“It’ll keep the blood-suckers quiet for a while,” replied his lordship. He nodded to Horatia. “He’ll make you a devilish good husband, I daresay, but you’d best be careful how you deal with him, Horry!”
“Oh,” said Horatia, “you don’t understand, P-Pel! We are not going to interfere with each other at all! It is j-just like a French marriage of c-convenience.”
“I’m not saying it ain’t convenient,” said the Viscount, glancing at Rule’s draft, “but if you take my advice you won’t play your tricks on Rule. I’ve a strong notion you might regret it.”
“I have felt that too,” Elizabeth said, an anxious note in her voice.
“S-stuff!” pronounced Horatia, unimpressed.
Chapter Five
The wedding of the Earl of Rule to Miss Horatia Winwood passed off without any unseemly fracas, such as the arrest of the bride’s brother for debt or a scene created by the bridegroom’s mistress (an event not entirely unexpected by the hopeful), occurring to mar its propriety. The Earl arrived punctually, which surprised everyone, including his harassed secretary; and the bride seemed to be in excellent spirits. Indeed, there were those who considered her spirits too excellent for so solemn an occasion. She was not observed to shed a single tear. However, this lack of sensibility was more than made up for by the demeanour of Lady Winwood. Nothing could have been more proper than that lady’s whole bearing. She was supported by her brother, and wept silently throughout the ceremony. Miss Winwood and Miss Charlotte as bridesmaids looked beautiful and behaved becomingly; Mr Walpole’s sharp eyes took in everything; Lady Louisa Quain bore up very well, but had recourse to her handkerchief when my lord took Horatia’s hand in his; Mr Drelincourt wore a new wig, and a look of saintly resignation; and the Viscount performed his part with careless grace.
It was understood that after a few days spent in the country, the bride and groom were bound for Paris, the choice of destination having been left to the bride. Elizabeth thought it an odd place for a honeymoon, but “Pho!” said Horatia. “We are not like you and Edward, w-wanting to make love all d-day long! I want to see things, and go to V-Versailles, and b-buy smarter clothes than Theresa Maulfrey’s!”
This part at least of her programme was faithfully carried out. At the end of six weeks the noble pair returned to London, the bride’s luggage, so it was rumoured, occupying an entire coach.
The nuptials of her youngest-born had proved to be too much for Lady Winwood’s delicate constitution. The varied emotions she had sustained were productive of a fit of the vapours, and the intelligence that her son had signalized his sister’s wedding-day by betting fifty pounds on a race between two geese in Hyde Park set the seal to her collapse. She withdrew with her two remaining daughters (one, alas, so soon to be reft from her) to the fastness of Winwood, and there built up her shattered nervous system on a diet of eggs and cream and paregoric draughts, and the contemplation of the Marriage Settlements.