The Five-Minute Marriage (12 page)

“
Who was that delightfully fierce-looking young man that you were talking to just now, Letitia?
”

“
Flashing black eyes, and as swarthy as a pirate? Don
’
t waste your time on him, my love,
”
Lady Dalrymple replied with a tinkling laugh.
“
He hasn
’
t a feather to fly with! That
’
s Gareth Penistone; an excellent figure, I grant you, but they say the poor fellow has not two brass farthings to rub together.
”

“
Indeed? No wonder he is making up to Laura Teasdale!
”

“
Nothing will come of that! They say she had a
tendre
for him years ago, but Teasdale was the better catch.
”

“
Penistone? Penistone? Is there not money in the famil
y
, though? Is he not connected to Lord Bollington—who surely is sufficiently well-found?
”

“
Lord bless you, yes, the old ape is as rich as Croesus. Gareth
might
come into it some time—but then again he might not
—
they say the old man is very capricious—Gareth has nothing but a little manor in Kent.
”

The other lady asked some question.

“
Gaming, they say!
”
Lady Dalrymple
’
s artificial laugh rang out again.
“
They always say it is gaming when a young man has run through his fortune without any visible reason for it.
”
She sank her voice to a malicious whisper. Delphie missed the next words. All she could catch was
“
—petticoat company, I fear! Hardly ever goes into polite society, any more! When he
does
, of course, hostesses are delighted to welcome him—I account it quite a triumph to have him here tonight—because he is delightfully clever and agreeable; his manners are such as cannot fail to please.
”

Can they not? thought Delphie tartly. Just let Lady Dalrymple see him in his ancestral home!

“
But most certainly not the kind of husband you would want for dear Margaret or sweet Elizabeth—not at
all
a good parti,
”
Lady Dalrymple concluded firmly, and then, again in her carrying whisper, added something that sounded like
“
perfectly shameless
—
understand—mistress—lives in a house on Curzon Street—have it on the best authority—brazen hussy!
”

Delphie was somewhat sourly amused by the avid look of curiosity on the face of the silver-haired lady, as she listened to these revelations, and turned to gaze after the departing Mr. Penistone.

That, doubtless, was why he was in such a hurry to return to London, Delphie thought. He was impatient to get back to his charmer! No wonder he had to be practically dragooned into that bedside marriage.

And then she wondered about the girl referred to as Elaine, the other Miss Carteret, the girl to whom Mr. Penistone was supposed to be betrothed. How did
she
feel about this state of affairs? Not very pleasant for her to be aware that her affianced husband was openly flaunting a mistress in London—or, far away in Bath, was she
not
aware of it? Despite her indignation at the false substitution, Delphie was almost inclined to pity Elaine. Such a public slight could not fail to be sadly mortifying. What would happen when they were married? And why had Gareth agreed to the marriage in the first place?

Because of the money, presumably.

Lady Dalrymple, suddenly observing that her singer had ceased to perform, exclaimed,

“
Miss Carter, Miss Carter, pray, what are you about? Continue singing at once, at
once
, if you please!
”

“
I am afraid, Lady Dalrymple, that I cannot sing any more. I have sung for the best part of three hours now, and my throat has become quite hoarse,
”
Delphie replied.

“
Really? How very singular—most inconvenient!
”
Lady Dalrymple commented with displeasure.
“
Oh, very well—in that case I suppose you had best continue merely playing. It is very provoking! Pray recommence singing as soon as possible, Miss Carter. It is what you are here for, after all!
”

“
If I could have something to drink it might help,
”
said Delphie.

Lady Dalrymple gazed at her as if she had asked for a seven
-
course dinner.

“
Drink?
You want some
drink?
Well, you had best ask one of the footmen for that.
”

And she moved hastily away, before Delphie could formulate any other outrageous demands. She looked so ridiculously affronted, in her tight pink silk and pearls and feathers, with her high color and her bulging blue eyes—so like some high-stepping ornamental fowl with its crest indignantly raised—that Delphie could not help chuckling a little as she watched, forgetting that she had some right to indignation herself. Then she turned, with no great hopes, to try to attract a passing footman—and found herself staring straight into the astonished face of Gareth Penistone.

He seemed quite as taken aback as she was. His dark visage turned distinctly pale, and his knuckles, which were resting on the pianoforte, perceptibly whitened.

“
You
!
But what—are
you
doing here?
”

“
I could ask the same question,
”
Delphie said.
“
But I conclude that Lady Dalrymple is your friend. She can hardly be said to be mine, however!
”

“
I do not understand!
”
he said blankly.

