Friday’s Child

by Джорджетт Хейер

  Hero, who had not failed to notice Miss Milborne’s roses, and George’s haggard appearance, took the earliest opportunity that offered of following him to his retreat. Her tender heart ached for the pain she knew him to be suffering. It was a pain she was not quite a stranger to, and her own susceptibility made it seem the more imperative to offer such comfort as she could to George.

  She found him sitting moodily on a small sofa, a glass of brandy in his hand. He looked up, with a challenging expression in his eyes, but when he saw who had come in his brow cleared, and he rose, setting down his glass, and managing to conjure up the travesty of a smile.

  Hero clasped his hand between both hers, saying: “Dear George, do not heed it! Indeed, she could not have carried violets with that gown!”

  “She is wearing Severn’s roses,” he replied.

  “Oh, no! You cannot know that!”

  “Mrs Milborne told Lady Cowper so within my hearing.”

  Hero looked dismayed, but rallied. “It can only be because they were more suited to that gown. Sit down, George! I am persuaded you refine too much upon it.”

  He allowed himself to be pulled down on to the sofa beside her, but gave a groan. “I told her that if she wore my violets I should know what to think. I have had my answer, and may as well go and blow my brains out without more ado.”

  “Oh, do not say so! You know, George, I think you should not have sent that message. Perhaps she may not have quite liked it. Have you spoken with her?”

  He shook his head. “I could not trust myself. Besides, if I came within reach of that curst fellow, Severn, I should very likely find a means of picking a quarrel with him.”

  “No, no, don’t do that! Should you like it if I were to try if I can discover Isabella’s feelings upon this occasion?”

  “Thank you! I have observed her to be in excellent spirits!” he said bitterly. “That one so fair should be so heartless!”

  “Indeed, I am sure she is no such thing! She has a little reserve, perhaps, and she does not confide in one, but I feel quite certain Severn has not engaged her affections.”

  He was silent for a moment, pleating and repleating the handkerchief he held, his attention apparently absorbed in this foolish task. His lip quivered; he said in a hard voice: “She will marry him for his possessions, and his rank. It is plain enough.”

  “Oh, no! You are unjust, George! She has more heart than you believe.”

  “Once I believed — ” He stopped, and dropped his head in his hands, with a groan. “It don’t signify! I beg your pardon! I should not be boring on about my affairs. But you cannot know the anguish of having one’s love scorned, indeed, I dare say hardly regarded!”

  “Dear George, do not say so!” Hero besought him, putting up her hand to smooth his unruly locks. “I know — oh, I know! But do not allow yourself to think there is no hope of her affections animating towards you! It cannot be but that if one truly loves — ” Her voice became suspended; she was obliged to wipe a tear from her cheek.

  He put his arm round her, in a brotherly way, and gave her a slight hug. “Yes, yes, where there is a heart to be won, of course you are right, Kitten! But in my case — ! There, do not let us dwell upon it any longer! I am the greatest brute alive: I have made you cry, and I would not do so for the world!”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “Only for your sake, dear George! Indeed, I am the happiest creature imaginable, in — in general!”

  He turned her face up. “Are you? I hope you may be, for you deserve to be.”

  She smiled mistily, and because it seemed a natural thing to do under the circumstances, he bent his head, and kissed her.

  There was nothing at all passionate in this embrace, and Hero had no hesitation in receiving it in the spirit in which it was clearly meant. Unfortunately, Sherry chose this precise moment to walk into the room with Ferdy and Mr Ringwood. Having imbibed enough champagne punch to restore him to his usual buoyancy, he had recollected his duty, and was looking for his wife, to do her the honour of dancing with her. He was indebted to Mr Ringwood for the knowledge of her whereabouts, but it is doubtful if either Mr Ringwood or Ferdy would have accompanied him on his quest had they know in what a situation he was to find his bride. He arrived in excellent time to see Lord Wrotham, one hand under Hero’s chin, plant his kiss on her pretty lips. One moment he stood transfixed, the next he uttered a crashing oath, and took a hasty stride forward. Mr Ringwood, recovering from his own stupefaction, closed with him, just as George, flushing vividly, sprang to his feet.

  “Sherry!” Mr Ringwood said warningly. “For God’s sake, dear boy, remember where you are! You can’t choke George to death here!”

