Practical Heart, page 14
“But this is quite—extraordinary,” the Viscount repeated. “What on earth could have prompted her to say such things? I have no ambitions for Felicity…or rather, only that she may be happy. And—so far as I know—she has no wish to cut a figure in that world, either.”
Courtney allowed himself to relax somewhat. “This is wonderful,” he said, after a moment. “I am utterly delighted!”
“And so am I,” replied Sherbourne, shaking his hand warmly. “I am confounded if I understand why Cordelia told you what she did—but it is no matter, after all. The thing to do now is to send for Felicity; I am sure you will wish to speak with her.”
This course of action was rendered unnecessary, however, by the circumstance of Felicity’s knocking at the drawing-room door at that very instant. She tapped timidly at first, then opened the doors slightly and peeped in.
“Papa,” she whispered urgently.
“My dear girl,” he exclaimed, “I was just going to find you.”
“Papa, a terrible thing is happening,” she persisted, inching forward into the drawing room. “Look at this.”
The Viscount rose and accepted the leaf of paper she held out to him. He read it, frowning a little, then cried out, “Whatever can she mean?”
“I do not know,” Felicity answered, “but that is what I meant to tell you before. Miss Spencer told me that she is an orphan! Her parents died long ago.”
“Why did you not say so?”
Felicity cast a meaningful, unhappy glance at Courtney, who was standing and beaming gently upon her.
“O,” said Valerian. “My Lord, read this and tell me what you think of it.”
It was the note Gillian had left for them. She had put it next to Felicity’s looking-glass that morning, knowing that the girl was not vain and would probably overlook it for some time, but that she would be certain to find it by evening. It read:
“My dear Felicity,
“This is to inform you and your father that Cordelia and I are quite safe, but that we shall be unlikely to return before tomorrow. Please tell your father that he must brace himself for some news which will, at first, seem unpleasant, but which I trust he will learn to like. My profoundest apologies for behaving so mysteriously.
“Your obedient servant,
“Gillian Spencer.
“P.S. Mr. Lawrence will be with us, so you need not worry.”
Courtney looked up in evident confusion. “Have you any idea where they’ve gone?” he queried.
“Cobham in Surrey,” said the Viscount. “At least, Cordelia thought so. I cannot imagine what all this is about!”
“No more can I, Papa, but do not you think that, perhaps, we must go after them?” Felicity suggested.
“Yes, I think we must indeed. I do not like the notion of an employee running off with my daughter; it seems rather like kidnapping.”
“I am sure it is not that,” said Courtney, who had been thinking, “but we will do well to follow them, anyway. Let us hope they have gone to Cobham, and not to any other place.”
Felicity found a moment in which to be terrified. “Is he coming with us?” she whispered, aghast, to her father.
Valerian turned to his Lordship. “You need not come if you do not like to; I can go alone.”
“I think we must all go,” said Courtney decisively, for he had determined to involve himself as much as possible in everything that touched Felicity.
The girl was sent upstairs to fetch her cloak and whatever else she might need, while Courtney despatched a brief note to his family and gave orders to his coachman to prepare for a journey. The Viscount informed Trigg that the entire house party would be absent for a day or two, and instructed him to tell any chance callers that they had been called out of town on family business. He was very, very pleased with the turn affairs had taken with Courtney, though nothing had yet been said of money. Valerian was careful, when they had entered the Ransford coach, to appear to be dozing, for he knew Courtney had much to say to Felicity, and would be grateful for an opportunity.
The young lady, overcome by the prospect of being shut up in a coach for several hours with Lord Yates, had nearly cried off; but she decided it was her duty to accompany her father, and bravely reconciled herself to the obligation. She did not look at Courtney as he handed her into the carriage, but she could not help but listen to him when he began to talk.
