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Carlington’s eyes turned slowly towards him. They were not glazed but unnaturally bright. ‘I – refuse?’ he said.
‘There’s the true elbow-shaker!’ crowed Sir Ralph. ‘Cover, Carlington! What’s the jade worth?’
Mr Winter laid hold of his chair-back, and with difficulty enunciated four words: ‘My lord, you’re d-drunk!’
‘Drunk or sober, no man shall set me a stake I won’t cover,’ Carlington answered. His long fingers closed over the heap of vowels, crushing them into a ball. He thrust them forward, and his rouleaus with them.
‘Good God, Charles!’ cried Sir Thomas, catching at his wrist. ‘There’s a matter of twenty thousand pounds there! Have sense, man, have sense!’
Carlington shook him off. ‘A main, Morland, call a main!’ he said.
‘Seven!’ Sir Ralph responded, and cast the dice on to the table.
Carlington laughed, and dived a hand into his pocket for his snuff-box, and flicked it open.
‘Five to seven!’ announced Mr Shapley, peering at the dice.
The girl’s fixed gaze had wavered as the dice rattled in the box, and she had shot a swift glance downwards at the chance, as it lay on the table. Her brother gathered up the dice, shook them together and again threw them.
They rolled across the table, and settled into five and ace.
‘Cinque-ace!’ called Mr Shapley, constituting himself groom-porter. ‘Any bets, gentlemen? any bets?’
No one answered; the Marquis took snuff.
The dice were shaken a third time, and cast. ‘Quatre-trey!’ called out Mr Shapley. ‘Carlington, you’ve – you’ve the d-devil’s own luck!’
The girl’s eyes remained fixed for a moment on the four and the three lying on the green cloth; then she raised them, and looked across the table at Carlington.
The Marquis leaped up, and achieved a bow. ‘Ma’am, I have won your hand in fair play!’ he said, and stretched out his own imperatively.
Sir Ralph was staring at the dice, his lower lip pouting, and some of the high colour fading from his cheeks. Without a glance at him Miss Morland walked round the table, and curtsied, and laid her hand in Carlington’s.
His fingers closed on it; he swung it gently to and fro, and said recklessly: ‘It’s time we were going. Will you come, my golden girl?’
Miss Morland spoke for the first time, in a composed, matter-of-fact voice. ‘Certainly I will come, sir,’ she said.
Carlington’s eyes danced. ‘I’m drunk, you know,’ he offered.
‘Yes,’ she said.
He shook with laughter. ‘By God, I like your spirit! Come, then!’
Sir Thomas started forward, lurched heavily against the table, and caught at it to steady himself. ‘Damme, you’re mad! Ralph, this won’t do – bet’s off – joke’s a joke – gone far enough!’
‘Play or pay!’ the Marquis retorted, a smile not quite pleasant curling his lips.
Sir Ralph raised his eyes, and looked sullenly towards his sister. She returned his gaze thoughtfully, dispassionately, and transferred her attention to Carlington. ‘I think,’ she said tranquilly, ‘I had better go and fetch a cloak if we are leaving now, sir.’
The Marquis escorted her to the door, and opened it, and set a shout ringing for his carriage. Miss Morland passed out of the hot room into the hall, and went across it to the stairs.
When she came down again some minutes later, cloaked, and with a chip hat on her head, and a bandbox in her hand, her brother had joined the Marquis in the hall, and was standing leaning against the lintel of the front door, scowling. The Marquis had put on a high-waisted driving-coat of drab cloth with row upon row of capes, and buttons of mother-of-pearl as large as crown-pieces. He had a curly-brimmed beaver, and a pair of York tan gloves in one hand, and his ebony cane in the other, and he flourished another bow at Miss Morland as she trod unhurriedly across the hall towards him.
‘If you go, by God, you shan’t return!’ Sir Ralph said.
Miss Morland laid her hand on Carlington’s proffered arm. ‘I shall never return,’ she said.
‘I mean it!’ Sir Ralph threatened.
