_Grim Preparations_
SO MUCH time was occupied by this adventure of the shawl, and by making
requisite explanations to Mrs. Dallington Vere, that almost the whole of
the guests had retired, when the Duke found himself again in the saloon.
His brother-hosts, too, were off with various parties, to which they had
attached themselves. He found the Fitz-pompeys and a few still lingering
for their carriages, and Arundel Dacre and his fair admirer. His Grace
had promised to return with Lady Afy, and was devising some scheme
by which he might free himself from this, now not very suitable,
engagement, when she claimed his arm. She was leaning on it, and talking
to Lady Fitz-pompey, when Sir Lucius approached, and, with his usual
tone, put a note into the Duke’s hand, saying at the same time, ‘This
appears to belong to you. I shall go to town with Piggott;’ and then he
walked away.
With the wife leaning on his arm, the young Duke had the pleasure of
reading the following lines, written with the pencil of the husband:--
‘After what has just occurred, only one more meeting can take place
between us, and the sooner that takes place the better for all parties.
This is no time for etiquette. I shall be in Kensington Gardens, in the
grove on the right side of the summer-house, at half-past six to-morrow
morning, and shall doubtless find you there.’
Sir Lucius was not out of sight when the Duke had finished reading his
cartel. Making some confused excuse to Lady Afy, which was not expected,
he ran after the Baronet, and soon reached him.
‘Grafton, I shall be punctual: but there is one point on which I wish to
speak to you at once. The cause of this meeting may be kept, I hope, a
secret?’
‘So far as I am concerned, an inviolable one,’ bowed the Baronet,
stiffly; and they parted.
The Duke returned satisfied, for Sir Lucius Grafton ever observed his
word, to say nothing of the great interest which he surely had this time
in maintaining his pledge.
Our hero thought that he never should reach London. The journey seemed
a day; and the effort to amuse Lady Afy, and to prevent her from
suspecting, by his conduct, that anything had occurred, was most
painful. Silent, however, he at last became; but her mind, too, was
engaged, and she supposed that her admirer was quiet only because, like
herself, he was happy. At length they reached her house, but he excused
himself from entering, and drove on immediately to Annesley. He was at
Lady Bloomerly’s. Lord Darrell had not returned, and his servant did not
expect him. Lord Squib was never to be found.
The Duke put on a great coat over his uniform and drove to White’s; it
was really a wilderness. Never had he seen fewer men there in his life,
and there were none of his set. The only young-looking man was old
Colonel Carlisle, who, with his skilfully enamelled cheek, flowing
auburn locks, shining teeth, and tinted whiskers, might have been
mistaken for gay twenty-seven, instead of grey seventy-two; but the
Colonel had the gout, to say nothing of any other objections.
The Duke took up the ‘Courier’ and read three or four advertisements
of quack medicines, but nobody entered. It was nearly midnight: he
got nervous. Somebody came in; Lord Hounslow for his rubber. Even his
favoured child, Bagshot, would be better than nobody. The Duke protested
that the next acquaintance who entered should be his second, old or
young. His vow had scarcely been registered when Arundel Dacre came in
alone. He was the last man to whom the Duke wished to address himself,
but Fate seemed to have decided it, and the Duke walked up to him.
‘Mr. Dacre, I am about to ask of you a favour to which I have no claim.’
Mr. Dacre looked a little confused, and murmured his willingness to do
anything.
‘To be explicit, I am engaged in an affair of honour of an urgent
nature. Will you be my friend?’
‘Willingly.’ He spoke with more ease. ‘May I ask the name of the other
party, the--the cause of the meeting?’
‘The other party is Sir Lucius Grafton.’
‘Hum!’ said Arundel Dacre, as if he were no longer curious about the
cause. ‘When do you meet?’
‘At half-past six, in Kensington Gardens, to-morrow; I believe I should
say this morning.’
‘Your Grace must be wearied,’ said Arundel, with unusual ease and
animation. ‘Now, follow my advice. Go home at once and get some rest.
Give yourself no trouble about preparations; leave everything to me.
I will call upon you at half-past five precisely, with a chaise and
post-horses, which will divert suspicion. Now, good night!’
‘But really, your rest must be considered; and then all this trouble!’
‘Oh! I have been in the habit of sitting up all night. Do not think of
me; nor am I quite inexperienced in these matters, in too many of which
I have unfortunately been engaged in Germany.’
The young men shook hands, and the Duke hastened home. Fortunately the
Bird of Paradise was at her own establishment in Baker Street, a bureau
where her secretary, in her behalf, transacted business with the various
courts of Europe and the numerous cities of Great Britain. Here many a
negotiation was carried on for opera engagements at Vienna, or Paris,
or Berlin, or St. Petersburg. Here many a diplomatic correspondence
conducted the fate of the musical festivals of York, or Norwich, or
Exeter.