Pistols for Two

‘Oh, no!’ he said quickly. ‘Only by Iver! My sister likes it excessively!’

‘And Lord Iver is only Arthur’s cousin,’ said Lucy. ‘Removed, too! Scarcely a relation at all!’

He demurred at this, saying diffidently: ‘Well, it’s more than that, for he has been my guardian, you know. I wouldn’t for the world displease him, only that in this case he fancies we are both of us too young – or some such nonsense! He will come about! Particularly if I am able to tell him you don’t frown on the marriage, ma’am!’

‘No, I don’t frown upon it,’ said Miss Tresilian, ‘but I agree with Lord Iver that you are very young. This is Lucy’s first season, you know, and –’

‘How can you, aunt?’ protested her niece. ‘I may not have been regularly presented until last month, but you know you would have brought me to town a year ago if Aunt Clara hadn’t insisted she was too unwell to be left alone! Why, I am nineteen, and have been out in Bath above a twelve-month!’

‘Yes, my dear, but I never knew until just the other day how awkwardly Arthur is situated. Or even that he had a guardian, much less –’

‘No, no, ma’am!’ interrupted Mr Rosely anxiously. ‘Iver isn’t my guardian now that I am of age, but only my trustee! He has no power to prevent my marriage – no authority over me at all!’

‘It appears to me that if he holds your purse-strings until you are five-and-twenty he has a great deal of power over you,’ responded Miss Tresilian dryly.

He looked troubled, but said: ‘He wouldn’t – I know he wouldn’t! People think him tyrannical, but he has never been so to me! The kindest of guardians – and he must have wished me at the devil, for I was only eight when my father died, and he not much above five-and-twenty. I wonder he didn’t leave me to be reared in my own house, for I was used to follow him about like a tanthony-pig!’

Miss Tresilian refrained from comment. It seemed to her unlikely that Mr Rosely had ever offered Lord Iver the least pretext for a display of tyranny, for while she could not but acknowledge the sweetness of his disposition she did not feel that resolution was amongst his many virtues. No hint of a strong will was to be detected in his delicate countenance, none of the determination that characterized Lucy.

‘And even if he doesn’t consent, we shall come off all right,’ said Lucy cheerfully. ‘After all, I have quite a genteel fortune of my own, and we can subsist on that, until your stupid Trust comes to an end.’

But at this Miss Tresilian intervened, saying firmly that neither she nor Lucy’s papa could countenance an engagement entered into without Lord Iver’s sanction. Lucy, always outspoken, said: ‘Dearest, you know that’s fudge! All Papa would say is that you must settle it as you think best!’

Miss Tresilian laughed, but said: ‘Well, I can’t settle it, precisely, but I can and must forbid an engagement at this present. I am very sorry for you both, but unless Lord Iver should change his mind I am afraid there is nothing for it but to wait until Arthur’s fortune passes into his own hands.’

It was not to be expected that two young persons deep in love could view with anything but dismay the prospect of waiting more than three years before becoming engaged. Mr Rosely took a dejected leave of the ladies, and went away, saying that he was sure he must be able to prevail upon Iver to relent; and Lucy at once set about the task of convincing her aunt that her attachment to her Arthur was no girlish fancy to be speedily forgotten.

It was unnecessary. Although she had been virtually in her aunt’s charge since her childhood only fifteen years separated them, and the bonds of affection between them were strong. Miss Tresilian knew that her niece was neither volatile nor impressionable. She had been much courted in Bath, but none of her suitors, before the arrival on the scene of Mr Rosely, had done so much as turn her head. But she had fallen in love with Mr Rosely at first sight, and not for the sake of his handsome face. ‘Handsome?’ said Lucy. ‘I suppose he is – oh, yes, of course he is! Everyone says so! But, to own the truth, I don’t in general care about fair men, and try as I will I cannot admire Grecian profiles!’ She added, such a glow in her eyes as Miss Tresilian had never before seen: ‘His nature is by far more beautiful than his countenance. He has so much sensibility – such quickness of apprehension! It is as though we had known each other all our lives. Oh, my dearest aunt, I never dreamed I could be so happy!’

