Джорджетт Хейер: Cotillion

The Rector looked down from his impressive height into her homely but resolute countenance, and said stiffly, and after a moment’s pause: “In that event, ma’am, I am left with no alternative. I cannot perform the ceremony at this hour, but if you will have the goodness to show me the licence, I will marry you to my cousin tomorrow morning.”

A stricken silence greeted these words. Both ladies stood staring up at him. “L-licence?” Kitty faltered at last.

“The special licence to enable persons to be joined in wedlock without the calling of banns,” explained the Rector. “Surely, my dear Kitty, you were aware that this is necessary for what you propose I should do?”

“I have heard of special licences,” she said. “I didn’t know—I thought—Oh, what have I done? Hannah, I am so very sorry! I ought to have asked Freddy! He would have known! I have ruined everything!”

“It’s my blame,” said Miss Plymstock gruffly. “The thing is we’ve never had anything but banns in my family, and it slipped my mind.”

Kitty turned, laying a hand on the Rector’s arm. “Hugh, it can’t signify! You would not stick at such a trifle as that!”

“If you have not obtained the necessary licence, it is quite out of my power to perform the ceremony,” he said.

Lord Dolphinton, who had been trying to follow this, now joined the group by the window, plucking at Miss Plymstock’s sleeve, and demanding: “What’s this? Does he say I cannot be married? Is that what he says?”

“I am sorry, Foster, but unless you have with you a special licence it is impossible for me to marry you.”

His lordship uttered a moan of despair. Miss Plymstock drew his hand through her arm. “Don’t you fly into a pucker, my dear!” she said calmly. “We shall find a way to brush through it, don’t fear! We—”

She broke off, for the door had opened, and a beam of lamplight shone into the darkening room. Mrs. Armathwaite came in, carrying a lamp, which she set down upon the table, saying: “I’ve brought the lamp, sir, and there’s no need for you to worrit yourself about dinner, for it happens that we have a nice shoulder of mutton, which I’ve had popped into the oven, and a couple of spring chickens, which will be on the spit in another ten minutes. Good gracious, what ails his lordship?”

Dolphinton, in the act of disappearing into the cupboard beside the fireplace, paused to say in anguished tones: “Not here! Not seen me!”

Kitty, who had also heard the sound of a vehicle drawing up, peered out into the dusk. “Dolph, don’t be afraid! It is not your Mama! It is only some gentleman—why—why, I do believe—It is Jack! Good God, what can have brought him here? Oh, I am persuaded he will be able to help us! What a fortunate circumstance! Come out, Dolph! it is only Jack!”

In a very few moments, Mr. Westruther, admitted to the house by Mrs. Armathwaite, strode into the Rector’s parlour, and stood for a minute on the threshold while his keen, yet oddly lazy eyes took in the assembled company. They encountered first Miss Charing, who had started forward into the middle of the room. An eyebrow went up. They swept past the Rector, and alighted on Miss Plymstock. Both eyebrows went up. Lastly, they discovered Lord Dolphinton, emerging from the cupboard. “Oh, my God!” said Mr. Westruther, shutting the door with a careless, backward thrust of one hand.

The Rector’s parlour was of comfortable but not handsome proportions, and with the entrance of Mr. Westruther it seemed to shrink. The Rector was himself a large man, but he neither caused his room to dwindle in size, nor seemed out of place in it. But he did not wear a driving coat with sixteen capes, which preposterous garment added considerably to Mr. Westruther’s overpowering presence; he did not flaunt a spotted Belcher neckcloth, or a striped waistcoat; and if the fancy took him to wear a buttonhole, this took the form of a single flower, and not a nosegay large enough for a lady to have carried to a ball. He had a shapely leg, and took care to sheathe it, when he rode to hounds, in a well-fitting boot; but he despised the white tops of fashion, and his servant was not required to polish the leather until he could see his own reflection in it.

Mr. Westruther moved forward, the big mother-of-pearl buttons on his driving-coat winking in the lamplight. He put out his hand, and with one long finger tilted Kitty’s chin up. “What a charming gown, my dear!” he remarked. “You should always wear pink: did the estimable Freddy tell you so? He has his uses! May I kiss you?”

“No, you may not!” said Kittv, pushing his hand away.

He laughed. “Ah, just so! Far too many persons present, are there not? Am I correct in supposing that you are here on precisely my own errand? Did you bring Dolphinton? A mistake, I feel—but I cannot believe that he had the wit to come of his own volition.”

He spoke lightly, but she had the impression that under his air of mockery he was angry. This puzzled her, and had the effect of diverting her own annoyance. She said slowly: “No, I am not here on any errand of yours, Jack. To be sure, I have no notion of what your errand may be!”

“Have you not? Then I will tell you, my love!” He rounded suddenly upon the Rector. “I am so happy to have found you at home, coz! Do, pray, inform me!—Are you aware of what has been going on under your saintly nose, at Arnside, or has it escaped your notice?”

The Rector’s eyes flashed. “I will rather inform you, Jack, that I find your manners offensive!”

“Do you? I am glad to hear it—quite enchanted, in fact! You become almost human. In general, you know, I find you as dead a bore as any waxwork.”

The Rector’s hands clenched involuntarily, and his austere mouth tightened. Mr. Westruther, observing these unclerical signs of wrath, laughed. “Do you mean to have a turn-up with me? I should not advise it. You were a first-rate boxer once, but you have let yourself get sadly out of condition, I fancy.”

“Don’t try my patience too far!” said the Rector, his breathing a little quickened.

“Oh, to the devil with you!” Mr. Westruther said impatiently. “Give me a plain answer! Do you know what has been going forward at Arnside, or are you sand-blind?”

Lord Dolphinton, whose eyes had been going from one to the other of his cousins, now saw fit to explain the situation, in so far as he was able, to his betrothed. “That’s my cousin Jack,” he informed her. “Told you about him. He’s vexed with Hugh. Hugh’s vexed with him. I don’t know why, but I wish he hadn’t come. I don’t like him. Never did.”

“Let it console you, sapskull, to know that your sentiments are reciprocated to the full!” said Mr. Westruther, with a snap.

“I’ll thank you, sir, to keep a civil tongue in your head!” said Miss Plymstock, entering the lists in steely-eyed defence of his lordship. “If there’s anything you are wishful to say in Foster’s disparagement, say it to me—if you dare! I’ve heard a deal about you, and not a word that wasn’t true, by what I can see!”

This unexpected attack successfully arrested Mr. Westruther’s attention. Up flew his mobile brows; genuine amusement set his eyes laughing again; he lifted his quizzing-glass, and through it inspected Miss Plymstock from head to foot. “A formidable opponent!” he remarked. “Diminutive, but pluck to the backbone! May I have the honour of knowing who you are?”

“Oh, Jack, pray will you stop behaving in this odious way?” begged Kitty. “It is Miss Plymstock, who is going to marry Dolph, and we are in such a dreadful fix! Only I do think that perhaps you could help us out of it!”