Indiscretion (44 page)

‘When you said agree with you on everything, no matter how absurd,’ Caroline said, as they turned into the yard of the White Hart, ‘I didn’t know you would —’

‘Say something so
very
absurd? Yes, apologies for that, it must have quite shocked you. But you see my reasoning. Fanny has always taken you as her model, inexplicable as it is; and so my hope is that if she supposes you reconciled to marriage, then ...’

‘Oh, yes, I do see. But what do you think of Charles Carraway? Do you want your sister to marry him?’

‘Yes, because if she doesn’t, she will ruin herself for his sake; and because she does, God help her, love the man, and I think he loves her as far as it’s possible for him to love anything better than his mirror. And besides, I do believe she can manage him. She might even make something of him at last. What do you think?’

‘I think ... yes, I would go along with that.’

‘You’re not under obligation to agree with me now, you know.’

‘I know, idiot. Stephen, this deception
—
this pretence
—
’ she glanced at the ring on her finger
‘—
it will surely have to be revealed at some point.’

‘Oh, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. And with luck it will have done its work by then. You’re tired, I think.’

She was: an odd, dropping, childlike tiredness of body; and an even worse one of mind, as if she had been coldly and diligently thinking for a whole week. Yet I haven’t been thinking of anything really, she thought, paradoxically: and I don’t feel as if I could ever think again.

‘Well, I prescribe an early supper and bed. And in the morning I’ll call for you. We should go shopping: find something nice for Aunt Selina, who is no doubt sick with worry. And for Bella.’

‘That’s a good thought
...
And, Stephen, might I pay a call tomorrow? In truth I don’t know why I should care, but being in London puts me in mind of Matthew Downey. I’m sorry for him. He was so dreadfully disappointed in his expectations from Mrs Catling, and he did so try to please her.’

‘Hm, and was not half so obliging to you, as I recall.’

‘Well, yes, and as I said I don’t know why I should care, but I would just like to see him once.’

‘I know why,’ Stephen said, in his cryptic way, leaving her.

He had forgotten her. Caroline, lingering in the coffee room of the White Hart next morning, avoiding the speculative eye of a lean sporting gentleman drinking his breakfast with one grasshopper leg propped, excitingly as he thought, on the fender, looked at the Dutch clock on the wall, saw the morning was half gone and called down apocalyptic curses on the head of Stephen Milner, who had said he would come for her and had forgotten.

Why so apocalyptic? I don’t know why.

She suddenly sprang up, resolved to find a hackney and go to Golden Square by herself, and found Stephen’s waistcoat in front of her nose.

‘Trifle late, sorry. The fact is I had a visitor at my hotel early this morning.’

Drawing in breath to say she didn’t give a damn about that, she found herself saying: ‘Oh, who?’

‘Carraway. Come come, I’ve a hackney waiting for us. That gown’s pretty, is it new? Yes, it was Carraway, with his curls combed and his coat brushed, and actually, I suspect, absent from Fanny without leave. He had come to return the favour of my call, he said, and was generally obliging and conversational and, oh, so wanting to say something more. Which I got out of him at last over a devilled breakfast. He had been thinking over — they had both been thinking over
—
what was said about marriage yesterday, and he was inclined to think it was rather a good idea. He had always believed that one should be prepared to change one’s ideas, otherwise one was a mere slave of — well, I didn’t really listen to that part. The end of it was that he was very ready to obtain a marriage licence, if I would be so good as to show him how it was done, as he was a mere babe and child in these matters
—
well, never mind that part either.’ Stephen handed her into the hackney waiting at the mouth of the yard. ‘So I took him straightway down to Doctors’ Commons to apply for a licence, and now he has gone home to tell Fanny. Or at least, to tell her presently
—
after playing her on the hook for a while. He is not stupid. He is not very good, either, but then I don’t think he is very bad: Fanny will always have to watch him, but I’m sure she is quite capable of that; and in short, I think we have made the best bargain in the circumstances.’ Stephen rapped on the carriage roof. ‘Oh, and also I hinted that if he played any of his old tricks, I would suspend him from a high place, and not by his neck.’

‘Well, you might have added that while he was up there I would be throwing things at him; but beyond that, yes, Mr Milner, I think you have brought it to a satisfactory solution.’

‘We, Miss Fortune, we: I fancy we work rather well together; do you think we might set up in some sort of business along these lines? Oh, by the by, what did you think of Fanny’s claim about their keeping separate establishments?’

‘Candidly, I did not think much of it.’

He smiled caustically. ‘Neither did I. All the more reason to pin him down, before any little curly-haired, misty-eyed babies appear. We’re going to Golden Square now
—
I don’t think the Lent law term is sitting yet, so I dare say you’ll find Mr Downey at home
—
unless you’ve changed your mind?’