  George folded his arms, and curled his lip sardonically, looking extremely noble and romantic, and awaiting events with a sparkle in his eye. Hero, faintly surprised by her careless husband’s extraordinary behaviour, said without the least trace of guilt, or discomposure: “Why, Sherry, what is the matter? Were you looking for me?”

  “Yes, by God, I was!” replied Sherry, wrenching free from Mr Ringwood’s grasp. “Damn you; Gil, let go!”

  Ferdy, who had been standing with his mouth open, staring, suddenly rose superbly to the occasion, and offered his arm to Hero with a graceful bow. “Let me escort you back to the ballroom!” he said.

  “Yes, but — Sherry, you must not mind George’s kissing me!” said Hero, looking from one to the other in a little dismay. “Indeed, there was not the least harm in it, was there, George?”

  “Dear Kitten,” promptly replied George, bowing with even more grace than Ferdy, “there was much pleasure!”

  Horrified at such provocative behaviour, Ferdy exchanged one startled glance with Mr Ringwood, and bore Hero out of the room.

  “Of course there wasn’t any harm in it!” said Mr Ringwood. “All the same, you oughtn’t to kiss Sherry’s wife, George, and as for you, Sherry, if you hadn’t drunk so much champagne punch you’d have more sense than to kick up a dust over — dash it, you know what I mean! She’s as innocent as a newborn lamb!”

  “She!” the Viscount ejaculated. He ground his teeth in a very alarming manner, and rolled a fiery eye at Wrotham. “I don’t need you to tell me my wife’s innocent, I thank you, Gil! But as for that — that rake, that wolf in sheep’s clothing, that — that commoner — ”

  “No, dash it, Sherry, you can’t call George a commoner!” protested Mr Ringwood. “All a mistake! George wouldn’t — I wish to God you will stop standing there looking like a hero, George, and beg Sherry’s pardon!”

  “Never,” said Wrotham, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve with a flourish of his handkerchief, “in my life, have I begged any man’s pardon!”

  “Nothing in that, George!” said Ferdy, who had just come back into the room. “Never know what you may come to! Why, look at me! Always swore I’d never bet on a horse with three white stockings, but I did it, and look what came of it! Won in a canter! All goes to show!”

  The Viscount ignored this helpful intervention, and, heedless of an anguished plea from Mr Ringwood, cast to the winds the guiding principle which had carried him scatheless through several years of intimacy with Lord Wrotham. “Name your friends, my lord!” he said fiercely.

  “Sherry!” almost wailed Mr Fakenham. “Consider, dear boy! Not yourself! Can’t be in your senses! Put it down to the champagne! Pay no heed to him, George!”

  Lord Wrotham, however, replied promptly: “With the greatest pleasure on earth! Gil, will you serve me?”

  “You can’t have Gil!” exclaimed the Viscount hotly. “I’m going to have him myself!”

  “Oh, no, you ain’t!” retorted George, abandoning his heroics. “You can have Ferdy.”

  “I shall name both Ferdy and Gil,” said the Viscount loftily.

  “Well, you won’t, because I’ve bespoke Gil already.”

  “Dash it, you must have other friends besides Gil!” said Sherry.

  “I have, but if you h
aven’t enough sense to keep this affair between the four of us, I have!” said George.

  “Something in that, Sherry, dear old boy,” said Ferdy wisely. “Won’t do to spread it about George has been kissing your wife. If you must call him out — but, mind you, I’m not in favour of it, because you know what he is, and ten to one the whole thing is a hum! — I’ll act for you, and between us Gil and I will fix it up all right and tight. But mind this, George! If you choose pistols you’re not the man I thought you!”

  “Well, I shall,” said George instantly.

  “Let him choose what he likes: it makes no odds to me!” said Sherry grandly. “I shall send Mr Fakenham to wait on your second, my lord, and let me tell you that I consider it a curst mean trick of you to name Gil before I had a chance to do so myself!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  IT WAS LAID DOWN IN THE CODE OF HONOUR that the first duty of the seconds in an encounter was to do all that lay in their power to bring about a reconciliation between their principals, and never did seconds use greater endeavours in this direction than Mr Ringwood and the Honourable Ferdy Fakenham. Indeed, neither of these gentlemen confined his powers of persuasion to his own principal: severally, and together, they exhorted and cajoled both would-be combatants. Their efforts met with no success, the Viscount stating bluntly that however innocent George’s intentions might have been he was not going to draw back from an engagement; and George taking up the attitude that since he was not the challenger it was useless to address any representations to him whatsoever.