“
I have been employed to sing and play at her party.
”
Delphie could not resist adding,
“
And you? What are you doing here? You do not appear to be enjoying yourself greatly?
”

“
I came here to meet someone,
”
he said shortly. His expression conveyed,
“
And what business is it of yours, pray?
”

Delphie told him with formality, since he had not asked,

“
I am sorry to inform you that your uncle was no better this morning. But he was still—he was still battling. I did not see Mr. Fitzjohn, however. Fidd gave me the report on Lord Bollington.
”
As he was about to reply—

“
Mr. Penistone!
”
said Lady Dalrymple, suddenly reappearing, and darting a needle-sharp glance at Delphie.
“
I should like to present you to a dear friend of mine, Louisa Carmichael.
”
She gave Delphie another quelling look, and remarked,
“
You are not hired to
converse
, Miss Carter! If you can neither sing nor play, you may as well retire, perhaps! I shall tell Mr. Browty, when next I see him, that I consider your talents were highly misrepresented
—
highly
!”

Inclining her head—she did not trust herself to speak—Delphie stood up. Her legs were trembling with hunger and fatigue, and for a moment she was obliged to lean on the pianoforte, to steady herself. She saw Lady Dalrymple and Mr. Penistone glance back, and caught Lady Dalrymple
’
s voice:

“
—do believe that girl has been drinking. She
asked
me, in the most brazen, barefaced way imaginable, for a glass of wine! Can you believe it!—Certainly shall not employ
her
again!
”

Delphie dragged her cloak from under the instrument and edged her way toward the servants
’
entrance. Just before walking through the door she glanced across the room again—but Gareth Penistone was out of sight.

It was not until she had walked half the distance home that Delphie recollected she had not been paid her five guineas. Nor had she given Mr. Penistone back his ring.

6

No further invitations to sing at parties followed on from Delphie
’
s engagement at Lady Dalrymple
’
s house—presumably Lady Dalrymple had found herself unable to recommend Miss Carter to her friends—but in due course more pupils trickled back from their country holidays, and a number of new ones applied for lessons. Poverty seemed a little less threateningly imminent on the Carterets
’
horizon. Delphie managed to earn a few extra shillings in various ways—by writing out menu cards for Floris
’
s restaurant around the corner, by translating some letters into French for Tellson
’
s Bank, by reading aloud French memoirs for half an hour a day to an
émigré
marquise who could not afford to return to France even now that Napoleon was gone.

Better still, Mrs. Carteret
’
s health was now improving every day. With the warmer weather, she was able, first, to get out of bed and sit on a chair, then to allow herself to be dressed, then to dress herself. Scrimping and saving, Delphie was just able to pay Mrs. Andrews for a couple of hours a day, and the kind old lady seemed inclined to stay on in London permanently.
“
For there
’
s ever so much more to see here than in Edmonton—let alone not being trampled by grandchildren all day long!
”
Fortunately Mrs. Carteret had not resumed—as yet—any of her frantic and unpredictable activities; though she did, every now and then, threaten to send out the invitations for a ball, a soiree, or a rout party, or murmur,

“
Next week Mrs. Andrews really must start making white soup; and I must write to Totterridges about carpeting for the stairs and pavement, and to Gunters about the ices. Or do you think we should have Searcy
’
s to do the catering, my dearest? I so particularly wish you not to be worried about anything except dancing with the right partners and keeping a good lookout for an eligible parti.
”

“
Pray do not be troubling your head about that, Mamma,
”
replied Delphie, wondering how great would be her mother
’
s dismay if she knew that her daughter was already quite extra-legally and unofficially plighted to somebody who had been described by Lady Dalrymple as
“
not at
all
a good parti.
”

“
What do you know about Gareth Penistone, Mamma?
”
she asked once, carelessly.

“
My uncle Gareth? Why, how ever do you come to speak of him? He was a great deal younger than my Papa. He was interested in nothing but hunting—was killed by a fall from his horse,
”
Mrs. Carteret replied with perfect calm. Evidently this branch of the family had no associations to agitate or distress her.
“
His son became an officer under Lord Wellesley in the Peninsula, and, I think, died at Badajos, but I lost touch with those cousins entirely, of course, after I broke away from the family. Whether the younger Gareth had children, I do not know.
”

