Bath Tangle

by Джорджетт Хейер

  “For shame, Hector!” Serena rallied him.

  He smiled at her, but shook his head. “You will have to instruct me!”

  “You have been interested in more important matters, Major,” said Rotherham, leaning back in his chair, the fingers of one hand crooked-round the stem of his wineglass.

  “I don’t know that. Certainly politics have not come in my way yet.”

  “You must bring him in, Serena. The Party needs new blood.”

  “Not I!” she returned lightly. “How odious it would be of me to try to push him into what he does not care for!”

  “You will do it, nevertheless.”

  “Do you care to wager on that chance?”

  “It would be robbing you. You will never be able to keep your talents buried.” He raised his glass to his lips, and over it looked at the Major. “Serena was made to be a political hostess, you know. Can you subdue her? I doubt it.”

  “She knows I would never try to do so.”

  “Good God!” said Rotherham. “I hope you are not serious! The picture you conjure up is quite horrifying, believe me!”

  “And I hope that Hector knows that you arc talking nonsense!” Serena said, stretching out her hand to the Major, and bestowing her most brilliant smile upon him.

  He took the hand, and kissed it. “Of course I do! And you know that whatever you wish me to do I shall like to do!” he said laughingly.

  Rotherham sipped his wine, watching this by-play with unexpected approval in his face. The second course had come to an end, and, in obedience to a sign from Serena, the servants had left the room. Fanny picked up her fan, but before she could rise, Serena said: “Have I your consent and approval, Ivo?”

  “Certainly—unless I discover that the Major has a wife in Spain, or some other such trifling impediment. When do you propose to be married?”

  “It cannot be until I am out of mourning. I don’t feel it would be proper even to announce the engagement at this present.”

  “Most improper. It will be as well, however, since the control of your fortune will pass from my hands to his, if I have some talk with him on this subject.”

  “Yes, pray do!” she said cordially. “And I wish you will tell me what I may count on, Ivo! I never made the least inquiry, you know, because to know the precise sum I might have enjoyed, but for that abominable Trust, would have made my situation the more insupportable.”

  “About ten thousand a year,” he replied indifferently.

  “Ten thousand a year?” repeated the Major, in an appalled voice.

  Rotherham glanced at him across the table. “You may call it that. It is not possible to be quite exact. It is derived from several sources, which I shall presently explain to you.”

  “But—Good God, how can this be? I knew, of course, that some disparity between our fortunes there must be, but this—!”

  “I own, I had not thought it would be as much,” said Serena, mildly surprised.

  “But there must have been an entail!” the Major exclaimed, as though snatching at a straw of hope. “Such an income as that represents—” He broke off, in the throes of calculation.

  “Something in the region of two hundred thousand,” supplied Rotherham helpfully. “All that belongs to the Carlow family naturally goes with the title. This fortune was inherited by the late Earl from his mother, and belonged absolutely to himself.”

  “Yes, I knew that,” said Serena. “Papa always told me I should inherit my grandmother’s property, but I supposed it to be a comfortable independence merely. I call this a very respectable fortune, don’t you, Fanny?”

  “I should not know what to do with the half of it!” Fanny said, awed.

  Rotherham smiled. “Serena will know. The strongest likelihood is that she will run into debt.”

  “I should wish it to be tied up!”

  These words, vehemently uttered, made Serena look at the Major in great surprise. “Why, what can you mean, love? You can’t suppose I shall do anything so absurd as to run into debt! I assure you I am not so improvident! Rotherham, I have not the remotest guess why you should laugh in that detestable way! I was never in debt in my life!”

  He threw her a glance of mockery. “You must forgive me, Serena! I wish you will tell me how you contrived, on the seven hundred pounds a year which I, in my ignorance, thought you spent on your attire, to maintain that expensive stable of yours.”

  “You know very well that Papa bought all my horses!” she said.

  “Just so,” he agreed. “Now you will be obliged to buy your own.”

  “Which I can well afford to do, and remain excellently mounted!”

