A SLAP IN THE FACE.
FRANK MAYNARD'S departure for the country had been a relief both to
Captain Bradshaw and Alice, and when he returned they were able to
start anew upon something like their old footing. He was not at the
house, however, as much as he had before been, for the London season
was now beginning in earnest, and he was out nearly every night.
Captain Bradshaw and Alice too were a good deal out, for although
the old man would have greatly preferred to remain quietly at home,
yet for Alice's sake he went into society, and when there enjoyed
it perhaps more than she did. He would have a quiet rubber for a
while, and would then go into the dancing room and look on with
pleasure at the admiration which Alice attracted. And, indeed, Alice
had many admirers, for she was a strikingly elegant girl, and an
heiress, and not a few of the government clerks, who form so large a
proportion of the dancing men of London, would have willingly enough
exchanged their arduous duties of copying and endorsing letters, for
the charge of Alice Heathcote and her fortune. But Alice gave but
slight encouragement to any of them. She was one of those girls with
whom a partner very soon gets upon pleasant terms. She was perfectly
natural, straightforward, and unaffected; sensible herself, and
expecting some amount of sense from others, the sort of girl with
whom a flirtation is next to impossible. Nor upon those evenings,
when they had no engagements, were Captain Bradshaw and Alice often
alone; for in proportion as the visits of Frank had decreased in
frequency during the last three months, those of Fred Bingham had
increased. Very pleasant did he make himself upon these evenings;
full of amusing anecdotes, and rattling on with a constant stream
of fun and nonsense, he aroused Alice, and kept Captain Bradshaw
in a state of good temper. Indeed Alice felt really grateful to
Fred Bingham, for she rather dreaded these evenings alone with her
uncle. He amused and interested her too with his talk, for Fred was
undoubtedly clever; and yet, she could hardly explain to herself
why, she did not like him. It was partly an old standing feeling.
From the day when he had first come to the house, a lad of sixteen,
she, a child of twelve, had felt a sort of jealousy of him for
her playfellow Frank's sake, which Frank had never felt for his
own. Either from some passing remark she had heard from a servant,
or from some other reason, she had come to entertain the feeling
that he had interfered with Frank's position. Children are keenly
jealous. She had always looked upon Frank as her guardian's son and
heir, and she considered this new comer to be a rival of Frank's.
All along she had cherished this impression, all along had thought
that Fred was trying to supplant his cousin in Captain Bradshaw's
affection. She could scarcely have given a reason for her belief.
It was not what he actually said or did, it was his way. True Fred
Bingham never spoke ill of his cousin in any way; on the contrary,
he frequently praised him; but in Alice's jealous ears there was a
current of implied blame in the very praise; she would rather that
he had abused Frank openly to his uncle than praise him as he did.
Then too, he was always fond of drawing Frank into an argument when
his uncle was present, and Frank never showed to advantage in these
wordy conflicts. He was greatly deficient in quiet suavity; he could
not hear views which he considered vicious expressed, and either hold
his peace or dissent quietly. Frank gave his opinion with energy and
heartiness, even with vehemence. He plunged into an argument as if
he were personally aggrieved by the opinions stated upon the other
side. He denounced and scouted them as heresies dangerous to mankind.
A strong conservative, he hated radicalism with a personal hatred. He
would willingly have buckled on armour and have settled the matter by
a combat to the death between himself and the champion of the other
party. In these conflicts then, which Fred was constantly provoking,
Fred with his quiet sneering manner would greatly gain the advantage.
His straight thrusts would be too fine and delicate for his cousin's
slashing two-handed blows, and they not unfrequently ended by Frank's
losing his temper.
