“Oh, no, no, no!” cried Lady Denville distressfully. “It is not repugnant to him, and he was not forced into it! He discussed it with me in the most reasonable manner, saying that while he was resolved on matrimony, he believed it would suit him best to—to enter upon a contract in the old-fashioned way, without violence of feeling on either side. And I must say, Kit, that I think he is very right, for the females he falls in love with are never eligible—in fact, excessively ineligible! Moreover, he is so very prone to fall in love, poor boy, that it is of the first importance to arrange a match for him with a sensible, well-bred girl who won’t break her heart, or come to points with him, every time she discovers that he has a chère amie.”
“Of the first importance—!” he exclaimed. “For Evelyn, of all men! I collect that if she is sufficiently indifferent and well-bred nothing else is of consequence! She may be bran-faced or swivel-eyed or—”
“On the contrary! It goes without saying that there must be nothing in her appearance to give Evelyn a disgust of her; and also that each of them should be ready to like the other.”
He sprang up, ejaculating: “Oh, good God!” He glanced down at her, his eyes very bright, but not with laughter. “You made such a marriage, Mama! Is that what you wish Evelyn to do? Is it?”
She did not answer for a moment; and when she did speak it was with a little constriction. “I didn’t make such a marriage, Kit. Your father fell in love with me. The Fancots said he was besotted, but nothing would turn him from his determination to marry me. And I—well, I was just seventeen, and he was so handsome, so exactly like the heroes schoolgirls dream of—! But the Fancots were right: we were very ill-suited.”
He said, in an altered tone: “I didn’t know—I beg your pardon, Mama!—I shouldn’t have spoken to you so. But you haven’t told me the truth. All this talk of Evelyn’s being resolved on matrimony, as though he were four-and-thirty rather than four-and-twenty—! Flummery!”
“I have told you the truth!” she declared indignantly. She read disbelief in his face, and amended this statement. “Well, some of it, anyway!”
He could not help smiling at this. “Tell me all the truth! A little while ago you said it was my uncle’s fault—also your fault—but in what conceivable way could either of you make it necessary for Evelyn to contract a marriage of convenience? Evelyn doesn’t depend on my uncle for his livelihood, nor is he answerable to him for anything he may choose to do! The only power my uncle has is to refuse to permit him to spend any part of his principal—if he should wish to do so!”
“But that is just what he does wish to do!” she replied. “At least, I can’t suppose that he wishes to do it precisely—except that it would be a great relief to him to be rid of all the worry and bother of my debts.”
“Your debts! But—Is Miss Stavely an heiress? and is Evelyn crazy enough to imagine that he will be able to dispose of her fortune as he pleases? It isn’t possible!”
“No, and he wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing, if it were! He means to settle my debts out of his own fortune.
He says—and you did too, Kit!—that Papa should have done so, and that it is just the same as if he had. And also he says that he is determined your uncle shall know nothing about it. So he went to see him, to try if he couldn’t prevail upon him to end the Trust—putting it on the score of his age, and how much he dislikes being treated as though he were a schoolboy. Which is true, Kit!”
“Yes, I know it is. What had my uncle to say to that?”
“Well, he didn’t say very much to Evelyn—only that he would be glad to be rid of the Trust, and would willingly end it the instant Evelyn had finished sowing his wild oats. But afterwards he came to see me, and although he was very stiff, I do him the justice to acknowledge that he discussed the matter with far less of that reserve of his which I find so daunting! He spoke very kindly of Evelyn, saying that he has many excellent qualities, and that in spite of being far too heedless and rackety he doesn’t commit horrid excesses, or frequent low company, which (Henry says) has become the fashion amongst a certain set of young men. And then he said he would be happy to see him married to some female of character, since he had been brought to believe that marriage would be the making of him, and cause him to become more settled and responsible—though not, he fears, such a pattern-card as you!”
“Much obliged to him! What can have possessed him to say anything so foolhardy? Did you give him snuff?”
She laughed. “No, I was more inclined to embrace him for holding you in esteem. Besides, I know it to be true. Oh, I don’t mean that you are a pattern-card of virtue, so you needn’t look so—so—”
“Dog-sick?” suggested her ungrateful offspring.
“Odious creature! All I meant to say—and your uncle too!—was that you are more—more dependable than Evelyn. You always were. I wish you will stop funning: this is a serious matter!” She looked up at him, smiling ruefully. “I know I’m lightminded, Kit, but not when it is a question of my sons’ welfare, I promise you! I would make any sacrifice—indeed, I have been wondering whether I ought not to change this room again, and make it all blue, or pink, or straw-coloured, no matter how commonplace it would be. They say that green is an unlucky colour, you know, and there’s no denying that my luck has been quite out for months, which is not the least helpful to poor Evelyn. I thought that if only I could win a fortune all his troubles would be over. Well, they would have been, but the luck hardly ever runs my way. Yes, and that puts me in mind of something that has me in a puzzle! One is for ever hearing of persons who have lost their fortunes at gaming, but one never hears of anyone who has won a fortune. It seems very odd to me. Where do all the lost fortunes go to?”
“Never into your pocket, love—that’s all I know! So don’t, I implore you, change this room! I dare say that would cost a fortune.”
“Yes, but I shouldn’t grudge a penny of it!” she said earnestly. She added, with a touch of asperity: “And I am quite at a loss to understand why you should go into whoops!”
“Never mind, Mama!” he said unsteadily. “Only don’t—don’t m-make sacrifices for Evelyn! I’m persuaded he won’t appreciate them as—as he ought!”
“I don’t care for that. But it’s of no consequence! I wasn’t thinking of fortunes and debts when I told you it was a serious matter: indeed, I can’t imagine how we come to be talking of such trivial things! Kit, I would not say so to your uncle, but from you I need conceal nothing! You think it is mercenary of me to arrange an eligible marriage for Evelyn, but it isn’t! It can’t be mercenary to wish him to be comfortable, which he will be, because Henry says the Trust shall be wound up as soon as he is safely married. He disclosed to me that he had never thought it right of Denville to create it, but considered himself bound in honour to abide by his expressed wish. Well, it would be nonsensical to deny that it is of the greatest importance for Evelyn to be free to do as he chooses with his inheritance, but that wouldn’t have weighed with me if I hadn’t felt the force of Henry’s words. Indeed, I wasn’t even thinking about it!” She hesitated, a crease between her arched brows. “No one understands Evelyn as well as you, Kit, but you have been abroad for so long that I fancy you don’t know—are not quite aware—Oh, dear, it is so very difficult to explain it to you!”
All trace of laughter had vanished from his eyes. They became suddenly intent, searching her face. He sat down again beside her, and took one of her hands in a reassuring clasp. “I know. I find myself unable to explain to you the feeling I’ve had—oh, for a long time now!—that something is amiss. But what it may be I’ve never discovered, which has made me think it could be nothing of a serious nature.”