The Convenient Marriage Read online

  Mr Drelincourt clung to the window frame and gave an unnatural laugh. ‘Oh, your pleasantries, my lord! I am on my way to Meering, you know, to my cousin’s. I – I think it is already five o’clock, and he dines at five.’

  ‘Crosby, come down!’ said Lethbridge, with such an alarming glitter in his eyes that Mr Drelincourt was quite cowed, and began to fumble with the catch of the door. He climbed down carefully, under the grinning stare of his postilions. ‘I vow I can’t imagine what you was wanting to say to me,’ he said. ‘And I am late, you know. I ought to be on my way.’

  His arm was taken in an ungentle grip. ‘Walk with me a little way, Crosby,’ said his lordship. ‘Do you not find these country roads quite charming? I am sure you do. And so you are bound for Meering? Was not that a rather sudden decision, Crosby?’

  ‘Sudden?’ stammered Mr Drelincourt, wincing at the pressure of his lordship’s fingers above his elbow. ‘Oh, not at all, my lord, not in the least! I told Rule I might come down. I have had it in mind some days, I assure you.’

  ‘It has nothing to do, of course, with a certain brooch?’ purred Lethbridge.

  ‘A b-brooch? I don’t understand you, my lord!’

  ‘A ring-brooch of pearls and diamonds, picked up in my house last night,’ said his lordship.

  Mr Drelincourt’s knees shook. ‘I protest, sir, I – I am at a loss! I –’

  ‘Crosby, give me that brooch,’ said Lethbridge menacingly.

  Mr Drelincourt made an attempt to pull his arm away. ‘My lord, I don’t understand your tone! I tell you frankly, I don’t like it. I don’t take your meaning.’

  ‘Crosby,’ said his lordship, ‘you will give me that brooch, or I will take you by the scruff of your neck and shake you like the rat you are!’

  ‘Sir!’ said Mr Drelincourt, his teeth chattering together, ‘this is monstrous! Monstrous!’

  ‘It is indeed monstrous,’ agreed his lordship. ‘You are a thief, Mr Crosby Drelincourt.’

  Mr Drelincourt flushed scarlet. ‘It was not your brooch, sir!’

  ‘Or yours!’ swiftly replied Lethbridge. ‘Hand it over!’

  ‘I – I have called a man out for less!’ blustered Crosby.

  ‘That’s your humour, is it?’ said Lethbridge. ‘It’s not my practice to fight with thieves; I use a cane instead. But I might make an exception in your case.’

  To Mr Drelincourt’s horror, he thrust forward his sword hilt and patted it. That unfortunate gentleman licked his lips and said quaveringly: ‘I shall not fight you, sir. The brooch is more mine than yours!’

  ‘Hand it over!’ said Lethbridge.

  Mr Drelincourt hesitated, read a look in his lordship’s face there was no mistaking, and slowly inserted his finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket. The next moment the brooch lay in Lethbridge’s hand.

  ‘Thank you, Crosby,’ he said, in a way that made Mr Drelincourt long for the courage to hit him. ‘I thought I should be able to persuade you. You may now resume your journey to Meering – if you think it still worthwhile. If you don’t – you may join me at the Sun in Maidenhead, where I propose to dine and sleep. I almost feel I owe you a dinner for spoiling your game so unkindly.’ He turned, leaving Mr Drelincourt speechless with indignation, and walked back to his chaise, which had by this time drawn up to the side of the road, facing towards London again. He climbed lightly into it and drove off, airily waving his hand to Mr Drelincourt, still standing in the dusty road.

  Mr Drelincourt gazed after him, rage seething up in him. Spoiled his game, had he? There might be two words to that! He hurried back to his own chaise, saw the looks of rich enjoyment on the postilions’ faces, and swore at them to drive on.