  “Certainly you can, but you will have to take care, you know! It won’t do to be paying nine hundred guineas for some showy-looking bay you are glad to part with on any terms at the end of your first day out on him.”

  Wrath flamed in her eyes and her cheeks. “Were you never taken in over a horse?” she demanded.

  “Yes,” he said reflectively. “But I can’t recall that I ever paid a fancy price for an animal which—”

  “Be quiet!” she shot at him. “All those years ago—when I was still green—! Only you would cast it up at me still, Rotherham! Do I make mistakes now? Do I?”

  “Oh, not as bad as that one!” he said. “I’m prepared to bet a large sum on your having paid too much for that mare I saw at Milverley, but—”

  She was on her feet. “If you dare—if you dare tell me again she’s too short in the back—!”

  “Serena, for heaven’s sake!” begged the Major. “You are distressing Lady Spenborough! What the deuce does it matter if Lord Rotherham chooses to criticize the mare?”

  She paid not the slightest heed, but drove home her challenge. “Well, my lord? Well?”

  “Don’t try to browbeat me, my girl!” he replied. “I tell you again, too short in the back!” He looked at her, his eyes glinting. “And you know it!”

  She bit her lip. Her eyes strove with his for a moment or two, but suddenly she burst into laughter, and sat down again. “Of all the odious creatures—! Perhaps she is a trifle too short in the back—but only a trifle! You need not have been so unhandsome as to provoke me into exposing myself to my betrothed!”

  The glint was still in his eyes, but he said: “The temptation was irresistible to see whether you would take the fly. Console yourself with the reflection that you never look more magnificent than when in a rage!”

  “Thank you! I don’t admire myself in that state! What were we saying, before we fell into this foolish dispute?”

  “Major Kirkby had expressed a desire that your fortune should be tied up. If I am not to provoke you again, I will refrain from applauding so wise a suggestion.”

  “You are mistaken,” the Major said. “There was no thought in my head of keeping Serena out of debt! I should wish it—or the better part of it, at all events!—to be tied up in such a way that neither she nor I can benefit by it!”

  “But, my dearest Hector!” cried Serena. “You must be mad!”

  “I am not mad. You haven’t considered, my darling! Do you realize that your fortune is almost ten times the size of mine?”

  “Is it?” she said. “Does that signify? Are you afraid that people will say you married me for my money? Why should you care for that, when you know it to be untrue?”

  “Not only that! Serena, cannot you see how intolerable my position must be?”

  “No, how should it be so? If I used it to alter your way of life, of course it would be quite horrid for you, but I promise you I shall not! It will be in your hands, not in mine, so if I should run mad suddenly, and wish to purchase a palace, or some such thing, it will be out of my power to do so.”

  He gave a laugh that had something of a groan in it. “Oh, my dear, you don’t see! But Lord Rotherham must!”

  “Oh, yes! Shall I refuse my consent to your marriage?”

  “I wish to God you would!”

  “Well, so do not I
!” said Serena. “Hector, I do see, but indeed you are too quixotic! I daresay we shan’t spend it—not all of it, I mean—but why should I give it up? Besides, who is to have it if we don’t? Rotherham? My cousin? You can’t expect me to do anything so crackbrained as to abandon what is my own to them or to anyone!”

  “That was not in my head. Of course I would not ask you to give your fortune away! I don’t even ask you to tie up the whole. But when it comes to the settlements, could we not create a new Trust, Serena?”

  She was puzzled. “I see no sense in that. What sort of a Trust had you in mind?”

  “Not—not an unusual one!” he stammered, thrown off his balance by her entire lack of comprehension. He saw that Fanny was looking at him in innocent inquiry, and said hastily: “This is not the place—or the occasion! I believe that when I have talked the matter over with Lord Rotherham he will agree as to the propriety of what I have to suggest.”

  “But it has nothing whatsoever to do with Rotherham!” Serena said indignantly. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Don’t be so bird-witted, Serena!” said Rotherham impatiently. “What I understand Major Kirkby to mean, is that your fortune should be tied up in your children.”

