The Five-Minute Marriage (32 page)

“
At that Mr. Fitzjohn goes stamping out of the room. Then, to my great alarm, Miss calls out,
‘
Nurse! Nurse!
Durnett
, where are you?
’
Whereupon I think I am wholly in the suds, for I find there is a little old woman all the time a-listening, right there in the gallery! But after all, she has not seen me, where I am crouched behind the desk, and Miss calls out,
‘
Come down here, nurse, for I wish to talk to you.
’
So the old woman goes down and says to t
’
other Miss Carteret,
‘
You did not really intend to marry that Fitzjohn, did you, dearie?
’
And Miss says,
‘
No, I mean to marry Gareth, and always have. Mordred would be just as clutch-fisted as old Lord B. I pretended to fall in with his plans, so that he would help me; but it is Gareth I love, and I will have him somehow!
’
‘
He don
’
t love you
,’
says the old woman.
‘
He loves no one
,’
says Miss,
‘
but I will have him for all that, and when I have got him fast, I will teach him a thing or two!
’
‘
You know that it is dangerous for you to go to Chase?
’
says the old girl.
‘
Why?
’
says she. But that question the old woman would not answer, only said again that it was dangerous.
‘
Well, it is a risk I will have to run,
’
says she.
‘
I do not care what danger there may be, so I can fix my interest with Gareth. He
must
marry me! I shall threaten him with the lawyers—if he won
’
t wed me I shall tell how he deceived the old man.
’
‘
That might be cutting off your nose to spite your face!
’
‘
Hush your croaking!
’
says Miss.
‘
Do you go and hire a carriage and we will be off.
”

“
So then they quitted the chamber—and I made all haste to finish my last bite of turnover and come to find you, miss! Now, isn
’
t that a shocking tale of wickedness and double-dealing for you!
”

“
It is indeed!
”
said Delphie.
“
And I am amazed that you can recall it all so clearly, Mr. Swannup! Your account was as good as a play—I could quite picture myself at the scene.
”

Mr. Swannup blushed with simple pride, and Jenny looked admiringly at her lover.

“
Oh,
”
he said,
“
that is because of my fondness for litter-avture, miss. I have always been used to read a great quantity of poetry and plays, and also to get as much of what I read by heart as I can contrive to. In consequence I am what (on the boards) they call a
quick study.
Indeed,
”
he said, sighing,
“
I have often wished that I
could
be on the boards, but Pa had me apprenticed to a locksmith.
”

“
And look how useful that proved!
”
cried Jenny.
“
Though for sure it is a thousand pities you shouldn
’
t have been an actor—my blood quite froze when you was a-rendering the words of those wicked murderers and all their horrid designs. But isn
’
t it the most fiendish nasty thing you ever heard in the whole of your life, Miss Delphie? It makes my blood boil to think that Trollop is on her way to Chase, to tell all manner of wicked lies to your cousin! And, doubtless, that Mr. Fitz (who I never liked more than half, for I can
’
t abear a freckle-faced chap) going after her! Don
’
t you think we had best hire a chaise and pursue them, for Mr. Swannup could bowl them out by telling what he heard? We should be happy to do so, Miss Delphie!
”

Delphie was rather inclined to agree, but said that she must reflect on the matter. In the meantime she urged the strictest discretion.

“
Ay, never fear, miss! Mum
’
s the word!
”
said Sam Swannup.
“
But should you wish me go get up in court, miss, and swear to all I heard, I shall be glad to oblige, Miss Delphie! I have always wished to give evidence in a Court of Law!
”

Delphie walked home toward Brook Street, meditating much on what she had heard. She took her way through Hanover Square, and as she did so, she observed a curricle dash past her, drawn by two horses who were being lashed up to a dangerous pace by their driver. As he passed, she recognized him. It was Mr. Fitzjohn, driving at a breakneck speed, and with the face of a demon.

1
5

When Delphie re-entered the house in Brook Street she found, to her considerable surprise, that her mother and Lady Bablock
-
Hythe were gone out. A note from Mrs. Carteret explained this.