I suppose his son would be this Gareth, Delphie thought. She would dearly have liked to continue asking questions about the ancient scandal involving her grandfather, the dairymaid Prissy Privett, and her great-uncle Mark, but did not dare take the risk of disturbing her mother
’
s tranquillity. For, glancing at a copy of Debrett
’
s Peerage in a great house where, one morning, she had been obliged to wait in the library for a dilatory pupil, she had realized that her grandfather
’
s wife, the Miss Howard who had been her mother
’
s mother, had died the year her mother was
born
, and her husband had followed her only three years later; from the age of three on, therefore, her mother must have been brought up by Great-uncle Mark and his unsuitable wife—who already had two base-born children of her own. What a childhood! No wonder Mrs. Carteret never referred to it, and had run off from home at the age of sixteen to marry Captain Carteret. She and her own brother, the Tristram who died at sea, must have been bitterly unhappy in such an atmosphere. Delphie thought how much she would have hated to be brought up by Great-uncle Mark, with his sharp voice, his malicious cackling laugh, and his detestation for
the whole female sex. It was no wonder Mrs. Carteret hated any mention of Chase.

On the sixth day after Delphie
’
s excursion into Kent, a note arrived from Russell Square.

“
Dear Miss Carteret,
”
wrote Mr. Browty,
“
the gals and I are Returned from the Frogs
’
Capital & very Wishful, they to resume their lessons, I to hear how you prospered at Chase, and all of us to see you again. So Pray let us have a Note by the Bearer, informing me when it will be Convenient for you to come around. Your Sincere Friend, Jos. Browty.
”

Delphie wrote that it would be convenient next day at noon, and kept the appointment punctually. She found the Browty family in high fettle, the girls rigged out in the first stare of the Parisian mode, and Mr. Browty cheerfully complaining that his full-skirted coats would no longer button around him because of all the fine French dinners they had consumed. They had brought Delphie a parasol from France, an elegant gray-and-white silk one with tassels and an ivory ferule, and she exclaimed at its prettiness and scolded them for bringing her such an expensive gift.

“
Nay, nay!
”
said Mr. Browty,
“‘
tis a nothing, a trifle, for we look on you quite as one of the family, Miss Philadelphia!
I
would have liked to fetch you back one of those fancy Paris bonnets from Phanie or some such place, but the girls were not just sure how your tastes ran, and there was no sense in saddling you with some oddity you
’
d never wear. But a parasol is neither here nor there!
”

Delphie said it was the most charming gift she had ever received, and just what she needed for the summer.

Then she rather firmly dismissed Mr. Browty, and gave the girls their lessons, for she felt it incumbent upon her to make it plain that she wished to keep the relationship on a professional footing. Mr. Browty accepted his dismissal with good humor, but reappeared again the moment Miss Charlotte
’
s last chord had been played, and, summoning Moses the footman with wine and cakes, ordered the girls to run off and find their governess, for he wished to ask Miss Carteret about her family affairs.

“
Now let us have a comfortable coze, Miss Philadelphia, and
you tell me how matters went at Chase!
”
he exclaimed the instant the door had closed behind his daughters.

Delphie had been much exercised in her mind as to what she could tell Mr. Browty—who, as prime instigator and abettor of the excursion, certainly had a right to know at least some part of the whole. She could not tell him about the pretended marriage, for that was very much not her secret, but she did tell him that, in return for a promise that she was not allowed to divulge, she had been assured an annuity of three hundred pounds a year for her mother after Lord Bollington
’
s death.

Mr. Browty
’
s brows drew together as he heard this tale.

“
If you ask me,
”
he burst out,
“
it all sounds like a deuced havey-cavey business! Damme, I had a fear you
’
d make a mull of it, Miss Philadelphia! It
’
s no use entrusting business matters to females—more particularly gent
l
y raised ones—they haven
’
t the spunk for it. You
’
ve let them chouse you, my dear—that
’
s the long and the short of it. I should have undertaken your business myself, I knew it!
”

Delphie could not help a chuckle as she imagined Mr. Browty at Lord Bollington
’
s bedside, being united in marriage to Mr. Penistone. She said hastily,

“
No, no, my dear sir, it is very well as it is, and I am infinitely obliged to you for your part in the affair. I am quite satisfied with how it has all turned out.
Pray
do not be troubling your head about it any more.
”

Mr. Browty regarded her shrewdly.

“
In other words, I
’
m to keep my nose out of what is none of my business—hey, Miss Philadelphia? Is that it? But tell me about your great-uncle—did he recognize you? Did he claim you as his niece? Did he seem to wish to make reparation for all those years of neglect of your poor mother?
”

Delphie said truthfully that her uncle had appeared to recognize in her a likeness to his brother
’
s wife; and that he had seemed very sorry for his misdeeds.

“
Is he dead now?
”
inquired Mr. Browty.
“
Has his will been put into effect?
”

“
I have studied the
Gazette
, sir, on such days as I have seen it,
”
said Delphie.
“
But I have not seen any notice of his death. Perhaps it escaped me—or perhaps he may still be lingering on.
”

Mr. Browty said he would make inquiries.