  “In my children!” she exclaimed. “Is that what you indeed meant, Hector? Good gracious, why could you not say so?”

  “Because this is neither the place nor the occasion,” said Rotherham. “He told you so.”

  “Well, if it is not, you did not seem to think so!”

  “No, but that was because I lack delicacy.”

  She laughed. “Or would waste none upon me? You know, Hector, I think I would rather not tie up all my fortune in my children.”

  “Not all! I’m not so unreasonable as that! But if you kept for yourself a tenth—Serena, could you not be content with that, with what you have now, and what I can give you?” the Major said pleadingly.

  She said without hesitation: “With that, or far less, if I was obliged to, my love! But—but I am not obliged to, and I do think that it would be quite ridiculous of us to choose to live on a smaller income than we need! Suppose I did get into debt, or that we had a sudden need for a large sum of money? My dear, it would drive us both into a frenzy to think we had been so foolish as to put it out of our power to draw upon my fortune!”

  Rotherham gave a crack of laughter. “Admirable common sense, Serena! I trust for both your sakes you will succeed in bringing Major Kirkby round to your way of thinking. You have, after all, several months in which to argue the matter.”

  “Oh, yes, let us not talk of it any more tonight!” Fanny begged, getting up from her chair. “It is so very difficult for you both!”

  The Major moved to the door, and opened it. Fanny paused beside him, looking up into his face, and saying with a wistful smile: “You will find an answer to the problem—I am quite certain that you will!”

  His grave face relaxed; he returned the smile, but with an effort. She and Serena went out of the room, and he shut the door behind them, and turned to confront Rotherham.

  14

  Rotherham sat down again, and refilled both his own and the Major’s glass. The Major returned to his chair, but stood behind it, his hands gripping its back. He said jerkily: “She must be persuaded to do that!”

  “I don’t know what your powers of persuasion are,” replied Rotherham, “but I should doubt whether you will succeed.”

  “If she knew that you were in agreement with me—”

  “Nothing would more surely set up her back. Moreover, I am not in agreement with you. I fail to see why Serena should be deprived of what she has every right to enjoy.” He picked up his wineglass, and lounged back in his chair, one leg stretched out before him, and his hand thrust into the pocket of his breeches. He surveyed the Major somewhat satirically. “Serena, my dear sir, is the daughter of an extremely wealthy man, and has lived her whole life, until Spenborough’s death, in the first style of affluence. I know of no reason why she should be obliged to spend the rest of it in reduced circumstances. I should doubt very much her ability to do so. However, it is no concern of mine. By all means persuade her, if you think you can do it, and believe yourself able to support her when you have done it!”

  There was a long silence. The Major sat down rather heavily, and for some time remained staring blindly at his wineglass, which he kept on twisting round and round, a finger and thumb gripping its stem. At last he drew a long breath, and looked up with an air of resolution. “Lord Rotherham, when I asked Serena to marry me, it was in the belief that although her fortune might be larger than my own, it was not so immense as to render my proposal an effrontery! I am astonished that you should behave with such—I must call it forbearance! I am well aware in what a light I must appear to anyone not familiar with the circumstances! In justice to myself, I wish to tell you that I have loved her—the memory of her—ever since I first saw her! She, too, formed an attachment. She would have married me then, but my suit was considered to be ineligible—which, indeed, it was! I was a mere lad, a younger son! We were parted. I never hoped to see her again, but forget her I could not! She was to me—an unattainable dream, a beautiful goddess beyond my reach!” He stopped, flushing, and said with some difficulty: “But I need not try to explain that to you, I fancy. I am aware—Serena has told me—”

  “If Serena has told you that I ever thought her a goddess, she’s either an unconscionable liar, or she’s hoaxing you!” interrupted Rotherham tartly.

  “She did not—I only thought—”

  “Then think it no longer! I collect that when you succeeded to the property you now possess, you decided she was no longer above your touch?”