  “Dash it, George!” said the exasperated Mr Fakenham. “You can’t expect Sherry to take it back!”

  “I don’t,” said George.

  “No getting away from it,” said Mr Ringwood. “You’re in the wrong. Ought to own it. No business to kiss Sherry’s wife.”

  “Sherry’s a dog in the manger!” said George, his eye kindling. “Why don’t he kiss her himself? Tell me that!”

  “Nothing to do with the case,” replied Mr Ringwood. “What’s more, not your affair, George. I don’t say you’re wrong, but it don’t alter facts: you ought not to kiss her!”

  “Very well! Let Sherry blow a hole in me — if he can!”

  “I’m surprised at you, George!” Mr Ringwood said severely. “You know very well poor Sherry’s no match for you!”

  “Yes, and there’s another thing!” interposed Ferdy. “It’s devilish shabby of you, so it is, George, to stand out for twenty-five yards!”

  “George!” said Mr Ringwood, with all the earnestness at his command. “I tell you it won’t do! He may not choose to own it, but Sherry knows as well as I do there was nothing in it! Whole affair can be settled as easy as winking! Need only explain the circumstances to Sherry — feel persuaded he would meet you half way!”

  “Do you expect me to draw back from an engagement?” demanded George.

  “He’s in his airs again!” said Ferdy despairingly. “I never knew such a fellow, never!”

  “I see no reason why you should not, George,” said Mr Ringwood. “If anyone ever knew anything about it, which they won’t, they wouldn’t think you was afraid to meet Sherry. The idea’s absurd!”

  “That’s it: absurd!” corroborated Ferdy. “What’s more, if they did think it, they wouldn’t dare say so,” he added, naïvely. “If you ask me, it’s a pity no one does dare say a word you don’t like to you: do you good! It would really, old fellow! However, it’s no use worrying over that now!”

  “Unless you can prevail upon Sherry to withdraw his cartel, I shall meet him at Westbourn Green tomorrow morning,” said George inexorably. “And if you think you can so prevail upon him, you don’t know Sherry!”

  Upon this intransigent note he parted from his friends, leaving them in great perplexity. The trouble was, Ferdy said, that you never could tell, with George. Mr Ringwood agreed that when George was in his high ropes there was no knowing at all what mad act he would take it into his head to commit. Both gentlemen sat in gloomy silence for some minutes, meditating on all the grim possibilities of the approaching duel. Mr Ringwood could not but feel that the Honourable Ferdy had touched the very kernel of the matter when he raised his head and said that the devil of it was that George couldn’t miss. He drew a breath, and said: “Got to be stopped. Dash it, can’t let George kill poor Sherry! Tell you what, Ferdy: nothing for it but to talk to Lady Sherry.”

  Mr Fakenham, always very nice in all matters of etiquette, looked shocked, but his scruples were overborne.

  “I know it ain’t usual,” said Mr Ringwood, “but Kitten is mighty friendly with Miss Milborne, and if there’s anyone alive can stop George when he has the bit between his teeth it’s she!”

  Mr Fakenham was moved to seize his friend by the hand, and to shake it fervently. “Gil, dear old boy, you’re right!” he said. “Always knew you had a head on your shoulders! Not but what it’s dashed irregular, you know! Ought never to mention such things to females!”

  “Never mind that!” said Mr Ringwood impatiently. “Go round to Half Moon Street now, while Sherry’s safely out of the way!”

  The two gentlemen accordingly set forth together, and were fortunate enough to find Hero at home, and alone. They were ushered upstairs into the drawing-room, and here Mr Ringwood bluntly informed his hostess of the nature of his errand.

