EVER SINCE THE EVENING WHEN LORD WROTHAM had escorted Hero to Almack’s Assembly Rooms in his stead, Sherry had been careful to afford no other altruistic gentleman an opportunity for displaying his chivalry. If Hero were invited to attend the Assembly under some matron’s wing, he hailed this as a reprieve, and took himself blithely off on his own amusements; but if no matron came forward he offered himself up on the altar of duty with a very good grace, even going so far as to check any attempt on Hero’s part to convince him that she would be pleased to stay at home. Heedless his lordship might be, but however little, during the twenty-four years of his existence, he had been in the habit of considering any other desires than his own, he was not deliberately selfish, and he would have thought it a shocking thing to have condemned his wife to forgo a pleasure she obviously enjoyed merely because he himself would have preferred to have been disporting himself in quite another fashion. It was true that when he had so lightheartedly embarked on matrimony he had not bargained for the obligations attached to it; it was equally true that he had warned Hero that he had no intention of altering his habits to suit her convenience. He had moulded his ideas on the conduct of various sportive young matrons of his acquaintance, who certainly felt no overmastering desire to keep their husbands at their sides, but contrived — perfectly discreetly, to be sure — to amuse themselves without these complaisant gentlemen. But Sherry had realized early in his married career that Hero differed essentially from such worldly-wise ladies. Having neither the training that would have fitted her for fashionable life, nor relatives to whom she could turn, she was dependent upon her husband to a degree that would have alarmed him very much had he known at the outset how it would be. Within a month of their taking up their residence in Half Moon Street, it had been borne in upon his lordship that his wife was no more fit to carve her way through life than the kitten he called her. His lordship, who had never known responsibility, or shown the least ability to regulate his own career on respectable lines, found himself sole lord and master of a confiding little creature who placed implicit faith in his judgment, and relied upon him not only to guide her footsteps, but to rescue her from the consequences of her own ignorance. A man with a colder heart than Sherry’s would have shrugged and turned a blind eye to his wife’s difficulties. But the Viscount’s heart was not cold, and just as his protective instinct had once made him search all night through the woods at Sheringham Place for a favourite dog which had dug deep into a rabbit burrow and had been trapped there, so it compelled him to take such care of his Hero as occurred to him. She had always looked up to him and adored him, and while he took this for granted he was by no means oblivious to it, and did his best to be kind to her. He was amused, but a little touched, to discover that no deeper felicity was known to her than to go about in his company; she would grow out of that soon enough, he supposed, quite forgetting that when she had shown a willingness to go out with Lord Wrotham the instinct of possessiveness in him had led him to discourage such practices in no uncertain manner.
So the Viscount gratified his wife and all his well-wishers by appearing with staggering regularity at the Assemblies, causing even leading optimists, like Lady Sefton, to prophesy that his marriage would be the making of him.
Another gentleman who had taken to patronizing Almack’s more than was usual was that ladies’ favourite, Sir Montagu Revesby. Blackballed he might have been by his fellow-men at Watier’s, but for all their exclusiveness the patronesses of Almack’s were not proof against air, manner, and the easy address which characterized Sir Montagu. Had he been of plebeian birth, of course, no amount of air or manner would have availed him in those august eyes, but happily for himself his lineage was irreproachable. Such censorious remarks as were made by Mr Fakenham, and others of his kidney, were generally ascribed to jealousy, and not much heeded; and it was only the older and soberer members amongst the ladies who viewed with disapproval Sir Montagu’s increasing attentions towards Miss Milborne.