  The Major shook his head. “It never entered my head. I didn’t suppose even that she could remember me. But we met—here in Bath—neither of us dreaming of such a thing.” He raised his eyes fleetingly to that harsh face, and said, colouring as he spoke: “It was as though the years rolled back—for both of us!”

  “I see.” Rotherham smiled slightly. “Your dream, in fact, had come true.”

  “It sounds foolish, I daresay. I had not meant to tell you all this! But what has happened tonight—”

  “Not at all. You are singularly fortunate, Major Kirkby. In my experience, the embodiment of such a dream is frequently a severe disappointment. So Serena is just what you had imagined her to be! You must have been far better acquainted with her than I had supposed possible!”

  “How could I—how could I be disappointed in her?” demanded the Major, with unnecessary violence.

  “Evidently you are not.”

  “No! Unthinkable!”

  “Then we need not think of it. I am obliged to you for honouring me with your confidence, but it was unnecessary. I had not imagined that you wished to marry Serena for the sake of her fortune: she’s not such a fool as to be taken in by a fortune-hunter! Nor is she answerable to me for her actions.”

  “Was it not to guard her from just such a fortune-hunter as I must appear that her father appointed you to be her Trustee?”

  Rotherham’s mouth twisted rather wryly. “No. It was not. No doubt he hoped, at the least, that I should prevent her marriage to some obviously undesirable person. Mere disparity of fortune would not, I fancy, constitute undesirability in the eyes of the Law. She would marry whom she chose, even though I swore she shouldn’t touch a penny more than the pin-money she now enjoys,” He gave a short laugh. “And fight me afterwards to the Courts of Appeal!” he added. He got up. There is really no more to say. Shall we go?”

  “Yes. That is—I must think! Before I knew the size of this appalling fortune, I had qualms that I had no business to—Had it not been for Lady Spenborough, I believe I must have torn myself away!”

  Rotherham had strolled towards the door, but he paused, and looked at the Major. “Did Lady Spenborough encourage you to declare yourself?”

  “Yes. I was in miserable uncertainty! I felt she was the most proper person to be con
sulted!”

  “Good God!”

  “You are thinking of her youth! But I knew her to be devoted to Serena! Her kindness, her sympathy I can find no words to describe! To lose Serena must be such a blow to her, but I believe she never spares a thought for herself. I think I never knew one so young and so timid to have so much strength of character, so much understanding!”

  “An excellent woman.” agreed Rotherham. “Serena’s marriage will no doubt be a sad loss to her. She is really quite unfitted to live alone.”

  “Exactly so! One cannot but feel that she needs to be protected from—But I fear she will have her sister thrust upon her, and from all I can discover a more disagreeable, censorious girl never existed!”

  “Indeed? A gloomy prospect, certainly. However, I daresay she will marry again.”

  “Marry!” The Major sounded thunderstruck, but said quickly, after a blank moment: “Why, yes! Of course! We must hope she may.”

  “I do hope it,” said Rotherham cryptically, and opened the door.

  The sound of music met them, as they mounted the stairs. They found Fanny seated by the open window, gazing out into the gathering dusk, and Serena at the piano in the back half of the drawing-room. She stopped playing when she saw that the gentlemen had come in, but the Major went to her, saying: “Ah, don’t get up! You were playing the Haydn sonata I recommended to you!”

  “Attempting to play it! It is not fit yet to be heard!”

  “Try it once more!” he coaxed her. “I’ll turn for you.”

  She allowed herself to be persuaded. Rotherham walked over to the window, and sat down beside Fanny. For a few moments he watched the couple at the far end of the room, his face expressionless. Then he turned his head to look at Fanny. He said, his voice a little lowered: “I understand that this marriage has your approval, Lady Spenborough.”

  “Yes, I—I feel so sure that he will make Serena happy!”

  “Do you?”

  “It couldn’t be otherwise!” she said wistfully. “He is so very kind, and—and has loved her so devotedly!”

  “So I am informed.”