MATRIMONIAL ARRANGEMENTS
Ralph did not call on Miss Pearl that day, as he intended to do, for
the simple reason that more important business demanded his attention.
After returning with Audrey to the Pink Shop he walked away, thinking,
with some irritation, over the disagreeable position in which the girl
was placed by the callous behaviour of her father. Certainly, as
Audrey was supposed to be going in for figure treatment, her stay with
Madame Coralie was reasonably accounted for, and Ralph guessed that
Sir Joseph would offer this excuse to his friends when they asked
after his daughter. There was no doubt that when the old man recovered
from the furious rage into which he had fallen when accused of the
crime he would think twice before admitting that he had turned Audrey
out of doors. Sir Joseph, in spite of his domineering ways, was a
coward, so far as social reputation was concerned, and would not risk
the finger of scorn being pointed at him. It assuredly would be, when
people came to hear of his brutal action.
So far everything was right. But Shawe did not care that the girl he
intended to make his wife should remain with Madame Coralie. Even
though the woman was Audrey's aunt, and apparently intended to be kind
to her niece, Ralph knew that her reputation was none of the best. It
would do Audrey harm to remain long at the Pink Shop, especially as,
since the murder, it had obtained a most unenviable notoriety. And
Madame Coralie--as Shawe learnt through Perry Toat--was looked at
askance by the police. Nothing could be said against her, and she had
assuredly cleared herself of complicity in connection with Lady
Branwin's death, thanks mainly, as Ralph now saw, to the false
evidence of the still-room clock. But she was watched nevertheless,
and was regarded as a person of doubtful character. Perhaps it was
hard on the poor creature that she should be so regarded, for she did
her best to conduct her business in a proper way. But that very
business was of a decidedly dubious character, and demanded secrecy
for obvious reasons. Ladies anxious to renew their youth did not care
about their visits to the Pink Shop to be talked about, and this very
necessary secrecy lent a doubtful air to Madame Coralie's occupation.
On the whole, the young barrister thought that it would be just as
well to remove Audrey as soon as possible from that tainted
atmosphere.
This could only be done by marriage, as, failing her aunt, Audrey had
no friend with whom she could stay. Certainly, there were people who
liked her, and would be glad of her company, but an application to any
of these meant that awkward questions would be asked. If any woman
scented a scandal, she would assuredly be extremely pertinacious until
she learnt the whole truth. And as the whole truth involved a
confession of Audrey's rash visit to the Temple, and an acknowledgment
of her father's drastic behaviour, it was not right to risk such
things becoming known. Whereas, if Shawe married the girl quickly it
would be looked upon as a runaway match, and Sir Joseph's anger would
be accounted for in this way. It was well known that he wished his
daughter to marry Lord Anvers, and had refused to permit the barrister
to pay his addresses. Therefore, an elopement--for that is what the
marriage with Shawe would amount to--would appeal to the romantic
nature of Audrey's friends, and every woman would be on her side. The
more Ralph thought over the matter, the more he felt that a speedy
marriage was the only way in which to adjust the situation.
But this required thought to accomplish. Shawe had a small income, and
with economy it would be enough for two until he received larger fees.
Already he was a well-known man, and every day he made progress; so
there could be no doubt that in the near future he would be well able
to support a wife. But at the present moment he could not lay his
hands on ready money, which was what he wanted to do. In the ordinary
way Audrey would have to live in Kensington parish for three weeks,
and so would he, in order to get married. As Ralph wished to remove
his future wife from the Pink Shop as speedily as possible, this delay
was not to be thought of. There only remained to procure a special
licence, and this cost a large sum of money. "I shall go and see my
godmother," decided Ralph, after he had turned the question of
immediate matrimony over in his mind.
Lady Sanby was the young man's godmother, and had always professed
herself to be very fond and proud of him. She had often presented him
with a cheque when he was at college, and later when he was studying
for the Bar. Indeed, but for Lady Sanby's help Ralph would not have
been able to wait for briefs, since his father, the Squire of
Bleakleigh, was not wealthy. But the godmother had always behaved
generously, and Ralph, therefore, went to her house that same
afternoon, instead of visiting Miss Pearl. But before going he wrote
to the star of the music-halls, asking her to see him the next morning
at eleven o'clock, saying that he had something important to say to
her. Having thus arranged matters, the young man went to Dorleigh
Crescent to interview Lady Sanby.
She was an ancient dowager, with a merry eye and a great liking for
young men, especially if they were handsome and rising. Ralph was
both, so Lady Sanby always made a great fuss over him when he called.
