“Oh all that fudge about your nonsuch fancying that Lady Susan Morven was to accept him, forsooth, because some people have blown him up with conceit and impertinence, by choosing to make fools of themselves about him. But it seems she is married to the Marquis of H⸺, and Edmund, of course, is in great despair about it—that’s all!”
“I cannot believe that he ever loved Lady Susan!” said Frances.
“I have only his own word, and his own hand-writing for it,” replied Henry.
“Will you shew me the letter?” asked Frances.
“Why, do you doubt what I assert?” said Henry, angrily, and at the same time putting his hand in his pocket, to feign an intention of shewing a letter he had never received. There was one in his pocket, however, which he would have been very sorry to have shewn.
“I like the evidence of my own senses best,” replied Frances, holding out her hand.
“On second thoughts,” said Henry, “I shall not shew the letter. Indeed, I don’t think it would be honourable in me to do so. By the bye,” he added, “I took a couple of papers from the man at the same time. I forgot them, I believe, on the writing-table in the library. The marriage will be in the ‘Morning-Post,’ of course.”
“My dear, what could you have been doing to forget the papers? I thought the servants were airing them,” said Mrs. Montgomery.
Frances flew for them. Julia was, or seemed to be, very busily engaged about something at her portfolio; and took wonderfully little interest in the discussion, considering the regard (in the way of friendship, we mean) which she had always professed to entertain for Edmund. Frances returned with the papers. The marriage of Lady Susan Morven to the Marquis of H. certainly did appear printed in legible characters. Frances herself read it aloud. Various comments were made. Mrs. Montgomery expressed herself certain that Lord L. would be much dissatisfied with Julia for having refused so splendid a match.
“I never said I refused him, ma’am,” faltered out Julia, in a timid voice.