  It was only six miles to Meering from the Thicket, but by the time the chaise turned in at the Lodge gates it was close on six o’clock. The house was situated a mile from the gates, in the middle of a very pretty park, but Mr Drelincourt was in no mood to admire the fine oaks, and rolling stretches of turf, and sat in a fret of impatience while his tired horses drew him up the long avenue to the house.

  He found his cousin and Mr Gisborne lingering over their port in the dining-room, which apartment was lit by candles. It might be broad daylight outside, but my lord had a constitutional dislike of dining by day, and excluded it by having the heavy curtains drawn across the windows.

  Both he and Mr Gisborne were in riding-dress. My lord was lounging in a high-backed chair at the head of the table, one leg, encased in a dusty top-boot, thrown negligently over the arm. He looked up as the footman opened the door to admit Mr Drelincourt, and for a moment sat perfectly still, the look of good humour fading from his face. Then he picked up his quizzing-glass with some deliberation, and surveyed his cousin through it. ‘Dear me!’ he said. ‘Now why?’

  This was not a very promising start, but his anger had chased from Mr Drelincourt’s mind all memory of his last meeting with the Earl, and he was undaunted. ‘Cousin,’ he said, his words tripping over one another. ‘I am here on a matter of grave moment. I must beg a word with you alone!’

  ‘I imagine it must indeed be of grave moment to induce you to come over thirty miles in pursuit of me,’ said his lordship.

  Mr Gisborne got up. ‘I will leave you, sir.’ He bowed slightly to Mr Drelincourt, who paid not the slightest heed to him, and went out.

  Mr Drelincourt pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down. ‘I regret extremely, Rule, but you must prepare yourself for most unpleasant tidings. If I did not consider it my duty to apprise you of what I have discovered, I should shrink from the task!’

  The Earl did not seem to be alarmed. He still sat at his ease, one hand lying on the table, the fingers crooked round the stem of his wine-glass, his calm gaze resting on Mr Drelincourt’s face. ‘This self-immolation on the altar of duty is something new to me,’ he remarked. ‘I daresay my nerves will prove strong enough to enable me to hear your tidings with – I trust – tolerable equanimity.’

  ‘I trust so, Rule, I do indeed trust so!’ said Mr Drelincourt, his eyes snapping. ‘You are pleased to sneer at my notion of duty –’

  ‘I hesitate to interrupt you, Crosby, but you may have noticed that I never sneer.’

  ‘Very well, cousin, very well! Be that as it may, you will allow that I have my share of family pride.’

  ‘Certainly, if you tell me so,’ replied the Earl gently.

  Mr Drelincourt flushed. ‘I do tell you so! Our name – our honour, mean as much to me as to you, I believe! It is on that score that I am here now.’

  ‘If you have come all this way to inform me that the catch-polls are after you, Crosby, it is only fair to tell you that you are wasting your time.’

  ‘Very humorous, my lord!’ cried Mr Drelincourt. ‘My errand, however, concerns you more nearly than that! Last night – I should rather say this morning, for it was long past two by my watch – I had occasion to visit my Lord Lethbridge.’

  ‘That is, of course, interesting,’ said the Earl. ‘It seems an odd hour for visiting, but I have sometimes thought, Crosby, that you are an odd creature.’

  Mr Drelincourt’s bosom swelled. ‘There is nothing very odd, I think, in sheltering from the rain!’ he said. ‘I was upon my way to my lodging from South Audley Street, and chanced to turn down Half-Moon Street. I was caught in a shower of rain, but observing the door of my Lord Lethbridge’s house to stand – inadvertently, I am persuaded – ajar, I stepped in. I found his lordship in a dishevelled condition in the front saloon, where a vastly elegant supper was spread, covers, my lord, being laid for two.’

  ‘You shock me infinitely,’ said the Earl, and leaning a little forward, picked up the decanter and refilled his glass.

  Mr Drelincourt uttered a shrill laugh. ‘You may well say so! His lordship seemed put out at seeing me, remarkably put out!’

  ‘That,’ said the Earl, �€