A Poached Peerage Part 32

"I don't know that I can," was the not unnatural objection.

"Of course you can," Peckover a.s.sured him sympathetically. "Anyhow, you've got to, unless you want Carnaby to wring you out and swab the stable yard with you."

"A nice thing," Quorn protested distastefully, "for me to be skulking about, and playing the understrapper on my own estate."

"Ah, yes," said Peckover sententiously. "We often have to pay for our fun when we least expect to."

Thus it came to pa.s.s that matters shaped themselves to the wily Peckover's handling, and he was able with native shrewdness to s.n.a.t.c.h a fresh reprieve from the threatening exposure. And it was of manifest importance for him to do so, since every day's income made an appreciable addition to the little capital he was ama.s.sing. If only he could keep the game up for a few months it would be for him, an independence. That former income of his, thirty-five shillings a week, would be his for life, and without working. No wonder he sharpened his wits to keep his oddly diversified puppets dallying.

So the unsuspecting Lord Quorn by purchase continued to enjoy his t.i.tle, little dreaming of the Jenkinsian volcano at his very door. So likewise the chafing and mystified Quorn was a.s.siduously taken in hand by Peckover and his fears kept up to high-water mark.

CHAPTER XXVI

Lady Ormstork was a pract.i.tioner in somewhat the same line of business as Lady Agatha Hemyock. Her dealings were however, of a wider scope and carried out with more histrionic embellishment than those of her sister schemer who, as may have been gathered, had her hands full with her two discontented and recalcitrant daughters. Lady Ormstork had, she was thankful, and also given to say, no daughter. But other people had them. Also she had no money to speak of, and again other people had. So, being a tough and wise lady of tireless energy and a grasping turn of mind, she set herself to take certain other people's daughters, for matrimonial objects, be it understood, and at the same time as much of their money as she had the face--and hers was fairly expansive and brazen--to ask for.

In pursuance of a scheme which her ladyship had already several times put in practice with success, she, on hearing certain rumours, ran down to Great Bunbury, and secured a furnished house on the outskirts of that somewhat uninteresting borough.

As the upshot of this apparently pointless and fatuous action, it was one afternoon announced to Gage who was seeking relaxation from the duties of his position in a game of billiards with his friend Peckover, that Lady Ormstork and Miss Ulrica Buffkin were in the drawing-room.

"Who the deuce are they, Bisgood?" Gage inquired, in not the best of humours at being interrupted in a promising run of nursery cannons.

"I don't know, my lord," answered Bisgood stolidly, his air suggesting that it was his master's business to find out for himself. "Never heard of the ladies before."

"What are they like?" asked Peckover, ever on the alert for an unpleasant surprise.

"Middle-aged lady, sir, and a young one."

"Good-looking?" Gage demanded, weighing the visitors against the joy of the prettily placed b.a.l.l.s by the top pocket.

"The young lady decidedly so, my lord," Bisgood answered with the dictum of a connoisseur. "As regards the elder lady opinions might diff----"

"Oh, bother the old lady. You can look after her, Percy," said Gage, putting on his coat. "I suppose they are ladies, Bisgood?"

"Lady Ormstork, my lord."

"Where's the book? Let's look her out."

Bisgood fetched Debrett, while Gage brushed his hair and gave an upward twist to his moustache.

"Yes, here it is, correct enough. 'Harriot, Lady Ormstork, widow of Henry Fitz-fulke Candlish, fourth Baron Ormstork.' Come on, old man,"

Gage commanded; and with p.r.i.c.king curiosity concerning Miss Buffkin, he led the way to the drawing-room.

The first glance told both men that Bisgood had not overstated the case. Miss Buffkin had a roguish, voluptuous prettiness which fitted each man's ideal of feminine beauty. Indeed it was so long before they could bring themselves to notice her companion that any other than the gratified Lady Ormstork would have reasonably shown signs of being offended.

"Lord Quorn?" the wily peeress inquired sweetly, looking from one to the other; and for once, perhaps naturally, at fault.

