“A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED”
The most secluded place in the house in Berkeley Square was the
picture-gallery. The most secluded spot in the picture-gallery was the
Lovers’ Window.
The gallery itself ran across the back of the house on the second
floor, and was thus outside the legitimate bounds within which the
concert guests were entitled to wander. It was approached by a door
at each end, giving on to the staircase, and the walls were hung with
pictures, chiefly of the faded, washed-out schools of Lawrence and
Constable.
The window was a deep and lofty bay, almost a little room, in the
centre of the gallery. A cushioned seat, like a divan, ran round
the bay, and on either side of the opening hung a thick curtain of
dark-purple velvet.
In this sequestered nook no sound of the concert going on below could
be heard. It was no doubt for this reason that the Lady Victoria
Mauleverer had come thither, and was now reclining on the divan, with
one beautiful white elbow resting on the sill of the open window.
As it happened, she was not alone. Captain Gerald Mauleverer, guided
possibly by some cousinly instinct, had also sought a refuge from the
music in the same spot. He was sitting near her, and regarding her with
a reproachful countenance.
“Do you know what my aunt has been telling me about you?” he began.
Victoria gave a shrug of the most supreme indifference.
“No; but I have no doubt it was something interesting. My mother has so
much imagination.”
“She told me that you were as good as engaged.”
“Did she? Ah, well, I suppose she has found a purchaser for me at last.”
“How can you!” Gerald stamped his foot. “Who is it?”
“She did tell me his name, but I have forgotten it,” drawled Victoria.
“I can tell you his income, though.”
Her cousin looked at her, half angry and half pleased.
“Thank Heaven, you don’t care for him! I believe I have your heart,
after all.”
“My what?” asked Victoria, in a tone of surprised curiosity.
“Your heart, you hateful creature.”
“What childish words you use, Gerald! I couldn’t understand what you
meant. No; I suppose I shall be bought complete, with all fittings, but
I don’t fancy a heart is mentioned in the inventory.”
“Have you really promised to marry this man, Vick?”
His cousin put her head on one side and considered.
“It hasn’t got quite to that point. The customer hasn’t actually given
the order yet, but my mother is an expert saleswoman, and I have no
doubt that by the next time you see me I shall have the usual ticket on
to show that I am disposed of.”
The captain gnawed his mustache as his eyes sought in vain to fix those
of the insolent beauty.
“Hang it! don’t you care a little bit? I have loved you for years. Does
it all go for nothing with you?”
Victoria sat up and became business-like.
“Stupid fellow, why can’t you look at it rationally, like I do? There,
I will give in to you so far as to say that I would much rather you
bought me than anybody else. I would even give a discount in your
case; you should have me at store prices. But what is the use? We
couldn’t live together. You know they separate married couples in the
workhouse.”
“I have eight hundred a year,” the man protested.
“That would pay for my frocks. Any debts?”
“Well, I have a little paper out,” he reluctantly admitted.
“So I thought. Small income, large debts--”
“No, not large debts.”
“Several thousands, I have no doubt. Large debts, no occupation--”
“Don’t you count the army?” he interrupted.
“Certainly not,” was the firm answer. “I mean an occupation by which
you can earn a living. No occupation, idle habits, expensive tastes--”
“No, Vick!” His tone became one of honest indignation. “No, you can’t
charge me with that, you know. I may be idle, but you can’t charge me
with extravagance.”
“What do you pay for your cigars?” the merciless inquisitor demanded.
“A shilling. I get them at a little shop in Jermyn Street that nobody
else knows of, and they are worth double the money.”
“Gerald!”
“No, really, Vick, you have no right to talk to me like that.
If there’s one thing that I do pride myself on, it is that I am
economical.”
“What is the use of being economical on nothing?” She turned and looked
him full in the face. “I will be serious with you, Gerald. If you had
any means at all, any real income or prospect of it, I would throw
over all the millionaires in Christendom to-morrow, but as it is--!” A
despairing gesture completed the sentence.
“Why can’t you wait for me, then?” exclaimed the desperate captain.
“Give me a chance, and I will go out and raid the Transvaal, or do
something desperate.”
“I didn’t know there was anything very desperate in raiding the
Transvaal,” retorted Victoria, resuming her cynical vein. “I thought
the worst thing you exposed yourself to was to have poetry written
about you in the papers.”
A door opened at the end of the gallery, and Gerald hastily rose to his
feet.
“Ah! I felt sure we should be interrupted,” said Victoria. “I believe
my mother has me shadowed. Don’t go, Gerald,” she added, loudly enough
for her parent to hear as she bore down upon the pair, the faithful
Despencer following in the wake.
The marchioness came to a full stop at the opening, with a dramatic
start.
“Victoria! I thought I had forbidden you to behave like this!”
Her daughter gave an amused smile.
“My dear mother, I thought we agreed only the other day that I was of
age.”
The marchioness turned on her nephew as a less dangerous adversary.
“As for you, Gerald, I am surprised at you. You ought to know better
than to come and sit here with your cousin.”
Victoria gallantly came to his rescue.
“If you and Mr. Despencer want to sit here, we will go away,” she
offered, sweetly.