For there could be no doubt that Sir Montagu’s sudden predeliction for dancing had its root in his admiration of the Incomparable. Until his entry into the lists, the knowledgeable had considered Lord Wrotham to be his Grace of Severn’s most serious rival. But Wrotham had never succeeded in walking away with Miss Milborne from under his grace’s nose, and this was what Sir Montagu in the easiest manner possible contrived to do. It may have been that the Beauty did not altogether relish the certainty with which Severn claimed her hand for the German waltz; it may have been that she found Sir Montagu’s light touch a relief after the passionate earnestness of her young admirers; certain it was that she bestowed her hand on him for the waltz, and left his grace discomfited. His self-consequence was too great to allow of his following George’s example of folding his arms and gloweringly watching Miss Milborne’s progress round the room. He led another lady out to dance, but his manoeuvres on the floor to keep Miss Milborne under observation were extremely diverting to several persons who had been watching the little comedy, notably my Lord Sheringham, who gave a spurt of laughter and bade his wife, with whom he was dancing, watch Monty cutting Severn out with the Incomparable! His grace was too pompous to be popular with the greater number of his contemporaries, and the notion of cutting him out himself occurred to Sherry. He entered into a wager with his cousin Ferdy that he would do it, backing himself for a handsome sum, and engaging not to make the attempt until the Duke was again soliciting Miss Milborne’s hand. He surrendered Hero to Mr Ringwood, who had come with them to the Assembly Room, and bore down upon Miss Milborne just as the Duke made her a formal bow, and began to say: “May I hope, ma’am — ?”
“’Evening, Severn!” interrupted his lordship cheerfully. “My dance, Bella, I think!”
The Duke eyed him frostily. “I was about to beg Miss Milborne to do me the honour of bestowing her hand upon me,” he said. “Ma’am — ”
His most mischievous smile danced in Sherry’s eyes, drawing an answering gleam from Miss Milborne. “Oh, I was before you in the lists!” he said outrageously. “For old times’ sake, Bella, my sweet life!”
“Sherry, how can you?” she said, a tremor of laughter in her voice. But she gave him her hand and let him lead her on to the floor. “You are quite shameless!” she told him, as they began to circle round the room. “I had not thought what a long time it is since I danced the waltz with you!”
“Too long, by Jove!” responded his lordship promptly. “Ah, Bella, you should never have refused me! What a couple we must have made!”
She laughed up at him. “I never liked you as well until you gave up wanting me to marry you, Sherry!”
“I? Good God, don’t I carry a broken heart in my breast?”
“You hide it admirably! Wretch! You did not wear the willow for my sake for as much as one day!”
His arm tightened round her waist; he smiled down into her eyes. “If there weren’t so many people watching, do you know what I would do, Bella? I’d kiss you! Dashed if I ever saw you look more beautiful!”
“For shame, Sherry! Remember, you are a sober married man now!”
“Lord, yes, so I am!” He glanced round the room. “What has become of Kitten? I left her with Gil, and I’d give a pony to see the old fellow waltzing! No, by Jupiter, he’s ratted! She’s dancing with George.”
“Yes,” said Miss Milborne, losing her sparkle. “How well they suit, to be sure! I am happy to see George in better spirits.”
“Kitten always can contrive to cheer the poor fellow up,” said his lordship unconcernedly.
The poor fellow was saying at that moment: “I should like to know what the deuce Sherry means by making Isabella laugh like that! Yes, and he made her blush a moment ago! I saw her!”
“Do not look at them!” said Hero. “If I were you, I would not let Isabella see that I cared whom she danced with, George!”
“Well, I do care,” he replied unnecessarily. “Besides, I don’t see what should get into Sherry to make him flirt with her when he is married to you! For that is what he is doing, Kitten! There’s no getting away from it!”
“Well, if I do not mind it I am sure you need not.”
His brilliant, dark eyes glanced down into hers. “Do you not mind it?” he asked forthrightly.
She sighed faintly. “Only a very little, George. If we went into the other room we need not see them, and you could bring me a glass of orgeat, and we should be comfortable, don’t you think?”
He led her off the floor. “No. There is no comfort for either of us!” he said, with suppressed passion.
However, a certain measure of comfort was found in the refreshment saloon, for they discovered Mr Ringwood and Ferdy there, and Ferdy at once disclosed the nature of the wager which he had lost. Hero was a good deal amused, and George’s brow lightened for a moment. But it soon clouded again when he recalled that when he had made just such an attempt as Sherry’s earlier in the evening, it had not met with a like degree of success. When Sherry presently brought Miss Milborne in the saloon in search of iced lemonade, he bore down upon them instantly, and, ignoring Sherry, earnestly besought the Beauty to dance the next waltz with him. She excused herself, and would have joined the group round Hero had he not barred the way.
