Checkmate Part 36

"I hope to Heaven he has! I'm glad of it. It will do me good; let him settle it out of his blackguard _post-obit_," snarled Sir Reginald, and ground his teeth.

"If he has been gambling, he has disappointed me. He can, however, disappoint me but once. I had better thoughts of him."

So said David Arden, with displeasure in his frank and manly face.

"Playing? Of course he plays, and of course he's been making a blundering book for the Derby. He likes the hazard-table and the turf, he likes play, and he likes making books; and what he likes he does. He always did. I'm rather pleased you have been trying to manage him.

You'll find him a charming person, and you'll understand what I have had to combat with. He'll never do any good; he is so utterly graceless."

"I see my father looking at me, and I know what he means," said Richard Arden, with a smile, to Lady May; "I'm to go and talk to Miss Maubray.

He wishes to please Uncle David, and Miss Maubray must be talked to; and I see that Uncle David envies me my little momentary happiness, and meditates taking that empty chair beside you. You'll see whether I am right. By Jove! here he comes; I sha'n't be turned away so----"

"Oh, but, really, Miss Maubray has been quite alone," urged poor Lady May, very much pleased; "and you _must_, to please _me_; I'm sure you will."

Instantly he arose.

"I don't know whether that speech is most kind or _un_-kind; you banish me, but in language so flattering to my loyalty, that I don't know whether to be pleased or pained. Of course I obey." He said these parting words in a very low tone, and had hardly ended them, when David Arden took the vacant chair beside the good lady, and began to talk with her.

Once or twice his eyes wandered to Richard Arden, who was by this time talking with returning animation to Grace Maubray, and the look was not cheerful. The young lady, however, was soon interested, and her good-humour was clever and exhilarating. I think that she a little admired this handsome and rather clever young man, and who can tell what such a fancy may grow to?

That night, as Richard Arden bid him good-bye, his uncle said, coldly enough,--

"By-the-bye, Richard, would you mind looking in upon me to-morrow, at five in the afternoon? I shall have a word to say to you."

So the appointment was made, and Richard entered his cab, and drove into town dismally.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE.

Next day Mr. Longcluse paid an early visit at Uncle David's house, and saw Miss Maubray in the drawing-room. The transition from that young lady's former, to her new life, was not less dazzling than that of the heroine of an Arabian tale, who is transported by friendly genii, while she sleeps, from a prison to the palace of a sultan. Uncle David did not care for finery; no man's tastes could be simpler and more camp-like.

But these drawing-rooms were so splendid, so elegant and refined, and yet so gorgeous in effect, that you would have fancied that he had thought of nothing else all his life but china, marqueterie, buhl, Louis Quatorze clocks, mirrors, pale-green and gold cabriole chairs, bronzes, pictures, and all the textile splendours, the names of which I know not, that make floors and windows magnificent.

The feminine nature, facile and self-adapting, had at once accommodated itself to the dominion over all this, and all that attended it. And Miss Maubray being a lady, a girl who had, in her troubled life, been much among high-bred people--her father a gentle, fashionable, broken-down man, and her mother a very elegant and charming woman--there was no contrast, in look, air, or conversation, to mark that all this was new to her: on the contrary, she became it extremely.

The young lady was sitting at the piano when Longcluse came in, and to the expiring vibration of the chord at which she was interrupted she rose, with that light, floating ascent which is so pretty, and gave him her hand, and welcomed him with a very bright smile. She thought he was a likely person to be able to throw some light upon two rumours which interested her.

"How do you contrive to keep your rooms so deliciously cool? The blinds are down and the windows open, but that alone won't do, for I have just left a drawing-room that is very nearly insupportable; yours must be the work of some of those pretty sylphs that poets place in attendance upon their heroines. How fearfully hot yesterday was! You did not go to the Derby with Lady May's party, I believe."

He watched her clever face, to discover whether she had heard of the scene between him and Richard Arden--"I don't think she has."

"No," she said, "my guardian, Mr. Arden, took me there instead. On second thoughts, I feared I should very likely be in the way. One is always _de trop_ where there is so much love-making; and I am a very bad gooseberry."

"A very dangerous one, I should fancy. And who are all these lovers?"

"Oh, really, they are so many, it is not easy to reckon them up. Alice Arden, for instance, had _two_ lovers--Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian Darnley."

"What, two lovers charged upon one lady? Is not that false heraldry? And does she really care for that young fellow, Darnley?"

"I'm told she really is deeply attached to him. But that does not prevent her accepting Lord Wynderbroke. He has spoken, and been accepted. Old Sir Reginald told my guardian his brother, last night, and _he_ told me in the carriage, as we drove home. I wonder how soon it will be. I should rather like to be one of her bridesmaids. Perhaps she will ask me."

Mr. Longcluse felt giddy and stunned; but he said, quite gaily--

"If she wishes to be suitably attended, she certainly will. But young ladies generally prefer a foil to a rival, even when so very beautiful as she is."

"And there was Vivian Darnley at one side, I'm told, whispering all kinds of sweet things, and poor old Wynderbroke at the other, with his gla.s.ses to his eyes, reporting all he saw. Only think! What a goose the old creature must have looked!" And the young lady laughed merrily. "But can you tell me about the other affair?" she asked.

"What is it?"

"Oh! you know, of course--Lady May and Richard Arden; is it true that it was all settled the day before yesterday, at that kettle-drum?"

"There again my information is quite behind yours. I did not hear a word of it."

"But you must have seen how very much in love they both are. Poor young man! I really think it would have broken his heart if she had been cruel, particularly if it is true that he lost so much as they say at the Derby yesterday. I suppose he did. Do you know?"

"I'm sorry to say," said Mr. Longcluse, "I'm afraid it's only too true.

I don't know exactly how much it is, but I believe it is more than he can, at present, very well bear. A mad thing for him to do. I'm really sorry, although he has chosen to quarrel with me most unreasonably."

"Oh? I wasn't aware. I fancied you would have heard all from him."

"No, not a word--no."

"Lady May was talking to me at Raleigh Court, the day we were there--she can talk of no one else, poor old thing!--and she said something had happened to make him and his sister very angry. She would not say what.

She only said, 'You know how very proud they are, and I really think,'

she said, 'they ought to have been very much pleased, for everything, I think, was most advantageous.' And from this I conclude there must have been a proposal for Alice; I shall ask her when I see her."

"Yes, I daresay they are proud. Richard Arden told me so. He said that his family were always considered proud. He was laughing, of course, but he meant it."

"He's proud of being proud, I daresay. I thought you would be likely to know whether all they say is true. It would be a great pity he should be ruined; but, you know, if all the rest is true, there are resources."

Longcluse laughed.

"He has always been very particular and a little tender in that quarter; very sweet upon Lady May, I thought," said he.

"Oh, very much gone, poor thing!" said Grace Maubray. "I think my guardian will have heard all about it. He was very angry, once or twice, with Richard Arden about his losing so much money at play. I believe he has lost a great deal at different times."

"A great many people do lose money so. For the sake of excitement, they incur losses, and risk even their utter ruin."

"How foolish!" exclaimed Miss Maubray. "Have you heard anything more about that affair of Lady Mary Playfair and Captain Mayfair? He is now, by the death of his cousin, quite sure of the t.i.tle, they say."

"Yes it must come to him. His uncle has got something wrong with his leg, a fracture that never united quite; it is an old hurt, and I'm told he is quite breaking up now. He is at Buxton, and going on to Vichy, if he lives, poor man."

"Oh, then, there can be no difficulty now."

"No, I heard yesterday it is all settled."