THE EARL OF PECKHAM'S PROPOSAL
Miss Arnott soon realised what Mrs Stacey had meant by insisting on the
impossibility of her living a solitary life. So soon as she arrived
upon the scene, visitors began to appear at Exham Park in a constant
stream. The day after she came calls were made by two detachments of
the clergy, and by the representatives of three medical men. But, as
Mrs Plummer somewhat unkindly put it, these might be regarded as
professional calls; or, in other words, requests for custom.
"Since you are the patron of these livings, their present holders were
bound to haste and make obeisance--though it would seem that, in that
respect, one of them is still a defaulter. The way in which those two
doctors and their wives, who happened to come together, glowered at
each other was beautiful. One quite expected to see them lapse into
mutual charges of unprofessional conduct. Which of the three do you
propose to favour?"
"Mr Cavanagh says that uncle used to patronise all three. He had one
for the servants on the estate one for the indoor servants, and one for
himself."
"And which of the three was it who killed him?"
"There came a time when all three were called together to consult upon
his case. That finished uncle at once. He died within four-and-twenty
hours. So Mr Cavanagh says."
"I suppose Mr Cavanagh is able to supply you with little interesting
details on all sorts of recondite subjects?"
"Oh yes; he is like a walking encyclopedia of information on all
matters connected with the estate. Whenever I want to know anything I
simply go to him; he always knows. It is most convenient."
"And I presume that he is always willing to tell you what you want to
know."
"Most willing. I never met a more obliging person. And so
good-humoured. Have you noticed his smile?"
"I can't say that I have paid particular attention to his smile."
"It's wonderful; it lights up all his face and makes him positively
handsome. I think he's a most delightful person, and so clever. I'm
sure he's immensely popular with everyone; not at all like the
hard-as-nails stewards one reads about. I can't imagine what Mr Stacey
meant byalmost expressing a regret that he had not displaced him, can
you?"
"Some people sometimes say such extraordinary things that it's no use
trying to imagine what they mean."
The answer was a trifle vague; but it seemed to satisfy Miss Arnott.
Neither of the ladies looked to see if the other was smiling.
Mrs Stacey's sibylline utterance was prophetic; in a fortnight the
whole county had called--that is, so much of it as was within anything
like calling distance, and in the country in these days "calling
distance" is a term which covers a considerable expanse of ground.
Practically the only abstentions were caused by people's absence from
home. It was said that some came purposely from London, and even
farther, so that they might not lose an opportunity of making Miss
Arnott's acquaintance.
For instance, there was the case of the Dowager Countess of Peckham. It
happened that the old lady's dower house was at Stevening, some
fourteen or fifteen miles from Exham Park. Since she had never occupied
it since the time it came into her possession, having always preferred
to let it furnished to whoever might come along, one would scarcely
have supposed that she would have called herself Miss Arnott's
neighbour. When, however, a little bird whispered in her ear what a
very charming millionairess was in practically solitary occupation of
Exham Park, it chanced that, for the moment, her own house was
untenanted, and, within four-and-twenty hours of the receipt of that
whispered communication, for the first time in her life she was under
its roof. On the following day she covered the fourteen miles which lay
between her and Exham Park in a hired fly, was so fortunate as to find
Miss Arnott at home, and was so agreeably impressed by the lady
herself, by her surroundings, and by all that she heard of her, that
she stopped at the village post office on her homeward journey to send
a peremptory telegram to her son to come at once. The Earl of Peckham
came. He had nothing particular to do just then; or, at least, nothing
which he could not easily shirk. He might as well run down to his
mother. So he ran down on his automobile. Immediately on his arrival
she favoured him with a few home truths; as she had done on many
previous occasions, and peremptorily bundled him over to Exham Park.