During Frank's absence abroad Fred had been a great deal at Lowndes
Square, and had, at least so Alice thought, tried hard to gain the
place of first favourite with Captain Bradshaw. In this he had not
succeeded. At present, however, while his uncle was still smarting
under the overthrow of his pet plans, Alice had fears that Fred
Bingham's attention and adroit flatteries were attaining their
effect. Indeed, for the time being, he became prime favourite with
his uncle, and in his absence Captain Bradshaw would sound his
praises loudly to his ward, generally coupling them with disparaging
remarks of the disgraced Frank. At first Alice had listened in
silence, but finding that it was becoming a favourite theme with her
uncle, she spoke out warmly in Franks defence, declaring roundly
that there was more truth and honesty in his little finger than in
his cousin's whole composition. Her uncle, as was his wont, although
nowise convinced, was yet fain to let the matter drop for the
present. In addition to her championship of Frank, Alice had another
reason for speaking out so decidedly. She had for some time felt
that Fred was endeavouring to make himself specially agreeable to
her, and she now thought that her uncle was inclined to favour his
efforts. Now Alice had, as has been said, a positive dislike to Fred
Bingham, and although she could not help being amused by his talk,
she yet believed that all this jesting and fun was a mere cloak which
concealed a scheming and crafty disposition. After all these years of
careful watching, she was convinced he was playing a deep game for
his uncle's fortune, and she now saw at once that in the same way
he was wishing to add her fortune to his pile. That he cared in the
slightest degree for herself she did not for a moment believe.
Now of all these thoughts, suspicions, and opinions on the part
of Alice Heathcote, Fred Bingham had not the remotest conception.
Shrewd as he was, keenly alive to everything which concerned his own
interests, he was yet completely in the dark as to Alice Heathcote's
sentiments regarding him. Women in general he knew but little of,
and understood even less: beside this he was intensely vain. He had
been made a little god of at home, his mother and sisters looked up
to him as the best of human beings, and were never tired of doing him
homage. Over and over again his mother had said in his hearing that
Freddy ought to marry well, for that any girl must feel flattered by
his attentions, and Fred's own experience when he did go into society
was that girls were amused by his fun and caustic humour. He was
profoundly ignorant of the fact that girls very seldom do fall in
love with men who amuse them.
Fred Bingham then had long looked upon his success with Alice
Heathcote as a certainty, only awaiting his making up his mind.
Before Frank had left England, indeed, Fred had rather doubted
whether Alice Heathcote did not prefer his cousin to himself, but he
believed that his long absence had quite put him beyond the pale as a
rival; and when, upon Frank's return, he had observed that there was
a sort of reserve on Alice's part towards him, and that this reserve
apparently increased rather than lessened with time, he considered
his own success as secured. Then, too, with great pleasure he had
seen that Frank was somehow in disgrace, and took the opportunity
of his absence to make the greatest progress possible. What was the
cause of Frank's disgrace, Fred was ignorant, as Captain Bradshaw had
upon no occasion even hinted the cause of his displeasure. Had he
done so, Fred would have done all in his power to keep them apart:
as it was, he was obliged to let matters take their course. The
sole reason why Fred Bingham had not long before proposed to Alice
Heathcote, was because he was doubtful about himself. Not doubtful as
to whether he loved her, for upon that point he had no question at
all; indeed, he had no belief whatever in love, and looked upon it as
an absurdity quite out of place in business. If two people liked each
other, and could get on well together, and the match was mutually
advantageous, what more could be desired? The question in his mind
was, should he get on well with Alice Heathcote? He liked her well
enough, yes, he really liked her very much, and the match would
be an advantageous one, but he was not quite so easy in his mind as
to whether he should get on well with her. Now Fred's idea of a wife
who would get on well with him was a woman who would do just as she
was told, who would never set up her opinion against his, who would
in fact be a species of bond slave to his will. Now he had great
doubts whether Alice Heathcote would do all this. He was in fact a
little afraid of her. There was a quiet decision and firmness about
her which made him feel uncomfortably that the combat between them
would be a hard fought one; then too she was tall, and Fred did not
like tall women. He fancied sometimes that if he got into a passion
with her—and he allowed himself that he had a hasty temper—she
would look down coldly contemptuous at him. There was another
difficulty which presented itself, and which had for some time kept
Fred Bingham in a state of uncertainty. Alice Heathcote's fortune
was he knew about £50,000, and also that it was her own absolutely,
and Fred felt certain that Captain Bradshaw would see that the
greater part, if not the whole of it, were settled upon herself
at her marriage. Now Fred Bingham was very much pressed for ready
money; he was embarking with his father in several extensive affairs
in which capital was all-essential. More than once his thoughts had
turned to a young lady he had met near Manchester, who had lost her
father, whose mother was old and weak, and who had a fortune of about
half the amount of that of Alice Heathcote at her own disposal.
