The Chevalier shrugged his shoulders. “A quoi sort de le faire? If I chose to do it, I would remain in England. I do not fear him, believe me! That he knows! It is a little amusing that he should have put himself to such pains to persuade me to return to my own country. It has been my intention to do so, since—several days. That gave me to laugh sous cape! Will he flatter himself I went away because he bade me? No, I think—but it matters nothing! Did you come to visit me to tell me to go, sir? Cela n’en vaut pas la peine!”
“Came to tell you Miss Broughty’s in the devil of a fix,” said Freddy calmly.
The Chevalier had walked over to the window, but he turned swiftly at this. “You would say that Miss Broughty is in trouble?”
“That’s it,” nodded Freddy. “Run away from Hans Crescent. Not the thing, but can’t blame her. Never saw such a set of rum touches in my life as those relations of hers! What’s more,” he added, considering the matter dispassionately, “not a good part of the town. Wouldn’t like to live there myself.”
“For the love of God—!” cried the Chevalier impatiently. “What has happened to her? Where is she?”
“Left her with m’sister,” Freddy replied. “She came to ask Kit to help her.”
“Ah, she has a heart of gold, this Kitty, and she will do so!” the Chevalier exclaimed, his brow lightening a little.
“Daresay she might, but she ain’t there,” said Freddy stolidly.
“Not there! Where then is she?”
“Gone down to my great-uncle’s. Poor girl’s at a standstill: don’t know what to do! Seemed to me I’d best come and tell you about it. Thing is, she can’t stay in Berkeley Square. First place that Broughty woman will think of, when she starts searching for her.”
“But tell me, I beg of you! It is not—mon Dieu, it is not that madame has discovered—? It is not I who am the cause—?”
“Oh, no, nothing of that nature! You know Sir Henry Gosford? Offered for her.”
‘“That ancient!” the Chevalier said contemptuously. “I know well the intentions of Madarne Broughty, but Olivia will laugh at the vieillard!”
“Wasn’t laughing when I saw her. Said her mother would kill her if she didn’t do as she was bid. Shouldn’t think she would, myself, but no use telling Miss Broughty that: in the deuce of a pucker, y’know! Trembling all over.”
“Ah, la pauvre! it is a dragon de femme, that one, but she cannot force that angel to the altar, after all! She will scold, she will threaten, but she will not harm her own daughter! This Sir Henry will be forgotten—I too must be forgotten!— and one day, I am assured, she will meet another—un brave homme!—and she will be happy. To think of it is to tear the heart from my body, but I must wish it for her sake—I must accustom myself to the thought!”
“Well, it ain’t a particle of use accustoming yourself to it,” said Freddy, unimpressed. “Won’t happen.”
“She will not consent to marry that radoteur!”
“No, very likely not. Seems to me she’ll accept a carte blanche from my cousin Jack,” said Freddy brutally.
“No! no!” ejaculated the Chevalier, turning pale. “You shall not say such a thing!”
“Have said it. Very understandable thing to do. Frightened of her mother: won’t return to her. You go off to France: nothing else she can do! Must know Jack would treat her devilish handsomely: at least, he would while she was living under his protection. Trouble is, these little affairs don’t commonly last long. Mind, I don’t say Jack would turn her off without a shilling, because he wouldn’t. Shabby thing to do, and he ain’t shabby. But—”
“Stop! stop!” said the Chevalier hoarsely. He cast himself into a chair by the table, and buried his face in his hands. “Every word you speak is torture! Ah, why did I cross her path? I have brought misery upon her!”
“Don’t see that at all,” objected Freddy. “Dashed good thing you did cross her path! Able to rescue her.”
The Chevalier’s fingers, writhing amongst his glossy brown locks, were fast ruining what had been an admirable example of the Brutus, made fashionable by Mr. Brummell. Freddy watched this with pained disapproval. It did not seem to him to serve any useful purpose; it was, in fact, a work of quite wanton destruction.
“You do not understand!” groaned the Chevalier. “I would give my life, my all, but I am helpless! I cannot help her, I, of all men! You may say I am au bout de mon Latin!”