He spoke, after a few miles had been travelled, in a low tone, glancing ever and anon at the drowsing Viscount. “My dear Miss Collins,” he said, “I beg you will not say anything until I have done. I understand that you are—frightened of me, but you must, if what I am about to propose displeases you, let me know.” He took her hand tenderly and dropped it as she started involuntarily. “Please, do not be afraid of me!” he entreated, somewhat over-dramatically. “Scorn me, shun me, but do not fear me! You are my dearest life, my—” he battled briefly with his own shyness, “my beloved! Can you ever return my regard? I want you to marry me,” he added, without meaning to.
Felicity regarded him for the first time, her eyes full of amazement and tears. She tried to speak but could only say, “O, my Lord!” and reach for his hands to cover them with kisses.
“A little too saccharine,” thought the Viscount, who was spying on them from out of the corner of his eyes. “Slightly sickening, in fact, but there you are! Young love was ever so.”
By the time they reached Cobham they were all singularly in charity with one another, and it was with the greatest regret that Courtney left his betrothed in order to inquire at the various inns. It was necessary, however, that someone should do this, and Lord Yates appointed himself.
Miss Spencer had noted with satisfaction that there were several inns in Cobham, for she guessed that, if the Viscount followed at all, he would begin his inquiries at these hostelries. She and Miles, she knew, would need as much time as possible to effect their plans, and the hours the Viscount might waste in fruitless searching were all to her advantage. She and Cordelia had arrived at the White Lion a little before Miles, as they had agreed, and Gillian had thrust her charge into a private parlour, adjuring her to stay there until she returned.
“But do you not wish me to come with you to your mother’s?” Cordelia had objected. “You do not look at all well…”
Gillian was pleased to know that she had feigned illness so successfully, but she stood firm. “No,” she said, “I thank you, but the deathbed of an old woman is no place for you. It is a sight I myself would gladly be spared.” And she went off to wait for Mr. Lawrence, half-hiding herself behind the open door of a room adjoining the front hall of the inn when she saw his curricle approaching.
“But where is this disturbance?” Lord Vaughn was saying, as they entered. “I see no sign of it.”
“It must be some way out of town,” Miles answered. “I will ask the landlord.”
“You know, you never did tell Me how you learned of this,” Vaughn said, a trifle plaintively.
“Never mind,” Miles answered impatiently. He had caught sight of Gillian, who was gesturing frantically towards the door of Cordelia’s private parlour. “Here, you wait inside this room and rehearse your speech,” said Mr. Lawrence, pushing him in the direction Gillian indicated. “I’ll go and find the landlord.”
Lord Vaughn began to protest, but did as he was told. When he had entered the parlour, he cried out in great surprise, “Miles! My dear sir, come back! Look who is here!”
Cordelia rose, quite as startled as he. “My Lord!” she exclaimed. “Miss Collins!”
It was a moment before either of them remembered to execute the customary bow and curtsy. By that time, Lord Vaughn concluded that Miles must be out of earshot, and he turned his attention to Cordelia until he should return.
“I am delighted to see you, ma’am,” he said uncertainly. “May I ask what brings you here today?”
“Why, Miss Spencer’s mother was ill,” she replied. “And you, sir?”
“There is great trouble near Cobham; the people are ready to riot,” he informed her gravely. “I have come to speak to them.”
“Indeed!” she cried. “We saw nothing of any disturbance.”
“No, nor did we.”
“You are not alone, then, sir?” asked she, suddenly becoming conscious of the fact that she and Vaughn were together, unchaperoned, and at a great distance from home.
“No, of course not. Mr. Lawrence is with Me.”
“Mr. Lawrence?”
“Yes, he came to apprise Me of the news.”
“I was not aware that he engaged himself with politics.”
“No,” said he, much struck “no more was I.” He paused to consider this. “You say Miss Spencer’s mother is ill; has she been ailing long?”
“No,” Cordelia replied. “I believe it was quite sudden.”
The two of them were silent for some minutes, pondering these questions and others. Winsted especially found food for thought in his last interview with Miles. “Miss Collins,” he said at last, taking her hand in courtly fashion, “I am not entirely sure I understand what we are doing here. In any case, I should like to say that I am extremely pleased to see you.”