The marchioness recoiled, and gazed at her like King Lear listening to
Goneril’s complaints about his knights.
“When you are married I shall wash my hands of you, and if your
unfortunate husband likes to let you carry on an open flirtation with
your cousin, he may,” she said, viciously. “But while you are on my
hands I am determined to put a stop to these clandestine doings. You
hear me, Gerald?”
Gerald felt that he must stand by his cousin.
“Yes, aunt,” he said, with unlooked-for courage; “but I don’t see how
our flirtation can be open and yet clandestine at the same time. It
must be one or the other, you know.”
As the action was becoming general, the marchioness with a look brought
up her light cavalry in the person of Despencer.
“I don’t know that,” he interposed. “There is no better concealment
sometimes than a parade of openness.”
“Really, mamma, this won’t do!” Victoria protested. “I have schooled
myself to bear Mr. Despencer’s compliments, but I really don’t think I
can stand him as a moralist. I must draw the line somewhere.”
The marchioness threw her broad shield over her luckless ally.
“Mr. Despencer was not speaking to you, and I will not allow you to
talk like that when he is only acting in your true interests.”
“Well, then, I wish he wouldn’t,” was the rebellious answer. “One’s
true interests are always so singularly unpleasant. How should you like
it if Gerald or somebody were to begin acting in your true interests?”
The marchioness looked alarmed.
“There, that will do,” she said, hurriedly. “Understand me, Gerald, I
particularly wish to speak to Victoria for a minute by herself. You
won’t refuse a mother’s request?”
“Not when she is a woman,” returned the reckless youth. And he strolled
off.
The marchioness watched him safely through the door of the gallery, and
then seated herself by her daughter’s side.
“Thank Heaven, we have got rid of him in time!”
“Why, is anything particular going to happen?” Victoria inquired,
carelessly.
The marchioness glowed with triumph.
“Mr. Hammond is coming here to propose to you!”
“Is that all?” said Victoria.
Despencer was becoming anxious to withdraw before being favored with
any more of Lady Victoria’s sarcasms. The only way to escape was to
take her part against the marchioness. He therefore remarked:
“A most simple occurrence, which might happen to anybody.”
His patroness turned to him indignantly.
“Mr. Despencer, do you wish to encourage her?”
“I fancy Lady Victoria requires no encouragement from me. She appears
to face the situation with admirable nerve. Breeding will tell.”
“Go away, directly!” ordered the marchioness.
“Yes; where to?”
The marchioness hesitated a moment.
“To the end of the gallery.” Despencer began to move away. “And wait
there for me.”
“Am I not always waiting for you, marchioness?”
And with a graceful bow to both ladies, he retired to the opposite door
to that by which they had just entered.
“Aren’t you a little rough with the poor creature?” asked Victoria, in
a tone of compassion as he disappeared. “You will break him some day.”
“Do you realize what I have just told you?” said her mother, ignoring
the remark.
“I have forgotten. Wasn’t it something about an offer of marriage? Who
did you say it was this time?”
“You will drive me distracted! Now, listen to me; this may be your last
chance. If you refuse Mr. Hammond you may never get another offer.”
“There is always Gerald to fall back upon.”
“Another decent offer, I mean,” was the stern retort. “Of course, you
can always marry. I dare say a dean or a county court judge, or some
one of that sort, would be willing to take you with nothing but your
clothes. But this is the last respectable match I shall offer you. I
have taken the greatest pains to bring this man to the point, and if
you refuse him now I sha’n’t try again.”
“You frighten me, mother. I hope you haven’t been resorting to extreme
measures against Mr. Hammond! You haven’t been putting pressure on him
by threatening to reveal his past?”
The marchioness shook her head impatiently.
“Answer me plainly, Victoria: do you intend to accept him?”
“Are you sure he is going to propose?”
“Morally sure. He just asked me where he was likely to find you, and I
told him I thought you would be here about this time.”
“How did you know that?” asked Victoria, with interest.
“Because I meant to look for you myself and send you here,” was the
resolute answer. “In these matters I leave nothing to chance.”
“You _have_ taken pains!” exclaimed her daughter, with genuine
admiration. “But you don’t know that he is going to propose. He may
only be going to say good-bye.”
“Nonsense! I know perfectly well. I can always tell when a man is going
to propose. My judgment has never been deceived.”
Victoria affected to conceal a yawn.
“Well, I am much obliged to you for warning me. I shall be prepared.”
“And you will accept him, won’t you, like a good girl?” pleaded the
marchioness, with maternal tenderness.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what I shall do,” was the callous reply.
“I hope he won’t be sentimental over it.”
“Victoria! Do you refuse to do your duty to society and to your
parents?”
Victoria was mildly annoyed.
“There, now _you_ are going to be sentimental!” she protested.
The marchioness rose to her feet in real anger.
“You shameful, depraved, ungrateful child! You wish to break your
mother’s heart!”
Victoria darted a strange look at her mother, which the marchioness was
unable to meet. Then she observed, quietly:
“Don’t you think the less we say about hearts the better, mamma?”
The marchioness was opening her lips to reply, when her face suddenly
changed, a beautiful smile replacing the angry frown. Hammond had just
entered the gallery.