Forrest Leo - The Gentleman

Lancaster frowns. ‘All of this is of course assuming you’re going to Hell.’

I had anticipated this objection. It was one of my considerations during my sleepless pensing. ‘Lancaster,’ I say, ‘I married for money and sold my wife to the Dev’l.’

‘I retract my previous comment,’ he says promptly. ‘But still, Savage—’

‘But nothing. It makes sense. And besides, I’m in love. Which means I’m lucky. So, quick, before Simmons comes in and throws a fit. I need a bullet for your pistol.’

I know Lizzie is upset with me, for she does not object. Lancaster, though, looks dubious. ‘That’ll necessitate an awful lot of clean-up, old boy. I’d really prefer—’

‘Good God, man,’ I cry, ‘I’m talking about KILLING MYSELF for your sister and you’re complaining about a little—’

I am cut off by the sound of my pernicious doorbell being rung vigorously and without cease.

‘SHUT UP!’ I bellow.

I hear the front door admit the bell ringer, and before I can say anything the door to my study is flung open and a funny-looking little man tiptoes in, carrying two fencing sabres.* We all swing to face him, and he cowers under our collective gaze.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says.

He is short and slender and ginger-haired and beaked with the most magnificent nose I have ever seen. His dress is almost foppish, but somehow at the same time dull. His appearance is that of a boring dandy, which I had until this moment believed to be a contradiction in terms.*

‘Oh look,’ says Lancaster, sounding amused, ‘it’s Timely Hubert.’ Who is Timely Hubert, and what is he doing in my house?

‘Oh, hello Cousin Ashley, I heard you were back,’ says the intruder. ‘Your mother is quite determined to see you married, you know.’

‘Who are you?’ I demand.

‘One moment, please,’ says the little man, his attention still on Lancaster. ‘She’s frozen all your funds until you tie the knot, what?’

Lancaster looks poleaxed. ‘Good God,’ he says weakly, ‘she’s what ?’

I don’t care about Lancaster’s funds, I care about my wife! ‘Who are you?’ I say again.

The interloper turns to me at last. ‘I’m Hubert,’ he says. I want to yell at him, Yes, I know you are Hubert, but who are you ? But I hold my tongue, because I am well bred.* I must look blank, though, because he adds, ‘Lancaster. Hubert Lancaster. Cousin Hubert. We met at your wedding.’

I have no recollection of him. None at all. I recall my wedding, but not Hubert Lancaster. It’s really a little alarming for an entire person to have been completely excised from my mind. I am about to ask Lizzie if she remembers him, but just in time it occurs to me that she was not at my wedding, which is still I suspect a source of annoyance to her. So I do not ask her. ‘I was drunk,’ I say to Hubert, which I was. ‘What do you want?’

He looks uncertain. He takes out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes the sweat from his brow. I believe he must have run all the way here from wherever it is he came.* He notices Lizzie’s state of undress and the pistol in my hand, and looks perplexed. ‘Is this a bad time?’ he asks.

‘It’s a terrible time.’

‘I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. Well, I suppose I do — but I don’t wish to intrude. But you see I’m agitated. Truth be told, I’m even a little angry, what? And I apologise profusely for the inconvenience, but I’m afraid I am, well, rather obligated to demand satisfaction.’

I stare at him. Lizzie stifles a laugh, but not very well, and adjusts her blanket. Lancaster is not attending.

As none of us say anything, Hubert continues awkwardly. ‘For the wrongs committed by you against my family, and specifically my cousin Vivien, I find myself compelled to ask, I mean, demand, that you meet me on the field of honour.’

I fight the urge to laugh maniacally. ‘You— You—’ I cannot get the words out. ‘You’re challenging me to a duel ?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, his eyes darting. ‘But you really have behaved very badly toward my cousin, and… Well, if you wouldn’t mind fighting a duel with me, I’d appreciate it.’

‘You’d appreciate it?’ I say incredulously.

Hubert nods meekly.* Lizzie’s eyes are laughing. Lancaster stares vacantly into space.

The door opens and Simmons comes in, brought no doubt by the noise. ‘Is everything alright, sir?’

‘Perfectly,’ I say. ‘Cousin Hubert here is politely attempting to request a duel. I need some tea.’

‘Very good, sir,’ says he and leaves the room.

Lancaster has been standing in shock since Hubert’s words to him, and he now finds his voice at last. ‘Hubert,’ he says, ‘did you say Mummy’s going to freeze my funds?’

‘She already has, I’m afraid,’ says Hubert.

‘But that’s illegal!’

‘If handled by an expert solicitor,’ he says, ‘it isn’t actually quite illegal.’ Lancaster cocks his head, uncomprehending. Hubert looks uncomfortable and adds, ‘Sadly, I am an expert solicitor.’*

‘YOU froze my funds!’ cries Lancaster, eyes blazing,

‘No, no, your mother did!’ says Hubert, his voice breaking. Lancaster is at least a foot taller than him. ‘I only made it possible. I’m so sorry.’

‘Traitor,’ spits Lancaster.

‘But,’ says Hubert brightly, ‘she promises to release the money as soon as you’re married!’

Lancaster’s face, which has been pale, turns positively ashen. ‘My God,’ he says. ‘I’m doomed. This is it. I’m actually doomed.’ All things considered, I think he is taking a rather narrow view.

‘I’m so sorry, Ashley,’ says Hubert.

‘Can we just pop back to me for a moment?’ I say. ‘You were challenging me to a duel?’

‘Oh yes, I’m sorry,’ says Hubert. ‘A duel. For the wrongs you’ve committed against your cousin— I mean, wife— My cousin— Vivien.’

What is he talking about? Our marital discontent has certainly not been public — neither my sister nor my wife’s brother had any notion. How is it that this strange person who calls himself my cousin is privy to information they are not? ‘How on earth do you know about any wrongs I’ve committed against my wife?’ I demand.

‘Why, she told me,’ he says with evident surprise.

‘About what?’

‘What?’

‘What wrongs?’ I am baffled. Have I unwittingly wronged Vivien in some way which is more generally known? I feel as though I am in a farce, challenged to duels left and right for unknown or unconscious slights. I say, ‘You know, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But that’s alright. I’m not going to fight you.’

‘You’re— You’re not?’ he says, looking concerned. He dabs at his brow again.

‘No,’ I say. I have an idea in my head. ‘But you’re welcome to kill me.’

‘Oh Lord,’ says Lizzie.

‘I don’t understand,’ says Hubert.

‘I have an appointment in Hell,’ I explain, ‘but I am having some difficulty getting there. As such, it would be very helpful if you’d kill me.’

Lizzie covers her face with her hands and her blanket very nearly slips off.

‘What do you mean?’ asks Hubert stupidly, blinking several times.

‘Don’t ask questions,’ I advise him. ‘It’s complicated to explain. Just kill me. Now, please.’ I begin to unbutton the top of my shirt, so that his sword may enter my heart unimpeded.

‘I can’t kill an unarmed man!’ says Hubert. ‘It’s not sporting.’

‘Then hand me that sword, then kill me,’ I say, reaching out for the second weapon.

‘Very well,’ says Hubert, and gives me the sabre. ‘But why—’