After having left Bracy, Frere bent his steps towards the dwelling of Lady Lombard, with whom Mrs. Arundel and Rose were spending a few days for the avowed purpose of assisting to prepare her wedding paraphernalia, though (as the most skilful dressmaker and the most expensive tradesmen in London were at work in the good cause) their duties were merely nominal. Mrs. Arundel having explained to her hostess the nature of the engagement between Frere and her daughter, that excellent bear was allowed to run tame about the house. Lady Lombard, who was at first impressed by a vague sense of his awful amount of learning, and decidedly alarmed at his snapping and growling, had become reconciled to his presence on perceiving that Rose could tame him by a word or a smile, and committing him to her care and management, troubled herself no further about him.
“Rose, who do you think has gone to Venice?” inquired Frere, after having disburdened his pockets of a little library of heavy books, two cold, uncomfortable fossils, and the very hard handle of a Roman sword, all highly prized and newly acquired treasures, which he had brought that Rose might appreciate them and sympathise with him in his delight at having obtained them.
“To Venice,” returned Rose—“oh! who? do tell me.”
“Why, lots of people, it seems,” replied Frere. “I called upon my uncle, Lord Ashford, this morning, and found him in what is vulgarly termed a regular stew. Bellefield it seems had a horse which everybody fancied was to win the Derby, but what everybody fancied did not come to pass, for the said horse was beaten, consequently his owner has lost no end of money, for which same I for one do not pity him: I have no sympathy with your ruined gamester—and ruined he is, by the way, horse, foot, and artillery, as the military De Grandeville would say. Well, poor uncle Ashford showed me a note he had just received from his dutiful first-born, telling him that he had not a farthing of ready money in the world, except £50 to pay for his journey; that he was quite unable to meet his engagements, and that before the settling day for the Derby he must put the British Channel between him and those to whom he owed sums so large that he neither desired nor expected his father to pay them; that he would feel obliged if his lordship would increase his yearly allowance, and that he wished letters of credit to be forwarded to him at Venice, to which place he proposed immediately to follow General Grant and his daughter, who it appears left England only three weeks ago; that it was his intention to marry the young lady forthwith, and live abroad upon her fortune, until something to his advantage should turn up; and he adds in a postscript, that if his father should attempt to prevent his marriage by informing General Grant of what he is pleased to call his misfortunes, that minute he will blow his brains out. Well, poor uncle, who is a high-minded, honourable man, though he is rather proud and cold in his manner, could not bear the idea of his son marrying Annie Grant without informing the General of his loss of fortune, and at length he resolved to meet the difficulty by selling the H——shire estate, and by that means increasing Lord Bellefield’s allowance till it would amount to £3000 a year, in which case General Grant might be informed of the truth without the match being broken off, or Bellefield driven to desperation. Whereupon I observed innocently enough that the success of the scheme would in great measure depend on the tact of the person sent out to manage the negotiation: Lord Ashford agreed in this most cordially, and then saying how grateful he should feel to any one who would assist him in this strait, looked hard at me——”
“And you instantly undertook the commission; I know it as well as if I had been present and had heard all that passed,” interposed Rose with a smile, in which, though affection predominated, a slight shade of regret might have been traced.
“Why, you see, Rose, as I am one of the family, there seemed a kind of obligation upon me to do something to help them; and poor uncle Ashford did look so pitiful; and really if I had not undertaken it, I don’t know who could have been found to do so, for Bellefield quarrelled with their family solicitor because he refused to allow him to make ducks and drakes of some of the entailed property three years ago; and I shall not be gone long. Besides, I did not quite forget you, Rosey, for, do you comprehend, I shall be able to see Lewis without his fancying that I have been sent out expressly to look after him, and perhaps I may be able to persuade him to come home and live in England like a reasonable being and a Christian; at all events, I shall find out how he is going on there; and I’ve another thing to talk to Lewis about—I don’t mean to remain for ever without a wife, Miss Rose—you need not turn your head away—that’s sheer silliness—you know we are to be married some day, we expect matrimony will increase our happiness, and we have sounder grounds for our expectations than most of the fools who yoke themselves together for life; those who do so, for instance, in order to obtain rank or riches—our next-door neighbours to wit,” and he pointed with his thumb in the direction of the drawing-room, wherein were seated the mighty De Grandeville and his lady-love. “As, therefore, my reasoning is good, sound reasoning, and matrimony proved to be a desirable thing, why the sooner we get the ceremony over the better; so, as I said before, don’t turn away your head like a little goose, seeing that you’re nothing of the kind!”
“Poor Lewis,” murmured Rose; “he will scarcely rejoice to see you when he learns that the object of your mission is to hasten the marriage of Annie Grant with Lord Bellefield. Oh, Richard,” she continued eagerly, clasping her hands, “it will make him hate you—do not go!”
“Well, now, I never thought of that,” muttered Frere, thoroughly perplexed. “Why will people go and fall in love with one another that didn’t ought to?” He paused, rubbed his hair back from his forehead till it stood on end like the crest of a cockatoo, played with Rose’s workbox till he overturned it, and in his abstraction committed so many gaucheries that his companion was on the point of calling him to order when he suddenly returned to his senses, and taking Rose’s hand in his, began, “Now listen to me, my child: in the first place, as this matter nearly concerns Lewis, and therefore you, I will do nothing in it of which you do not approve; premising this, I will give you my own ideas on the subject. Touching Lewis’s interest in the affair, the question seems to hinge upon this point: does Annie Grant care for him or not? If she does not, it can’t signify to him who she marries; and as in that case she is probably attached to her cousin (women don’t always love wisely, you know), I should feel able to carry out uncle Ashford’s wishes with a clear conscience, and trust to Lewis’s good sense and kind heart not to incur his displeasure by so doing. If, on the other hand, Annie by any chance loves him, and has been bullied or persuaded into this engagement, I for one will have nothing to do with promoting the match, but, on the contrary, will exert myself to the utmost to prevent it; and now what say you?”
“That by doing as you propose you will act rightly, kindly, and judiciously, and that come what may of it, your interference must be for good,” returned Rose, gazing with looks of proud affection upon the simple-hearted, high-principled “honest man” (indeed “the noblest work of God”) who sat beside her. “But,” she continued after a moment’s thought, “there is one difficulty which I scarcely see how you will get over—how are you to find out whom Annie Grant really loves?”
“Ask her myself,” was the straightforward reply. Rose looked at him to see if he were joking, but his face was earnest and resolved.