Джорджетт Хейер - The Foundling

“Ah, my child!” said Ampleforth, going to meet her. “I think your mama has told you that I have just received a very flattering offer for your hand.” He took it as he spoke, and gave it a fond squeeze. “But I have told Gilly that I will not have you constrained, and you shall give him your own answer.”

He drew her forward; the Duke, miserably tongue-tied, managed to utter a few formal sentences; and Harriet, ready to sink, curtsied, and whispered a reply of which “very much obliged,” and “most truly sensible of the honour,” were the only audible words.

Her father, apparently taking these to mean consent, held out her hand to the Duke, who took it in his own ice-cold one, and kissed it. He said: “You have made me very happy. I beg you to believe that I shall do everything in my power to—to make you happy too, Harriet!”

“No one who knows you could doubt that, Gilly, I am sure!” Ampleforth said. “I don’t scruple to say that you are two very fortunate young persons. I am sure I do not know which of you has the better disposition! Lady Ampleforth, I have something I wish to say to you! We will beg Gilly to excuse us for a minute.”

Her ladyship was so much astonished at having such tactics employed against her that she could think of nothing to say, except what she was too well-bred to say in front of a guest. Her husband was holding open the door, and she saw nothing for it but to leave the room with him. The Duke and his betrothed were left shyly confronting one another.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then the Duke saw how pale Harriet was, and how much her hands trembled, and compassion made him forget his own ill-ease, and he said; “I hope you do not dislike it very much! I shall do my utmost not to give you cause for any unhappiness. You won’t find me exacting, I promise, or—or—”

“No, I do not dislike it,” Harriet answered, in a low voice. “I shall try to be dutiful, and to behave just as you would wish. I—I have always had a—a great regard for you, Gilly.”

“And I for you, dear Harriet,” he responded at once. “I do think we—we may suit very well. It shall not be my fault if we do not.”

She looked up at that. “I hope—oh, I hope it may never be mine! Forgive me! I find myself a little overcome! I had not the expectation—that is, I did not think you were in London, or that—you entertained for me those feelings which—”

She broke off in confusion. He possessed her himself of her hand again. “Indeed, I am excessively attached to you!” he stammered; “I wish you were not going out of town immediately! It must have been my—my earnest endeavour to show you—But I may come to Bath, and you will allow me to squire you to all the dress-balls!” he added, with an attempt at lightness.

A smile trembled on her lips. “Oh, yes! You know how well our steps suit!”

“Yes, indeed! I am sure there is no one I am happier to stand up with, for you never make me feel myself to be such a miserable dwarf of a fellow!”

“Oh, Gilly, how can you? You are no such thing!”

He laughed. “Ah, you should hear my cousin Gideon on that head!”

“You should hear Gaywood!” she retorted, gaining confidence. “He calls me a poor little dab of a creature!”

“Brothers! We shall not care a fig for them, or cousins either!” he said. He saw that she was looking less pale, and ventured to loss her cheek.

Lady Ampleforth came back into the room in time to witness this embrace. Her sharp eyes detected Harriet’s blush, and the way her hand went up as though to clasp the Duke’s coat collar. She said: “Well, I make no doubt you have settled it all between you! It is an unfortunate circumstance that we should be going out of town at this precise moment, but I shall look to see you at Ampleforth, Duke, next month. Harriet must go to Bath: there is no getting out of that, for old Lady Ampleforth expects her, and we must not cast her into one of her pets, you know.”

The young couple fell apart guiltily; constraint descended upon them again; and by the time her ladyship had discussed various convenient dates for the wedding-ceremony, and estimated the length of time it would take her to procure Harriet’s bride-clothes, the Duke was thankful to take his leave.

When he had been bowed out, Lord Ampleforth, who had been observing his daughter narrowly, said: “My dear Harriet, are you quite happy in this engagement? You must not hesitate to tell me if your mind has any misgiving!”

“No, Papa, I am quite happy,” she said.

“Good God, Ampleforth, what can you be thinking of?” exclaimed his wife. “Fray, what more could any girl desire I should like to know? To be Duchess of Sale! That is something indeed! Harriet, I wish you will come up to my dressing-room, for there is a great deal I want to say to you!”

She swept her daughter out of the room, saying as she closed the door: “Your papa has some odd fancies, but I trust I have brought you up to know your duty! It was an awkward business, his calling me out of the room as he did, but I returned to you as soon as I might. Sale looked to be in tolerably good health, I thought.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“He was the sickliest child! I am sure no one thought to see him survive! He is not as well-grown as one could wish, but he is very well made, and has excellent manners. Perhaps he is not precisely good-looking, but there is nothing in his air or countenance to disgust one.”

“I think him very good-looking, Mama,” Harriet said, in a subdued voice.

