_Pearl Veal's Answer to the Duke of Nocastle_
The engagement of Miss Bumpschus to the Duke of Nocastle was announced
in this morning's papers almost to the exclusion of all other news.
There were pictures of Ethel looking like an Oriental beauty, of the
little Duke, magnificent in the uniform of the Guards, of the Bumpschus
house in town and the Newport villa; of Leeking Castle, the ancestral
seat of the Fitznits--indeed, of everything in the lives of the high
contracting parties that could be photographed. The equanimity with
which Mrs. Radigan received the news was most surprising. I had
expected to find her completely unstrung when I called this afternoon,
but instead she was in the library, just back from a drive, and making
tea.
"Isn't it absurd?" she said laughingly, pointing to the paper behind
which Pearl Veal was ensconced in a deep chair, reading of the glories
of the Duke and the house of Bumpschus. "They are making the best of
it, I hear; have a press agent and all that; so for weeks we shall read
of nothing else. It is disgusting to see people courting notoriety that
way."
I thought of her own plans of last week and involuntarily raised my
eyebrows in astonishment. She noticed it, but went calmly on:
"Ethel actually looks beautiful in some of those pictures--I wonder how
they were made?--and as for the Duke, you might suppose he was a real
dashing sort of a fellow. Won't they look well coming down the aisle
together! Why, in order to take his arm she will have to walk like a
camel."
Pearl's paper rattled to the floor, revealing her smiling softly, those
fine eyes of hers intent upon her sister.
Mrs. Radigan understood. "Of course, my dear," she said grimly,
"if you had taken him we should have avoided such an absurd picture
somehow." She paused a moment, trying to think how. The inspiration
came to me first.
"Sir Charles Wigge," said I, "as long as he did the proposing, he might
well lead the bride down the aisle--the Duke could toddle after him."
Mrs. Radigan shuddered. She always shudders when Sir Charles is
mentioned; but on my part I feel that I owe him a heavy debt, for by
the time we had had him with us two days at Westbury, the suppression
of the solicitor became more the ambition of Mrs. Radigan than the
capture of his noble client. Pearl says frankly that she never in the
world could have refused the Duke of her own accord, as a girl can't
marry a nobleman every day, and real-estate agents are a drug in the
market. But when Sir Charles came, when he took possession of the house
and of the opinions of all its occupants, when he had utterly crushed
us and made us feel our ignorance and humbleness, her future became
a second thought, and the desire to turn possessed her. Pearl smiles
softly as she says this. It is her inscrutable smile, and may hide
something; but I care little, for she did turn.
That night when Mrs. Radigan brought Sir Charles into the smoking-room,
when she tucked me under her arm and dragged me away, when I looked
back and saw Pearl toss her cigarette into the fire and fix her
lustrous eyes on the English solicitor, I thought all was over. Sir
Charles had said that it would only take a minute to settle the whole
thing; but he did not know Pearl Veal. She listened to him silently,
and the proposal in behalf of the Duke of Nocastle must have been
well worth hearing. Sir Charles repeated all his Grace's titles, told
her the history of the ducal house of Fitznit and its glories, of its
manors, halls, and bowers; of its present head and his virtues, his
service in the commissary department in South Africa, and his speech in
the House of Lords on the ginger-beer evil. Lastly, in a softer voice,
Sir Charles spoke to Pearl of his Grace's love. He talked very nicely,
too, she says, and quite affected her, quite overwhelmed her with the
sense of her lowliness and the high honor his Grace had conferred in
stooping to offer her his hand, when he had the proudest women in
England at his feet.
"And now," said the lawyer rising, "I may tell his Grace that you will
be proud to accept his offer."
Pearl rose, too, stepped to the table and picked up a bit of paper and
a pencil.
"How much does he owe?" she said, chewing the rubber while she eyed the
great man.
"But, my dear Miss Vial, he is a duke," protested Sir Charles. "And
that little matter has been arranged by Mrs. Batigan."
"But I might like to spend my money in other ways," said Pearl.
So Sir Charles indignantly got out a note-book and gave her the
figures. It was a paltry sum compared to our Wall Street failures, and
he assured her that the creditors would take two shillings in the pound
and be thankful for it. They seldom got more from dukes.
Pearl lighted a cigarette, and as she leaned easily against the table
she watched a spire of smoke go curling away into the dark recesses of
the ceiling.
"Well, Miss Vial?" said Sir Charles testily.
"I'll let you know Monday," came the quiet answer, with the quiet smile.
"But 'pon my word!" protested the great Englishman.
Pearl curled up in her chair again and began blowing smoke rings.
"He is an English duke," said Sir Charles angrily.
Pearl seemed intensely occupied watching the gray halo that was
floating above her head.