"Mind! you now have a chance such as you never had before; and such as
you certainly will never have again. The girl has untold wealth
absolutely at her own command; she hasn't a relation in the world; she
is alone with a woman who is perfectly ready to be hoodwinked; she
knows nobody worth speaking of. You will have her all to yourself, it
will be your own fault if she's not engaged to you in a fortnight, and
your wife within six weeks. Think of it, a quarter of a million a year,
not as representing her capital, you understand, but a year! and
absolutely no relations. None of that crowd of miserable hangers-on
which so often represents the mushroom millionaire's family
connections. If you don't take advantage of this heaven-sent
opportunity, Peckham, you are past praying for--that's all I can say."
Peckham sighed. According to her that always was all she could say, and
she had said it so many times. He motored over to Exham Park in a frame
of mind which was not in keeping with the character of a light-hearted
wooer. He had wanted his mother to accompany him. But she had a
conservative objection to motor cars, nothing would induce her to trust
herself on one. So, reluctantly enough, he went alone.
"You ask Miss Arnott to lunch to-morrow; you can go over yourself and
bring her on your car, it will be an excellent opening. And when she is
here I will do the honours. But I have no intention of risking my own
life on one of those horrible machines."
As he reached the bottom of a rather steep slope, his lordship met a
lady and a gentleman, who were strolling side by side. Stopping, he
addressed the gentleman,--
"I beg your pardon, but can you tell me if I am going right for Exham
Park? There were crossroads some way back, at the top of the hill, but
I was going so fast that I couldn't see what was on the direction
posts. I mean Miss Arnott's."
"You will find the lodge gate on your right, about half a mile further
on." The speaker hesitated, then added, "This is Miss Arnott."
Off came his lordship's hat again.
"I am very fortunate. I am Peckham--I mean the Earl of Peckham. My
mother has sent me with a message."
The lady was regarding the car with interested eyes.
"I never have been on a motor car, but if you could find room for me on
yours, you might take me up to the house, and--give me the message."
In a trice the mechanician was in the tonneau, and the lady by his
lordship's side. As Mr Cavanagh, left alone, gazed after the retreating
car, it was not the good-humoured expression of his countenance which
would have struck Miss Arnott most.
The young lady's tastes were plainly altogether different from the old
one's--at anyrate, so far as motor cars were concerned. Obviously she
did not consider them to be horrible machines. She showed the liveliest
interest in this, the first one of which she had had any actual
experience. They went for quite a lengthy drive together, three times
up and down the drive, which meant nearly nine miles. Once, at the
lady's request, the driver showed what his car could do. As it was a
machine of the highest grade, and of twenty-four horse power, it could
do a good deal. Miss Arnott expressed her approbation of the
performance.
"How splendid! I could go on like that for ever; it blows one about a
bit, but if one were sensibly dressed that wouldn't matter. How fast
were we going?"
"Oh, somewhere about fifty miles an hour. It's all right in a place
like this; but, the worst of it is, there are such a lot of beastly
policemen about. It's no fun having always to pay fines for excessive
speed, and damages for running over people, and that kind of thing."
"I should think not, indeed. Have you ever run over anyone?"
"Well, not exactly; only, accidents will happen, you know."
As she observed that young man's face, a suspicion dawned upon her
mind, that--when he was driving--they occasionally would.
Ere she descended she received some elementary lessons in the art of
controlling a motor car. And, altogether, by the time they reached the
house, and the message was delivered, they were on terms of
considerable intimacy.
The acquaintance, thus auspiciously begun, rapidly ripened. The Earl
did not find the business on which he was engaged anything like such a
nuisance as he had feared; on the contrary, he found it an agreeable
occupation. He was of opinion that the girl was not half a bad sort;
that, in fact, she was a very good sort indeed. He actually decided
that she would have been eligible for a place in the portrait gallery
of the Countesses of Peckham even if she had not been set in such a
desirable frame. That motor car was a great aid to intimacy. He drove
her; and he taught her to drive him. Sometimes, the chauffeur being
left behind, they had the car to themselves. It was on such an
occasion, when their acquaintance hardly extended beyond his mother's
suggested fortnight, that he made her an offer of his hand and heart.