“Well, I shouldn’t say anything of the sort, because I ain’t at all easy in the French tongue, and I’m dashed if I know what it means. Daresay m’father would: they used to talk the devil of a lot of French in his day. Italian, too. Went junketing about all over the Continent, y’know. That fellow Bonaparte put a stop to that, which is why I never made the Grand Tour. Not that I’m complaining. Never thought I should have liked it above half, to tell you the truth.”
The Chevalier stared at him rather wildly. “Ah. what are you saying? It is hors de propos! You bring me news which kills me, and talk to me of the Grand Tour! It is entirely English, en effet!”
“Well, what the deuce should it be?” said Freddy reasonably. “Just told you I don’t speak French!”
The Chevalier once more sank his head in his hands, saying with a bitter laugh; “Oh, you are without sensibility, you!”
“I may be without sensibility, but I’m dashed if I’d sit tearing my hair out when a man came to tell me Kit was in trouble!” retorted Freddy. “Much good that would do her!”
The Chevalier raised his head, and flung out his hands. “But can you not understand that I am without power? Never would that woman permit me to marry Olivia! Ah, do you imagine that I do not care, that I do not desire with all my heart to call her my own, to take her to France, far, far from such as her mother—that Gosford—that roué, your cousin?”
“Well, why the devil don’t you do it?” demanded Freddy. “Never saw such a fellow for making speeches!”
The Chevalier’s hands dropped. He sat staring at Freddy, as though thunderstruck. “Do it?” he repeated. “You would say—an enlevement!”
Freddy sighed. “No, I wouldn’t. Keep telling you I don’t speak French.”
“Pardon. A—a flight—a—I do not know the word!”
“Daresay you mean an elopement,” said Freddy helpfully. “That’s it: carry her off to France before her mother finds her.”
The Chevalier’s eyes flashed. “Ah, you believe me to be altogether base!” he exclaimed.
“Well, you’re out there, because I don’t. Seems to me you’re altogether bacon-brained!”
“But—It would be an infamy! I tell you, I have for that angel a respect, an adoration beyond your comprehension! To steal her in that manner—I, a gamester, an adventurer!—is a villainy too great!”
“Shouldn’t call it a villainy myself,” said Freddy. “It ain’t the thing, of course: not saying it is. Mind, if you didn’t mean to marry her, it wouldn’t do at all!”
“If it were possible, I would marry her at this instant!” the Chevalier said impetuously.
“Well, it ain’t possible. Marry her when you get to France.”
The Chevalier began to pace about the room. “I would take her to my mother. She is not such a one as Madame Broughty, rest assured!”
“Very good notion,” approved Freddy.
“My father—ah, if at first he was a little angry with me, would he not relent when his eyes alighted upon my angel?”
“Bound to,” agreed Freddy.
The Chevalier faced him. “Tell me, then, you who are of a family of the most distinguished, the most correct, should I do this thing?”
“Dash it, just what I have been telling you!” said Freddy. “What’s more, there’s no time to be lost.”
A doubt shook the Chevalier. “Can it be that she would trust me? So young, so innocent!”
“Why shouldn’t she? What I mean is, no reason at all, if she’s an innocent. Ought to know that!”
The Chevalier drew
a deep breath, and flung open his arms. “La tête me tourne! But one little half-hour past, behold me, plongé dans le désespoir! Then you come to me, comme ange tutelaire, and you transport me to Paradise!”
“Very happy to be of service,” murmured Freddy, rising, and setting down his empty glass.
The Chevalier gave a shaken laugh. “Ah, I am without words! Je m’en suis plus!”
“Are you, though?” said Freddy hopefully. “Good thing: no time to waste in speechifying! Fact is, never one to talk much: not clever, y’know!”
“You—!” uttered the Chevalier, in throbbing accents. “You will permit me at least to thank you!”
Freddy’s eyes started from his head with horror, for it seemed, for one hideous moment, as though the Chevalier had every intention of embracing him. However, the excitable Frenchman contented himself with seizing both his hands, and exclaiming in a voice of profound emotion: “My benefactor!”
“No, no, assure you, nothing of that sort!” said Freddy. “At least—puts me in mind of something! Don’t know how you may be fixed for the ready! Happen to have a large sum about me: thought I might be needing it, but it turned out I didn’t. Beg you won’t hesitate to tell me if it ain’t quite convenient to you to lay down your blunt just at present!”
