Parlous Times: A Novel of Modern Diplomacy

Stanley assured her he would not detain her a moment longer, but this was equally repugnant to his hostess' views of hospitality. She declared that a breakfast for one was a breakfast for two; if not, more should be ordered. Her appetite was that of a bird; the repast was humble, but it was a sin to go without sampling the housewife's eggs and cream – there were none so good at the Hall, she was sure.

The Secretary told her that he could not dream of staying, and found himself within five minutes ensconced at Madame Darcy's table.

No liquids, other than fresh milk and pure spring water were served at this repast, yet Stanley arose fully assured that they were the most intoxicating beverages he had ever tasted, and betook himself Hall-wards towards noon, through a maze of black eyes, and dazzling flashes of beauty, his brain vibrating with a voice, whose tones were the poetry of sound.

A vision of the Dowager Marchioness of Port Arthur, placidly seated on the lawn, under a green umbrella, with a book in her lap, and evidently on the borderland of sleeping and waking, brought him to earth once more.

It would be better to interrupt her matutinal slumbers, and get one of his two dreaded interviews over. She looked rather too composed, he thought, for a disappointed mother, and he was sure she would be that, did she know the truth. He coughed discreetly, and approached, slowly enough to permit her Ladyship to quite recover her senses, before he arrived by her side.

It would not do to appear too downcast before being informed of the hopelessness of his suit, so putting on his best society manner, and reflecting that an adversary disconcerted is an adversary at a disadvantage, he asked, as if it were quite the most ordinary of questions:

"How beautiful are your feet – Lady Port Arthur?"

"Dear me, young man!" exclaimed her Ladyship, now thoroughly awake, "they've always been considered beautiful; but why should you ask?"

"My reference was scriptural, purely scriptural, I assure you – I was referring to the feet of the messengers upon the mountains, who bring good tidings. You'll find it in Isaiah. Are you one of them?"

"There are no mountains in Sussex, and the rising generation knows entirely too much," snapped out the Dowager. "As for you – I've conferred with my daughter – "

She has told her, thought the Secretary, preparing to draw down his mouth to the requisite expression of woe.

" – And it gives me great happiness to tell you – " she continued, beaming on Stanley in spite of his flippancy, at which that gentleman drew down his mouth in good earnest, as he realised that she was still undeceived.

" – It gives me great happiness to tell you, that I believe your suit will have a favourable termination. She has promised to consider it."

"Oh," said the Secretary; and then, recollecting himself, added:

"It's very good of her, I'm sure."

If he had the opportunity, after lunch, he mentally determined to give Lady Isabelle a piece of his mind.

"It's an honest soul," continued her Ladyship, not noticing the interruption, "which refuses the promptings of her heart. Her hesitancy is quite natural, I assure you, and most becoming. When his Lordship asked the honour of my hand – " The Dowager sighed at the sweetness of reminiscence, and again took up the thread of her discourse.

"My daughter told me that she could not, without reflection, be certain of the state of her affections. Make allowance for her, Mr. Stanley, she is very young. Believe me, I should not speak as I do, were it not for the fact that I have known the world well – in my youthful days – though this you would scarcely believe, I dare say – I was one of the acknowledged leaders of the court."

"Your Ladyship's wit and beauty are a bye-word in all good society, and one has only to see you, to realise that they have been enhanced by the added grace of years," murmured the Secretary, doing his prettiest.

"You're a deceitful diplomat, and I don't believe you," said the Dowager, giggling and pretending to be very angry, but vastly pleased, none the less; and, giving him a flabby pat with one of her expansive hands, she continued:

"You must not be downhearted, however; leave everything to me."

The Secretary assured her that he felt quite safe to trust his heart in the keeping of one who had held the custody of so many, and was rewarded for his flattery by a further proof of the Dowager's confidence.

"Take my advice, dear James – " she began; but Stanley felt this was a step too far, and hastened to put himself on the defensive.

"That is not my name, Lady Port Arthur," he said, quietly.

"But surely," she continued, pressing her point, "your friends call you by a disrespectful contraction of it.

"Jim?" he asked, laughing. "Oh, that's because my Christian name is quite unfitted for ordinary usage – it's only brought out on state occasions."

"May I inquire what it is?"

"Aloysius."

"Dear me, no, I don't think I could call you that; but as I was saying, if you take my advice you'll see as little as possible of Isabelle to-day. Leave her to herself; it's far wiser."