“You shall not fob me off so!” he said in a vibrant voice. “Why will you not so much as dance one waltz with me? What have I done to offend you? Answer me, Isabella!”
“Good gracious, nothing in the world!” she replied. “It is merely that I am engaged to dance — ”
“With Severn! It will not do! You will scarcely dance every waltz with him! You use me as though — ”
“For God’s sake, do not make a scene, my lord! Remember where you are, I beg of you! We are attracting attention!”
“I care nothing for that! Will you dance with me?”
“The next country dance, then, if you will but conduct yourself towards me with more propriety!”
He was obliged to be satisfied, but nothing could have been more disastrous than the dance so grudgingly granted to him. He attempted every time the movement of the dance brought them together to continue a conversation which soon developed into a lively quarrel; and as Miss Milborne disliked being made to look ridiculous, and was well aware of the amused eyes upon them, she came near to losing her temper, and said some cutting things, which she did not mean, but which George took in very bad part.
“Dashed if I ever thought I should be so diverted at one of Almack’s Assemblies!” said Sherry frankly. “All the same, Kitten, I think we’ll be off before George comes off the floor, or I shall have you kissing him again as like as not, for he’ll certainly need comfort from the looks of it. Are you coming, Gil?”
Mr Ringwood expressed his readiness to leave the rooms, and as Ferdy wandered up at that moment, the Viscount invited them both to return with him to Half Moon Street for some more invigorating refreshment than was to be found at Almack’s. The Sheringhams’ carriage was called for, and the entire party withdrew, falling in with Sir Montagu Revesby in the vestibule downstairs, and leaving the building in his company. Sherry naturally begged him also to repair to Half Moon Street, but before Sir Montagu had time to reply to this invitation an interruption of an entirely unexpected nature occurred. A figure which had been standing motionless alongside the house started forward, and was seen in the light of a street lantern to be a young woman, clasping in her arms a bundle wrapped in a shawl. If she had not been so haggard, she would have been remarkably pretty, but her face was deathly pale, and there was such a distraught look in her eyes that they seemed scarcely sane. She paid no heed to Hero, descending the steps of the house on Sherry’s arm, but put herself in Sir Montagu’s way, and said in a low, imploring voice: “They told me at your lodging that you would not see me, that you was come here, but I must, I must speak with you! For God’s sake, do not cast me off! Again and again I have been to your lodging, but it is always the same answer which I get! I am desperate, Montagu, desperate!”
There was a moment’s appalled silence. Everyone stood still, Ferdy goggling at the stranger, and Revesby holding himself tense, his hand clenched on his walking-cane. He looked suddenly pale, but it might have been the uncertain lamplight which made him appear so. His voice broke the silence. “My good young woman, you are making a mistake,” he said languidly. “I fancy I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
A moan burst from the girl. “Cruel! Cruel!” she uttered. “Acquaintance! Oh, my God! You shall not cast me off so, you dare not! I will follow you wherever you go! Have you no pity, no compassion? Will you disown your own child? Look! Can you see this innocent, and be unmoved by the ruin you have brought on me?” She opened the shawl as she spoke and disclosed a sleeping infant.
“Good God!” said Mr Ringwood.
“I never saw you before in my life,” said Revesby, still smiling, “You are certainly mad, and I must suppose you to have escaped from Bedlam.”
“Mad! No! Yet if I am not it is small thanks to you!” she cried wildly. “You said it should be well with me, you promised me — you swore to me — ”
“For the lord’s sake, Sherry, get your wife out of this!” said Mr Ringwood, in an urgent under-voice. “We shall have a crowd about us in a trice!”
Sherry, who had been standing transfixed by amazement, pulled himself together. “Yes, by God!” he said. “Here, Kitten, into the carriage! Can’t be dawdling here all night!”
But Hero had withdrawn her hand from his arm. “Oh, the poor creature!” she exclaimed pitifully, and ran down the remainder of the steps to the distracted girl.
“Now we are in the basket!” muttered Sherry. “Good God, Gil, what’s to be done? What a damned thing!”
“Think I’ll be going home, Sherry, dear old boy,” said Ferdy in a very cowardly manner. “Won’t be needing me!”
