The Wicked Marquis Part 23

"Don't be silly," she laughed. "You must have come on an irritating afternoon. I get into such a terrible tangle sometimes with my housekeeping accounts up here. You know how impossible dad is with money matters, and he leaves everything to me."

The young man cleared his throat.

"I think you've borne the burdens of the family long enough," he remarked. "I wish you'd try mine."

"You do choose the most original forms of proposal," Let.i.tia acknowledged frankly. "As a matter of fact, I have had enough of keeping accounts. I have almost made up my mind that when I do marry, if I ever do, I will marry some one enormously wealthy, who can afford to let me have a secretary-steward as well as a housekeeper."

"You've been thinking of that fellow Thain," he muttered.

"Oh, no, I haven't!" she replied. "Mr. Thain is a very pleasant person, but I can a.s.sure you that I have never considered him matrimonially. I suppose I ought to have done," she went on, "but, you know, I am just a little old-fashioned."

"I can't see what's the matter with me," the young man said disconsolately. "I've a bit of my own, a screw from my job, and the governor allows me a trifle. We might work it up to ten thousand a year. We ought to be able to make a start on that."

"It is positive wealth," Let.i.tia acknowledged, "but I am sure you don't want me really, and I haven't the least inclination to get married, and heaven knows what would happen to dad if I let him go back to bachelor apartments!"

"He'd take care of himself all right," Let.i.tia's suitor observed confidently.

"Would he!" she replied. "I am not at all sure. Our menkind always seem to have gone on sowing their wild oats most vigorously after middle age. Of course, if Ada Honeywell would marry him, I might feel a little easier in my mind."

"Ada won't marry any one," Grantham declared, "and I am perfectly certain, if she were willing, your father wouldn't marry her. She's too boisterous."

"Poor woman!" Let.i.tia sighed. "She's immensely rich, but, you see, she has no past--I mean no pedigree. I am afraid it's out of the question."

"I wish you would chuck rotting and marry me, Let.i.tia," he begged.

"There's a little house in Pont Street--suit us down to the ground."

Let.i.tia found herself gazing over the tops of the more distant trees.

"We are going down to Mandeleys in a few days," she said presently.

"I'll take myself seriously to task there. I suppose I must really want to be married only I don't know it. Don't be surprised if you get a telegram from me any day."

"I'd come down there myself, if I had an invitation," he suggested.

She shook her head.

"Charlie," she declared, "it couldn't be done. So far as I can see at present, unless some of the tenantry offer their services for nothing--and our tenantry aren't like that--we shall have to keep house with about half a dozen servants, which means of course, only opening a few rooms. As a matter of fact, we shan't be able to go at all, unless Mr. Thain pays his rent for Broomleys in advance."

They turned out of the Park and not a word pa.s.sed between them again until Let.i.tia descended from her horse in Grosvenor Square.

"You were a dear to think of this, Charles," she said, standing on the steps and smiling at him. "I haven't enjoyed anything so much for a long time."

"You wouldn't care about a theatre this evening?" he proposed.

"Come in at tea time and see how I am feeling," she suggested. "I have dad rather on my hands. He has been wandering about like a lost sheep, the last few afternoons. I can't think what is wrong."

She strolled across the hall and looked in at the study. The Marquis was seated in an easy-chair, reading a volume of Memoirs. She crossed the room towards him.

"Father," she exclaimed, "you ought to have been out a beautiful morning like this."

The Marquis laid down his book. He was certainly looking a little tired. Let.i.tia came up to his side and patted his hand.

"How's the gout?" she asked.

"Better," he replied, examining the offending finger.

"You're just lazy, I believe," Let.i.tia observed reprovingly. "The sooner we get down to Mandeleys the better."

The Marquis glanced at a silver-framed calendar which stood upon the table. He had glanced at it about a hundred times during the last few days.

"A little country air," he confessed, "will be very agreeable. I think perhaps, too," he went on, "that I am inclined to be weary of London.

It is more of a city, after all, isn't it, for the bourgeois rich than for a penniless Marquis. Where did you get your mount from, dear?"

"Charlie lent me a hack," she replied. "I've had a perfectly delightful ride."

"You have not yet arrived, I suppose," her father went on, "at any fixed matrimonial intentions with regard to Charlie?"

She shook her head a little dejectedly.

"It's so hard," she confessed. "I am dying to say 'yes,' especially, somehow, during the last few days, but somehow I can't. I think it must be his fault," she added resentfully. "He doesn't ask me properly."

"You'll find some one will be taking him off your hands before long,"

her father warned her. "Personally, I have no objection to find with the alliance."

"Of course," Let.i.tia complained, "it's very clear what you are thinking of! You want your bachelor apartments in the Albany again, and the gay life. I really feel that it is my duty to remain a spinster and look after you."

The Marquis smiled. Once more his eyes glanced towards the calendar.

"Better ask Charlie down to Mandeleys and settle it with him there," he suggested.

"That's just what he wants," she sighed. "If we begin a house party there, though, think what a picnic it will be! And besides, Sylvia Laycey is sure to be somewhere about, and he'll probably fall in love with her again. I do wish I could make up my mind. What are you doing to-night, dad?"

"I am dining with Montavon," her father replied, "at the club. He has a party of four for whist."

"Dear old things!" Let.i.tia murmured affectionately. "I hope you have Sheffield plate candlesticks on the table. Why not go in fancy dress--one of those Georgian Court dresses, you know--black velvet knickerbockers, a sword and peruke! Much better let me give you a lesson at auction bridge."

The Marquis shivered.

"You play the game?" he asked politely.

"I tried it as a means of subsistence," Let.i.tia confessed, "but my partners always did such amazing things that I found there was nothing in it. If you are really dining out, dad, I shall go to the play with Charlie."

"Alone?"

"Don't be silly, dear," Let.i.tia protested, flicking her whip.

"Remember what that wicked old lady wrote in her memoirs--'Balham requires a chaperon, but Grosvenor Square never.' I shall try and get used to him this evening. I may even have wonderful news for you in the morning."

The Marquis took up his book again.