“You may heed me little, Sir, because you, like others, was aware of my Lord Baltimore’s relation to me. I care not, ’tis the truth. I own it painful to be supplanted and by so arrant a jilt. Therefore I go with pleasure. As to poison—for I suppose that’s your meaning, I snap my fingers at so low a charge—so very much beneath me! you can’t prove it, Sir, and there’s a law of libel if you make the assertion.”
“Madam,” says Mr. Rich serenely, “I propose to let sleeping dogs lie, and you will do well to follow my example. I would recommend you on parting to keep your opinion on Mrs. Fenton to yourself. She has powerful protectors. Tomorrow, all money matters outstanding shall meet with due settlement. I have now the honour to bid you farewell.”
He rose and bowed. She curtseyed, in a black supprest rage and moved towards the door. There it broke out in one fierce sentence flung at him—
“Look out for your favourite, Mr. Rich. I will have my revenge if I swing for it. And when the time comes, blame yourself and his Lordship. Not me.— Judas!”
She shot out of the room and flung the door to behind her, and her steps were heard along the passage. A moment, and his Lordship emerged, dusting his velvet cuffs with a laced handkerchief.
“What’s the verdict, Sir? Guilty or not Guilty? In either case you carried it perfectly.”
“I declare I know not!” replied Rich, with an anxious brow—“But I doubt we’ve seen the last of her yet. A violent dangerous woman. Look out, my Lord, and for Miss Polly too.”
“A notable temper indeed. But I think myself not inexperienced with that charming sex, and I judge this a woman’s violence come and gone like a cat’s-paw. Good-night, Rich. You need be at no charges in the matter.”
He departed with his usual easy grace, and Mr. Rich left alone, stared into the fire much perplexed.
“Damme if I understand the business!” he muttered to himself. “My Lord swears and Bishop subscribes, yet I would take the innocency of Miss Polly’s face before them both. I think she’s an honest girl in spite of them. But who shall say where a woman’s concerned. ’Tis beyond me. Lord send she’s on the mend tomorrow, be it as it will. Yet I think the jewels I have in charge to be his after all. Curse the women, and the men that won’t let them be!”