She went everywhere and knew everyone, and was altogether as gay an
old dame as could be found in Mayfair. Also, as she was very rich, her
son, the present Lord Sanby, and her daughter-in-law, together with
their numerous offspring, paid her the greatest attention. Grannie had
money to leave; therefore grannie was regarded as the oracle of the
family, and behaved always like a benevolent despot. For no one could
deny but what she was a charming old lady, if somewhat sharp in her
way of speaking.
"My dear boy," said Lady Sanby, welcoming her godson with effusion,
and presenting her withered cheek for a kiss, "what have you been
doing all this time? I haven't seen your name in the papers either in
connection with your profession. Are you not getting any briefs?"
"Not at present, grannie," said Ralph--for Lady Sanby allowed him to
call her by this endearing name, as an acknowledgment of the interest
she took in him--"but they will come along all right when I am
married."
"Oh!" Lady Sanby shook her old head knowingly, as she knew much of
Ralph's love-story. "So you still adore the daughter of that wretched
woman who was murdered in the Pink Shop?"
"Yes. And you said you liked Audrey, grannie?"
"So I do; she's a dear girl. But I didn't like her vulgar old mother,
though I shouldn't say that now, seeing she is dead. Nor do I like her
father. He's a wicked, domineering navvy, and will probably be made a
Peer. Those sort of rich labourers always do get Peerages. Well, so
you are going to marry?"
"I must if I want to succeed in my profession," said Ralph, quickly.
"My head is full of love matters, and I can't think of my clients.
Yes, I want to get married in three days, and I have come to you for
help."
"Oh, I shall do whatever you want, my dear boy. You are so clever that
I look on you as one likely to reflect credit on me. Sanby and his
family are all idiots. Well, and how can I assist you?"
"I shall explain. In the first place, I wish to tell you a rather
surprising story, about which you must promise to keep silence.
"Oh! my dear lad, I am a well--a very well--for keeping secrets. If I
said all I knew I could ruin half the men in London, and all the
women. Well?"
Shawe wasted no further talk in introducing his subject, but related
all that he knew about the case--from the time Lady Branwin had
entered the Pink Shop down to the last words Audrey had told him
concerning Badoura's accusation of Eddy Vail. "Now, what do you
think?" he asked, when he had finished his long story, and felt vexed
that the old lady did not display more astonishment.
"It is a wonderful story," Lady Sanby assured him, coolly, "and truth
is always stranger than fiction. But I have had so many surprises in
my long life that nothing astonishes me. I am glad you told me, and I
can well see that it is a thing one must hold one's tongue about. So
vexing; one always has to keep silence about the most wonderful
things. Do you think that Sir Joseph Branwin--horrid man!--is guilty?"
"I can't say."
"Perhaps you suspect Eddy Vail?"
"I can't be sure of that either."
"Madame Coralie?"
"No," said Ralph, positively. "I can safely say that I do not suspect
her, for she is behaving too well over Audrey's matter."
"That doesn't mean to say she wouldn't commit a crime if it suited
her," said Lady Sanby, coolly. "She's not a nice woman, my dear, and
the sooner you get that poor girl away from the Pink Shop the better
it will be."
"I knew you would say that," said Shawe, quickly, "and for that reason
I want you to help me, grannie--to help me and Audrey, that is."
"Of course. I like Audrey; she is a girl of spirit, and will make you
a good wife. Well, what do you wish me to do? Ask her here to stay for
a time?"
"No, no! Although it is kind of you to suggest it," said Shawe,
hurriedly. "But people would talk and ask questions. No. I wish you to
lend me one hundred pounds so that I can buy a special licence and
marry Audrey at once, and have sufficient cash to take a journey."
"To go on your honeymoon, you mean," said Lady Sanby, humorously.
"Well, your idea is a very good one. Marry her at once by special
licence, and go away to some quiet place so that she can recover from
all these troubles. Then bring her here as your wife, and she can stay
with me for a week until you can find a house."
"Dear, dear grannie!"
"Silly, silly grannie, I think. I am a romantic old fool to waste
money at my time of life in--"
"It won't be wasted. I shall pay you back."
"No. I shall give you five hundred pounds as a wedding-gift."
"Oh, I can't take that, Lady Sanby."
"Grannie, you foolish boy."
"Well, then, I can't take such a large sum, grannie."
"Don't talk nonsense," said Lady Sanby, going to her desk and
producing a cheque-book. "Five hundred pounds won't go very far,
seeing that Audrey has been accustomed to millions."
"She won't be accustomed to them any more," said the future
bridegroom, in a gloomy tone. "Her father has disowned her."
"Never mind. You marry her, and we'll put matters right between us.