Dearest Child.
_t

Mr
.
Bro
w
ty
is come to take us driving in the Park. We had intended to pass the day Indoors, but his kind offer and the usually Fine Warm Weather has tempted us forth.
Mr.
B has also suggested that we might care to share his Box at Covent Garden tonight,
he
invited us to dine at his house first—so it is possible Lady B & I shall not be returned until quite late. Mr
.
B was excessively sad to miss you, but, Lord, says he, now Miss has so many Great freinds, no doubt she is occupied with some lively amusement every hour of the day & has little time left for such an old stick as I. Oh, my dear Delphie, he is the most estimable man! Such true delicacy of mind! Air and address all that it should be. He has brought me a Parasol to shade me from the heat of the sun! By the by, my dearest child, my sweet Maria had in a few freinds this morning to play at loo for 10s. points, and
,
only think! I was lucky enough to win 100 guineas, so here are
50
of them for you. I am very happy to be able to return to you a very small part of all you have expended on me in the last Years: pray use it for Pin Money; I shall hope to win more, as I find we shall need a considerable deal of cash at Lady B-H
’
s house—she lives in such a fine way,
do
she says with truth that all our garments are sadly dowdy. It is so fortunate that I have ever enjoyed the greatest good luck at cards.

Yr. affec. Mama.

Delphie almost groaned aloud at the latter part of this letter, which filled her with consternation. Only too well did she know how far from lucky at cards Mrs. Carteret had always been, and more particularly during the period when she had attended Duvivier
’
s Salon, when she had lost a terrifyingly large part of their scanty income. If she were to fall into the habit of deep play at Lady Bablock-Hythe
’
s, the results would almost certainly be disastrous. Suppose that, instead of winning that hundred guineas, she had lost it! The idea was terrifying. Lady Bablock-Hythe had so little sense that Delphie did not at all depend on her protecting her simple friend from the temptations of gambling. Delphie resolved that they must remove from Brook Street as soon as might be.

She now espied another letter, which had lain under her mother
’
s note. This one was franked from Chase, and was addressed in Gareth Penistone
’
s small black hand.

My dear Miss Carteret:

This is to inform you that my uncle
’
s funeral obsequies will be conducted in the Chapel here on Monday next Should you wish to attend, a bedchamber will, of course, be prepared for you at Chase. I shd also inform you that I have instructed my Man of Business to commence Nullity proceedings; knowing your invincible Dislike of me, I was sure that you would wish no time to be lost. Though I may say that this gives me no satisfaction, as I have learned to regard you with the greatest esteem & am most sincerely sorry for any hasty words to the contrary I may have let fall the other Night.

Yr.
cousin & sincere Well-Wisher,
G.P.

This letter astonished Delphie as much as the other had frightened her. She read and reread it six times at least, and was, indeed, so reluctant to lay it down that she kept it in her hand as she walked about the apartment and reflected.

What ought she to do? Absently folding the letter into a small square, she held it tightly pressed into the palm of her hand.

The thought of Mordred Fitzjohn
’
s savagely angry face came back into her mind. Had he been driving to Chase? She thought it very probable. The horses
’
heads had been turned to the east He had looked really mad with rage—capable of any crime.

Suddenly Delphie pulled out the small carpetbag which she had taken with her on her previous excursion to Chase, and began stuffing it with a few necessities. She tugged at the bellpull and instructed the servant w
h
o appeared to procure a post chaise to take her into Kent What a fortunate thing it was—a least in the present moment—that she had had this money from her mother!

Then she sat down and dashed off a note to Mrs. Carteret

My
dearest Mamma:

I have hired a Chaise & am about to post down to Chase on urgent business, for I have learned that the false Miss Carteret is gone there to make trouble, and also that the steward,
Mr.
Fitzjohn, is plotting Evil Designs against poor Mr. Penistone—Lord Bollington,
I
should say—and may also have gone there to do him harm. I hope somehow to put a spoke in their Wheel. I may remain for Great-uncle Mark
’
s funeral
,
which is on Monday. It would be a mark of respect. Please, dearest Mamma, do not be playing at cards too much, for you know that your luck is not always to be depended upon, and almost all our savings are gone. Pray give my kindest regards to Mr
.
Browty, and also to Lady Bablock-Hythe.

Your loving Daughter.

