Джорджетт Хейер: The Masqueraders

“Letty.” He laughed a little. “She would not thank you for calling that respectability.”

“I don’t, be sure. What for the old gentleman?”

“Faith, isn’t a Viscounty enough? Do you look to see him turn respectable too?”

“Optimism falls short of it. In truth, we all achieve something more than our deserts. It’s a quaint world.” She smiled and joined hands with him. “Give you joy, Robin.”

“Certainly, child.” He pressed her long fingers. “And you have it.”

“Yes, I have it.” She turned her head, for a large figure was coming towards them.

“Abundance of it,” Robin said wickedly.

But a week later, at Barham, on the terrace, my lord looked over the lawns to where four people were throwing bread to the carp in the marble pond and waved a satisfied hand. “I contrive!” he said.

My lady looked too at the pretty group. There was Prudence, blue-gowned, and stately, leaning on Sir Anthony’s arm and beside them Robin seemed to be endeavouring to prevent an eager, laughing Letitia from overbalancing into the pond. It was a charming picture and my lady’s bright eyes softened as she looked. “What, all of it, Robert?”

“All of it,” said my lord. “My plans are accomplished, I win — as ever. I have surpassed myself.”

“And when they are married — voilà, your labours are ended at last.”

My lord wrinkled his brow. “My Thérèse, you should know that I am a man of too powerful a character to fold my hands.” He looked meditative. “I have too large a vision to be so easily satisfied.”

“La — la! What now?” cried my lady in some alarm.

My lord became impressive. “It is not fitting that I should be no more than a Viscount,” he said. “Our house must be enlarged. You may look to see it happen, Thérèse.”

“Mon Dieu, and will it?”

“Do not doubt it,” answered his lordship. “I have made up my mind that my son must inherit an Earldom at the least. I shall once more contrive. Do not doubt that I shall contrive! I am a great man, Thérèse: I realise it at last. I am a very great man.”