Miss Farrer was pretty, but with a weak prettiness which would not
stand time. Her appearance did not belie her character; she was an
affectionate and amiable, but weak girl. Fred had been very attentive
to her, and had completely won her mother's heart by playing many
games of cribbage with her, and losing almost invariably. So that
altogether he felt sure of his ground there. It was not that he
had actually any idea of marrying Miss Farrer, he felt too sure of
success with Alice to think seriously of the other; but he was a
cautious man, and liked to have a second string to his bow in case of
accidents.
It was one morning after breakfast, about three weeks after Frank's
return from the country, that Fred Bingham made up his mind to
propose formally to Alice. He had been chatting with his father as to
a contract, concerning which they were in treaty.
“The margin of profit is not as large as we could wish, Fred. If we
were working with our own capital it would be different, but all this
discount and advance work makes a large hole in the margin of profit.”
“I should think it did,” Fred said, shortly, “it is not to-day that
we have found that out.”
“I think, Fred, that if I were you I should bring your affair with
Miss Heathcote to a head. You have been going there now for a very
long time; you tell me that you think you are pretty safe, and even
if you do not touch any of her fortune, you would be able to borrow
upon better terms as the husband of a rich woman; and, however things
went, you would fall upon your feet. Besides, as the husband of Miss
Heathcote, you would stand better with Captain Bradshaw.”
“Yes, that's all true enough,” Fred said, “and I've thought it all
over a thousand times. I suppose it ought to be done, but I would
rather remain as I am. However, needs must, I won't put it off any
longer. I will settle it this afternoon. There, don't talk about it,
it's bad enough to have to do it.”
Half an hour afterwards Fred Bingham went out. First down to New
Street, where he bought some cigars, as usual, and stayed for some
time in the shop smoking and talking with Carry. Then he went out
and turned towards Knightsbridge. “She is an awfully nice child,” he
thought to himself. “I wish to goodness she was in Alice's place, and
Alice in hers. I shouldn't mind even if she had that girl Farrer's
money, I would marry her to-morrow. I wish I had never seen her, it
would have been better for both of us. Well, it's no use thinking of
that now, I must go through with this other business. The old man
will have gone up to his club by this time. The sooner it is over the
better.” And so he went on to the house in Lowndes Square, where, as
he expected, he found Alice Heathcote alone.
“Good morning, Alice, I have not gone up to town to-day, so I thought
I would come in for a chat. You are not looking very well this
morning. I miss the usual roses—I do not mean that lilies are less
becoming—I only notice the change of flowers.”
“My uncle is out,” Alice said, ignoring the compliment. “He started
for the club rather earlier than usual.”
“I rather hoped he would be gone, Alice, for I was anxious to see you
alone.”
Alice saw what was coming, but her mind being fully made up upon the
subject, she felt no nervousness, as she would have felt had she had
the slightest belief that he really cared for her.
“The fact is, Alice, I want to ask you to marry me. I don't know how
it's usually done, but that's what it comes to whichever way it's
put. I have liked you very much for years now, I am sure we should
suit each other very well, and I don't think the old gentleman would
make any objection. What do you say, Alice?”
Fred Bingham had spoken in his usual off-hand way, but there was a
little nervousness in his tone which showed that he felt distrust as
to the result of his question.