And she w
ro
te one to Jenny:

My
dear Jenny:

Acting on Mr. Swannup
’
s very kind and prompt apprisal of Mr
.
F
’
s wickedness and Miss
C’
s perfidy, I have decided to go to Chase and warn my Cousin
.

In haste,
P.C.

Now the servant came to tell Miss that the chaise she had bespoken was at the door, and carried down her bag for her. How quickly I am become used to having such services performed for me, she reflected as she tipped him, and handed him the two notes to deliver.

The door slammed and the chaise whirled off. It was then five o
’
clock.

“
How long will it take you to get to Chase, in Kent?
”
she asked the driver.
“
If you go at your top speed?
”

He gave it as his opinion that with luck and rapid changes of post-horses, the journey might be accomplished in something over four hours.

“
I will give you double your fee if you can do it in less,
”
Delphie told him.

“
Very good, missie; we
’
ll see what we can manage!
”
he said, cracking his whip.

Fortunately he had an excellent team, decidedly better than the usual run of hired horses, and Delphie was a light passenger. They made good time along the first stages of the turnpike road, though Delphie chafed at the inevitable delays when they were halted at tollgates, where, sometimes, the dilatory tollkeepers appeared to take forever to come yawning out and collect their fee.

Meanwhile Delphie had an abundance of time in which to think, and think she did, so deeply that her brain at times seemed to be in a ferment. So Mr. Fitzjohn and Miss Carteret
were
in league—or no, not precisely in league, for their schemes seemed now to run counter to one another, but evidently at some time they had been in league. But who
was
the false Miss Carteret? And how had she come by Delphie
’
s birth certificate, which she had proffered so glibly to Lady Bablock-Hythe? Was this alone the basis of all her pretensions and claims to recognition? Then it occur
r
ed to Delphie that, according to Gareth, Lord Bollington had been paying for Miss Carteret
’
s education for the last twenty years—therefore somebody else must have perpetrated the scheme long before either Elaine or Mr. Fitzjohn were of an age to plan such villainy. Perhaps Fitzjohn had discovered her imposture and threatened disclosure? It seemed plain that he loved her, in his strange way—possibly marriage was the price he demanded for his silence. So perhaps, Delphie thought,
that
was why my first application, written during the winter, received so rude a rebuff. It probably never reached Lord Bollington at all! Mr. Fitzjohn received it, and instantly realized that the Miss Carteret in Bath was the false claimant. But she, it seemed, loved Gareth—or was she merely determined to have him for his rank and position and the money that went with it? Delphie was sure that, married to Gareth, she would give him a wretched time; at worst, it seemed, she was calmly prepared to murder him and return to Fitzjohn! If
he
could make good his claim to the title. And on what could this claim rest? Could it possibly be that Delphie
’
s grandfather had, in fact, married Prissey Privett in time for his two children by her to be legitimate? This could not be ascertained without recourse to documents, for Delphie was not certain when Mary, Lady Bollington, had died, or when Priss Privett
’
s son, the first Mordred, had been
born
. But if he was legitimate, why had
he
never put forward a claim to the title? It was all mysterious and inexplicable, thought Delphie, looking out with an absent eye at the green fields of Kent, and the lambs, now bigger and livelier than on her first journey past them. How long ago that now seemed! How disagreeable she had thought Gareth Penistone! And so he had been, in truth, she reflected, but now that she knew the cause, there were extenuating factors. She had not known then about the querulous Una, or the hapless Thomas, or the ten Palgrave children he was obliged to support; she had not known of his jilt by Lady Laura Trevelyan.

At Maidstone the driver requested a ten-minute stop, so that he might have a rest, and a bite to eat. This seemed only reasonable, and Delphie readily granted his request; she herself felt the need of a little sustenance, for she had eaten a hasty, early breakfast before packing her own and her mother
’
s clothes in Curzon Street, and had taken no food since then.

In a small side parlor she was accommodated with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, bread-and-butter, and a most welcome cup of tea. Looking from the window, as she sipped her second cup, and amusing herself by watching the white-smocked postboys bringing out the fresh horses and taking the tired ones off, she suddenly stiffened at seeing a familiar face—two! There was Miss Carteret, in the sarcenet pelisse and plumed hat described by Mr. Swannup, and there, with her was the dour-faced old nurse,
Durnett
.

