The Five-Minute Marriage (26 page)

Mrs. Carteret looked very startled and uneasy. Her hand fluttered to her lips.

“
Must I?
”
she asked fearfully.
“
Must I really, Delphie?
”

“
Just for one moment, Mamma!
”

“
Oh—very well! If you think it will really do him good.
”

Delphie ran back to the parlor, where Uncle Mark was now tottering in the direction of the hall door, supported by Bardwell and Gareth, as well as by his ebony cane.

“
Mamma says she will see him—just for a moment.
”

“
I still doubt if it is wise,
”
muttered Gareth. But he continued to help the old man along the hallway toward Mrs. Carteret
’
s door.

Lord Bollington reached the doorway, looked through, and saw Mrs. Carteret ensconced in the armchair, becomingly wrapped in her white frills.

He stared at her in silence for a long moment, his mouth ajar, his face working, his hands clenching and unclenching. Then
—
“
Mary
!”
he ejaculated, in a hoarse croaking tone—and suddenly sagged heavily on the arms that supported him. His head dropped forward, and his cane clattered on the floor.

“
Oh lord! I knew it!
”
Gareth muttered. Mrs. Carteret let out a faint cry.

“
What has happened? Is he ill? Oh, the poor soul!
”

“
Go to your mother, Delphie,
”
said Gareth.
“
Shut the door.
”
Appalled, Delphie found voice enough to murmur,

“
What is it? Has he—?
”

“
His heart has stopped,
”
said Gareth.

1
2

T
o Delphie, the rest of the night seemed to go on forever. First she had Mrs. Carteret to soothe, and that was no easy task; it was finally achieved by a drop or two of laudanum in a cup of tea, for the poor lady was so overset by what had occurred that a deep and oblivious sleep seemed the only solution for her. Leaving Mrs. Andrews nodding off in an armchair by her mother’s bedside, Delphie then returned to her own bedroom, at the front of the house, where Lord Bollington’s corpse had, for the time being, been laid.

During the time that Delphie had spent attending to her mother, Lord Bollington
’
s carriage had been dispatched to the house in Hanover Square, and had come back with both Mr. Fitzjohn and Dr. Bowles, Lord Bollington
’
s own doctor, who, by great good fortune, had escorted the old man to London.

Dr. Bowles, having carefully examined his defunct patient, gave it as his unhesitating opinion that the death had been caused by failure of the heart, following a severe shock, on the top of too much lobster, hock, and duckling.

“
Not a bit surprised!
”
Dr. Bowles said cheerfully.
“
Could have happened any time this past seven years! Only amazed it didn
’
t! The old curmudgeon was such a stingy eater at home that, if ever he chanced to dine at someone else
’
s expense, he couldn
’
t resist overdoing it. Often and often I
’
ve warned him—haven
’
t I, Fitz?
”

“
You do not think,
”
Mr. Fitzjohn suggested gently,
“
that my uncle might have been er—poisoned—by any undesirable element in the food he has just consumed?
”

“
Poisoned
?
”
said the doctor scornfully.
“
What kind of a totty
-
headed notion is that? Look at the others—ate the same food—
they
’
re
all right and tight
!
No
need
to poison the old feller, when he had duckling on top of lobster! No, no, old dame Nature has served him trick and tie at last, and no need to blame yourselves,
”
he said to Gareth and Delphie, who, silent and white-faced, had been awaiting his verdict in wretched suspense,
“
for he made as good an end as any man need! Wouldn
’
t mind hopping the twig myself after such a dinner as you describe!
”

“
And I do think,
”
said Delphie falteringly,
“
that although it was such a shock for him to see my mother, he was both moved and
—
and happy at the sight of her. I believe he thought that she was
her
mother—my grandfather
’
s wife—for whom he seems to have felt a—a strong passion. Do you not think so?
”
she inquired of Gareth.

“
Yes—very likely,
”
Gareth agreed gloomily.
“
He certainly shouted out
Mary
at the last.
”

“
Eh, well,
”
remarked the doctor,
“
there
’
s one more patient gone! Come along,
”
he said to Mordred.
“
We might as well return to our beds, there
’
s naught we can do here. I
’
ll make arrangements to have the body fetched in the morning—can
’
t go knocking up undertakers at this hour of night. He
’
ll be buried at Chase, I presume? Funeral in the chapel there?
”

“
But you can
’
t leave the body here!
”
said Gareth indignantly.
“
It
’
s in my cousin
’
s room! What about—?
”

He caught himself up suddenly.

Delphie, who thought she had observed Mr. Fitzjohn casting some very sharp and suspicious glances, both at her and at Gareth, here said composedly,

“
Of
course
the body must remain here, Gareth! That chamber is not required, in any case. You may return upstairs, and I, naturally, shall need to spend the night in poor Mamma
’
s room. I shall be exceedingly anxious about her until she has woken, and I can reassure myself that the tone of her mind has not been too rudely overset by such an experience.
”

As this was eminently reasonable, Gareth made no more objections, and the other two men took their leave.