  Having already a very fair idea of what was toward, Hero did not, as Mr Fakenham had a horrid fear she might, faint, or go into strong hysterics. Her husband’s strictures on her conduct, delivered on their way home on the previous evening, had been so forceful that she had quailed under them, and barely found enough voice to enable her to explain to him that she had been attempting merely to comfort poor George, who was in such despair over Isabella’s cruelty. His wrath had cooled by that time, and he had no difficulty in believing her account of the affair; but the stern lecture of which he delivered himself on the impropriety of offering that particular kind of comfort to young bachelors would have done credit to the strictest duenna, and made his wife weep with penitence. The Viscount then unbent, dried her tears, told her that it was not her fault — at least, not entirely her fault — and that he should have known better than to have introduced such a hardened reprobate as George Wrotham to her. This she could by no means allow, and she explained, sniffing dolefully between sentences, that it was indeed her fault, and that George had kissed her in the most brotherly fashion, and without really considering what he was doing. The Viscount replied with some asperity that since she had no brothers she knew nothing of the matter; but being a gentleman of varied experience he was perfectly well able to appreciate the situation, and even — though this he kept to himself — to wish that he had not allowed his temper to get the better of him. But when Hero timidly expressed the hope that he had not quarrelled with George, the only answer she could get from him was an unconvincing assurance that there was no need for her to worry her head over him.

  She was therefore in no way surprised by Mr Ringwood’s disclosure. She nodded her head, turning a little pale; and, fixing anxious eyes on his face, said: “But George will not hurt Sherry! He could not!”

  “Yes, he could,” said Ferdy. “Devil of a fellow with the pistols, George! Never misses!”

  Her eyes widened. “He would not! Not Sherry!”

  “Wouldn’t put it beyond him at all,” said Ferdy, shaking his head. “Tried to call him out a dozen times. Sherry always said he wasn’t fool enough to stand up for George to put a bullet through him. Pity he changed his mind.”

  “But he must not!” Hero cried, starting up. “He shall not! Oh, but you are wronging him! I know he would not do so!”

  “Queer fellow, George,” said Mr Ringwood heavily. “I don’t say he ain’t a right one: he is: as game a man as any I know! The thing is, he’s got the devil of a temper, and once he’s in one of his fits there’s no saying what he may do. Do you remember pulling him off that stupid fellow’s throat, Ferdy? Can’t recall his name, but you’ll know! The
quiz that married his sister Emily. What I mean is, that shows you, Kitten! His own brother-in-law!”

  “Mind you, I never blamed him for that!” Ferdy said. “Didn’t like the fellow myself. What the deuce was his name?”

  “Oh, never mind!” Hero exclaimed. “What can it signify? How are we to prevent Sherry’s meeting George?”

  “That’s just it: you can’t,” said Mr Ringwood. “Couldn’t expect Sherry to hedge off. Why, if I were ever fool enough to call George out, I wouldn’t hedge off!”

  “George ought to beg Sherry’s pardon. Trouble is, he won’t,” said Ferdy. “Come to think of it, he’s been spoiling for a fight for a long time. Never can find anyone to go out with him in the general way. If it weren’t Sherry, I’d say it was a shame to ruin the only bit of pleasure the poor fellow has had in months.”

  “But it is Sherry!” Hero cried.

  “Yes,” agreed Ferdy mournfully. “Pity!”

  “Never mind that!” interposed Mr Ringwood. “It’s got to be stopped. Don’t pay any heed to Ferdy, Kitten! You listen to me! And, mind! not a word of this to Sherry, for he’d be as mad as Bedlam if he knew I’d breathed a syllable to you, and very likely call me out, and Ferdy too!”

  “No, no, I promise I will not say a word to Sherry!”

  “I can’t move George; Ferdy can’t move George. Tried our best already. Only one person he’ll listen to.”

  “Isabella!” exclaimed Hero.

  “That’s it. The thing is for you to see her. Friend of yours. Won’t refuse to help you. Persuade her to send for George. Tell her not to spread it about the town, though! Get her to coax George out of the sullens, and send him along to see Sherry. I know Sherry: let George but hold out his hand, and the whole thing will blow over in a trice!”

  “I will go to Isabella at once!” Hero said, the peril in which Sherry stood ousting every other consideration from her mind.

  She set forth immediately, arriving at the Milborne residence just as Isabella mounted the steps, with her abigail. Isabella greeted her affectionately, and would have shown her some interesting purchases she had been making, had it not been plain to a much meaner intelligence than hers that Hero had come to visit her on more urgent affairs than frills and furbelows. She at once took her friend up to her dressing-room, and begged to be allowed to know in what way she could serve her.