Cordelia blushed a little. “I am pleased to see you, my Lord,” she murmured almost inaudibly.
“No, no!” cried he. “I mean, truly pleased. I should not be speaking the truth if I did not communicate My utmost—pleasure at this unlooked-for meeting.”
Cordelia coloured yet more deeply, and felt her hand turn cold, then warm.
“Miss Collins,” Lord Vaughn continued, standing somewhat rigidly before her, “permit Me, I beg, to make known My feelings for you.”
Cordelia felt her cheeks go crimson, and averted her face.
“Of all the women I have ever met, I find you, dear ma’am, the most reasonable, the most intelligent, the most elegant in both appearance and behaviour. Miss Collins, I should be saying less than the whole truth if I did not inform you that I love you, and should like to take you to wife.”
“My Lord!” was all she said.
“You think I have been too rash in my judgment? You think, perhaps, that I cannot know you so well within so short a space of time?”
“O, no, my Lord!” she protested. “I only hope…I am worthy of your regard.”
“Miss Collins!” said he, one last time, before surrendering for the first time in his life to an irrational impulse, for on these words he swept her into his arms and embraced her firmly. At precisely this point, the door flew open and three persons entered. These were Miss Spencer, Mr. Lawrence, and a rather thin, kindly-looking man who was evidently a member of the clergy.
“Parson Wilkes,” Mr. Lawrence said immediately, while the astonished couple leapt apart, “permit me to make known to you my cousin Cordelia [the clergyman bowed] and Lord Vaughn [the reverend gentleman shook his hand]. Mr. Wilkes is the rector of this parish,” he explained; “and this is the happy couple.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Vaughn, with the stiffness of one who has been embarrassed.
“Parson Wilkes has come to marry you,” said Miles, smiling gently.
“I am afraid I do not understand,” Cordelia put in, still quite poised. “Miss Spencer, what is all this about? Where is your mother?”
But Miss Spencer merely beamed at her, wordlessly. Cordelia coloured up.
“I trust you have no objections?” said Miles to Winsted. “After all, you have been alone with Miss Cordelia, in an inn, for unknown reasons, above fifteen minutes. Frankly, I could not help but notice your embrace as we came in. I know you are too much the gentleman not to offer for her, under the circumstances.”
Lord Vaughn looked quite amazed, and not a little angry, but he found he had nothing to say.
“Shall we get on with the ceremony, then?” Miles suggested pleasantly. “It’s terribly convenient, don’t you think, Miss Spencer? I happen to have a special licence right in my pocket and here we are, with nothing better to do than be witnesses.”
“Remarkably convenient!“ Miss Spencer agreed. “Do, please, let us proceed.”
Cordelia and Vaughn looked at one another, acutely embarrassed, but Miles’s suggestion was so much in line with both their wishes, they neither of them protested much. The rector began to read the service, though he wondered why Gillian and Miles looked so much more at ease about it than the couple who were being wed. Still, they too took on rather an air of contentment, as the ceremony continued; and by the time they took their vows, Cordelia at least was smiling broadly. Lord Vaughn gazed upon her thoughtfully, with the expression of a man who had just acquired something precious. Mr. Lawrence proved to have a ring about him as well, when the time came, and his Lordship slipped it onto his bride’s finger with as much presence of mind as if he had been doing such things all his life.
“I wish you every happiness,” said Gillian, when the service had been completed. She came forward and kissed Cordelia—not, it is true, with great enthusiasm—and extended her hand to Lord Vaughn.
“Felicitations, Vaughn,” said Miles, shaking his hand and claiming a kiss from the bride.
When Cordelia first spoke, Gillian nearly split her sides laughing, for she did exactly the same thing with her words as did the Vaughns. “I was never more surprised in My life!” she exclaimed. “To think, that this could happen to Me!”
“I am afraid My father-in-law will have something to say to this,” Winsted remarked. “I presume he has no knowledge of it?”