“No, Ferdy!” said Mr Ringwood firmly. “Can’t rat on Sherry. Devilish awkward situation!”
“You know what, Gil?” Ferdy confided in his ear. “Always said the fellow was a commoner! Proves it!”
“Well, I don’t like him: never did: but dash it, I’m deuced sorry for any fellow in a fix like this!” responded Mr Ringwood frankly.
“Yes, by God!” agreed Ferdy, struck most forcibly by this point of view.
Hero, meanwhile, had put her arm round the stranger. “Oh, pray do not — ! There, let me cover up the dear little baby! Don’t cry! Only tell me what it is, and indeed I will help you!”
“Kitten! No, really, Kitten! Dash it, you can’t — Not our affair!” expostulated Sherry.
For once she paid no heed to him; the girl was speaking in a panting voice. “Ask him if he dare deny his own child! Ask him if he did not promise me marriage! Ask him if I was not an honest maid when he saw me first? O God, what is to become of me?”
“No, Kitten, for heaven’s sake — !” said Sherry quickly, as Hero turned towards Revesby. “You can’t ask Monty — Why the devil don’t you do something, Monty, instead of standing there?”
“I beg Lady Sheringham will not allow herself to be imposed upon,” Revesby said, his voice a little strained. “The unfortunate female appears to be out of her senses. I recommend she should be escorted to the nearest Roundhouse.”
A moan from the girl made Hero clasp her more securely in her arms, and say indignantly: “How dare you? Have you no compassion for the poor soul? Is this dear little baby indeed yours?”
“His! his!” cried the girl. “Look, is she not like him?”
Ferdy, peering at the unconscious infant, said dubiously: “Queer thing, the way females can see a likeness in a baby. Well, what I mean is they don’t look like anything much. Remember thinking so when my sister Fairford’s eldest was born. She and my mother would have it it was the image of poor Fairford. Mind you, I’m not saying he isn’t a plain-looking fellow, Fairford, but — ”
“Oh, be quiet, Ferdy!” interrupted Sherry, quite exasperated. “Yes, I thought as much! Now we are beginning to attract a crowd! Ten to one, someone will be leaving Almack’s at any moment, too, and a pretty set of gudgeons we must look — For God’s sake, Monty, take the girl away!”
“My dear Sherry, I have already stated that I never set eyes on her before in my life. I must decline any responsibility in this affair. If you are wise, you will summon the Watch and have the wench removed.”
All this time the Sheringhams’ footman had been standing holding open the door of the barouche, apparently deaf and blind to what was going on. A couple of sedan chair bearers, who had lounged over from the opposite side of the street, now showed an inclination to take up the cudgels in defence of the deserted girl; the door of the Assembly Rooms opened and voices sounded. Revesby turned abruptly on his heel and strode off down the street. A despairing cry from the girl made Mr Ringwood shudder, and goaded Sherry into desperate action.
“Here, for the lord’s sake get into the carriage!” he said, pushing both women towards it.
“Yes, do pray come with me!” Hero said to her protégée. “The baby will take cold in this horrid, draughty street, and I promise we will look after you, won’t we, Sherry?”
“Yes. I mean — well, never mind that now!” replied her harassed husband. “Drive home, John!”
The coachman acknowledged this command with great stateliness; the door was shut on the two women; the footman jumped up behind; and the barouche moved forward, just as a party of ladies, with their attendant squires, began to descend the steps of Almack’s.
Ferdy was still staring at the spot where he had last seen Revesby. Mr Ringwood thrust a hand in his arm and drew him to walk with himself and the Viscount towards Half Moon Street.
“Never seen anything to beat it!” Ferdy said. “Fellow just walked off! Not a word to anyone! Ratted, by God! Bad, very bad!”
“You wanted to rat yourself,” Mr Ringwood reminded him.
“Devilish awkward start! Don’t know that I blame him.”
“No right to leave Sherry with the baby,” said Ferdy severely. “Not Sherry’s baby, dash it!”
“The girl’s mad!” Sherry said.
“No, she ain’t,” contradicted Mr Ringwood. “Dare say it is Revesby’s baby: wouldn’t be the first.”