The Secretary felt decidedly relieved.

"I quite agree with you," he replied. "You may depend on my following your advice to the letter," and he turned towards the house.

"One point more," she said, detaining him with a gesture, "I strongly disapprove of secret engagements. I don't wish the insinuations made against my daughter that one hears about that impudent young minx, Miss Fitzgerald. – Why, they actually hinted that she was engaged to you!"

"Dear me! Did they?" murmured Stanley.

"If there is the happy issue that we both wish, I should desire that our friends here, if not society in general, should know it immediately."

"My dear lady," said the Secretary impressively, "the moment that your daughter tells you definitely that she accepts my offer of marriage, you may announce it to the whole world; till that time, however, I must insist, that for her sake as well as mine, you be most discreet," and he bowed himself from her presence.

The Marchioness sank back in her chair with a sigh of placid contentment. Her work in life was, she believed, on the eve of successful accomplishment, and that most agonising period to a mother – the time from her daughter's coming out to that young lady's engagement – was safely over. On the whole her child had behaved unusually well; but of late she had suffered some inquietude of spirit, owing to the attentions of Kingsland, whom she, in common with all mothers of the social world, listed as belonging to the most dangerous and formidable class of youths that a girl, who has any pretensions to being a partie, can encounter.

In the case of the Lieutenant, however, Lady Port Arthur flattered herself that she had nipped matters in the bud, by the best of all cures for a romantic, impossible lover, i. e. a prospective husband. True, Mr. Stanley was not of noble family, she feared his people might even be called commercial; but he was eminently safe, and possessed of a substantial income wherewith to support the glories of the noble name of Port Arthur. In short, he was an admirable solution of the difficulty.

The Marchioness felt she was justified in taking forty winks, and did so.

Luncheon rather amused the Secretary than otherwise. He obeyed the Dowager's instructions to the letter, sat as far from Lady Isabelle as possible, and by the caprice of fate, found himself next to Miss Fitzgerald, who, with admirable foresight, treated him exactly as if nothing had happened, and that being half engaged to a man was the normal state of her existence. This put Stanley quite at his ease, and even Belle's fictitious claim on his services for the afternoon, based on her unsupported declaration that he had asked her to drive with him in the pony cart at four, a proposition he would never have dreamed of making, was accepted by him as a matter of course. A proceeding which elicited an expansive smile from the Dowager, who considered it a deep-laid diplomatic plot, in furtherance of her suggested plan of campaign.

The Secretary's attention was, however, mainly directed to Kingsland and Lady Isabelle, who sat side by side at table, and who acted, in his opinion like a pair of fools, till it seemed as if everyone present must guess the true state of affairs. As a matter of fact, no one did, and Stanley, seeing this, was once more reassured; for he did not wish to play his little part to more of an audience than was absolutely necessary.

Mr. Riddle, towards whom the Secretary, in view of the night's disclosures, felt even a stronger antipathy, was in high spirits, until he was silenced by Mrs. Roberts, who assured the company that she had caught him in the act of aiding and abetting the cottager's children to make mud pies in the public highway.

"I really couldn't help it," he said, excusing himself shamefacedly, "the dear little things were pining for some one to play with, and we did have such fun – and got so grubby;" and there was such a genuine ring of honest pleasure in his tones, that Stanley again found cause to wonder which was the true man.

Something like an hour later, the Secretary emerged on the driveway, to find the pony cart and Belle, got up in faultless style; and as he looked on the technical mistress of his heart, she seemed so exceedingly fair and gracious, that his morbid imaginings vanished away like smoke, under the spell of her presence.

"I'm afraid you'll be very angry with me," she said, apologetically; "but when I proposed our drive this afternoon, I'd quite forgotten a promise I made to Mr. Lambert to go and see a poor, sick, old woman, a parishioner of his."

"Then I suppose the drive is off?"

"Not at all, if you'll be a dear, good, self-sacrificing Jimsy, and do what you're told."

"What's that?"

"Just jump into the cart and take it round to the north gate – it's a couple of miles I know – but I'll walk straight across the fields, make my visit, and be at our rendezvous almost as soon as you are. I'll promise not to keep you waiting over ten minutes at the longest. Will you do it?"

"Certainly, if I may solace myself with a cigar while I wait."

"Two, if you like; but you won't have time to smoke them. Now off you go," and waving her hand to him, she watched him disappear round the corner of the house.