She had not; and with the lightness of relief on her, was quite ready to shake Matthew Downey by the hand, and sincerely commiserate with him on his disappointment. The Downey house in not-very-fashionable Golden Square stood tall, shadowy, sooty, behind an ornate railing: a dowager making the best of her bone structure and a few pieces of jewellery. Their names, Mr Milner and Miss Fortune, produced a peculiar flurry at the top of the stairs in the roomy, tomby hall: the maid peered uncertainly up as if wondering whether to deny that there was anyone at home after all; but presently, with an audible hiss of ‘Oh,
Mother!’
Matthew Downey himself descended out of the gloom, with a smile as warm as a carnival vizard.

‘Mr Milner
—
Miss Fortune
—
this is so very unexpected, you must excuse ...’ He did not say what they must excuse, but stood irritably rubbing his neck and glancing about him. ‘Hannah, is there a fire lit in the drawing room?’

‘Not as I know on,’ said the maid, stumping away.

‘Perhaps you’ll be so good as to step into the study, if my papers won’t incommode you. I was studying late last night. Mother ...’ He waited until he could shut the study door behind them. ‘My mother is a little flustered, and presents her apologies
—
that is, I do.’ Matthew, unshaven and unbrushed, his collar-points wilting, looked a little seedy. There was a brandy-bottle amongst the tumble of books and papers on the desk, which he successfully drew attention to by grabbing it, trying to fumble it into a drawer, and dropping it on the carpet. ‘The fact is ... Mother was somewhat fearful on hearing your name, Mr Milner, that you had come to remonstrate with her.’

‘Remonstrate? At this hour of the day, I can’t even remember what the word means,’ Stephen said.

‘You are very good,’ Matthew said, with his usual regretful frown at the introduction of humour, ‘but I’m sure you take my meaning. Indeed I cannot otherwise account for this unprecedented call
—
welcome though it is,’ he added sepulchrally.

‘We came, Mr Downey, because we were in Town, and we simply wished to pay our compliments, and above all to say that we are sorry about your aunt’s death
—
and sorry also for the sequel.’

‘Exactly’ Matthew said heavily. ‘And the sequel includes what my sister has done. Believe me, Maria has shocked us all
—
but that is no excuse. The fact remains she has married the man who was to have married Miss Milner
—
and that is why, sir, my mother is so embarrassed —’

‘Oh! Lord, she needn’t be,’ said Stephen, soothingly. ‘Believe me, sir, that matter is all settled, and I don’t intend any remonstrance: not that you and your mother had any part in Miss Downey’s action anyhow. For my part, I wish the new Mrs Leabrook well, as I’m sure you do.’

‘Wish her well?’ cried Matthew, with a stare and a flourish of nostrils. ‘I wish her ill, Mr Milner — nothing but ill!’

‘Come, I’m sure you don’t mean that,’ Caroline said. ‘It must have been a great blow when Mrs Catling — did what she did with her fortune; for you had indeed been a devoted nephew. But that was her choice, or rather say her caprice, and Maria really can’t be blamed for that.’

‘I see you do not know the half of it,’ Matthew intoned, slumping into a seat, and then removing a broken tobacco-pipe from under him. ‘Forgive this appearance. What you see, Miss Fortune, Mr Milner, is a flattened man. I have been run over by the speeding chariot of fate, and caught up in its spiked wheels.’

‘I hate it when that happens,’ said Stephen.

‘If it were only my late aunt’s extraordinary coldness to me in the matter of testamentary dispositions — though that, by the by, I can still scarcely believe
...’

‘Mr Downey, I should say I had the honour of meeting Mrs Catling, not long before her decease,’ Stephen said, ‘and if it’s any consolation, I would surmise she had not then quite the strength and clarity of mind for which I believe she was famed. So
—’

‘Do you think then I could contest the will?’ Matthew burst out, his eyes kindling: then he slumped again. ‘No, of course not: too late: it was watertight. She saw to that. Oh, yes
...
Miss Fortune: I am glad of this opportunity. I wish to say something to you. I owe you — an apology.’ This cost him a visible effort. ‘Yes, an apology. That time at Wythorpe — I fear I jumped to conclusions. Entirely erroneous conclusions, about who had betrayed the secret of my engagement to Aunt Sophia. I do have a hasty temper: but my brain is generally quick, and this I think is the reverse side of the quality
...
’ But even dwelling on his idiosyncrasies could not cheer Matthew today: a thick sigh escaped his chest, and lowering his eyes he said: ‘It was Maria. She was the one who told Aunt Sophia about my — about Perdita. It turns out — as I discovered only by accident, from a chance remark by the servant who takes in the post
—
that she has long been opening my letters. And one of them — a very tender, very private missive from Perdita — was even found among my aunt’s effects, with an enclosure from Maria. So. Pray accept my apology, Miss Fortune — and consider me punished enough.’