“No,” said Gillian, “but I should not give it much thought. What’s done is done, after all. He will become reconciled to it, in time.”
“I beg your pardon?” said the Viscount, from behind her.
Chapter XII
Gillian, for all her gaiety and self-satisfaction, could not help but feel guilty for a moment. “I hope you will not be too displeased,” she said, facing the Viscount, “but your daughter has just married Lord Vaughn.”
“What?” he exclaimed, turning upon the rector. “Undo this immediately!”
“The bonds of marriage cannot be severed so easily,” said Parson Wilkes piously.
“You—sanctimonious villain!” cried Valerian, turning back to Miss Spencer. “Madam, this is an outrage. You are no longer in my employ.”
“But I never even received my salary!” she objected.
“Never mind,” said Miles, coming to her. “I have a different sort of position to offer you.” He came closer to her and bent down to reach her level.
The little private parlour had become quite crowded. Lord and Lady Vaughn stood surveying one another with satisfaction; Courtney and Felicity sat together, holding hands and smiling blissfully. The rector looked on, puzzled, as Gillian cocked her head and lent an ear to Mr. Lawrence, who whispered into it. Valerian was forced to look on as well.
“You did not!” she exclaimed, when he had been whispering for some time.
He nodded and said a few more words.
“But this is utterly fantastic! How dared you assume—”
Again Miles’s voice murmured inaudibly.
“Well, yes,” said Gillian, looking at him a trifle uncomfortably, “I suppose so.”
“Then let us do so at once!” cried he, kissing her and turning to the rector. “We want to be married, if you please.”
The Viscount had been angry, but most of his anger had disappeared as he became curious, and now he broke out with sincere good will: “Miles! This is marvelous!” He beamed at the servant whom he had just turned off. “She comes to you with excellent references, you know,” he said proudly. “Look, there is proof of her abilities,” he added, in a low tone.
“Excellent,” Gillian pronounced, as she surveyed Courtney and Felicity. “And the money?” she inquired in a whisper.
Valerian’s face clouded over somewhat. “Not a word, so far. But we shall come to it by and by. Do go on and get married; I am aching to see Miles leg-shackled at last.”
“Oh no,” said Miss Spencer, “not shackled. Aided and abetted, that is all.”
“Remarkable,” Miles said agreeably, “that I should fall in love with a capable woman after all. Who would have thought it? And yet, my dearest General, I believe you have need of me as well.”
“Really?” said she, accepting the sobriquet after all.
“Have you forgot so soon? I told you you had overlooked one detail in your scheme.”
Gillian had forgot, but now her curiosity woke again. “Yes, what was it?”
“Why, simply that you and I would be alone together, just as much as Vaughn and Cordelia. Having used that argument to persuade them to marry, you must be equally obliged to marry me. It’s only logical,” he pointed out.
“And you allowed me to do it!” she cried, beginning to feel angry. “O, but then I could have refused you. So you were not so clever, after all.”
Miles chose not to argue the point, merely remarking that the rector was waiting. He produced a second special licence and explained, “Because I thought, while I was obtaining the one, why not get two while I’m about it?” and a second ring. In a few minutes, Gillian was Mrs. Lawrence, and she ran about the room madly trying out her new name.
“How do you do?” she said, giggling and curtsying to Felicity. “I am Mrs. Miles Lawrence. Perhaps you know my husband, Mr. Miles Lawrence, Esquire?”
Miles came up to her, bringing Cordelia with him. “Lady Vaughn, permit me to make known to you my wife, Mrs. Miles Lawrence. Gillian, Lady Vaughn.” The two ladies curtsied deeply to one another.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Vaughn.”
“The pleasure is all Mine,” Cordelia insisted.
“Do you hear what she does?” Gillian whispered to Miles. “She capitalizes her letters, just as he does!” Miles roared with laughter while Gillian went off to dance about the room, holding her skirts up and whirling quite ridiculously, singing, “This is lovely! This is loooovely!”