There is your cheque." She handed him an oblong slip of paper.
"I really can't take so much."
"Then you won't get less, my dear man. Gracious, haven't I dandled you
on my knee and slapped you and stuffed you with cakes and--"
"You have been always good, and that is why I don't like to impose on
you."
Lady Sanby laughed grimly. "You needn't be afraid of doing that,
Ralph. No one, old or young, ever succeeded in imposing upon me. Now,
take your wedding-present and marry Audrey. And, by the way," added
the old dame, just as if it was an after-thought, "you had better let
me know the time and place. I shall come to the wedding. It will look
better for Audrey, and that parvenu father of hers won't dare to say a
word when I bestow my approval."
"Grannie, you are an angel," and Ralph, very greatly touched by her
kindness, kissed her warmly.
Grannie pushed him away. "Keep your kisses and nice words for Audrey,
or she will grow jealous. Now run away. I have heaps to do, and I
can't afford to waste my time as a briefless barrister does."
"Briefless," laughed Ralph, who was now, and with very good reason, in
excellent spirits. "Well, grannie, I only ask that you will retain me
as Counsel in the breach of promise case you are sure to have with one
of your numerous admirers!"--a joke which pleased the gay old lady
immensely.
Shawe departed, and paid the welcome cheque into his bank. He could
now afford to marry Audrey at once, and take her away from all the
soiled circumstances of her life. He felt duly grateful to Madame
Coralie, but he did not wish Audrey, when she was Mrs. Shawe, to see
more of her than was consistent with her being a relation. For the
moment he felt inclined to go to Walpole Lane and tell Audrey all
about Lady Sanby's offer and her kindness in giving him such a welcome
wedding-present; but he knew that Audrey would be disappointed if he
had nothing to tell about Miss Pearl, so resolved before he again
sought the Pink Shop to see the lady in question.
Miss Pearl wrote and said that she would be pleased to see him at the
time he mentioned. Therefore, the next morning, Ralph duly walked to
the quiet house in the quiet Bloomsbury Square wherein Miss Pearl had
her rooms. A demure maidservant admitted him into the house and
conducted him up the wide staircase--it was an old Georgian
mansion--to the sitting-room of the lady. When she departed to tell
Miss Pearl that her visitor had arrived, the young barrister glanced
round the room to see if he could gather from its furnishing what the
character of the future Lady Branwin was like. It struck him--oddly
enough, considering her profession of dancer and singer--that she was
something of a Puritan.
The room was spacious and had a lofty ceiling painted with wreaths of
flowers and love-knots of blue ribbon. Under this roof, which
suggested gay Pompadour fancies, the room looked cold and drab.
The furniture was of a dark wood upholstered in dark green. The
windows--two French windows which opened on to an iron balcony--were
draped with green curtains, and the carpet was also green, without any
pattern. In the centre of the apartment was a prim table on which
books were placed at regular intervals. One of these books Shawe found
to be the _Pilgrim's Progress_, and another was the _Chronicles of the
Schonberg-Cotta Family_. He felt rather astonished as this was not the
class of literature he expected Miss Pearl to favour. Then the room
was altogether so stiff and formal, and so deadly cold, in spite of
its being warm in the open air, that the barrister was puzzled. "I
must have been shown into the apartment of some missionary by
mistake," was his reflection, and he sat down greatly bewildered. "A
woman who dances at a music-hall can't possibly like to live in such a
room; but I always heard that she was aggressively respectable."
His reflections were cut short by the stately entrance of the lady he
was thinking about. And Miss Pearl _was_ stately, being a tall and
nobly-formed woman, who walked in quite a majestic way. She had large
feet, large hands, a large bust, and large limbs--indeed, she was
large in every way, and looked more like the Venus of Milo than a
modern woman. Her face was pale and grave and clear-cut, and she had a
rather severe mouth with compressed lips. To add to her resemblance to
the heathen goddess, her hair was smoothed back from her marble
forehead and coiled behind in a simple Greek knot. In a calm and
graceful way she moved forward, with her large brown unwinking eyes
fastened on the bewildered face of the young man. Those eyes almost
hypnotised Ralph, for their gaze was so steady, and made him think
that after all she was less like Venus than like the ox-eyed Juno.
"You are Mr. Shawe?" she said, in a low, deep contralto voice.
"Yes, Miss Pearl," he stammered; then he observed her well-cut,
tailor-made dress, which was simplicity itself, and worn with a linen
collar. But it was the material that brought a startled look into his
eyes. "You--you wear a--a Harris tweed dress!" he gasped.
Miss Pearl eyed him with grave surprise. "Why should I not?" she
asked.