"Do you realize what it means to marry a peer of England?" came again
in a louder tone.
The corners of the girl's mouth turned up, just a trifle.
"Do you consider whom you are keeping waiting?" demanded the lawyer
solemnly.
Pearl smiled.
That inscrutable smile proved a match for Sir Charles, and he gave
up his attack, but I think he was convinced that the delay was only
for the moment, and that Monday would witness the ratification of his
plans. So for two days he was gloriously good-natured and overbearing,
and by Monday none of us dared to raise a voice in his presence. Even
Marian Speechless became as silent as the tomb. Mrs. Radigan was
depressed. I have never seen her so utterly dispirited. "Oh, if we
could only blow him up or something," she whispered to me after dinner
on Sunday evening, when we had had an hour's discourse by Sir Charles
on the unhealthy American climate and the advantages of constant
drizzles.
"To-morrow," said I, "it will be over."
"Yes," said she, "thank Heaven, to-morrow it will be over, and we
shall have the dear Duke to ourselves."
And on the morrow it was over. All Mrs. Radigan's dreams were
shattered. All my own fears were swept away. True to her promise, Pearl
Veal gave Sir Charles her answer.
"Of course," said the great English solicitor, "I shall tell his Grace
that Miss Vial loves him and accepts his generous offer."
"No," said Pearl, closing one eye and scrutinizing the figures on the
paper in her hand. "Tell him that I like him, Sir Charles; tell him I
am deeply grateful, but I cannot afford him."
Sir Charles took down his monocle and polished it. Then he eyed her
through it very hard.
"Do you realize, Miss Weal, that you are refusing a peer of England?"
he said sternly.
"But I want to get a new automobile," Pearl answered quietly.
The monocle flew fiercely to the very end of its guard-string. It was
a minute before the astonished Englishman found it again, for his hands
were trembling violently as they beat the air in search of it. Finding
the glass, he sat down and polished it very hard. Then, returning it
to his eye, he inspected Pearl Veal from head to foot, being evidently
convinced that he had to do with an insane person.
"Miss Willy," he said hoarsely, "am I to understand that you spurn the
offer of my noble client, the Duke of Nocastle?"
"I simply can't afford him," Pearl answered. "Tell him I like him very
much," was added sweetly.
Sir Charles arose and paced up and down the room, looking as though he
might begin to roar at any moment.
"Beyond comprehension--utterly beyond it--incredible," he said. "It is
the first time it has ever been done."
"And I feel so sorry for the Duke," put in Pearl sweetly. "He will have
to marry Ethel Bumpschus."
This was the spark that set fire to the already over-heated brain of
Sir Charles Wigge. He hurried from the room and called for time-tables;
he called for the Duke and his boxes, his man, and a trap to get them
to the station; he forgot to say good-by to his hostess, and when at
last we saw him drive away, Mrs. Radigan sank into a chair and cried
feelingly: "Well, anyway, we sat on him!"
They must have gone straight to the Bumpschus house and closed the
deal, for we followed them to town from Westbury, and yesterday morning
we knew about the engagement. In the evening they gave it to the press
with the pictures. That is why Mrs. Radigan shuddered this afternoon
when I mentioned Sir Charles Wigge. She stirred her tea meditatively
for a very long time. Then she exclaimed: "Well, I'm glad we did sit on
them!"
She talked as though she had refused the Duke, instead of cringing for
days at his solicitor's feet, but I deemed it wise to let well enough
alone, for I had not expected to find her in so amiable a mood after
all her plans had been turned so topsy-turvy.
"You certainly did," said I, giving Pearl a sidelong glance, which was
returned with interest.
"The idea of their wanting us to settle all the Duke's debts before the
wedding even!" cried Mrs. Radigan with sudden indignation. "Then we
should have had to give the Duke five million more, and Pearl was to
fix the castle roofs and keep what was left."
"Naturally, I could not afford it," said Pearl smiling.
"Naturally," said Mrs. Radigan firmly. "But, my dear, we did not want
to interfere with your happiness. We simply stood ready to buy the Duke
if you cared to have him."
"A duke is a duke," said Pearl, "but they come very high."
"And when I think of Ethel Bumpschus," said Mrs. Radigan, holding the
paper at arm's length and staring at the photograph of the Oriental
beauty, "when I think of her, with her spectacles and her charities,
her aged ticket-choppers and her taffy-colored hair, I must say I feel
that his Highness got the worst of the bargain."
We dine at the Bumpschus house to-morrow evening. It will be an
informal affair, of course, on account of Lent, and I am looking
forward with pleasure to seeing Mrs. Radigan congratulating Ethel and
wishing the Duke happiness.