“You put it in a very straightforward way, Fred,” Alice said quietly,
but with a little tinge of sarcasm; “and I am glad that you do so, as
it makes it easier for me to say that I differ from you entirely as
to our mutual suitability; and, therefore, must decline the honour
you propose doing me.”
“But I am quite in earnest, Alice; it is only my way, you know.”
“I suppose you are in earnest, Fred, and I can assure you that I am
at least equally so.”
Fred Bingham paused for a moment, and then said, much more earnestly
than he had spoken before,—
“I am afraid, Alice, that I am not going the right way about this.
I love you very much, and have done so for years. You must have
seen it. I know that usually men put all this in a sentimental sort
of way, but that is quite out of my line. But I am not the less in
earnest. I do love you very much, Alice. I always thought you knew
it.”
“I will be as frank with you, Fred, as you are with me. I have had
an idea for some time past that you intended some day or other to
make me an offer. Had you made love to me in the usual sort of way I
should assuredly at once have shown you by my manner that the thing
was out of the question. But you have never done so. You have been
very often here. You have been very chatty and amusing. I could not
show you that I did not wish you to come so often. I was obliged
to wait. Had I believed, or did I now believe that you loved me, I
should feel very great pain in refusing you; but, although I did, and
do believe that you wish to marry me, I do not believe that you have
the slightest love for me in the real meaning of the word any more
than I have for you.”
Fred coloured up deeply now, and looked mortified and angry.
“But I tell you I do love you, Alice, and I suppose I know my own
heart.”
A little scornful smile crossed Alice's face.
“You may think you do, Fred. If it is so I am sorry; but I do not
think that your heart has taken any share whatever in the proceeding.
Neither of our hearts are in the slightest degree affected in the
question, and there is, therefore, no occasion for me to feel sorrow,
or for you to feel pain. It is a simple matter of opinion. You are
of opinion that we should suit each other well, and that a marriage
between us would be for our mutual benefit and gratification. I
differ from you entirely upon both these points.”
Alice was so perfectly cool and composed that Fred felt that any
further urging would be useless. His rage and mortification were
excessive, and he was far more angry at having been so completely
read and seen through by Alice, when he had believed himself so safe,
than at the overthrow of his plans.
“May I ask,” he said, bitterly, “if you have any other reasons beyond
those you have given?”
“You certainly may not,” Alice said, with spirit. “I have already
given you for answer that I do not love you, and I conceive that to
be quite sufficient answer for any gentleman.”
Fred Bingham stood irresolute for a moment, and then turned to go;
but his temper got the better of him, and he said, with a sneer,—
“I was a fool to have asked for the reason, Alice, when I know it as
well as you do yourself. If it had been Frank——”
He did not continue, for Alice Heathcote leaped from her seat as if
she had been struck with a blow, her cheeks flushed with a sudden
flame of colour and her eyes flashing, but before she could speak
Fred Bingham was gone. His last hit had been almost a random one,
for he had never really suspected Alice of caring for Frank. He had
been too well satisfied with his own chance to imagine that he had a
serious rival in Frank. Even now he was not sure. Alice's indignant
look might be explained by her natural anger at his own taunt. “I
was a fool to let my beastly temper get the better of me,” he said
to himself; “the matter was bad enough as it stood without making
an enemy of her. Not that she'll do me any harm. She can't well go
and tell my uncle what I said. However, it was a foolish thing to
do. It's been a nice morning's work altogether. To think she should
have been all this time laughing at me. Evidently I don't understand
women. I believe she cares for Frank. That's another notch to your
score, Master Frank. If I ever get a chance to wipe them out, look
out, that's all.”
It was with bitter mortification and anger that Fred Bingham returned
to Hans Place, and briefly told his father that Alice Heathcote had
refused him. He gave no details, nor did Mr. Bingham ask for any, for
he saw that Fred was in one of those moods when he was better left
alone.