“
Any of the fellows at my club will be sure to know.
”

Delphie would have liked to tell him about the false Miss Carteret, who had so successfully established her claim, but to do so must involve her in explanations which could not fail of revealing the bedside
“
marriage
”
—and she therefore felt obliged to remain silent. But she very much disliked having to practice this piece of
suppressio veri
toward such a good friend as Mr. Browty, who was so generous and well disposed toward her; and she resolved that she must somehow contrive to meet Mr. Penistone again, if only once, have a discussion with him about the whole affair, and tell him that she could not keep his secret forever. Meanwhile she was relieved when Mr. Browty turned the conversation to Mrs. Carteret and inquired how she did.

“
Oh, she is going on famously now, I thank you, and has regained all the ground lost during her setback. In a few days I hope that it will be warm enough to take her for an airing.
”

Mr. Browty instantly offered his closed carriage, and would not take no for an answer; he overbore all Delphie
’
s protests that he was far too kind, and arranged that the carriage should be sent around next Monday, if the day proved a fine one.

“
I hear Letty Dalrymple asked you around to sing at her party?
”
he next remarked.
“
I was a bit put-about when I heard that! I may have mentioned your name—just dropped some remarks as to your high abilities and so on, you know—but Letty
’
s as clutch
-
fisted as she is mean-minded. But how did it go, hey? Did they applaud as they should? And did Letty pay you a proper fee?
”

Delphie hesitated. In fact, after several days had elapsed and no money had been sent, she had herself delivered a bill for five guineas at Lady Dalrymple
’
s house—and had then been sent four guineas with a disagreeable note, explaining that as
she
had not fulfilled
her
part of the contract by singing for the whole evening, part of the fee had been deducted.

“
You need not scruple to tell me the whole,
”
remarked Mr. Browty, narrowly observing Delphie
’
s face.
“
Letty Dalrymple is as sharp as a razor and cheeseparing as a sexton
’
s tabby. She has been on the catch for me any time there three years—would be Mrs. Browty inside a week if I
’
d drop the handkerchief—but I
’
m not such a flat, no, no!
”

Thus freed from constraint, Delphie was able to give him the history of the evening (excluding her conversation with Gareth Penistone); he laughed very heartily, apologized, said she had a real gift for telling a tale, and urged her to apply to him for advice before undertaking any more such engagements.

Then Delphie took her leave and returned to Greek Street.

In the shop she paused to speak to Jenny, who was minding the counter while Miss Anne went marketing.

“
There,
I’
ve been on the lookout for you, Miss Delphie,
”
exclaimed Jenny as soon as a small girl who had been buying three yards of spangled ribbon for her mother had trotted out of the shop.
“
Only think! I saw your—ahem!—Mum
’
s the word!—I saw
you-know-who
, walking along, as large as you please, only yesterday afternoon, in Shepherd
’
s Market! He didn
’
t see me—and I
’
ll tell you why! He had a young lady on his arm, and three children following behind. What do you say to
that?
Barefaced as you please! He
’
s as bad as his uncle! If she wa
rn
’
t a bit of muslin, my name
’
s not Jenny Baggott!
”

“
She could have been his sister,
”
Delphie pointed out mildly.

“
Sister? Pho, pho! They were as different as chalk from cherries: he so big and black and brawny, with a face as long as a shovel, and such a damn-your-eyes look about him—
”

“
And what was the lady like?
”
Delphie inquired. She was much interested in Jenny
’
s tale, which certainly appeared to substantiate what Lady Dalrymple had said. But somehow she could not withstand a slight sinking of the spirits.

“
Lady
?
”
said Jenny scornfully.
“
She was no lady, I
’
ll be bound. She was a little, puny thing, hobbling along, hanging on his arm as if she was scared to lose him—hardly up to his shoulder—with a pale peaky look and hair done all anyhow—shawl on crooked
—
muslin so faded you
’
d be ashamed to be seen out in it—da
rn
on one elbow—toes of her slippers quite worn and stubbed—and a bonnet I
’
ll swear I have seen on a second-hand stall in Berwick Market. You
’
d think he
’
d keep his Peculiar in a better style than that! Mean as his grand-uncle, he must be!
”

What were the children like? Philadelphia wanted to know. But Jenny took little interest in children. Shabby-looking little things, was all she could say.