Lady Ampleforth entered the dressing-room, thrust an empty band-box off a chair, and sat down. “Yes, very likely, my love, and that brings me to what I wish to say to you. Shut the door! Now, sit down, and attend to me a little!” She waited until this command had been obeyed, and then said, twitching her shawl round her shoulders: “I have often observed, Harriet, that you have just a little nonsense in you which will not do. I shall speak frankly to you, and I daresay you may thank me for it one day. I did not quite like to see you hanging so upon Sale, as you were when I came into the book-room just now. You know, my dear child, he will not be looking for you to wear your heart upon your sleeve: in fact, I can think of nothing more likely to disgust him. I must surely have told you a dozen times that a lady of quality must not behave as though she were Miss Smith of Heaven knows where! I shall never forget my own dear mama’s telling me how the Duchess of Devonshire—the first wife of the late Duke, I mean!—actually sat down upon his Grace’s knee once, when she was but a bride! And her mortification when he repulsed her! It quite makes one blush to think of it. But I believe Lady Spencer—she was one of those blue-stocking women, you know!—brought her daughters up in the oddest fashion! I should not like to think that you, my dear Harriet, would so far forget yourself. Such manners may do very well for parvenues, but whatever your brother Gaywood may have told you, they will not do for you. Sale has not been reared in this modern style, which permits all kinds of license, and, depend upon it, he will expect his wife to conduct herself with fitting decorum. It has been very justly observed, my love—I forget by whom—that if you meet with tenderness in private from your husband, you will have no cause for complaint.”

Harriet clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. “Mama,” she said, fixing her eyes on Lady Ampleforth’s face, “may not a lady of quality—love?”

Her ladyship laughed. “As to that, my dear, I daresay she is no harder-hearted than the rest of her sex! But she must always be discreet, and I cannot too strongly impress upon you that nothing of that nature must be thought of until you have presented your husband with an heir! You must never give your parents cause to blush for you, Harriet, and I am sure you will not, for you are a good girl, and you know what is due to your position.”

“Oh!” said Harriet faintly, lifting a hand to her hot cheek. “I did not mean that! Mama—were you not in love with Papa when you married him?”

“I was a great deal too young to know anything of the matter. He was presented to me by my parents: I doubt if I had clapped eyes on him above half a dozen times in my life. But I became very sincerely attached to him, as I hope you may do to Sale. But be upon your guard, my child! You have a romantical disposition, I am afraid, and you are a great deal too fond of showing when you feel a strong partiality for anyone. And that, you know, may lead you into jealousy, which will never do! A man may have his chères-amies: they do not concern his wife. She must turn a blind eye towards such little affaires.”

“Perhaps,” said Harriet, turning away her face, “he may welcome caresses from his chères-amies!”

“Very likely, my love. It is something I am happy to think neither you nor I can know anything about. A man of Sale’s breeding will expect a different style of conduct of his wife, that I can vouch for! Remember it, Harriet!”

“Yes, Mama,” said Harriet unhappily.

The Duke, returning to Sale House, spent an unprofitable half-hour, trying to draft an advertisement for the Gazette. He gave it up finally, exclaiming aloud: “It seems I need a private secretary besides all the rest!”

The door into the library opened. “Your Grace called?” said his footman.

The Duke stared at him in gathering wrath. “Were you standing outside the door?” he demanded.

The man looked quite scared. “Yes, your Grace!”

“Then don’t do it!”

“No, your Grace! I beg your Grace’s pardon! I thought your Grace had called!”

“I did not!”

“No, your Grace!” said the footman, much discomposed, and preparing to bowhimself out again.

“When I need you, I will ring for you,” said the Duke. “At this present I want nothing! At least—Yes, I do! If Mr. Scriven should not have left the house, desire him to come to me, if you please!”

“Yes, your Grace!”

It seemed that Mr. Scriven had not left the house, for in a very few minutes he presented himself in the library. He found the Duke sitting at the big carved desk, biting the end of a quill, and regarding with dissatisfaction a scrawled sheet of paper. Several screwed-up balls of paper cast in the direction of the fireplace bore witness to frustrated literary endeavour.

“You wished to see me, my lord?” said Mr. Scriven, advancing into the room.

The Duke looked up, a boyishly rueful smile in his eyes. “I can do not the least thing for myself, Scriven!” he said. “Here have I been wasting I know not how long trying to write the simplest notice, and making the sorriest work of it!”

“You know you may depend upon me, my lord, to do anything for you that you desire,” said Mr. Scriven, in a soothing voice. “May I know what it is that is giving you so much trouble?”

“Merely the notice of my engagement for the Gazette! You would say a simple matter, but only see what a botch I have made of it!”

Mr. Scriven had been moving towards the desk, but at these words he halted. “Your engagement, my lord!”

“Yes, to the Lady Harriet Presteigne. It must be announced, you know, and I shall be very much obliged to you if you will draft a suitable notice for me.”

“May I say, my lord Duke,” said Mr. Scriven, deeply moved, “that there is no task you could lay upon me which I could undertake with more gratification? I hope your Grace will permit me to offer my sincerest felicitations upon this most happy event!”

“Thank you: you are very good.”

“I shall take advantage, my lord, of my long association with the House of Sale, to say that nothing could afford those who have your interests at heart greater satisfaction than thus intelligence. And I venture to say, my lord, that there is no one amongst your dependants who has not your interests at heart.”

“Thank you!” said the Duke again, startled, but a little touched.

“Your Grace may safely leave this matter in my hands,” said Mr. Scriven. “The notice shall be sent immediately to all the society papers: I shall attend to it myself. May I enquire when the Happy Date is to be?”

“I do not precisely know. In the spring, I think: nothing is fixed yet!”

Mr. Scriven bowed. “We shall have to see to the refurnishing of the Duchess’s apartments,” he said. “In fact, there will be a great many details to be attended to, my lord. You may rely on me!”

The Duke, who felt that he had listened to enough plans for his marriage for one day, said hastily that he was sure of it, but that there was time and to spare. Mr. Scriven thereupon bowed again, and went off to enjoy himself very much in drafting an advertisement in terms grandiloquent enough to satisfy his sense of what was due to his noble employer’s dignity.