Another failure was his short-lived matrimonial agency, which was to be stocked with three "baronets," who were supposed to be on the look out for wives. The "baronets" were to be impersonated by his sons. It came to an abrupt termination by the theft of the preliminary prospectus by a servant, who had to be bought off later at a cost of five hundred pounds, an item of expenditure which nearly broke the old man's heart, according to his diary.
These and other matters contrived to make "Sir Richard" nervy. His sons were devoting more time to pleasure than to business, and the knowledge that the authorities were doubling their efforts to catch him was ever-disturbing. But he could not remain inactive, for his brain was always teeming with plans for swindles, and he entered details of several in his diary, some of which he put into execution.
Amongst his acquaintances in London was a widow of fortune. She was in the late fifties, but despite that was not averse to marrying again, especially a man with a title, and "Sir Richard's" advances were not repulsed. Mrs. MacCormack had been left ten thousand a year by her husband, and the lady maintained a costly establishment in the neighbourhood of London. Douglas was fascinated by her money. He knew that once she was his wife he would be able to get complete control of her and her fortune. She would obey him implicitly, and he could live at his ease, make his sons handsome allowances, and thoroughly enjoy life.
He therefore proposed to Mrs. MacCormack, who accepted "Sir Richard" with an emotion akin to enthusiasm, and immediately began to prepare to go through the marriage ceremony a second time. But Douglas insisted upon the engagement being kept a secret, pointing out that it was only for her sake that he did so.
"You will be accused of marrying me for my title, dear," he said in a sympathetic tone, "and that would hurt me terribly. Thank God, no one can accuse me of marrying for money. Your fortune may be large, but I think that it does not exceed the rent-roll of my Scottish estates."
Mrs. MacCormack was touched by his kindly forethought, and really kept the secret, although she was anxious to impress her acquaintances with the fact that she was about to become "Lady Douglas."
It was settled that the marriage should take place at St. George's, Hanover Square, and "Sir Richard" told the widow that the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London had promised to assist at the ceremony if their engagements permitted. At the last moment it happened that both these prelates were detained elsewhere, at least Douglas said so, and to the rector was given the honour of officiating.
On the morning of the ceremony "Sir Richard" dressed himself with extreme care in the room he had taken at the fashionable West End hotel. It was eleven o'clock when he descended, and he was due at St. George's at twelve. A carriage was to take him there with his best man, who was his eldest son Philip, and the young rogue was posing for the occasion as a friend and not a relative of the bridegroom-baronet.
Now, Philip Douglas, who was keenly interested in his father's matrimonial adventure, had out of mere curiosity made a few inquiries about Mrs. MacCormack, and he learnt that it was really true that she had ten thousand pounds a year, but on the day of the ceremony he discovered by sheer accident that under the provisions of her late husband's will she was to be deprived of every penny if she married again. So at half-past eleven Philip Douglas dashed into the hotel, seized his father by the arm, and drew him into a corner. There he confided to the old sinner the information that he was going to marry a woman, ancient and ugly, who would be penniless the moment the knot was tied. "Sir Richard" gasped, and then burst forth into imprecations against the widow for her "deceit." With tears in his eyes he said she had not been honest with him, and when he had regained his composure he and his son drove away to catch the train back to Ascot. Mrs. MacCormack arrived in due course at St. George's, Hanover Square, but the "baronet" never appeared, and she reached home in tears and feeling that she was the laughing-stock of London. Douglas entered all the details of the misadventure in his diary, and he severely censured the widow for not having been "honest" enough to tell him the truth.
For some reason, however, the "baronet" went to pieces after the abandonment of his wedding. Money suddenly became scarce, and creditors more persistent. A sheaf of debts contracted by his sons took him by surprise, but they had to be paid, and Douglas was left with only a few pounds in hand.