“
Lor, Miss Delphie, I can
’
t fathom you, not you, nor him neither! If I was
you,
I wouldn
’
t let him slip through my fingers! And if I was him, I wouldn
’
t hang onto that poor little dab of a thing, not when he has a chance of a handsome looker like you, dearie, that would be a proper credit to him.
”

But Delphie pointed out soberly that he was probably fond of the lady in question, and that, if so, he did right to stick by her.

“
In that case,
”
said Jenny,
“
he oughter look after her better, and keep her in better style!
”

Next Monday proved fine and balmy, and, prompt to its time, Mr. Browty
’
s carriage rolled up to the door in Greek Street. Mrs. Carteret, wrapped in shawls, was assisted into the carriage and departed, escorted by Mrs. Andrews, for Delphie had to give a lesson in Russell Square—not to the Browty girls, but to some friends of theirs on the north side of the square, who had been supplied with her name by the obliging Mr. Browty.

Walking back across the square afterward, and admiring the young blossoming trees which had been planted in the garden, she ran into Mr. Browty himself, who appeared to have been on the lookout for her.

“
Ah, there, Miss Philadelphia!
”
he exclaimed.
“
I was hoping that I might run across you.
”

Delphie began some sentences of thanks about her mother, and the carriage, but he impatiently waved these aside.
“
No matter, no matter! Coachman and horses eating their heads off—happy they can be of use. Any time, any time. No, why I wished to see you, my dear, was to apprise you of the intelligence which I had at the club—namely that your grand-uncle is
not
dead, as you had supposed, but, on the contrary, he has made a most amazing recover, and is now expected to live out the year, at least! So is not
that
something to take you aback?
”

“
Well,
”
Delphie said thoughtfully,
“
I suppose one must be glad for him, poor man, since he seemed in such a pitiable state. I hope this amelioration of his condition will afford him time to improve the tone of his spirits, to repent whatever misdeeds appeared to be troubling him so, and to put himself into a better frame of mind to meet his Maker.
”

“
Yes, yes, yes!
”
exclaimed Mr. Browty, cutting short her periods.
“
I hope so too—but you do not appear to observe the bearing of this intelligence on your own affairs, Miss Carteret! If the old cove is still alive, and likely to remain so for some time yet,
you
are properly in the basket! Where
’
s your annuity now? Do you not see? You have been fobbed off, Miss Philadelphia, by those as wishes to keep you from any part of the family inheritance.
”

Delphie thought this over.

“
Yes—that may be so,
”
she said at length.
“
But I cannot believe that his illness was not genuine, or that there was any
intent
to impose on me. Matters have merely turned out unexpectedly. It is of no use to repine about it. And indeed, it does not greatly signify. My mother
’
s and my fortunes are improving—thanks in large part to your generous recommendations, Mr. Browty—and I now have the comfort of knowing that Mamma
’
s future, at least, is provided for. Sooner or later, after all my uncle must die, and then she will come into the annuity.
”

“
And when will
that
be?
”
exclaimed Mr. Browty with some acerbity.
“
His nabs is only sixty-eight—so they say—he could live to ninety and disappoint you all! For that matter, what
’
s to prevent him from changing his will again?
”

These were considerations that certainly had not yet occurred to Delphie, but she said
philosophically
that in such a case they would simply have to manage as best they could, in the same manner as they had done formerly.

At this point Mr. Browty astonished her very much by going down on one knee in front of her. She could not help wishing that they were on the grass, rather than on the gravel path, for she feared that the gravel must be cutting through his worsted stocking in the most painful way; but she was at least grateful that, for the moment, they appeared to have the Square garden to themselves.

“
Miss Philadelphia,
”
said Mr. Browty earnestly,
“
pray, pray,
do me the honor of allowing me to take these cares and considerations off your shoulders! Only say that you will be Mrs. Browty, and you need never give that pinch-fisted old muckworm another thought! Let the old niggard starve himself to death in his castle. Let the miserly old screw leave his wad to whom he will. I beg your pardon!
”
—seeing her face of astonishment—
“
I meant this declaration to be far otherwise, Miss Carteret. But when I think of the lickpenny old skinflint, it makes me so mad! The thing is, I had hoped first to put you in the way of establishing a competence for yourself in your own right. Knowing the delicacy of your principles, I feared you might be too proud to accept—
”

“
Oh, sir, stop, stop!
”
exclaimed Delphie in distress.
“
Indeed, I am deeply sensible of the honor you do me, but you must not be saying these things to me!
”

“
Why not?
”
said Mr. Browty practically. Deciding, apparently, that it was not feasible to remain upon his knee on the gravel any longer, he stood up, but without any particular embarrassment. Indeed he appeared so wholly in earnest as to be lost to any sense of the ludicrous. She could not help admiring him for this. He clasped her hand between his two large ones.