A London Season (32 page)

“I had come to London
—
at, I may say, considerable personal inconvenience,” proceeded the clergyman, “with the express intention of preventing you from adopting such a course of action, but I see I came in vain. I must say directly that, as a man of the cloth, I feel it incumbent upon me, indeed part of my duty to my flock, to think seriously whether I should not reconsider my intention of marrying.
I
am not sure, after all, that your frivolity may not be so ingrained as to make you unfitted to be the wife of a clergyman, and
—
”

“That will do,
Mr.
Spalding,” said Sir Edmund, losing patience, and feeling himself now justified in expressing indignation on Elinor
’
s behalf, as she drew closer to him in the face of this verbal onslaught. “She isn
’
t going to be the wife of a clergyman, she is going to be the wife of a diplomat now seconded to the Foreign Office in London, and if you continue in your present vein I shall very likely begin to resent it, so kindly guard your tongue!”

“Guard my tongue? Wife of a diplomat?” exclaimed the bewildered
Mr.
Spalding, sitting down rather suddenly as the restive horse shifted once more.

Persephone, however, taking in the fact that her guardian had his arm very firmly and comfortingly round Miss Radley
’
s waist, cried out, “Oh, famous! I was right! Oh, Elinor, how glad I am! You see, when Cousin Edmund was so very agitated to find you had been carried off, I
thought
it might be so. And I
was
right! This is above all things great
—
isn
’
t it, Robert?”

“Sir Edmund, Miss Radley, I wish you very happy,” said the punctilious
Mr.
Walter, bowing correctly. “Allow me to congratulate you.”

“By all means!” said Sir Edmund. “Anyone may congratulate us who likes, but
do
let us first leave this derelict spot to its deplorable owner, and locate the superior comforts of the Green Dragon.”

Apart from the welcome appearance of Sir Edmund himself at Royden Manor, the Green Dragon was the most pleasing sight to meet Elinor
’
s eyes that evening. It was a cheerful hostelry of fair size, which also handled all the local posting business, and kept quite a large stable for that purpose. On being informed by Sir Edmund, however, of the number of fresh horses that would be required later, the landlord shook his head a little doubtfully. Two teams were already bespoken, and he hadn
’
t expected all this coming and going on a day which was nothing out of the ordinary! No one, Sir Edmund sympathetically agreed,
could
have expected it, and having ascertained that there would at least be a fresh pair for his phaeton and another for Conington
’
s curricle, he ordered wine and supper, and joined the rest of the party in the private parlour set at their disposal, where a small fire was burning to keep off the night-time chill as darkness fell.

The events of the evening already had the staff of the Green Dragon in quite a buzz. Rumour had it that Squire had tried to run off with Miss, though which Miss none could rightly say. Squire had certainly turned up driving a phaeton which was none of his, and was subsequently ducked in the pond by the foreign gentlemen, which in the usual way a person wouldn
’
t hold with, but if Rumour was true, then Squire richly deserved it!

Grenville Royden, whose neglect of his inheritance had thrown a number of people out of work, was not a popular figure locally. But Lord Conington, while not previously known to the landlord and his wife, had introduced himself as Miss Charlotte
’
s future husband, and Miss Charlotte had always been a prime favourite in the village. Her betrothed was instantly recognized as Quality of the Right Sort, the more so as he had bestowed some pretty generous vails earlier in the evening, while providently ordering the private parlour to which the party (now numbering two more) had returned, and also vouching for his foreign friends while they cast Squire into the pond. And certain it was, said the landlord, that my lord had known the phaeton that wasn
’
t Squire
’
s directly. The gentleman as it
did
belong to, the landlord now asserted, glancing at the coin Sir Edmund had slipped into his hand, was another of the Right Sort too! As for the clergyman, what
he
was doing in the party none could tell, unless so be as he had a special licence to marry somebody to somebody else. Though it was a puzzle to know who, Miss Charlotte herself not being present.

Few of the visitors could have offered much enlightenment as to
Mr.
Spalding
’
s business in their company, either. He himself, deprived for once of speech by the rapid course of events, and having in any case met his vocal match in Persephone, had subsided into a comfortable chair in one corner of the pleasant, oak-beamed parlour, and was merely muttering, under his breath, “Dear me! First
Mr.
Royden, now Sir Edmund! I do not know
—
I really do not know!”

No one but Elinor heard this, and when Sir Edmund, his colloquy with the landlord concluded, entered the room and closed the door behind him (to the disappointment of such of the inn servants as had hoped to learn more about this sudden influx of gentry), the clergyman fell entirely silent.

Not so
Mr.
Walter, who took Sir Edmund
’
s arrival as the signal to rise to his feet. Standing very straight, he announced, “Sir Edmund! I wish to speak with you!”

“Do,” said Sir Edmund, amiably. “I thought you
had
been speaking with me for the past thirty minutes or s
o
, but pray continue. Ah, they
’
ve brought the claret. Have some,
Mr.
Walter. Are you and the Larks provided for, Conington? Excellent! Elinor, you must drink some too; it will do you good.”

