Pistols for Two

‘Tom,’ said his lordship diplomatically, ‘is indisposed. He was good enough to confide his plans to me, and to – er – charge me with his deepest regrets.’

The lady’s fright succumbed to a strong feeling of ill-usage. ‘Well!’ she

said, her bosom swelling. ‘If that is not the poorest spirited thing I ever heard! I suppose he was afraid?’

‘Not at all!’ said his lordship, gently propelling her towards the seat. ‘He was overcome by a sudden illness.’

Miss Abingdon sat down, perforce, but peered suspiciously at him. ‘It sounds to me like a fudge!’ she said, not mincing matters. ‘He was perfectly well yesterday!’

‘His disorder attacked him unawares,’ said Lord Stavely.

Miss Abingdon, who seemed to labour under few illusions, demanded forthrightly: ‘Was he foxed?’

Lord Stavely did not answer for a moment. He looked at the lady, trying to see her face clearly in the moonlight. The hood had slipped back from her head. The uncertain light made it hard for him to decide whether her hair was dark or fair, but he was sure that it curled riotously, and that her eyes were both large and sparkling. He said: ‘Foxed? Certainly not!’

‘I don’t believe you!’ said Miss Abingdon. ‘How could he be such a simpleton, on this of all nights?’

Lord Stavely returned no answer to this, and after pondering in silence for a few minutes, Miss Abingdon said: ‘I did wonder if he quite liked the scheme. But why could he not have told me that he wanted to draw back from it?’

‘That,’ said Lord Stavely, ‘is the last thing he meant to do. He informed me that you had plighted your troth many years ago.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Miss Abingdon. ‘He cut my wrist with his knife, and we mixed our blood. He said I was chicken-hearted because I squeaked.’

‘How very unfeeling of him!’ said his lordship gravely. ‘May I venture to ask if you love him very dearly?’

Miss Abingdon considered the matter. ‘Well, I have always been prodigiously fond of him,’ she answered at last. ‘I dare say I might not have married him, in spite of the oath, had things not been so desperate, but what else could I do when my papa is behaving so abominably, and I am in such despair? I did hope that Papa would hire a house in London for the Season, for I am nearly twenty years old, and I have never been out of Shropshire, except to go to Bath, which I detest. And instead of that he means to marry me to a horrid old man I have never seen!’

‘Yes, so Tom told me,’ said his lordship. ‘But – forgive me – it seems scarcely possible that he could do such a thing!’

‘You don’t know my papa!’ said Miss Abingdon bitterly. ‘He makes the most fantastic schemes, and forces everyone to fall in with them! And he says I must be civil to his odious friend, and if I am not he will pack me off to Bath to stay with my Aunt Charlotte! Sir, what could I do? Aunt Maria – who is Papa’s other sister, and has lived with us since my mama died – will do nothing but say that I know what Papa is – and I do, and I dare say he would have not the least compunction in sending me to a stuffy house in Queen Square, with Aunt’s pug wheezing at me, and Aunt scarcely stirring out of the house, but wishing me to play backgammon with her! Backgammon!’ she reiterated, with loathing.

‘That, certainly, is not to be thought of,’ agreed his lordship. ‘Yet I cannot help wondering if you are quite wise to elope to Gretna Green.’

‘You don’t think so?’ Miss Abingdon said doubtfully.

‘These Border marriages are not quite the thing, you know,’ explained his lordship apologetically. ‘Then, too, unless you are very much in love with Tom, you might not be perfectly happy with him.’

‘No,’ agreed Miss Abingdon, ‘but how shocking it would be if I were to be an old maid!’

‘If you will not think me very saucy for saying so,’ said his lordship, a laugh in his voice, ‘I cannot think that a very likely fate for you!’

‘Yes, but it is!’ she said earnestly. ‘I have been kept cooped up here all my life, and Papa has not the least notion of taking me to London! He has made up his mind to it that his odious friend will be a very eligible match for me. He and this Lady Tenbury laid their heads together, I dare say –’

‘So that was it!’ interrupted his lordship. ‘I should have guessed it, of course.’

Miss Abingdon was surprised. ‘Are you acquainted with Lady Tenbury, sir?’ she asked.

‘My elder sister,’ explained his lordship.

‘Your – w-what?’ gasped Miss Abingdon, recoiling.

‘Don’t be alarmed!’ he begged. ‘Though I shrink from owning to it, I think I must be your papa’s odious friend. But I assure you, Miss Abingdon, his and my meddling sister’s schemes come as a complete surprise to me!’

Miss Abingdon swallowed convulsively. ‘D-do you m-mean to tell me, sir, that you are Lord Stavely?’

‘Yes,’ confessed his lordship. He added: ‘But though I may be a dead bore, I am not really so very old!’

‘You should have told me!’ said Miss Abingdon, deeply mortified.