A moment later Belknap-Jackson’s car appeared at my door, now discharging the Klondike woman, effusively escorted by the Mixer and by Mrs. Belknap-Jackson. The latter at least, I had thought, would show more principle. But she had buckled atrociously, quite as had her husband, who had quickly, almost merrily, followed them. There was increased gayety as they seated themselves about the large table, a silly noise of pretended felicitation over a calamity that not even the tenth Earl of Brinstead had been able to avert. And then Belknap-Jackson beckoned me aside.
“I want your help, old chap, in case it’s needed,” he began.
“The wedding breakfast and reception?” I said quite cynically.
“You’ve thought of it? Good! Her own place is far too small. Crowd, of course. And it’s rather proper at our place, too, his lordship having been our house guest. You see? Use what influence you have. The affair will be rather widely commented on—even the New York papers, I dare say.”
“Count upon me,” I answered blandly, even as I had promised Mrs. Effie. Disgusted I was. Let them maul each other about over the wretched “honour.” They could all be dead sports if they chose, but I was now firmly resolved that for myself I should make not a bit of pretence. The creature might trick poor George into a marriage, but I for one would not affect to regard it as other than a blight upon our house. I was just on the point of hoping that the victim himself might have cut off to unknown parts when I saw him enter. By the other members of the party he was hailed with cries of delight, though his own air was finely honest, being dejected in the extreme. He was dressed as regrettably as usual, this time in parts of two lounge-suits.
As he joined those at the table I constrained myself to serve the champagne. Senator Floud arose with a brimming glass.
“My friends,” he began in his public-speaking manner, “let us remember that Red Gap’s loss is England’s gain—to the future Countess of Brinstead!”
To my astonishment this appalling breach of good taste was received with the loudest applause, nor was his lordship the least clamorous of them. I mean to say, the chap had as good as wished that his lordship would directly pop off. It was beyond me. I walked to the farthest window and stood a long time gazing pensively out; I wished to be away from that false show. But they noticed my absence at length and called to me. Monstrously I was desired to drink to the happiness of the groom. I thought they were pressing me too far, but as they quite gabbled now with their tea and things, I hoped to pass it off. The Senator, however, seemed to fasten me with his eye as he proposed the toast—“To the happy man!”
I drank perforce.
“A body would think Bill was drinking to the Judge,” remarked Cousin Egbert in a high voice.