“I mean,” stated
Mr.
Walter, cutting across all this, “that I have something very particular to say to you.” Persephone nodded vigorous assent. “At my father
’
s behest, sir, I have been to Germany, where I was offered and have formally accepted the post of Kapellmeister to the court of His Highness Prince Ernst Ludwig of Heldenburg. The post carries with it a salary which, I believe, may well be considered munificent, for the Prince is a considerable patron of the art of music. I have also been to my home at Adelstein
—
”

“Adelstein?” said Sir Edmund, his attention suddenly caught. He looked keenly at Robert Walter for a moment, and then leaned back in his chair, sipping his claret. “Go on.”

“I went to my home to tell my father and mother of my intention of marrying, and I now, Sir Edmund, beg to ask
your
leave to pay my addresses, in due form, to your ward, Miss Persephone Grafton.” With which he glared rather defiantly at Sir Edmund.

“Very nicely put!” said that gentleman, affably. “Yes. Do have some of this claret; it really is quite tolerable.”

“But what do you
say
?” cried Persephone, in tones of anguished impatience.

“Yes. Didn
’
t you hear me?”

Miss Grafton was looking almost aghast at the simplicity of it. “You mean you will
allow
us to marry?”

“Yes,” said Sir Edmund patiently, for the third time. “I have for some while been of the opinion that
Mr.
Walter is an admirable and sensible young man, just the person for you, Persephone. Besides, as you rightly surmised he might, he has earned my
—
what was it?
—
undying gratitude by throwing Royden into that duckpond for me. Also, and perhaps most important of all, Elinor approves of him as your husband. I suspect,” he finished cheerfully, “you may be very happy together.”

“O
h
?!” cried Persephone, and flung her arms first around
Mr.
Walter, then Sir Edmund, and finally Elinor, exclaiming through tears of joy, “Oh, thank you, Elinor, thank you! I owe it all to you! My life will not be blighted after all, and I shall not be cut off without a penny!”

“It does not matter if you
are
cut off, Seffi,” said
Mr.
Walter, with the air of one who has explained a point many times before, “since I was determined not to offer for you until I knew
I
could respectably support you, without assistance from your own family or mine.”

“You know, I couldn
’
t cut her off without a penny even if I wished to; the money is left in trust, but it is her own,” Sir Edmund put in mildly, but the lovers were paying him no attention.

“It is my father, dearest Seffi, who is still to be won over,” Robert Walter was continuing earnestly. “But when we approach him together,
you
, I know, will be able to do it.”

Persephone did look a little daunted at this prospect, but nodded hopefully. “He is not, perhaps, so formidable a man as he may seem, my father,”
Mr.
Walter went on. “You do not know him Seffi, but
—
”

“But I rather think
I
do,” remarked Sir Edmund.

“What?” said
Mr.
Walter, gazing blankly at him.

“I said: I believe I know your father,” repeated Sir Edmund, studying the wine in his glass. “As soon as you mentioned
Adelstein
, I knew who it was of whom you had reminded me now and then, ever since I first met you. Though I didn
’
t know old Sigismund had a son who had taken up music as a profession. Yes, I fancy your father is a very old acquaintance and
—
er
—
occasional adversary of mine at the conference table. Would I be right in supposing him to be Count Sigismund Heinrich Walter von und zu Adelstein?”

For once,
Mr.
Walter was taken aback. “Yes, sir,” he said, quite meekly, “you would!”

“Why in the world,” inquired Sir Edmund with inte
r
est, “aren
’
t you using your full name? Nothing to be ashamed of, you know!”

“I wish, sir, to belong to the aristocracy of the Muses, and no other!” said
Mr.
Walter, a little stiffly. “The estate, besides, will go to my elder brother, and
—
”

“Yes, yes, all very well, but
—
ah, good, here comes supper!” said Sir Edmund, interrupting himself as two rosy maidservants entered bearing laden platters. “Just the thing! Elinor, my love, you must be famished. Persephone, stop staring so, and have some of this cold fowl, which looks excellent. Now where was I?” as the door closed again after the maids. “Yes
—
did it never occur to you, Robert, that you might have saved yourself and Persephone a good deal of trouble merely by letting me know that you were your father
’
s son?”

“But you said,” pointed out Persephone, “that Robert
’
s father was an
adversary
of yours.”

This appeared to amuse Sir Edmund, who said, “My dear
Persephone! In the friendliest and most mutually appreciative of manners! You know, I really do not believe there is any need for you to anticipate a further career in the role of star-crossed lover! By the by, and just as a matter of interest, have you told your father the extent of Persephone
’
s fortune, Robert?”

“I should scorn to do so!” said
Mr.
Walter, stiffening up again. “Besides
—
”

“Besides, you too rather fancied yourself in the star-crossed line,” said Sir Edmund, sighing. “Just like your own Sempronius and
—
what was the girl
’
s name?”

“Angelina. Anyway, he
couldn
’
t
tell anyone the extent of my fortune,” pointed out Persephone. “He doesn
’
t know it.
I
don
’
t know it myself.”

“No, I suppose you don
’
t. I foresee,” said Sir Edmund, with considerable enjoyment, “an interesting time haggling over marriage settlements with my friend Sigismund. It will certainly make a change!” He caught Elinor
’
s eye, and said with a chuckle, “Wait until you meet the gentleman we are discussing, my dear one. You will then see where Robert here gets his remarkable determination. Prince Ernst Ludwig has a very formidable and wily minister in old Adelstein. But never fear, he will take to Persephone
—
and he will certainly take to
you
when you become acquainted.”