She was driving at the time, and going at a pretty good pace, which was
possibly on the wrong side of the legal limit; but when she began to
have an inkling of what he was talking about, she instantly put on the
brakes, and pulled up dead. She was so taken by surprise, and her own
hideous position was so continually present to her mind's eye, that it
was some seconds before she perceived that the young man at her side
must, of necessity, be completely unconscious of the monstrous nature
of his proposal. She was silent for several moments, then she answered,
while the car was still at a standstill in the middle of the road,--
"Thank you. No doubt your offer is not meant unkindly; but acceptance
on my part is altogether out of the question."
"Why?"
"Why? Because it is. I am sorry you should have spoken like this,
because I was beginning to like you."
"Isn't that a reason why I should speak? If you are beginning to like
me, by degrees you may get to like me more and more."
"I think not. Because this little _contretemps_ will necessarily put a
period to our acquaintance."
"Oh, rats! that isn't fair! If I'd thought it would worry you I
wouldn't have said a word. Only--I should like to ask if there is
anybody else."
"Do you mean, is there anyone else to whom I am engaged to be married?
There is not--and there never will be."
"I say, Miss Arnott! Every man in England--who can get within reach of
you--will have tried his luck before the end of the season. You will
have to take one of them, to save yourself from being bothered."
"Shall I? You think so? You are wrong. If you don't mind, I will turn
the car round, and take it to the lodge gate; then I will get out, and
walk home. Only there must be no more conversation of this sort on the
way, or I shall get out at once."
"You need not fear that I shall offend again; put her round."
She "put her round." They gained the lodge gate. The lady descended.
"Good-bye, Lord Peckham. I have to thank you for some very pleasant
rides, and for much valuable instruction. I'm sorry I couldn't do what
you wanted, but--it's impossible."
"I sha'n't forget the jolly time I've had with you, and shall hope to
meet you again when you come to town. You are inclined to treat me with
severity, but I assure you that if you intend to treat every man
severely, merely because he proposes, you have set yourself a task
which would have been too much for the strength of Hercules."
His lordship returned then and there to London. On the road he sent a
telegram to his mother which contained these two words only: "Been
refused."
On her part, Miss Arnott did not at once return to the house. She chose
instead a winding path which led to a certain woodland glade which she
had already learned to love. There, amidst the trees, the bushes, the
gorse, the wild flowers, the tall grasses and the bracken, she could
enjoy solitary communion with her own thoughts. Just then she had
plenty to think about. There was not only Lord Peckham's strange
conduct, there was also his parting words.
Her knowledge of the world was very scanty, especially of that sort of
world in which she so suddenly found herself. But she was a girl of
quick intuitions; and already she had noticed a something in the
demeanour of some of the masculine acquaintances she had made which she
had not altogether relished. Could what Lord Peckham had said be true?
Would every man who came within reach of her try his luck--in a certain
sense? If so, a most unpleasant prospect was in store for her. There
was one way out of the difficulty. She had only to announce that she
was a married woman and that sort of persecution would cease at once.
She doubted, however, if the remedy would not be worse than the
disease. She had grown to regard her matrimonial fetters with such
loathing, that, rather than acknowledge, voluntarily, that she was
bound about by them, and admit that her husband was an unspeakable
creature in a felon's cell, she believed that she was ready to endure
anything. Certainly she would sooner reject a dozen men a day.
She came to the woodland glade she sought. It so chanced that the
particular nook which she had learned, from experience, was the best to
recline in was just on the other side of a rough fence. She crossed the
fence, reclined at her ease on the mossy bank; and thought, and thought,
and thought. On a sudden she was roused from her deepest day-dream by
a voice which addressed to her an inquiry from above,--
"Are you trespassing--or am I?"