I know you’ll not take offense at my putting it so baldly, Charles-after all, neither your cousin Dallingham nor his father could be ranked among your favorites, and your father was estranged from his late brother for many years. I recall that Dallingham applied to your esteemed parent for assistance with his debts on more than one occasion, and that your father-quite rightly-showed him the door.
Of course, even as I took him up that night, I knew that Dallingham was not without friends. He could make himself charming when need be. I will own that Dallingham’s handsome face made him agreeable to the ladies, but most matchmaking mamas steered their chicks clear of him, knowing he hadn’t a feather to fly with, and that his reputation as a rake was not unearned.
I fear Miss Bannister was easy prey to such a man. She is an orphan. Her guardian was a half-brother who gave little thought to her; he gave her over to the care of her aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Bingsley-Lord Bingsley also serving as the trustee of the large fortune that will come to her a few years hence.
But the Bingsleys, as I have said, do not go about much, and have not been seen in Town for some years. When Miss Bannister was old enough to make her come-out, therefore, her half-brother arranged that she would spend the season with her godmother, a most foolish woman, who could by no means be accounted a suitable chaperone.
I soon had it from Dallingham that her half-brother-undoubtedly misled by Dallingham’s charm-had granted his consent to this hasty wedding.
“You think it unseemly, high stickler that you are!” Dallingham accused me now.
“I? A high stickler?” I said. “Oh no. One only wonders, what brought about a need for such haste?”
“Tradesmen and others,” he replied, quite honestly.
“Forgive me if I speak of matters which do not closely concern me, Dallingham,” I said, “but you find me all curiosity. Miss Bannister’s godmother has bandied it about that Miss Bannister does not come into her fortune upon marriage. She must reach the age of twenty.”
“Ah, and you wonder that I could wait so long? The expectation, my dear. The tradesmen foresee a day in the not-so-distant future when I shall be a very wealthy man. They are willing to forestall pressing me until that day. In fact, they are quite willing to extend my credit.”
We turned to idle chitchat for a time, during which he let fall that the lovely phaeton he had so recently overturned was yours-I am so sorry, Charles!
I changed horses at Merriton, and we were well on our way again when he said, “Sorry to have cut you out where the Bannister was concerned old boy. But I daresay my need was the more pressing. From all I hear, Rossiter, you’re as rich as Golden Ball.”
“No such thing,” I said coolly.
He chuckled. “No need to cut up stiff with me,” he said. “You’ve had your eye on her, haven’t you?”
“My dear Dallingham,” I said, “she is your wife. It would be most improper in me to respond to such a comment.”
In truth, Charles, she had come to my notice. However, unlike most women-who are drawn to me by my fortune and rank-she had no need of either. This being the case, I was sure I held no attraction to Miss Bannister. While I don’t suppose a great many children have been frightened by my visage, or told by their nursemaids that I shall come to steal them if they don’t mind their manners, I’ve not Dallingham’s handsome face.
I did not blame the ladies of the ton for being taken in by him, for I too readily remembered one beauty who flattered me into believing that all mirrors lie, and ’twas a heady experience. That was long after I’d had my town bronze, so what chance does a chit fresh from the schoolroom have against the influence of a handsome face?
By the time we arrived at Bingsley Hall, my spirits were quite low. These were by no means lifted when Dallingham, at the moment we passed the gatekeeper’s lodge, announced with a covetous eye, “She’s to inherit all this, too, you know! Bingsley dotes on her.”
I had every intention of leaving at the first possible moment, but Lord Bingsley would not hear of it. For my part, I could not help but like the old fellow and his lady, who proffered every kindness imaginable-the upshot of this being my acquiescence to the Bingsleys’ insistence that I stay the night. My relative was not expecting me at any certain date, and so I agreed to break my journey with them.
“Good man! For we’ve something of a celebration this night, haven’t we?” Lord Bingsley said, clapping Dallingham on the back.
Dallingham, who had apparently already met Lord Bingsley, seemed relieved not to be met by an outraged relative when introduced to his wife’s aunt. Lady Bingsley, if not quite as effusive as her husband, was nonetheless all that a hostess should be.
For her part, the former Miss Bannister seemed, as always, becomingly shy in the company of gentlemen, and to my own relief, was not at all demonstrative with her new spouse.
In fact, dear Charles, the two of them seldom looked at each other. Dallingham was eyeing the thick carpets, the beautiful vases, and charming chandelier with the air of a man who is calculating the price each might fetch at auction. One would have thought him a solicitor’s clerk, practicing the art of taking inventory of the Bingsleys’ estate. He made little effort to hide his happy contemplation of taking possession of their goods upon their demise. He divided his time between this and the depletion of Lord Bingsley’s cellars.
Watching him, I found myself seething, until I felt a gentle hand on my sleeve. “My dear Lord Rossiter,” the new Lady Dallingham said softly, “how glad I am that you have come.”
She moved away rather quickly, and spoke to her aunt, all the while blushing.
I did not suppose for a moment that Dallingham, a man whose name has been linked with two actresses and any number of fair Cyprians, thought her very lovely. She tended to plumpness, a little. Her face was not that of a classic beauty, and no one would mistake her for a diamond of the first water. But there are other gems than diamonds, my dear Charles, and I found much in her that was admirable and becoming.
I wanted to ask if something was troubling her, if there was any way in which I might be of service, but I had no opportunity for private speech with her that evening-which was, I tell you plainly, easily one of the strangest nights of my life.
We were beset by real difficulties at the table that evening. Dallingham wasn’t paying the least attention to me or his wife; he was admiring the silver and china, repeatedly congratulating Lord Bingsley on his fine cellars, making gratifying comments to Lady Bingsley on the excellence of the soup á la reine, and remarking on the beauty of the epergne at the center of the table. (It depicted tigers chasing one another round about-not to my taste, frankly-don’t like to dine with figures of things that would just as soon dine on me.)
But just as the second course-a haunch of venison, saddle of lamb, boiled capon, and spring chicken-was served, Lady Bingsley said in a ringing voice, “Pistols at dawn!”
Dallingham and I exchanged looks of some consternation, even as Lord Bingsley calmly replied, “You’ll never do me in that way, my dear.”
“I know a good deal about pistols,” her ladyship replied. “Don’t I, Amelia?”
“Yes, Aunt,” the former Miss Bannister replied.
“Yes, yes,” said his lordship, “but for all that you know about them, you are an execrable shot.” He continued to apply himself to the venison, even as her ladyship appeared to apply herself to the problem of shooting him. Dallingham, so far from being dismayed, seemed on the verge of losing any semblance of gravity still left to him, while his new wife calmly continued to take small bites of the lamb.