Sylvia Andrew - An Unreasonable Match

“Nonsense! For one thing, no one knows who the author is—”

“But they’re bound to find out! It wouldn’t be difficult to work out who wrote it—all the people in it were the ones I knew. I’m surprised Hugo hasn’t worked it out already.”

“That’s where my bits came in,” said her brother proudly. “I think you’ll find that I’ve obscured the tracks enough.”

“I must see it—immediately. Tonight!”

“I don’t think so, Hes. Gaines and I are off to Astley’s tonight. Tomorrow.”

“You’ll bring it tonight, you snake—”

“Hester!” Lady Perceval came into the room. “I thought you had gone upstairs. Whatever are you doing here? And Lowell!”

“I…I…er…I have some messages for Lowell. From the Vicarage.”

“Henrietta, perhaps?” asked her mother with a significant smile. “I won’t ask what they are—you obviously want to deliver them in private. Lowell, shall we see you tonight?”

Her two children answered at the same time. “Yes!” said Hester. “No, unfortunately not,” said Lowell with an apologetic smile. Sir James, hearing this, was annoyed.

“What’s this, sir? Your mother and I would have liked you to be here!”

“Sorry, Papa! It’s Gaines. He’s leaving town tomorrow. He has to go down to Devon for a few weeks. Tonight’s the only night we can go and we’ve been promising ourselves this treat for ages. I’ll be here tomorrow morning—about noon.”

With this his parents had to be content, though they were not best pleased. As they turned to go Hester, who had been thinking furiously, said, “Mama, Lowell has suggested we go for a short walk. He thought that might relieve my headache better than lying in a stuffy room. I should dearly like to see where he lives. I know it isn’t far. Just round the corner…almost.” She gave Lowell a sweet smile. Only he could sense the determination behind it.

“Well…”

“I’m sure he’ll look after me, Mama. Won’t you, Lowell?”

“Of course! If you’re sure you want to…”

“I want to. May I, Mama?”

A few moments later Hester was accompanying Lowell to Half Moon Street. After a silence she said, “You haven’t told me yet how you discovered it.”

Lowell had had time to reflect on Hester’s reaction. He had genuinely thought that it was a wonderful jest to have her book published, but now he was no longer so sure. It was a long time since he had seen Hester in such a rage.

“I…I was waiting for you in the attic. This was some time ago, Hes. You were a long time coming. So…so I explored. The key was on top of the cupboard, and…and…”

“You opened it. And stole the manuscript.”

“Don’t say that! I read it on the spot. It isn’t very long, as you know. If you had come in then I daresay I shouldn’t have done anything with it. But you were held up in the village or something, so I had plenty of time to finish it. I couldn’t stop laughing. It was brilliant!”

“Laughing!” Hester exclaimed bitterly.

“Well, I daresay you didn’t feel like laughing when you wrote it. But your caricatures were hilarious to an outsider. And one or two of them hit the nail right on the head. That’s why it’s such a wild success. All London is laughing. I don’t know why you’re taking it so badly, Hester!”

“Lowell! If it ever comes out that I wrote the thing then I am dished—completely. For ever! London won’t laugh then. They’ll hunt me out of town.”

“They won’t find out. I told you, I altered it to disguise your part. And…and…”

“Continue, little brother,” said Hester ominously when Lowell hesitated.

“Well, I put things in it that a respectable girl couldn’t possibly know about. You’d mentioned some of Sywell’s escapades—you remember that party no one would talk about, until I got old Silas to tell? And the business with Abel Bardon’s daughters? You didn’t know the details—no one would tell you, of course, so you’d used your imagination. Well, I just added a few of the real facts. No one could possibly believe you knew anything about those.”

Hester stopped and put her hands over her face. “Lowell, this is the worst thing you have ever done to me. I can’t bear it!” she said.

Lowell took her arm, aware of the curious glances directed at them both. He said in a low voice, “The situation isn’t nearly as bad as you think, Hester. Look! We’re nearly at my place—come in and I’ll give you something—a glass of wine, perhaps? Gaines has some first-class burgundy.”

Hester allowed herself to be shepherded into the small house in Half Moon Street where Lowell had his rooms. “I’d like to drown you in it. But I’ll have some water, or possibly some tea. Not wine.”

“I say, Hester! That’s not fair! I did it for a lark!”

“That’s what you always say, Lowell! But this is no lark!” Her brother’s air of injured innocence, rather like that of a hurt puppy, was having its usual effect. Hester was never able to stay angry with Lowell for long. But when she looked at the book which Lowell put into her hands a few minutes later she exploded again.

“This is disgusting!”

“Well, yes. They did spread themselves on the cover. The Marquis is being really astonishingly wicked.” As Lowell looked at it he started to grin appreciatively. “I don’t know how the devil he managed that position, though.”

“Lowell!! You shouldn’t be showing me this…this filth! You shouldn’t even be mentioning such things to me! Oh Lord! I can’t believe this is happening to me. Not another disaster, not again!” Hester was distraught. She walked up and down the room in agitation.

“Oh come, Hester! I may have spiced the novel up a little—”

“A little! If this is anything to go by…”

“A lot, then. But you can’t go all prunes and prisms on me. After all, you thought it all up. I only embellished it.”

“Oh no!”

“And the cover is the worst thing about it. It’s really not so lurid inside. Read it and see for yourself. I promise you, it will make you laugh.”

“I shall do nothing of the sort!” She stopped short. Then she wailed, “I shall have to read the confounded thing! Tonight, if possible. I must see what you’ve done to it. Lowell, I shall never forgive you for this, never! Here, take the book and wrap it up—properly, mind! I don’t want it to come undone before I can hide it in my room.”

Lowell was now so anxious to please that he wrapped the offending book into a small parcel and handed it over. “I’ll escort you back,” he said contritely.

“No! I don’t want your company! I’m used to walking alone, and it’s only a step.”

“But I must—”

“Lowell,” said Hester with awful calm. “Don’t argue with me. I shall scream if I have to say another word to you! I need to walk back to Bruton Street alone! I just might be able to speak to you tomorrow, but don’t count on it.” She turned and left him standing on the door step. He waited irresolutely, then shrugged his shoulders and went in.

Hester walked swiftly back up towards Berkeley Square. She was seething with an explosive mixture of anger and apprehension. How dare Lowell do such an outrageous thing! What would become of her—and her family—if London ever found her out? The parcel in her hand seemed to burn through to her fingers; she wanted to drop it, but dared not let it go. She reached the top of Half Moon Street and turned in the direction of Berkeley Square, head down, still clutching her parcel—and collided with a tall gentleman who was coming towards her. She dropped her parcel and with a gasp of dismay bent down to pick it up. A hand came out to prevent her.

“You must allow me,” said a deep, drawling voice.