Simon Hawke - A Mystery Of Errors

Smythe nodded, indicating that she should go on.

She took a deep breath and began. “Such is my unhappy situation: Unwillingly, I had been betrothed to Anthony Gresham by my father, who seeks to improve his social standing through the marriage. In turn, my dowry would help the Greshams to recover from some poor investments they had made. And so ‘twould seem the match would be of benefit to everyone concerned… save for the unfortunate, reluctant bride, who wants to have no part of it.”

“I see,” Smythe said. “Your situation sounds indeed unfortunate, though not at all unusual, I fear. Marriage these days, especially among the upper classes, is far more often a matter of convenience and expediency for the families involved than a fortuitous result of love between the bride and groom. Tenanted estates and lands hang in the balance, as do mercantile interests and position in society.”

She sniffed. “You sound like my father. And so love matters not at all?”

“I did not say that,” Smythe replied. “As it happens, ‘twould matter a great deal to me. But then, my opinion on such matters carries little weight, and these days, few outside the working classes even expect love to play a part in the arrangement of a marriage. My own father’s thoughts along these lines were quite similar to those of yours, save that mine squandered the family fortune and thereby spared me the advantages of an inheritance and an arranged match. So now that I am common as the dirt beneath your feet, unlike the socially superior, I can afford to indulge common emotions such as love.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Truly, it does seem common to them. It is beyond the compass of my comprehension. The wisdom of our elders holds that in a proper marriage, love would follow on the heels of marriage, and not necessarily hard upon. If, indeed, it ever came, ‘twould come in time. Contentment and security, amiability and civility are virtues seemingly far more valued in a marriage than romantic love. Those qualities are said to make for marriages that are more sensible and stable than one based upon an emotion as common and ephemeral as love. At least, such are the prevailing, conventional beliefs. Unfortunately, they are not beliefs I share. And as my beliefs were not conventional, it did not seem I would prevail. That is, until just yesterday, when I received an invitation to the Theatre, an invitation from the very man I was to marry.”

“Ah,” said Smythe. “ ‘Twas the reason you arrived in Gresham ’s coach.”

“Just so. And ‘twas you who met that coach, mere moments before Gresham ’s servant, Drummond, came to escort me to the box up in the gallery, where Anthony Gresham awaited with the most unexpected news.”

“And what news was this?”

“That he no more desired to marry me than I desired to marry him!”

“Indeed? Well, there is no accounting for taste.”

Elizabeth smiled. “You are most kind. However, this was very welcome news to me, as you might well imagine. He told me that he was in love with someone else. He did not say with whom, but ‘twas of no consequence. I was elated and relieved to hear it. And I confessed to him that it had been my intention to behave in such a manner on that night as to convince him I was quite unsuitable, a wanton hussy. And I must now confess to you that ‘twas in that spirit I had flirted with you shamelessly, especially once Drummond had arrived.”

“So that of course he would report this to his master,” Smythe said, nodding. “I understand. And was this the reason that you wished to speak with me? So that I would not speak of how you had behaved that night?”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Elizabeth replied. “In truth, it did not even occur to me that you might do so. On the contrary, it is of utmost import that you do speak of it!”

Smythe frowned. “I fear I do not understand.”

She made a downward motion with the palms of her hands, as if to forestall his questions and settle herself at the same time. “ ‘Tis my fault. I have not made it clear. Allow me to continue.”

“I wish you would.”

“Thus: Anthony Gresham and I had a long talk. And we agreed that the proposed marriage was in neither of our best interests. We also agreed that I would tell my parents he had found me totally unsuitable and had so forcibly and rudely expressed himself in this regard that any attempt to pursue the match would be unthinkable.”

“ ‘Twould seem like a sound plan,” said Smythe, wondering where this was leading.

“And so I thought,” Elizabeth replied. “And so I went home and followed through with it exactly as we had agreed. My father was outraged. My mother was appalled. And it seemed as if the whole problem had been solved until the very morning, when who should arrive to pay a call but the same Anthony Gresham, only behaving like a completely different man! He denied that he had ever sent the coach for me, or even made the invitation, and what is more, he denied that we had ever even met before!”

“You mean to say that on the very day after this Gresham fellow made it plain to you that he did not desire this marriage any more than you did, he came to your home and acted as if none of the events of the previous day had even happened?” Smythe said, with a frown.

“Precisely so,” Elizabeth said. “You may imagine how mortified I felt! There, in my mother’s presence, I was made to appear an abject liar and prevaricator! And my own mother believed that I had made up the whole story in some foolish attempt to foil the marriage! I have never been so humiliated in my life! And that… that… that insufferable… arrogant… pernicious… gentleman -” she spat the last word out as if it were the vilest poison, “-stood there smiling all the while… smiling! Ohhhh, if I were a man, I would have wiped that insolent, smug smile straight off his face!”

“And…” Smythe proceeded cautiously, “was this the service that you wished me to perform?”

She looked startled. “Oh! Oh, heaven forfend! What must you think of me? I would never ask for such a thing!”

“Then what…?” It dawned on him abruptly. “Ah! I see! I am to witness that you came to the Theatre on that night, since ‘twas I who met the coach that brought you. And ‘twas Gresham ’s coach, at that, blazoned with his family crest.”

“Indeed,” she said, with relief. “And I also need you to affirm that I was met by Gresham ’s servant, Drummond, who denied ever having seen me in his life, the despicable cur! Would you be willing to give testimony to these facts?” She hesitated. “I… I could pay you for your trouble. Perhaps not very much, but…”

“I would be happy to vouch for the truth of what you said, milady,” Smythe replied, holding up his hand to forestall her, “and no payment would be necessary. I would not take it in such an event, in any case, much as I appreciate your offer. But then, your offer is precisely to the point here. You could pay me. To lie on your behalf.”

“To lie?“ She frowned. “Why, whatever do you mean? I asked for no such thing!”

“Of course not. But consider this, milady. Why would your father, an eminent tradesman in the community, accept the word of a mere ostler, a man who could have easily been paid to bear false witness? You could go down to Paul’s Walk right now and within the hour, for not much more than a few crowns, you could employ half a dozen men to bear false witness for you and testify to anything you wished.”

Her eyes widened. “This sort of thing is done?” She seemed astonished at the very idea.

“Done and done quite commonly, it seems,” said Smythe. “I was told that one could always make some extra money selling his integrity in such a fashion. Not, I hasten to add, that I would find such dubious employment tempting, but there are others who have no such scruples. I fear your father, already disposed to disbelieve you for your reluctance to accept his plans for you, would readily assume that I was precisely such a man.”