“Well, damn it, man, what of it? Deuced unfortunate she should have run Monty to earth outside Almack’s, but no one ever supposed he was a saint!”
“Ferdy’s right,” said Mr Ringwood. “Fellow is a commoner! No business to leave the baby to starve. Easy enough to provide for it if it is his baby.”
“Girl seemed very certain of it,” offered Ferdy. “Said it was like him. Tell you what, Gil: take another look at the baby!”
“No use doing that. Fellow disowned it. Can’t force him to provide for it.”
“Dash it!” Sherry exclaimed. “If every bit of mus — ”
“Didn’t look to me like a bit of muslin, Sherry.”
“I don’t believe Monty — ”
“No, very likely you don’t,” said Mr Ringwood ruthlessly. “Fellow’s a damned rake, if you ask me.”
“Lord, who cares for that? Anyone would think — ”
“No one cares. Point is — ”
“Fellow has a perfect right to be a rake,” agreed Ferdy. “No harm in that. No right to leave the baby in the gutter. Bad ton.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” nodded Mr Ringwood. “Devilish bad ton!”
“It’s a damned coil!” Sherry said, frowning. “I wouldn’t have thought it of Monty! Dash it, there must be a mistake! Monty wouldn’t walk off like that if the wench had been one of his fancy pieces!”
“Looked devilish sick,” said Mr Ringwood dispassionately.
“Sick as a horse,” corroborated Ferdy. He added, after a moment’s reflection: “Would have myself. Dash it, middle of King Street! Everyone coming away from Almack’s! But I’ll tell you what, Gil: I wouldn’t have left Sherry with the baby. Not Sherry!” Struck by a sudden thought, he looked at his cousin. “What are you going to do with the baby, Sherry?”
“Damme, I’m not going to do anything with the baby!” replied Sherry indignantly. “It ain’t my affair!”
Mr Ringwood coughed discreetly. “Dear old fellow — Lady Sherry! What does she mean to do with it?”
“That’s it,” nodded Ferdy. “Seemed very taken with it.”
“She’ll do what I tell her,” answered Sherry shortly.
“Well, what are you going to tell her?” asked Mr Ringwood.
“I shall think of something,” said Sherry, with cold dignity.
Mr Ringwood began to think that there was more in Mr Fakenham’s desire to disassociate himself from these proceedings than he had at first perceived. He said tentatively: “Dare say you’d like us to leave you, dear boy. Delicate situation: won’t want guests!”
“Oh no, you don’t!” retorted his lordship.
“Just as you please, Sherry!” said Mr Ringwood. “Only thought you might prefer to be alone with Lady Sherry!”
“Well, I wouldn’t!” said his lordship bluntly.
They had arrived by this time at his house. They were admitted by Bradgate, who informed them that my lady had taken the young person upstairs to her bedchamber. His manner indicated that he accepted no responsibility for this, and washed his hands of whatever consequences might ensue. The Viscount told him to fetch the brandy to the drawing-room, and escorted his two friends up the one pair of stairs which led to his apartment. A fire burned in the grate, but the candles had not been lit. The Viscount thrust a taper into the fire and went round the room kindling the wicks, a heavy scowl marring his countenance. The canary hanging on the window embrasure awoke, apparently in some confusion of mind, and began to sing its morning hymn. The Viscount, with a few bitter animadversions on birds in general, and misguided friends in particular, cast a cloth over the cage and the song ceased abruptly. The butler shortly appeared with a tray, and said in accents of extreme repulsion that he understood that the young person would be spending the night in the spare bedroom. He then withdrew, and the Viscount exclaimed: “Well, that’s a nice thing! If it isn’t just like Kitten! Now what am I to do? I’m dashed if I’ll have Monty’s chere-amie in my spare bedroom!”
“Baby, too,” said Ferdy, shaking his head. “Bound to squall. They do. Very awkward, Sherry. Don’t know what you can do.”
“Well, for God’s sake let us have a little brandy!” said his lordship, striding over to the table and seizing the decanter.