“
We have no time to stop!
”
Delphie heard Miss Carteret declare in her loud, arrogant voice.
“
For all I know, Mordred may be on our traces already. We have been too much delayed by that wretched animal
’
s casting a shoe. Put-to the fresh horses directly.
”

“
Is there a side way out from this inn?
”
Delphie asked the potboy who brought her reckoning.

“
Sure, miss; down that pair o
’
steps will take you into the lane as goes around to the stables.
”

“
I am very much obliged to you!
”

In two minutes, Delphie had rejoined her driver, and warily slipped into the chaise on its far side, unobserved by Miss Carteret, who stood by a yellow carriage at the front of the inn-yard, impatiently waiting for her fresh horses. Delphie leaned well back as they passed Miss Carteret and hoped that her face could not be seen. Then she had a moment
’
s alarm.

“
Can you tell me which road we should take for Chase?
”
the arrogant voice demanded of Delphie
’
s driver.

“
Tell her the Hastings Road!
”
Delphie whispered.

He did so.

“
But
‘
twas a lamentable bit o
’
misdirection, missie!
”
he remarked, grinning, as they left the streets of Maidstone behind them and were out in open country once more.
“
I dunnamany miles out o
’
their way that
’
ll lead
‘
em!
”

“
I have my reasons for wishing to arrive at Chase ahead of that young lady,
”
Delphie said primly.

“
That were what I reckoned!
”

The new horses were not quite such fast goers as the previous team, but still they kept up a good steady speed, and, looking from time to time through the tiny back window, Delphie could see no sign of the yellow carriage coming after them.

But where was Mordred? Had he, driving his much lighter curricle, and with only one person in it, already far outdistanced them, perhaps even arrived at Chase? Mordred was far more to be dreaded than Elaine; if he were really set on marrying her, to what lengths might he not be driven, in order to make sure that Gareth was out of the way?

Dusk was beginning to fall. It was already eight o
’
clock and, after an unusually hot and brilliant day, more like July than May, a wrack of large pinkish-black clouds had arisen, covering half the sky, and, with the close and sultry temperature, promising thunder later. Indeed, one or two faint growling mutters could already be heard, far off, and presently there came a resounding crack, right overhead, which made the horses start and whinny.

“
Looks like
‘
tis farin
’
to be a bad night, missie!
”
called the driver.
“
Lucky we ain
’
t so far off now.
”

“
You had better spend the night at Cow Green!
”
she called back.
“
I believe the inn there is quite tolerable.
”

“
Hallo! Looks like there
’
s a cove on ahead as has come to grief,
”
he said after a few minutes.
“
There
’
s some kind of a hurley
-
bulloo up yonder, and I can hear a horse a-screaming something cruel.
”

As they came closer, the hurley-bulloo resolved itself into a shattered curricle, half in the ditch, and a desperately writhing horse among the tangle of wreckage. No wonder the poor beast screamed—part of the splintered shaft was sticking into its side.

“
I
’
ll have to put the poor nag out of pain, missie,
”
said the driver, slowing as he passed it.
“
I can
’
t abear to leave it like that.
”

“
Of course you must not,
”
she agreed.
“
But how?
”

“
With one o
’
my brace of barkers,
”
he explained.
“
I alius carries
‘
em loaded, case o
’
tobymen, you know.
”
And, bringing his own team to a halt, he pulled a pistol from under the box, and stepped down into the road.
“
Reckon it were that clap o
’
thunder caused this little upset,
”
he called back.
“
Made the nags shy, mebbe. There
’
s only one—likely the driver rid off on the other to get help.
”

Delphie, leaning from the window, wondered whether this shattered curricle was Mordred
’
s. The horse was a bay, as his had been.

“
I don
’
t like to trouble you, miss,
”
called the driver,
“
but would you mind holding the heads o
’
my pair while I do this job? I
’
m afeared the shot may cause
‘
em to bolt.
”

“
Certainly I will,
”
said Delphie, dismounting. The task was no easy one, for the horses were already scared and sweating at the screams of their wounded companion; it was all she could do to keep them still as the driver held his pistol to the head of the hurt horse and discharged it.

“
Poor creature—how heartless of its driver to go off and leave it—
”
Delphie was beginning, when a voice from behind her said,