“Ah, you are the soul of generosity!” the Chevalier said, pressing his hands fervently. “But no! I too have about me a large sum of money!” An imp of mischief leaped into his eyes. “Shall I tell you? Yes, for could I withhold from you any secret? Your cousin did me the so-great honour to invite me to his logement, having, as he told me, an envie to pit his skill at piquet against mine. Eh bien! he has some skill, that one, but I was perhaps a little enraged—pour raison a moi connue!—and I did not choose that he should win. C’est du genre comique, n’est-ce pas?”
“Fuzzed the cards, did you?” said Freddy. “Hope you haven’t knocked him into horse nails! However, no concern of mine. Daresay he’ll make a recover: never known him to be rolled up yet! Thing is, ought to hire a chaise! Won’t want to travel by the Mail. Got a notion it don’t leave the General Post Office till after nightfall. Dashed uncomfortable business, travelling by night! Besides, ought to leave town immediately.”
“Soyez tranquil! I go to hire a post-chaise on the instant! One night we must be in Dover, for the packet, you must know, leaves at a little after eight in the morning. Have no fears! My angel shall be as a queen, and I her slave!”
Since Freddy was grappling with thoughts of his own, this chivalrous utterance drew from him only an abstracted nod. The Chevalier, at last releasing his hands, began to stride about the room, formulating his plans for flight. Freddy interrupted him without ceremony. “Tell you what!” he said. “Bring her to you! Won’t do for her to set out from m’sister’s house. Better not be seen here either. You know the Golden Cross? Very tolerable house, at Charing Cross. Meet you there, in an hour’s time. Not likely to see anyone we know, which we should, sure as check, if you set out from the Bear, in Piccadilly. Going back to Berkeley Square now: don’t want to waste any more time! Got important business to settle on my own account.”
He then picked up his hat, and his ebony cane, and departed, cutting short the Chevalier’s thanks and protestations.
Arrived once more in Berkeley Square, he found his sister civilly, if unenthusiastically, entertaining Miss Broughty in the drawing-room. From the wan look in one face, and the expression of long-suffering on the other, it was to be inferred that Meg’s attempts to divert her visitor’s mind had not been crowned with success. Upon Freddy’s entrance, Olivia started up, clasping her hands at her palpitating bosom, and exclaiming: “Oh, what have you done, sir?”
“Fixed it all right and tight,” responded Freddy. “Taking you to meet d’Evron at the Golden Cross in an hour’s time: be in Dover in time for dinner, I daresay. Packet to Calais tomorrow morning.”
This laconic explanation had the effect of momentarily stunning the ladies. Meg, the first to recover her power of speech, cried: “An elopement? She must not! Freddy, have you run mad?”
But Olivia, after gazing in a rapt manner at Freddy for several speechless moments, threw him into great embarrassment by seizing his hand, and kissing it. “Oh, Mr. Standen, how can I ever thank you?” she stammered. “Oh, how kind you are! Oh, I am so happy!”
“Thought you would be,” murmured Freddy, recovering his hand. “D’Evron very happy too. Means to take you to his mother immediately. Begs me to assure you—can place the utmost confidence in him! Going to be a queen, or some such thing: wasn’t attending very particularly, but got a notion that’s what he said.”
“But, Freddy, does she know the truth?” demanded Meg. “That he is not what we have believed him to be? That he is—”
“Oh, indeed, ma’am, I know everything!” Olivia assured her. “Oh, pray do not say I must not go to my Camille!”
“But—”
“Here, Meg, must have a word with you!” interrupted Freddy, gripping her arm, and propelling her towards the door. Outside the room, he released her, but said in a tone of strong censure: “If it ain’t just like you to be trying to throw a rub in the path, the very moment we are in a way to going on like winking! You hold your tongue, now, or you’ll plunge us all back into disorder!”
“Yes, but, Freddy, I have been thinking, and—”
“Well, I wish you won’t, because I never knew any good to come of it when you started thinking. Very likely to find ourselves in queer stirrups if we was to listen to you.”
“I declare you are the most odious creature alive!” said Meg indignantly. “Pray, have you considered what a situation I shall be in when that horrid woman discovers that I helped her daughter to elope?”
