The Child Wife

What could be the cause? Had she heard anything to his discredit? Could she have discovered the counterfeit? Or was she only suspicious of it?

Only the last question troubled him. He did not think he had been found out. He had played his part skilfully, having given no clue to his concealed title. And he had given good reasons for his care in concealing it.

He admitted to himself that she had cause for being suspicious. She had extended hospitality to him in America. He had not returned it in Europe, for reasons well-known.

True, he had only met his American acquaintances in Paris; but even there, an English lord should have shown himself more liberal; and she might have felt piqued at his parsimony.

For similar reasons he had not yet called upon them in London.

On the contrary, since his return, he had purposely kept out of their way.

In England he was in his own country; and why should he be living under an assumed name? If a lord, why under straitened circumstances? In Mrs Girdwood’s eyes these would be suspicious circumstances.

The last might be explained – by the fact of their being poor lords, though not many. Not many, who do not find the means to dress well, and dine sumptuously – to keep a handsome house, if they feel disposed.

Since his return from the States, Swinton could do none of these things. How, then, was he to pass himself off for a lord – even one of the poorest?

He had almost despaired of being able to continue the counterfeit; when the patronage of a lord, real and powerful, inspired him with fresh hope. Through it his prospects had become entirely changed. It had put money in his purse, and promised more. What was equally encouraging, he could now, in real truth, claim being employed in a diplomatic capacity. True, it was but as a spy; but this is an essential part of the diplomatic service!

There was his apparent intimacy with a distinguished diplomatic character – a nobleman; there would be his constant visits to the grand mansion in Park Lane – strange if with these appearances in his favour he could not still contrive to throw dust in the eyes of Dame Girdwood!

Certainly his scheme was far from hopeless. By the new appointment a long vista of advantages had been suddenly disclosed to him; and he now set himself to devise the best plan for improving them.

Fan was called into his counsels; for the wife was still willing. Less than ever did she care for him, or what he might do. She, too, had become conscious of brighter prospects; and might hope, at no distant day, to appear once more in Rotten Row.

If, otherwise, she had a poor opinion of her husband, she did not despise his talent for intrigue. There was proof of it in their changed circumstances. And though she well knew the source from which their sudden prosperity had sprung, she knew, also, the advantage, to a woman of her propensities, in being a wife. “United we stand, divided we fall,” may have been the thought in her mind; but, whether it was or not, she was still ready to assist her husband in accomplishing a second marriage!

With the certificate of the first, carefully stowed away in a secret drawer of her dressing-case, she had nothing to fear, beyond the chance of a problematical exposure.

She did not fear this, so long as there was a prospect of that splendid plunder, in which she would be a sharer. Dick had promised to be “true as steel,” and she had reciprocated the promise.

With a box of cigars, and a decanter of sherry between them, a programme was traced out for the further prosecution of the scheme.

Chapter Fifty Nine.

A Distinguished Dinner-Party

It was a chill November night; but there was no coldness inside the South Bank Cottage – the one occupied by Mr Richard Swinton.

There was company in it.

There had been a dinner-party, of nine covers. The dinner was eaten; and the diners had returned to the drawing-room.

The odd number of nine precluded an exact pairing of the sexes. The ladies out-counted the gentlemen, by five to four.

Four of them are already known to the reader. They were Mrs Swinton, Mrs Girdwood, her daughter and niece. The fifth was a stranger, not only to the reader, but to Mrs Girdwood and her girls.

Three of the gentlemen were the host himself Mr Louis Lucas, and his friend Mr Spiller. The fourth, like the odd lady, was a stranger.

He did not appear strange to Mrs Swinton; who during the dinner had treated him with remarkable familiarity, calling him her “dear Gustave”; while he in turn let the company know she was his wife!

He spoke with a French accent, and by Swinton was styled “the count.”

The strange lady appeared to know him – also in a familiar way. She was the Honourable Miss Courtney – Geraldine Courtney.

