The Convenient Marriage Read online

  Rule dipped a quill in the standish. ‘If I were to give you a draft on my bankers for five thousand? Or shall we say ten, as a rounder sum?’

  The Viscount was moved to sit up. ‘Five,’ he said firmly. ‘Since you’re making a point of it, I don’t mind settling up to five thousand, but give away ten thousand pounds to a lot of tradesmen I can’t and I won’t do. Damme, flesh and blood won’t stand it!’

  He watched Rule’s quill move across the paper, and shook his head. ‘Seems wicked to me,’ he said. ‘I’ve nothing to say against spending money, but blister it, I don’t like to see it thrown away!’ He sighed. ‘You know, I could put it to better use, Rule,’ he suggested.

  Rule shook the sand off the paper and handed it to him. ‘But somehow I feel sure you won’t, Pelham,’ he said.

  The Viscount cocked an eyebrow intelligently. ‘Like that, is it?’ he said. ‘Oh, very well! But I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.’

  Nor did his sisters like it when they heard of it. ‘Given you five thousand pounds to pay your debts?’ cried Charlotte. ‘I never heard of such a thing!’

  ‘No more did I,’ agreed Pelham. ‘Thought for a moment the man was queer in his head, but he don’t seem to be.’

  ‘Pel, I do think perhaps you might have waited,’ Elizabeth said rather reproachfully. ‘It seems almost – almost indecent.’

  ‘And it will all go on gaming,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Devil a penny of it, miss, so that’s all you know,’ replied the Viscount without rancour.

  ‘Why n-not?’ inquired Horatia bluntly. ‘It usually d-does.’

  Her brother threw her a look of scorn. ‘Lord, Horry, if a man trusts you with a cool five thousand to pay your debts, there’s no more to be said.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Charlotte waspishly, ‘Lord Rule requires to see your accounts.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what it is, Charlotte,’ the Viscount informed her, ‘if you don’t sweeten that tongue of yours you’ll never get a husband.’

  Elizabeth intervened rather hastily. ‘Will it meet them all, Pel?’

  ‘It’ll keep the blood-suckers quiet for a while,’ replied his lordship. He nodded to Horatia. ‘He’ll make you a devilish good husband, I daresay, but you’d best be careful how you deal with him, Horry!’

  ‘Oh,’ said Horatia, ‘you don’t understand, P-Pel! We are not going to interfere with each other at all! It is j-just like a French marriage of c-convenience.’

  ‘I’m not saying it ain’t convenient,’ said the Viscount, glancing at Rule’s draft, ‘but if you take my advice you won’t play your tricks on Rule. I’ve a strong notion you might regret it.’

  ‘I have felt that too,’ Elizabeth said, an anxious note in her voice.

  ‘S-stuff!’ pronounced Horatia, unimpressed.

  Five

  The wedding of the Earl of Rule to Miss Horatia Winwood passed off without any unseemly fracas, such as the arrest of the bride’s brother for debt or a scene created by the bridegroom’s mistress (an event not entirely unexpected by the hopeful), occurring to mar its propriety. The Earl arrived punctually, which surprised everyone, including his harassed secretary; and the bride seemed to be in excellent spirits. Indeed, there were those who considered her spirits too excellent for so solemn an occasion. She was not observed to shed a single tear. However, this lack of sensibility was more than made up for by the demeanour of Lady Winwood. Nothing could have been more proper than that lady’s whole bearing. She was supported by her brother, and wept silently throughout the ceremony. Miss Winwood and Miss Charlotte as bridesmaids looked beautiful and behaved becomingly; Mr Walpole’s sharp eyes took in everything; Lady Louisa Quain bore up very well, but had recourse to her handkerchief when my lord took Horatia’s hand in his; Mr Drelincourt wore a new wig, and a look of saintly resignation; and the Viscount performed his part with careless grace.

  It was understood that after a few days spent in the country, the bride and groom were bound for Paris, the choice of destination having been left to the bride. Elizabeth thought it an odd place for a honeymoon, but ‘Pho!’ said Horatia. ‘We are not like you and Edward, w-wanting to make love all d-day long! I want to see things, and go to V-Versailles, and b-buy smarter clothes than Theresa Maulfrey’s!’

  This part at least of her programme was faithfully carried out. At the end of six weeks the noble pair returned to London, the bride’s luggage, so it was rumoured, occupying an entire coach.

  The nuptials of her youngest-born had proved to be too much for Lady Winwood’s delicate constitution. The varied emotions she had sustained were productive of a fit of the vapours, and the intelligence that her son had signalized his sister’s wedding-day by betting fifty pounds on a race between two geese in Hyde Park set the seal to her collapse. She withdrew with her two remaining daughters (one, alas, so soon to be reft from her) to the fastness of Winwood, and there built up her shattered nervous system on a diet of eggs and cream and paregoric draughts, and the contemplation of the Marriage Settlements.

  Charlotte, who had thus early in life perceived the Hollowness of Worldly Pleasures professed herself very well pleased with the arrangement, but Elizabeth, though she would not have dreamed of urging Poor Dear Mama, would have preferred to be in London for Horry’s home-coming. And this in despite of the fact that Mr Heron found it easily compatible with his not very arduous duties to spend a considerable portion of his time at his home, not two miles distant from Winwood.

  Of course Horry journeyed into Hampshire to visit them, but she came without the Earl, a circumstance that distressed Elizabeth. She arrived in her own chaise, a high-sprung affair with huge wheels and the most luxurious blue velvet upholstery; was attended by her abigail, two postilions, and a couple of grooms riding behind the chaise. At first glance she seemed to her sisters to have changed out of all recognition.

  Evidently the day of demure muslins and chip hats was done, for the vision in the chaise wore a gown of tobine stripes over a large hoop, and the hat perched on top of curls dressed à la capricieuse bore several waving plumes.

  ‘Good gracious, it cannot be Horry!’ gasped Charlotte, falling back a step.

  But it was soon seen that the change in Horatia went no deeper than her clothes. She could hardly wait for the steps of the chaise to be let down before she sprang into Elizabeth’s arms, and she paid not the slightest heed to the crushing of her stiff silk gown or the tilting of that preposterous hat. From Elizabeth she flew to Charlotte, words bubbling off her tongue. Oh, yes, it was the same Horry: no doubt of that.

  She stayed one night only at Winwood, which, said Charlotte, was just as well for her Mama, whose state of health was still too precarious to enable her to bear so much chatter and excitement.

  Had she enjoyed her honeymoon? Oh, she had had a famous time! Only fancy, she had been to Versailles and spoken with the Queen, and it was perfectly true, the Queen was the most ravishingly beautiful creature and so elegant that she set all the fashions. See, she herself was wearing shoes cheveux à la Reine! Whom else had she met! Why, everyone in the world! Such routs, such soirées, and oh, the fireworks at the Tuileries ball!

  It was not until they had retired to bed that Elizabeth had any opportunity for a tête-à-tête. But no sooner did Horatia set eyes on her sister than she sent her maid away, and curled up on the sopha with Elizabeth beside her. ‘I’m so g-glad you came, L-Lizzie,’ she said confidingly. ‘Charlotte disapproves d-dreadfully of me, doesn’t she?’

  Elizabeth smiled. ‘I am sure you don’t care a rap for her disapproval, Horry.’

  ‘Of c-course I don’t. I do so hope you will be m-married very soon, L-Lizzie. You have no n-notion how agreeable it is.’

  ‘Quite soon now, we hope. But with Mama so poorly I don’t think of it. Are you – are you very happy, dearest?’

  Horatia nodded vigorously. ‘Oh, yes! Only that