Lord Evenwood woke with a start, and stared at her as if she had been
some ghost from his trouble of '85. Lady Eva's face expressed sheer
amazement. Lady Kimbuck, laying down her crochet-work, took one look at
the apparition, and instantly decided that one of her numerous erring
relatives had been at it again. Of all the persons in the room, she
was possibly the only one completely cheerful. She was used to these
situations and enjoyed them. Her mind, roaming into the past, recalled
the night when her cousin Warminster had been pinked by a stiletto in
his own drawing-room by a lady from South America. Happy days, happy
days.
Lord Evenwood had, by this time, come to the conclusion that the festive
Blowick must be responsible for this visitation. He rose with dignity.
“To what are we----?” he began.
Miss Chilvers, resolute young woman, had no intention of standing there
while other people talked. She shook her gleaming head and burst into
speech.
“Oh, yes, I know I've no right to be coming walking in here among a lot
of perfect strangers at their teas, but what I say is, 'Right's right
and wrong's wrong all the world over,' and I may be poor, but I have
my feelings. No, thank you, I won't sit down. I've not come for the
weekend. I've come to say a few words, and when I've said them I'll go,
and not before. A lady friend of mine happened to be reading her Daily
Sketch the other day, and she said 'Hullo! hullo!' and passed it on to
me with her thumb on a picture which had under it that it was Lady Eva
Blyton who was engaged to be married to Mr. Roland Bleke. And when I
read that, I said 'Hullo! hullo!' too, I give you my word. And not being
able to travel at once, owing to being prostrated with the shock, I came
along to-day, just to have a look at Mr. Roland Blooming Bleke, and ask
him if he's forgotten that he happens to be engaged to me. That's all. I
know it's the sort of thing that might slip any gentleman's mind, but I
thought it might be worth mentioning. So now!”
* * * * *
Roland, perspiring in the shadows at the far end of the room, felt that
Miss Chilvers was overdoing it. There was no earthly need for all this
sort of thing. Just a simple announcement of the engagement would have
been quite sufficient. It was too obvious to him that his ally was
thoroughly enjoying herself. She had the center of the stage, and did
not intend lightly to relinquish it.
“My good girl,” said Lady Kimbuck, “talk less and prove more. When did
Mr. Bleke promise to marry you?”
“Oh, it's all right. I'm not expecting you to believe my word. I've got
all the proofs you'll want. Here's his letters.”
Lady Kimbuck's eyes gleamed. She took the package eagerly. She never
lost an opportunity of reading compromising letters. She enjoyed them
as literature, and there was never any knowing when they might come in
useful.
“Roland,” said Lady Eva, quietly, “haven't you anything to contribute to
this conversation?”
Miss Chilvers clutched at her bodice. Cinema palaces were a passion with
her, and she was up in the correct business.
“Is he here? In this room?”
Roland slunk from the shadows.
“Mr. Bleke,” said Lord Evenwood, sternly, “who is this woman?”
Roland uttered a kind of strangled cough.
“Are these letters in your handwriting?” asked Lady Kimbuck, almost
cordially. She had seldom read better compromising letters in her life,
and she was agreeably surprized that one whom she had always imagined a
colorless stick should have been capable of them.
Roland nodded.
“Well, it's lucky you're rich,” said Lady Kimbuck philosophically. “What
are you asking for these?” she enquired of Miss Chilvers.
“Exactly,” said Lord Evenwood, relieved. “Precisely. Your sterling
common sense is admirable, Sophia. You place the whole matter at once on
a businesslike footing.”
“Do you imagine for a moment----?” began Miss Chilvers slowly.
“Yes,” said Lady Kimbuck. “How much?”
Miss Chilvers sobbed.
“If I have lost him for ever----”
Lady Eva rose.
“But you haven't,” she said pleasantly. “I wouldn't dream of standing in
your way.” She drew a ring from her finger, placed it on the table, and
walked to the door. “I am not engaged to Mr. Bleke,” she said, as she
reached it.
Roland never knew quite how he had got away from The Towers. He had
confused memories in which the principals of the drawing-room scene
figured in various ways, all unpleasant. It was a portion of his life
on which he did not care to dwell. Safely back in his flat, however, he
gradually recovered his normal spirits. Indeed, now that the tumult and
the shouting had, so to speak, died, and he was free to take a broad
view of his position, he felt distinctly happier than usual. That Lady
Kimbuck had passed for ever from his life was enough in itself to make
for gaiety.
* * * * *
He was humming blithely one morning as he opened his letters; outside
the sky was blue and the sun shining. It was good to be alive. He opened
the first letter. The sky was still blue, the sun still shining.
“Dear Sir,” (it ran).
“We have been instructed by our client, Miss Maud Chilvers, of the
Goat and Compasses, Aldershot, to institute proceedings against
you for Breach of Promise of Marriage. In the event of your being
desirous to avoid the expense and publicity of litigation, we are
instructed to say that Miss Chilvers would be prepared to accept
the sum of ten thousand pounds in settlement of her claim against
you. We would further add that in support of her case our client
has in her possession a number of letters written by yourself to
her, all of which bear strong prima facie evidence of the alleged
promise to marry: and she will be able in addition to call as
witnesses in support of her case the Earl of Evenwood, Lady
Kimbuck, and Lady Eva Blyton, in whose presence, at a recent
date, you acknowledged that you had promised to marry our client.
“Trusting that we hear from you in the course of post.
We are, dear Sir,
Yours faithfully,
Harrison, Harrison, Harrison, & Harrison.”
End of Project Gutenberg's A Man of Means, by P. G. Wodehouse and C. H. Bovill