‘Oh, Mr Downey, I am so very sorry. That was a dreadful thing for Maria to do
—
I am disgusted, quite disgusted with her.’ And Caroline meant it all, and wished she could banish the image of Mrs Catling’s magisterially curling lip as she read a tender missive from Perdita of Snow Hill, because it was causing her own lips to twitch in quite another way.

‘It is no matter, Miss Fortune. There is a last irony. My Perdita
—
is not my Perdita any more. She is false.’ Matthew picked up a paper-knife, and seemed to contemplate doing something Roman and final with it. ‘She has severed our connection, and turned to another. Indeed she is already affianced to him. He is a grocer and tea-merchant in the City — and not at all in a small way. Perdita informs me he has fifty yards of frontage.’

‘A man stands no chance,’ murmured Stephen, shaking his head in bitter agreement.

‘I hardly know what to say,’ Caroline said, discreetly treading on his toe, ‘except again that I’m sorry, and
—
well, Mr Downey, it seems to me that almost everyone has acted in a deceitful and shabby and disgraceful way, except yourself. It may be difficult to see that as a satisfaction just now, but I hope that in time it may come to be so.’

‘Thank you, Miss Fortune,’ Matthew said, with rich despair, ‘but I do not see how!’ Yet there seemed to be a newly thoughtful look in his eyes as they left him amongst the folios and tobacco-fug; and Caroline was not without hope that in a few months’ time he might be bowing to an amenable young woman at a carpet-dance, and talking about himself with as much interest and enjoyment as ever.

‘Well, I think you were right,’ Caroline said, as they took their places in the hackney once more. ‘Leabrook and Maria Downey are very well matched, and I dare say will soon begin making each other as unhappy as they have made others.’

‘Amen to that; and I have some moderate good news on that score. A letter from Isabella this morning, telling me the Leabrook story in her own honest fashion, assuring me she is in good spirits, and seeming — well, it’s hard to be sure in a letter, but seeming quite strong and sensible. Augusta, she says, has been a great help to her
—
and also Captain Brunton, which is a surprise. Are they rubbing along better now?’

‘They are rubbing along very much better: and besides, Captain Brunton is in love with Isabella, and has been for a long time.’

‘The devil he is! Why — why did he never say?’

‘Discretion, Stephen — have you no notion of discretion?’

‘I suppose not. Hm. Well, she does ask in this letter, as I have been everywhere in the kingdom, what Falmouth is like.’

‘That’s where Captain Brunton is going: he has a post in the packet service.’

‘Well, well. I wonder
...’

‘So do I: but let us just have quiet hopes. One wouldn’t wish to tempt Fate, when everything has turned out so well.’

‘Turned out well? I don’t know about that: I don’t know that I can quite echo your satisfaction, Miss Fortune. Turned upside down is the phrase I would use to describe my world since you arrived in it: truly there has never been a moment’s peace. There is only one thing for it. You will have to marry me directly, as you are surely as much in love with me as I am with you: and I am the only one who can restrain you, my darling Caroline, from creating disaster wherever you go.’

‘This is
...’
She looked at him. ‘This is
...’
She looked everywhere but at him: out of the window at the glistening streets. ‘This is Covent Garden.’

‘Yes, I know a good jeweller’s here, and really we must do something about that ring. May I take it off?’

Inert yet trembling, she gave him her hand. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘Insanely soft skin. What don’t you understand?’

Everything: nothing: her mind was somewhere off circling in space, and could only grab at something in passing. ‘When I said I didn’t know why I cared about Matthew, you said you knew why. And I didn’t understand.’

‘Oh, yes, I knew: I knew why you cared: because that’s you: because in spite of your manifest faults and weaknesses, which I have always been kind enough to point out to you, you are still, Caroline Fortune, the dearest, warmest, most generous, and good-natured, amusing, entrancing, and bewitchingly beautiful woman in creation.’

‘Oh ...’ Abruptly she seized his hands in wild, absurd excitement. ‘Oh, Stephen, what are we going to do?’

‘After the ring, you mean? I suggest follow the prevailing fashion, and go to Doctor’s Commons for a marriage licence. After that, we shall live, love, and be happy as mortals can be: we shall drink and make merry, we shall be silent and watch the herons, we shall go to the races and go to blazes, we shall talk as only you and I can talk —’

‘Not all the time, though. There is a time for not talking.’