“Won’t discover it. Mean to warn her not to mention the matter. When Skelton tells her the girl ain’t been here—which reminds me: must remember to slip a couple of Yellow Boys into his hand!—well, when he tells her that, she’s bound to think of d’Evron. Won’t find him at his lodging. Paid his shot—at least, I hope he will—and gone! Plain as a pikestaff! Now, you be a good girl, Meg, and don’t, for the lord’s sake, try to think! Something more important to be done. Can’t let Miss Broughty go off without her nightgown! Must give her what she’ll need till she gets to Paris.”
“What, are you expecting me to give that wretched girl my own clothes?” demanded Meg.
“Won’t miss a nightgown, dash it! Better give her a shawl too.”
“If I do, will you promise never to tell Mama I had the least knowledge of this shocking business?”
“Promise anything!” said Freddy recklessly.
“Oh, very well, then!” Meg said, and went back into the drawing-room to invite Olivia to go upstairs with her to her bedchamber.
Some little time later, Freddy handed Miss Broughty into a hackney-coach, directed the coachman to drive to the Golden Cross, and took his seat beside his charge. At their feet reposed a modest valise, and over one arm Miss Broughty carried a folded shawl. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, her eyes were softly sparkling, and she appeared to be floating in some pleasurable dream. She was recalled by Freddy’s voice, addressing her, and turned towards him with a start. “Oh, I beg your pardon! I was not attending!”
“Just wanted to be sure all was right,” said Freddy. “M’sister give you everything you should have?”
“Oh, yes, she was so very kind, and she packed the bag with her own hands! I was quite overcome!”
“Did it herself, did she? Then I’ll lay a monkey she forgot something!”
“No, I am sure she did not! Only fancy! She would have me take such a pretty dress, to wear when I reach Paris, because she says this one I have on will be sadly crushed by the journey!”
A gleam of hope shone in Mr. Standen’s eye. “The lilac one?” he asked.
“No, it is not lilac, but green, and of the finest cambric!”
He sighed. “Thought she wouldn’t part with the lilac one,” he said mour
nfully. He passed under rapid mental review such articles as he supposed must be necessary to a female setting forth on a long journey, and suddenly said: “Hairbrush and comb. Toothbrush.”
Miss Broughty turned a stricken gaze upon him. “Oh, dear! I don’t think—Whatever shall I do?”
“Stop and purchase ’em,” replied Freddy, with decision. “Good thing you told me m’sister packed the bag. Where do you commonly buy such things?”
“I don’t know,” faltered Olivia. “I have not had occasion to buy them since I came to town. Oh, I am sure they can be had at Newton’s, in Leicester Square, only I—I have only a shilling or two in my purse, and I dare not go into Newton’s in case Mama might be there!”
“Get ’em for you,” said Freddy, putting his head out of the window to shout the new direction to the coachman.
“Oh, Mr. Standen, you are so very—! No, no, you must not!”
“Yes, I must,” said Freddy. “Can’t go off to France without a toothbrush. Wedding-present!”
Olivia saw nothing incongruous in this, but thanked him earnestly. While he braved the dangers of Newton’s Emporium, she remained cowering in her corner of the coach, dreading every instant that her mother’s face would appear at the window. But no such terrible sight assailed her eyes; and in a short space of time Mr. Standen rejoined her, placing on her lap a neat parcel; and the hack rumbled on towards Charing Cross.
Here, in the yard of the Golden Cross, pacing up and down, his watch in his hand, and on his face an expression of anxiety, they found the Chevalier. When he saw Olivia peeping from the window of the coach, he thrust his watch back into his pocket, and sprang forward to wrench open the door, exclaiming: “Mon ange, ma bien-aimée!”
“My Camille!” squeaked Olivia, almost falling out of the coach into his arms.
They embraced passionately. Mr. Standen, descending more soberly from the aged vehicle, observed these transports with fastidious pain, and felt that some explanation was due to the interested coachman. “French!” he said briefly. “Don’t you drive off! I shall be needing you. Er—no wish to meddle, d’Evron, but daresay you may not have noticed: couple of waiters looking at you over the blind! That your chaise? Get into it, if I were you!”
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