No, Lucy was not likely to fall out of love, nor was it possible to suppose her to be infatuated. She seemed to be aware of the flaw in his character, for when her aunt ventured to suggest that his amiability perhaps made him a trifle too persuadable she replied without hesitation: ‘Exactly so! I don’t mean to say that he could be persuaded to do wrong, for his principles are fixed; but his nature is gentle, and his diffidence leads him to rely more on another’s judgment than his own. That is one reason why I can’t and won’t wait for nearly four years before marrying him!’

‘Lucy dear, could you be happy with a husband who would allow you to rule the roast?’

‘To own the truth,’ replied Lucy mischievously, ‘I have a strong notion that I couldn’t be happy with any other! You know what a detestably managing disposition I have!’ She added, in a more serious tone: ‘Please help me, dear Aunt Elinor! If there were any reason for Lord Iver’s refusal to give his consent I promise you I would respect it! There is none! But Arthur has been so much in the habit of deferring to him that if all must remain at a stand for nearly four years – Oh, aunt, he is the horridest creature, and my enemy besides! I couldn’t mistake! I have met him only once, when Mrs Crewe took me to the Waltons’ ball, and Arthur brought him up to me, but he looked at me in such a way! If I had been a shabby-genteel wretch on the catch for a rich husband he couldn’t have been more repelling! But he must know I’m nothing of the kind, for Lady Windlesham does – and if Arthur’s sister likes the match I wish you will tell me what right Lord Iver has –’ She checked herself. ‘Well! Talking won’t pay toll. Think for me, Aunt Elinor! Useless to suppose that Arthur will be able to bring that creature about!’

***

Even less than her niece did Miss Tresilian believe that Mr Rosely’s efforts would meet with success, and much more astonished than Lucy was she when, two days later, Lord Iver came to call at the slim house in Green Street which she had hired for the season. Indeed, the news that he was awaiting her in the drawing-room startled her into exclaiming: ‘Oh, no! No, no, I cannot – !’ However, she recollected herself almost immediately, sent the servant down again to tell his lordship she would be with him directly, and turned to cast an anxious glance at her reflection in the mirror.

With the buoyancy of youth, Lucy was much inclined to think that Lord Iver had miraculously capitulated, and had come to discuss the marriage settlements. Miss Tresilian, with no such expectation, begged her not to indulge optimism, and trod resolutely downstairs, pledged to support the lovers’ cause.

***

The visitor was standing with his back to the room, looking out of the window, but when he heard the door open he turned, and stared with hard, challenging eyes at his hostess.

She shut the door, but remained by it, meeting that fierce scrutiny resolutely. For a minute neither spoke, but each scanned the other, the lady perceiving a powerfully-built man, harsh-featured and swarthy, whose close-cropped hair, sporting neckcloth, and gleaming top-boots proclaimed the Corinthian; the gentleman gazing at an uncommonly pretty woman. Miss Tresilian was on the shady side of thirty, but although she had lately taken to wearing a cap over her soft brown curls, and bore herself with the assurance of her years, she retained the face and figure of a m

uch younger woman.

It was she who broke the silence, saying, as she moved forward: ‘You wished, I think, to see me, sir. May I know why?’

He bowed stiffly. ‘I am obliged to you for receiving me, ma’am. As to my wishes – ! I thought it best to come here in person, that there should be no misunderstanding between us.’

‘Pray be seated, sir!’ said Miss Tresilian, disposing herself gracefully in a winged armchair.

He did not avail himself of this invitation, but said abruptly: ‘I imagine you must know what my errand is. If you are indeed your niece’s guardian – but you will permit me to say that I find it incredible that you should be! She has a father, and you are by far too young to be her guardian!’

‘Certainly she has a father,’ replied Miss Tresilian coldly. ‘When he married again, however, it was agreed that his daughter should remain in my charge. Let me remind you that I am no longer a young woman, sir!’