It was some time before Hero came downstairs, but after about half an hour she put in an appearance, still wearing her silk and gauze ball dress, but with her jewels discarded and her curls a little ruffled. She came quickly into the room, a look of great distress in her face, and went towards Sherry with her hands held out, and saying impetuously: “Oh, Sherry, it is so shocking! She has told me the whole, and I never thought anyone could be so wicked! It is all too true! That dear little baby is indeed Sir Montagu’s own child, but he will not give poor Ruth a penny for its maintenance, no, nor even see Ruth! Oh, Sherry, how can such things be?”
“Yes, I know, Kitten. It’s devilish bad, but — but you have only the girl’s word for it, and I dare say, if we only knew — ”
“Might be a mistake,” explained Ferdy, anxious to be helpful.
She turned her large eyes towards him. “Oh no, Ferdy, there can be none indeed! You see, she told me everything! She is not a wicked girl — I am sure she is not! She is quite simple, and she did not know what she was doing!”
“They all say that,” said Mr Ringwood gloomily.
“How can you, Gil? I had not thought you would be so unjust!” Hero cried. “She is nothing but a country maid, and I can tell that her father is a very good sort of man — respectable, I mean, for no sooner did he discover the dreadful truth than he cast her out of his home, and will not have anything to say to her, which always seems to me shockingly cruel, though Cousin Jane says it is to be expected, because of the wages of sin, which comes in the Bible! Indeed, she is quite an innocent girl, for how could it be otherwise when she believed in Sir Montagu’s promise to marry her? Why, even I know better than that!”
Ferdy, who had been listening intently, said at this point: “Now, that’s a thing I wouldn’t do, Gil! One thing to seduce a girl — though, mind you, I think it’s a mistake, myself! Only leads to trouble, and the lord knows there are plenty of ladybirds on the town! — quite another to tell her you mean to marry her. Dash it, too smoky by half!”
Disregarding this interruption, Hero hurried on: “Sherry, she is in such distress! I do not know how she has survived, and if it had not been for a good natured woman who took pity on her, she must have died of starvation! But it seems that this woman is one of the fruit women at the Opera House, and perhaps Ruth ought not to stay with her, for I recall that you told me, Sherry, that those women — ”
“Yes, well, never mind that!” said Sherry hastily.
“Oh no! I remember you said I must not mention it! But the thing is that she took Ruth in, for Ruth came to London to find Sir Montagu, never dreaming that he would refuse even to see her! But he is the most heartless — Sherry, indeed I am sorry to speak so of a friend of yours, but it is beyond anything! To seduce this poor, ignorant girl — for that is what he did — !”
“Yes, but wait a moment, Kitten!” protested Sherry. “Where? I mean, if she is a simple country maid, as you say she is, I don’t see — ”
“It was when he was staying in Hertfordshire last winter. I did not know of it, but I dare say you will, Sherry: Ruth says he has an uncle who lives near Hitchin. And it seems he had gone down to stay with him for Christmas, and that is how he met Ruth.”
Mr Ringwood nodded. “That’s true enough, Sherry. Old Fortescue Revesby. Expectations,” he added darkly.
“I know all that!” Sherry said impatiently. “But what on earth should take him to seduce this wretched girl — ”
“Oh, I don’t know, Sherry!” interposed Ferdy fair-mindedly. “Pass the time away — devilish dull, I dare say!”
“Yes, that is what I think,” Hero agreed. “But how wicked, Ferdy! How heartless! How could he do so? He has ruined her for mere sport, for I don’t believe he ever cared for her in the least degree!”
“You know what?” suddenly said Ferdy, addressing himself to Mr Ringwood. “Couldn’t make out why it all sounds so dashed familiar! Got it now! Saw a piece at the Lyceum Theatre just like it. Father threw the girl out into the snow. Ruth’s father throw her into the snow, Kitten?”
“No, no — at least, I don’t know! But this is true, Ferdy!”
“Never heed Ferdy!” commanded the Viscount. “The thing is, Kitten, it ain’t our affair, and we can’t — ”
Under the wide, shocked gaze from Hero’s eyes he faltered, and cast a wild look towards Mr Ringwood for support.
Mr Ringwood did his best. “Sherry don’t care to have Revesby’s baby in his spare bedroom, Kitten. Can’t blame him: might keep him awake.”