With such a high-sounding name, she could not look other than aristocratic.

She was pretty as well, and accomplished; with just that dash of freedom, in speech and in manner, which distinguishes the lady of haut ton from the wife or daughter of a “tradesman.”

In Miss Courtney it was carried to a slight excess. So a prudish person might have thought.

But Mrs Girdwood was not prudish – least of all, in the presence of such people. She was delighted with the Honourable Geraldine; and wondered not at her wild way – only at her amiable condescensions!

She was charmed also with the count, and his beautiful countess.

His lordship had done the correct thing at last – by introducing her to such company. Though still passing under the assumed name of Swinton – even among his own friends – the invitation to that dinner-party disarmed her of suspicion. The dinner itself still more; and she no longer sought to penetrate the mystery of his incognito.

Besides, he had repeated the plea that hitherto satisfied her. Still was it diplomacy!

Even Julia was less distant with him. A house handsomely furnished; a table profusely spread; titled guests around it; well-dressed servants in waiting – all this proved that Mr Swinton was somebody. And it was only his temporary town residence, taken for a time and a purpose – still diplomacy. She had not yet seen his splendid place in the country, to which he had given hints of an invitation.

Proud republican as Julia Girdwood was, she was still but the child of a parvenu.

And there was something in the surroundings to affect her fancy. She saw this man, Mr Swinton, whom she had hitherto treated slightingly, now in the midst of his own friends, behaving handsomely, and treated with respect. Such friends, too! all bearing titles – all accomplished – two of them beautiful women, who appeared not only intimate with, but complaisant toward him!

Moreover, no one could fail to see that he was handsome. He had never looked better, in her eyes, than on that evening. It was a situation not only to stir curiosity, but suggest thoughts of rivalry.

And perhaps Julia Girdwood had them. It was the first time she had figured in the company of titled aristocracy. It would not be strange if her fancy was affected in such presence. Higher pride than hers has succumbed to its influence.

She was not the only one of her party who gave way to the wayward influences of the hour, and the seductions of their charming host Mr Lucas, inspired by repeated draughts of sherry and champagne, forgot his past antipathies, and of course burned to embrace him. Mr Lucas’s shadow, Spiller, was willing to do the same!

Perhaps the only one of Mrs Girdwood’s set who preserved independence, was the daughter of the Poughkeepsie shopkeeper. In her quiet, unpretending way, Cornelia showed dignity for superior to that of her own friends, or even the grand people to whom they had been presented.

But even she had no suspicion of the shams that surrounded her. No more than her aunt Girdwood did she dream that Mr Swinton was Mr Swinton; that the countess was his wife; that the count was an impostor – like Swinton himself playing a part; and that the Honourable Geraldine was a lady of Mrs Swinton’s acquaintance, alike accomplished and equally well-known in the circles of Saint John’s Wood, under the less aristocratic cognomen of “Kate the coper.” Belonging to the sisterhood of “pretty horse-breakers,” she had earned this sobriquet by exhibiting superior skill in disposing of her cast steeds!

Utterly ignorant of the game that was being played, as of the players, Mrs Girdwood spent the evening in a state approaching to supreme delight Mr Swinton, ever by her side, took the utmost pains to cancel the debt of hospitality long due; and he succeeded in cancelling it.

If she could have had any suspicion of his dishonesty, it would have been dispelled by an incident that occurred during the course of the evening.

As it was an episode interrupting the entertainment, we shall be excused for describing it.

The guests in the drawing-room were taking tea and coffee, carried round to them by the savants – a staff hired from a fashionable confectionery – when the gate-bell jingled under the touch of a hand that appeared used to the pulling of it.

“I can tell that ring,” said Swinton, speaking loud enough for his guests to hear him. “I’ll lay a wager it’s Lord – .”

“Lord – !”

The name was that of a distinguished nobleman – more distinguished still as a great statesman! Swinton’s proclaiming it caused his company a thrill – the strangers looking incredulous.