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‘I did!’ said Harry, going off into a guffaw.
It might be difficult to know how to deal with the gentleman from London, but there was no difficulty at all in deciding how to deal with Harry – who had had the effrontery to make fools of two persons who, out of sheer compassion, had suffered him to join them occasionally in their chosen pursuits. They eyed him measuringly, and they advanced upon him in a purposeful way.
The gentleman from London seemed to be in the path. He said: ‘The blame rests entirely on my shoulders. Er – did you wish to kill one another?’
‘No!’ said Jack. ‘And it was – it was dashed officious of you, sir, to leave out the ball, for we meant all the time to delope!’
‘My lack of tact often keeps me awake at night,’ apologized Sir Gavin. ‘You see, I was requested – by a lady – to intervene in your quarrel, so what else could I do?’
Jack looked at Tom, a little trouble in his face, as he recalled the events of the previous evening. ‘Tom, why?’ he asked.
Tom flushed. ‘It don’t signify! I dare say all’s fair in – in love and war, but it was the roses! I never thought you would use me so!’
‘What roses?’ Jack demanded.
‘Yours. The ones she carried!’
‘They were not mine!’ Jack said, his eyes kindling. ‘By Jupiter, Tom, I have a mind to call you out for thinking I would serve you such a backhanded turn! It passes everything, so it does!’
‘Not yours?’ ejaculated Tom.
Sir Gavin coughed deprecatingly. ‘If you refer to the roses Miss Treen carried last night, they were mine!’ They stared at him. ‘I hope you will not both call me out,’ he said, ‘but the fact is that Miss Treen has done me the honour to become my affianced wife. Our betrothal was announced at supper last night.’
This was shocking news. Each unsuccessful suitor tried to realize that his life was blighted, and failed. Tom said, with dignity: ‘You might have told us so last night, sir!’
‘I might, of course, but I had the oddest notion that it wouldn’t have been of the least avail,’ confessed Sir Gavin.
They thought this over. A reluctant grin overset Tom’s dignity. ‘Well, perhaps not,’ he conceded.
Jack executed his best bow. ‘We must beg leave to wish you happy, sir,’ he said nobly.
‘I am very much obliged to you,’ responded Sir Gavin, with great civility.
‘I suppose,’ said Tom, blushing, ‘you think we have made great cakes of ourselves, sir?’
‘Not at all,’ said Sir Gavin. ‘You have conducted yourselves with perfect propriety, and I am happy to have assisted in an affair of honour so creditable to both parties. Let us repair to the inn beyond this charming coppice, and partake of breakfast! I bespoke it half an hour ago, and I am sure it will by now be awaiting us. Besides, I do not care to keep my horses standing any longer.’
‘I should think not indeed!’ Tom exclaimed. ‘I say, sir, what a
bang-up set-out it is! Real blood-and-bone!’
‘I am so glad you like them,’ said Sir Gavin. ‘Do, pray, try their paces as far as to the Rising Sun! If you will allow me, I will drive the gig.’
It was rather too much to expect two budding whips to nurse their broken hearts when offered the chance of driving a match-pair of thoroughbreds. Briefly but fervently thanking Sir Gavin, Tom and Jack hurried off to the curricle, arguing with some heat on which of them was first to handle the ribbons.
Sir Gavin, devoutly trusting that his confidence in their ability to cope with a high-couraged pair had not been misplaced, took his fellow-second by the arm, and pushed him gently towards the humbler gig.
A Clandestine Affair
Miss Tresilian surveyed the young couple before her with perturbation in her usually humorous grey eyes. Not that there was anything in the picture presented by Mr Rosely and Miss Lucy Tresilian to dismay the most captious of critics, for a better-looking pair would have been hard to find: the lady was a glowing brunette, the gentleman a fair youth with golden locks, classic features, and a graceful figure. He was dressed very correctly for a morning visit in a blue coat, with fawn pantaloons and Hessian boots; and if the folds of his neckcloth did not aspire to dandified heights it was easy to see that he had arranged these to the best of his ability. Mr Rosely, in fact, was doing justice to a momentous occasion: he had come to make an offer for the hand of Miss Tresilian’s niece.
He said, with a shy smile: ‘It can’t, I fancy, come as a surprise to you, ma’am! You have been so kind that I’m persuaded – that is, I have ventured to indulge the hope that you wouldn’t be displeased.’
No, it had not come as a surprise to Miss Tresilian. It was nearly a year since Mr Rosely had been introduced to Lucy in the Lower Rooms, at Bath; but although Lucy did not want for admirers, and it was scarcely to be supposed that anyone so handsomely endowed in face and fortune as Mr Rosely had not had a great many caps set at him, neither had swerved in allegiance since that date. Nor could Miss Tresilian deny that she had favoured the match: it had seemed so eminently suitable!
‘Of course she’s not displeased!’ said Lucy. ‘You knew from the start how it was, didn’t you, Aunt Elinor?’
‘Yes,’ acknowledged Miss Tresilian. ‘But I didn’t know until I brought you to London, love, that the connection was disliked by Arthur’s family.’
