Pistols for Two Read online

  The smile was reflected in them. ‘If you please, sir!’ Ruth said, blushing adorably.

  Mrs Welborne, much affected, rang for the servant to show Mr Wrexham out of the house. When he had gone, Ruth, looking doubtfully at her aunt, said in her soft voice: ‘I hope you are not vexed with me, ma’am? Indeed, I –’

  ‘Vexed with you?’ cried Mrs Welborne, embracing her with unaccustomed fervour. ‘Dearest Ruth, what nonsensical notions you do take into your head! Dear, dear child, I know that when you are rich and fashionable you will not forget your cousins! They say he has never yet attached himself to any female, and you may imagine the caps that have been set at him! Ruth, is it possible – ? Why, you innocent puss, that was Wrexham of Lyonshall!’

  7

  Mr Wrexham, returning to Grosvenor Square just before midnight, learned, with vague surprise, that he was awaited by her ladyship in the drawing-room. He found, in fact, that he was awaited not only by her ladyship, but by his sister, and a well set-up young man in scarlet regimentals, who had a crop of fair, curly hair, a pair of serious blue eyes, set in an open countenance, and a general air of one about to engage in a Forlorn Hope. Both he and Letty rose at Mr Wrexham’s entrance. The gentleman eased his black cravat, and was seen to draw a deep breath; the lady burst into tempestuous speech.

  ‘Good heavens, Giles, where can you have been this age? We have been waiting for you these two hours! Giles, this is Edwin!’

  ‘How do you do?’ said Mr Wrexham, holding out his hand.

  Mr Ledbury’s orbs showed a tendency to start from their sockets. He coloured richly, and grasped the outstretched hand. ‘How – how do you do?’ he stammered. ‘I have long been wishful of meeting you, sir!’

  ‘Have you?’ said Mr Wrexham abstractedly. He opened his snuff-box, and offered it to his guest. His eyes took in the facings to that scarlet jacket. ‘In the 40th are you?’

  Mr Ledbury acknowledged it. Almost stunned by the honour done him in being invited to help himself to snuff from Mr Wrexham’s own box, he took too large a pinch, and fell into a fit of sneezing. This left the field open to Letty, and she at once said: ‘You must know, Giles, that but for my entreaties this visit would have been paid you more than a month ago! No sooner did I divulge to Edwin what had passed between you and me this morning than he declared his unshakeable resolve to wait upon you immediately! We stayed only to dine with his sister.’

  ‘Did you?’ said Mr Wrexham. ‘I can only offer my apologies for having been absent from home. What do you want with me?’

  Letty stared at him. ‘Giles, are you quite well?’ she gasped.

  ‘I was thinking of something else,’ he apologized, a tinge of colour mounting to his cheek. ‘Did you say you had been awaiting me for two hours? Were you not at the masquerade, then?’

  Mr Ledbury, mastering his paroxysm, said: ‘Sir, it is on that head that I was resolved to have speech with you this very night! When I learned that you had taken the scheme in such aversion, nothing, believe me, would have prevailed with me to continue with it! In this determination my sister was steadfast in upholding me. It was only in response to my earnest representations that she was induced, at the outset, to take part in the scheme.’

  ‘These masquerades are not at all the thing, you know,’ said Mr Wrexham.

  Mr Ledbury blushed more vividly still. ‘Sir, from the circumstance of my having been employed since the age of fifteen, first in the Peninsula, and later in America, returning thence only just in time to take part in the late conflict at Waterloo, I have never been on the town, as the saying is. Had I suspected that any impropriety would attach to my escorting Miss Wrexham to such a function, I must have been resolute in refusing to lend myself to the project.’

  ‘Letty’s notion, was it?’ said Mr Wrexham, with what none of his listeners could feel to be more than tepid interest.

  His mother and sister gazed at him in uneasy astonishment. Mr Ledbury, emboldened by his mild aspect, plunged into a recital of his ambitions, his present circumstances, and his future expectations. Mr Wrexham, lost in dreams of his own, caught such phrases as ‘eldest son’, – ‘my father’s estate in Somerset’, and soon interrupted the flow, saying: ‘I wish you will not talk so much! It is time you had your company: you had a great deal better exchange into another regiment, but I cannot discuss that with you at this hour!’

  Mr Ledbury, transported to find his Letty’s brother so much less formidable than he had been led to expect, delivered himself of a rehearsed peroration. In the maximum number of words he conveyed to Mr Wrexham the intelligence that, if it were possible, he would prefer Letty to renounce all claim to her inheritance. This noble speech at last jerked Mr Wrexham out of his abstraction, and caused him to retort with considerable acerbity: ‘Happily, it is not possible! I wish you will go away, for I am in no mood for these heroics! Come and talk to me tomorrow morning! You wish to marry my sister: very well, but you must transfer! She will make you the devil of a wife, but that, I thank God, is no concern of mine!’

  With these words of encouragement, he inexorably ushered his guest off the premises, barely allowing him time to take a punctilious leave of Lady Albinia, and a fond one of Letty. When he returned to the drawing-room, he found his mother and sister with their heads together, but whatever they were so earnestly discussing remained undisclosed. ‘Giles,’ said Letty anxiously, ‘did you perfectly understand? Edwin has offered for me!’

  ‘I dare say an estimable young man, but he uses too many words,’ commented Mr Wrexham. ‘Do you think he would like to transfer into a cavalry regiment?’

  Alarmed, she laid her hand on his arm. ‘Giles, are you sure you are well?’

  ‘Perfectly!’ he said, lifting her hand, and gripping it. ‘I was never better!’

  She cried sharply: ‘Giles! You have found her!’

  ‘I have found her! The sweetest face I ever beheld, Letty! Mama, I hope you do not mean to succumb to the vapours, for I wish you to make a call of ceremony in Harley Street tomorrow!’

  A Husband for Fanny

  1

  His attentions,’ said the widow, fixing a pair of large, rather anxious brown eyes on her cousin’s face, ‘are becoming most marked, I assure you, Honoria!’

  ‘Fiddle!’ said Lady Pednor.

  The widow, who had just raised a delicate cup to her lips, started, and spilled some of the morning chocolate into the saucer. A drop fell on her dress. She set the cup and saucer down, and began to rub the mark with her handkerchief, saying despairingly: ‘There! Only see what you have made me do! I dare say it will never come out!’

  ‘Very likely it will not,’ agreed her hostess, in no way repentant. ‘You will be obliged to buy a new dress, and that, let me tell you, Clarissa, will be an excellent thing!’

  ‘I cannot afford a new dress!’ said the widow indignantly. ‘All very well for you, as rich as you are, to talk in that unfeeling way, but you know –’

  ‘I am not rich,’ said Lady Pednor composedly, ‘but I can afford a new dress, because I do not squander every penny I possess upon my daughter.’

  Mrs Wingham blushed, but replied with spirit: ‘You have no daughter!’

  ‘What is more,’ continued her ladyship, unheeding, ‘I will accompany you to buy the dress, or I dare say you will choose just such another dowdy colour!’

  ‘Purple-bloom, and very suitable!’ said Mrs Wingham defiantly.

  ‘Extremely so – for dowagers!’

  ‘I am a dowager.’

  ‘You are a goose,’ replied her cousin calmly. ‘It would be interesting to know what you spent on that spangled gauze gown Fanny wore at Almack’s last night!’ She paused, but Mrs Wingham only looked guilty. ‘Pray, what is to be the end of all this extravagance, Clarissa? You will be ruined!’

  ‘No, no! I have saved every penny I could spare ever sinc