy to retain the key, for although she was a large young woman he had no doubt of being able to wrest it from her, should such a need arise. The instinct of his race made him prefer, whenever possible, to maintain a manner of the utmost urbanity, so he now smiled, and bowed, and said that my lady was welcome to do what she pleased in his humble abode. He then betook himself to the chair on the other side of the desk, and asked what he might have the honour of doing for her.

  ‘I have come on a very simple matter,’ responded Sophy. ‘It is merely to recover from you Mr Hubert Rivenhall’s bond, and the emerald ring given you as a pledge.’

  ‘That,’ said Mr Goldhanger, smiling more ingratiatingly than ever, ‘is indeed a simple matter. I shall be delighted to oblige you, my lady. I need not ask whether you have brought with you the funds, for I am sure such a business-like young lady –’

  ‘Now, that is excellent!’ interrupted Sophy cordially. ‘I find that so many persons imagine that if one is a female one has no head for business, and that, of course, leads to a sad waste of time. I must tell you at once that when you lent five hundred pounds to Mr Rivenhall you lent money to a minor. I expect I need not explain to you what that means.’

  She smiled in the most friendly way as she spoke these words, and Mr Goldhanger smiled back at her, and said softly: ‘What a well-informed young lady, to be sure! If I sued Mr Rivenhall for my money I could not recover it. But I do not think Mr Rivenhall would like me to sue him for it.’

  ‘Of course he would not,’ Sophy agreed. ‘Moreover, although it was extremely wrong of you to have lent him any money, it seems unjust that you should not at least recover the principal.’

  ‘Most unjust,’ said Mr Goldhanger. ‘There is also a little matter of the interest, my lady.’

  Sophy shook her head. ‘No, I shan’t pay you a penny in interest, which may perhaps teach you a lesson to be more careful in future. I have with me five hundred pounds in bills, and when you have handed me the bond and the ring I will give them to you.’

  Mr Goldhanger could not help laughing a little at this, for although he had not very much sense of humour he could not but be tickled at the thought that he would forgo his interest at the command of a young lady. ‘I think I prefer to keep the bond and the ring,’ he said.

  ‘I expect you would prefer it,’ said Sophy.

  ‘You should consider, my lady, that I could do Mr Rivenhall a great deal of harm,’ Mr Goldhanger pointed out. ‘He is up at Oxford, isn’t he? Yes, I don’t think they would be pleased there if they knew of his little transaction with me. Or –’

  ‘They would not be at all pleased,’ said Sophy. ‘It would be a trifle awkward for you, though, would it not? But perhaps you could persuade them that you had no notion that Mr Rivenhall was under age.’

  ‘Such a clever young lady!’ smiled Mr Goldhanger.

  ‘No, but I have a great deal of common-sense, which tells me that if you refuse to give up the bond and the ring the best course for me to pursue would be to drive at once to Bow Street and lay the whole matter before the magistrate there.’

  The smile faded: Mr Goldhanger watched her through narrowed eyelids. ‘I don’t think you would be wise to do that,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t you? Well, I think it is the wisest thing I could possibly do, and I have a strong feeling that they would like to have news of you in Bow Street.’

  Mr Goldhanger shared this feeling. But he did not believe that Sophy meant what she said, his clients having the most providential dislike to publicity. He said: ‘I think my Lord Ombersley would prefer to pay me my money.’

  ‘I daresay he would, and that is why I have told him nothing about it, for I think it nonsensical to be blackmailed by such a creature as you, all for the want of a little courage!’

  This unprecedented point of view began to engender in Mr Goldhanger a dislike for his guest. Women, he knew, were unpredictable. He leaned forward in his chair, and tried to explain to her some of the more disagreeable consequences that would befall Mr Rivenhall if he repudiated any part of his debt. He spoke well, and it was a sinister little speech that seldom failed to impress his hearers. It failed today.

  ‘All this,’ said Sophy, cutting him short, ‘is nonsense and you must know that as well as I do. All that would happen to Mr Rivenhall would be that he would get a great scold, and be in disgrace with his father for a while, and as for being sent down from Oxford, no such thing! They will never know anything about it there, because it is my belief that you do worse things than lending money at extortionate rates to young men, and once I have been to Bow Street, ten to one they will contrive to put you in prison on quite another charge! What is more, the instant it becomes known to the law-officers that you lent money to a minor you will be unable to recover a penny of it. So pray do not talk any more to me in that absurd way! I am not in the least afraid of you, or of anything you can do.’

  ‘You are very courageous,’ said Mr Goldhanger gently. ‘Also you have much common-sense, as you told me. But I too have common-sense, my lady, and I do not think that you came to see me with the consent, or even the knowledge of your parents, or your maid, or even of Mr Hubert Rivenhall. Perhaps you would indeed inform against me at Bow Street: I do not know, but perhaps you may never be granted the opportunity. Now I should not like to be harsh to such a beautiful young lady, so shall we agree to a little compromise? You will give me the five hundred pounds you have brought with you, and those pretty pearls you wear in your ears, and I will hand you Mr Rivenhall’s bond, and we shall both of us be satisfied.’

  Sophy laughed. ‘I imagine you would be more than satisfied!’ she said. ‘I will give you five hundred pounds for the bond and the ring, and nothing more.’

  ‘But perhaps you have loving parents who would be willing to give me much, much more to have you restored to them, alive, my lady, and unhurt?’

  He rose from his chair as he spoke, but his objectionable guest, instead of displaying decent alarm, merely withdrew her right hand from her muff. In it she held a small but eminently serviceable pistol. ‘Pray sit down again, Mr Goldhanger!’ she said.

  Mr Goldhanger sat down. He believed that no female could stand loud reports, much less pull triggers, but he had seen quite enough of Sophy to be reluctant to put this belief to the test. He begged her not to be foolish.

  ‘You must not be afraid that I don’t know how to handle guns,’ Sophy told him reassuringly. ‘Indeed, I am a very fair shot. Perhaps I ought to tell you that I have lived for some time in Spain, where of course they have a great many unpleasant people, such