Gareth, locking the front door after them, said,

“
But shall you feel safe in that back chamber, after the burglar last night?
”

“
Oh yes,
”
Delphie said tranquilly.
“
Bardwell—who, I must say, is the most useful creature in the world!—tells me that during the day he had a locksmith come in, who fastened the window so that it will not open more than a few inches. I shall feel perfectly secure. But thank you for your inquiry.
”

She added, diffidently,

“
You were right and I was w
r
ong, Cousin Gareth, about taking the poor old man to see my mother! I am sorry for all the distress and awkwardness that it has caused you.
”

“
Oh well,
”
he said tiredly.
“
Don
’
t put yourself about As Dr. Bowles told us, it might have happened any time during the last seven years. But it was certainly a piece of good fortune that Bowles was at hand, so no one can think it was anything but the course of nature. At least—I hope not
,
”

“
And now at least,
”
said Delphie,
“
you are rid of one of your most inconvenient problems.
”

“
What is that?
”

“
Why,
”
she said, moving softly toward her mother
’
s room,
“
as soon as you like—tomorrow mo
rn
ing, if you please!—you can set in hand the arrangements to have your marriage annulled.
”

And, stepping into the darkened room, she softly closed the door behind her.

She had hardly expected to be able to sleep for hours to come; after dismissing Mrs. Andrews she was still sitting with open eyes, gazing at the window, and had been doing so for about ten minutes, when she became aware of a scratching and tapping outside, and heard whispering voices:

“
Cousin Delphie! Cousin Delphie! Could you please open the door and let us in!
”

After yesternight
’
s burglar, Delphie had taken the somewhat irrational precaution of carrying her wedding lines around with her in her pocket; her hand found and closed on the paper now. But then she realized that the persons outside were
not
burglars.

“
Good heavens,
”
she thought confusedly.
“
The children!
”

Only now did it occur to her that, throughout all the excitement during the previous hours—the carriage coming and going
—
the doctor and Fitzjohn arriving and departing—not a sound, not a footstep, not a murmur had been heard from upstairs. Despite the promise the children had given their uncle, this seemed too good to be credible—ominously good; and here, now, was the proof of that.

They had not been in the house at all!

No doubt they had been to Astley
’
s Amphitheatre on their own, thought Delphie tiredly, getting up out of her chair and throwing a shawl over her shoulders. And I cannot say that I blame them—I am sure they do not often have a treat, poor little things; and it is really a fortunate occurrence, for, despite his promise to them, Gareth could hardly take them now, on the day after his uncle
’
s death.

She tiptoed swiftly to the glass door leading into the garden, and opened it. To her considerable surprise, there seemed to be several persons more than just the children clustered outside in the dark little paved yard.

“
Heydey, Miss Delphie! Ain
’
t this a prime caper then!
”
whispered a cheerful, familiar voice.

“
Good God!
”
exclaimed Delphie in utter astonishment.
“
It
’
s never Jenny Baggott! What in the name of heaven are
you
doing here at three o
’
clock in the morning?
”

“
Let us in, Miss Delphie, and we
’
ll give you the whole history!
”
Jenny whispered. The children were already slipping past, murmuring and giggling amongst themselves—

“
Don
’
t go into the front room!
”
said Delphie hastily—not that there was any particular reason why they should take it into their heads to do such a thing.
“
You
’
d best—you had better all come into the kitchen and tell me what you have been doing,
”
she added, with as much severity as she could muster, fastening the glass door behind the last of the shadowy figures. With stifled squeaks and exclamations, and a great deal of chuckling, they obeyed her, perching themselves on chairs and table, and squatting on the floor. Delphie, following, lit a candle and then a lamp, which she set on the dresser.

Turning from adjusting its wick—

“
Good God!
”
she gasped.
“
Mr.
Palgrave
!”

For, to her utter consternation, she found the poet in the midst of his children, seated comfortably in Mrs. Andrews
’
s rocking
chair, already looking about him in a vague, absent way, as if searching for a pen, and a bit of paper to write on.

“
Ain
’
t it a prime lark!
”
said Jenny again, and the two smaller boys, Lance and Lionel, could no longer restrain their delight, but burst into an exuberant, capering dance, crying out,

“
We rescued Papa! We rescued Papa!
”
while all the rest of the children broke into excited, self-congratulatory chatter.

“
Don
’
t you think it was clever of us, Cousin Delphie? We took the donkey for him to ride on—just like Jesus—hold your tongue, Lionel!—in case poor Papa couldn
’
t walk so far after all those years in prison—and we took our supper and waited out in the park for hours and hours until it was truly dark and late at night so there would be fewer persons about—we had
such
larks dodging the constables and hiding in bushes—stop being a jaw-me
-
dead, Percy, let
me
tell the tale—of course it worked in very well because we
knew
Cousin Gareth would be pleased to have us out of the way while he gave his party—shut your head, Tristram! Cousin Delphie
knows
that already—and we left Helen looking after Mama because Helen
’
s quake-spirited and don
’
t care for larks above half—and we made ourselves masks out of newspaper and painted black, so that it would seem like a real rumpus—
”
Indeed, many of them were still wearing black loo-masks, evidently homemade.

“
But—good heavens!—how did you ever succeed in getting your Papa out of the prison?
”
said Delphie faintly.

She could not find it in her heart to reproach them—so filled with evident pride and delight as they were, so bursting with pleasure at the success of their expedition—but she did feel that the rescue of Thomas Palgrave was far from being an unmixed blessing, and must certainly be attended by unheard-of complications in the near future.

Mr. Palgrave himself seemed to be imbued with somewhat similar doubts, for he looked around the crowded kitchen with a touch of irritability, and said in a querulous tone,