“Oh no, but just for tonight — ! Sherry, you would not be so unkind as to turn the poor soul away at this hour of night! You could not!”
“No, I don’t say I’ll do that, but the thing is, Kitten — Dash it, what the devil does Monty mean by saddling me with his by-blow?” exclaimed Sherry, in accents of strong indignation.
“Now I come to think of it,” abruptly remarked Mr Fakenham, “it wasn’t the Lyceum. It was the Non-Pareil. I’ll think of the name of the piece in a minute.”
“I thought such things only happened in the theatre,” Hero said sorrowfully. “I did not know men could be so wicked!”
“Well, but Kitten, you don’t quite understand!” Sherry said desperately. “It sounds bad, but ten to one there’s another side to the story. These little affairs, you know — it don’t do to be talking of them, but — dash it, it’s the sort of thing that might happen to anyone!”
“Oh no!” Hero cried in a breaking voice, her eyes swimming in tears. “Not you, Sherry! Not you!”
“No, no — My God, I hope not!” said his lordship, with a sudden hair-raising vision of the scene which had taken place in King Street. He discovered that his cousin and Mr Ringwood, both much moved by Hero’s cry and look of anguish, were gazing at him reproachfully, and demanded in a voice of wrath: “What the devil are you looking like that for, the pair of you? I never seduced anyone in my life, I’ll have you know! What’s more, I’m not the sort of fellow to leave his bastards to starve in the gutter. I mean, I wouldn’t if I had any, but I haven’t — at least, if I have I never heard of them! Oh, the devil!”
His friends, greatly discomposed, at once begged pardon, Ferdy explaining that he had been momentarily carried away. The Viscount was seriously ruffled, but Mr Ringwood had the presence of mind to refill his glass, and Hero, holding one of his hands between both of hers, said: “Oh no, Sherry, I know you would not! And you will let me help this poor girl, will you not?”
“I suppose something will have to be done about her,” said his lordship. “Though I’m damned if I know what! I shall have to speak to Monty, but I can tell you I don’t like to do it, for it’s as plain as a pikestaff he don’t mean to own the child.”
“No, no, do not speak to him!” Hero said. “He has done harm enough, and he shall not come near poor Ruth again! I have thought of a scheme that will answer delightfully! She shall go to Melton, and you will let her live in the little empty cottage by the west gate, Sherry, won’t you? And she will help Mrs Goring at the hunting-box, because you know how Mrs Goring told me when we were there that she could not come by a respectable girl to assist her — oh no, perhaps you do not, but it was so indeed!”
“Hang it, Kitten, she isn’t a respectable girl!” expostulated Sherry. “And if I know Mrs Goring — ”
“No, but only consider!” begged Hero. “You may buy her a wedding ring, and we will say that her husband is dead, and no one need know the truth, and she can be comfortable! He was killed at Waterloo! No one could wonder at that!”
“Killed at Waterloo?” interpolated Mr Ringwood.
“Very good notion,” approved Ferdy. A doubt shook him. “At least, I’m not very sure, now I come to think of it.”
It was apparent that both he and Mr Ringwood were bending their minds to mathematical calculation. Mr Ringwood was the first to reach a conclusion. “No,” he said. “June of last year, wasn’t it? That’s eighteen months ago.”
“I make it that, too,” said Ferdy, pleased to find himself in agreement with his friend. “Have to think of something else. Very happy to assist you. Dare say I shall hit upon a good notion.”
“Oh, we will say he died of some illness!” Hero decided. “There can be no difficulty! And Ruth was used to be a chambermaid in an inn, so she will know how to go on, Sherry. And if you should not object, I think we should give her what we give to Maria. I know it is a little expensive, but we must consider the baby, you know.”
Sherry was so much relieved to find that Hero had no wish to keep her unfortunate protégée permanently in the spare bedroom that he agreed to this plan, even going so far as to hand over, upon demand, a bill to defray the cost of suitable baby-clothes for the destitute infant. Hero thanked him warmly and went away to set Ruth’s mind at rest, leaving Sherry to congratulate himself on having brushed through the business better than had at one time seemed possible, Mr Ringwood to wrap himself in apparently profound thought, and Ferdy to devise an artistic death for the hypothetical husband.