Gage, wrestling with his sudden preoccupation, went forward and shook hands. "How do you do?" he inquired tentatively, in a manner from which no unprejudiced observer would have deduced any deep concern as to the state of her ladyship's health.

"I must introduce myself." She opened the conversation winningly, as the men took chairs opposite to her and kept furtive eyes on the alluring Ulrica. "I was a great friend of the late peer's--your cousin----" Gage bowed. "My husband and he were at Eton together and kept up a life-long friendship." Lady Ormstork sighed. The men tried to look sympathetic and merely found themselves looking at the beautiful Miss Buffkin to see how she took it.

"We often stayed here," the peeress proceeded in a voice of tender reminiscence. "We always loved Staplewick and the--the neighbourhood."

With an effort the men accepted the interesting statement with a duly chastened glance at the maundering lady.

"So much so," Lady Ormstork continued, dropping with surprising ease the tone of lament in favour of one which suggested business-like hope, "that being sadly in need of change of air after the fatigue of the London season, I suggested, instead of the inevitable Homburg, the healthy and peaceful paradise of Great Bunbury."

It struck as much of the minds of her listeners as they could afford to detach from the prepossessing Miss Buffkin that it had never occurred to them so to regard that unlovely market-town, but they made allowances for variation in tastes and found it possible to rejoice that some one, particularly this talkative old peeress, took pleasure in it.

"It's an interesting old place," Gage agreed, with as much irony as anything else.

"Nice change after London," Peckover chimed in, with a slight shudder at the recollection of his first impressions of that unattractive town.

"Don't you think so?" he suddenly asked Miss Buffkin.

The young lady hesitated, and her hesitation could not be said to count as a testimonial to the grimy place in question. "It's not exactly lively," she answered with a smile that disclosed an irreproachable set of teeth. "When you've walked up one side of the street and down the other you are ready, if not anxious, to bid Great Bunbury a life-long farewell."

"My dearest Ulrica," Lady Ormstork remonstrated, "you have no romance."

"If I had a sackful, Great Bunbury would shake it out of me pretty quick," her protegee retorted.

"Well," the elder lady resumed almost plaintively, "perhaps it is that I view it in the light of happier days. It used to be quite a treat to drive in from here on a fine afternoon to shop in the quaint little town."

Both men glanced at Miss Buffkin as inviting a comment.

"The things you buy there aren't much of a treat," she observed dryly.

"And that is why," proceeded Lady Ormstork, ignoring the remark, "my heart turned towards Great Bunbury and dear old Staplewick, so that I felt I must come and see it again, even at the risk of being considered intrusive."

The expression on the two men's faces was calculated to a.s.sure her that so long as she appeared similarly accompanied she need have no fear of her welcome.

"I'm sure I'm delighted," Gage a.s.sured her, with a sly glance at the fascinating Ulrica. "I hope you will stay to tea now, and come often,"

he said with real enthusiasm. "As often as you can."

Lady Ormstork looked deeply grateful; indeed, as though a load of ungratified longing had been lifted from her shoulders; while Miss Buffkin seemed, from one cause or another, highly amused.

"Thank you, Lord Quorn, it is most kind," Lady Ormstork replied gushingly. "I shall revel in revisiting the dear old haunts. I warn you I shall take you at your word, and come very, very often."

"Can't come too often," Gage a.s.sured her gaily. "Hope Miss Buffkin will come too. You mustn't leave her moping in Great Bunbury. We'll try to get up some fun for her out here."

Lady Ormstork had no intention of leaving the profitable Ulrica behind, and she intimated as much. Miss Buffkin, on her part, seemed to find more than a transitory amus.e.m.e.nt in the effect she had produced upon the men.

"Perhaps you would like a turn before tea and look round the gardens,"

Gage suggested, nudging his friend, "Rather untidy, but we are going to make them trim directly."

"Oh, I should dearly love to see them as they are," the wily old peeress a.s.sured him. "Untidiness lends itself to romance, does it not?"