The Determined Bachelor (31 page)

His sister met him with some amazement, but a great deal of geniality. Her amazement was, of course, destined to grow sharper when she heard the reasons for her brother's mission, and the background of the story.

“Oh, Lord!” cried she, delighted, when she had heard the whole business narrated. “I always thought Anne was of a class by herself! What a plucky thing she is! And now, you say, Sir Basil is offering you charity?”

“A thousand pounds, to start!” smiled Mr. Calder. “With the offer of more when it is needed. Can you fathom it? I am almost tempted to keep it, only to teach him a lesson.”

“But it is not his fault, you know.”

Mr. Calder looked grave. “I know; and that is the worst of it, for Anne has now caught me up in her web of untruths, and I cannot let the man throw about his money in such a heedless sort of way.”

“Sir Basil has got plenty of it, however,” responded Mrs. Norton. “And it is exceeding odd, you know: for while his brother, Lord Hargate, has got the reputation of a complete bamboozle with his funds—forever in debt from cards and the excesses of his Countess—Sir Basil is known for quite the opposite characteristic. He is a famous skinflint. I don't know either of them personally, of course, but they are so well known, each in his separate way, that I am positive of the fact. I heard not long ago that he would not put up the funds to redecorate the Embassy, and the House of Commons was forced to raise them for him.”

“Clever fellow,” murmured her brother, for he had a more pragmatic view of the distribution of one's money than his sister.

“So it is exceedingly odd that he has chosen this moment to commence so much generosity,” continued Mrs. Norton. “He must be very fond of Anne.”

“And so he ought to be. But, however, I do not think she thinks as well of
him
—for she wishes to come home at once, and has hinted that she dislikes him amazingly.”

“Really? Well, how odd. I know Sir Basil is meant to be tight with his money, but otherwise have heard nothing but good of him. It was he, you know, who put us upon such amiable terms with the French, after Wellington had pretty well ruptured them.”

Mr. Calder did not know this, and listened with interest to some other of the Baronet's accomplishments. It was a very long list, and after hearing it, he felt a conflict between his original prejudice against the man and the proof which this new view afforded of his being a diligent and illustrious diplomatist. The sister and brother conversed a little longer, and when it happened to come out that Anne had had her book published, Mrs. Norton exclaimed in delighted amazement.

“What a girl!” cried she. “What is it called, Arthur? I shall get a copy as soon as ever I can.”

“
A Country Parson
” replied Mr. Calder, adding, “It is meant to be a satire. I hope it is not all aimed at
me!
”

“Why!” cried Mrs. Norton, “I cannot believe it! It is being talked about everywhere, you know! Sir Walter Scott has called it brilliant, and the Regent is clamoring to know who wrote it! Heavens, and it was our very own Anne! I cannot believe it!”

Mr. Calder could believe anything good of his daughter, and having once accustomed himself to the notion that she was an authoress, even the notion that she was thought brilliant by such figures as Walter Scott and the Regent did not amaze him.

“That so?” he inquired. “Well, well! She is a very clever girl, you know.”

“Clever! She is being called everywhere a genius!”

“Well, that is putting it a little strongly. Let her produce another book, first.”

Mrs. Norton was amazed. She had ever held a high opinion of her eldest niece, and had always had a special fondness for her. But to think she was an authoress! And one so highly thought of! Well, it really was an astonishing thing.

Mr. Calder was very glad to hear all this, but his chief purpose in coming to London had been to fetch his daughter home, and to return the check to Sir Basil Ives with an explanation of his daughter's conduct. Having passed a few more minutes with his sister, therefore, and promising that he should return a little later with the prodigal child, he set off on foot for Regent's Terrace.

His thoughts had come full circle since he had set out, and now, walking through the city streets, he endeavoured to collect them a little. He had initially intended to confront the Baronet with the check, apologize for his daughter's conduct, and enjoy the spectacle of befuddlement upon the supercilious
fellow's face. Now, however, he had come to review his ideas a little. He was unsure how he should go, and, having reached the house on Regent's Terrace, knocked tentatively at the door.

He was soon admitted and, having offered the butler his card, saying he was “Miss Calder's father,” was shown into an elegant drawing room. There he waited for several moments, until a step was heard in the corridor, the door opened, and in stepped a tall and personable gentleman.

Mr. Calder rose from his chair and extended his hand.

“Your Excellency—I am afraid I have disturbed you. No doubt you are very busy.”

Sir Basil Ives took in the dignified figure before him, a little amazed, inquired if this was really Miss Calder's father.

“Yes, I am afraid so! And I am afraid we have caused you a great deal of trouble.”

“Trouble! Nothing like it! It is only that—well, to be frank, I expected something else.”

Mr. Calder raised a comical eyebrow. “Ah! How so?”

Sir Basil hemmed and hawed a moment, taking a chair and inviting his guest to resume his own.

“I expected something rather different, Sir. Miss Calder led me to believe———”

“That I was an impoverished little old clergyman from the country?”

Sir Basil looked uncomfortable. “Well—yes, I suppose, if that is how you must put it.”

“My daughter has deceived you sadly, I am afraid. She is a very naughty girl. This was all a whim of her own devising, and had I any suspicion of how far it would go—”

Sir Basil, looking exceedingly shocked, held up his hand.

“Pray, Sir! Do not belabour the point. Only tell me how far I have been led astray. You are not a clergyman? What, in Heaven's name, is the point?”

Mr. Calder smiled at his host's confusion, and felt a knot of sympathy for him. Having four daughters and a wife had taught him to regard the caprices of womankind a little more indulgently than he might have otherwise. A bachelor must certainly be appalled to find the whole sex so scheming and frivolous. As clearly as he could, therefore, he attempted to tell the story right from the start. Sir Basil, as may be expected, listened with profound amazement.

“So you see, Sir, she has led us all right down the primrose path. I need not tell you how sorry I am for having been any
party to this ruse. I ought to have forbidden it right from the start. But how could I have known how far it would go?”

Sir Basil was sitting very pale in his chair. He said nothing for a moment.

“Then she has no need to be a governess? She has, you say, thirty thousand pounds of her own? Excuse me, Sir—but I cannot fathom it! Why should she have wanted to masquerade as a poor girl?”

“To escape her own life for a little, I suppose,” replied Mr. Calder, smiling. “Who can ever say what gets into these women's heads? She did not wish to marry, and her mother loathes the idea that one of her daughters might be a spinster. She had several offers, you know—none of them brilliant, but then we live in a remote part of the country. Besides, she has always had a fanciful mind. I am exceedingly sorry, Sir, to have put you in such a position, and have come to take her away and to give you back your check. My son is perfectly all right. He shall never recover completely, I am afraid, for the effects of his illness are permanent. But now he has got something to amuse him—now that the book seems to have had so much success, well, I am sure he shall content himself perfectly with helping Anne to write her little books.”

“Book . . . books?” repeated the Baronet, baffled.

“Why, you know, she is an authoress—ah, I suppose she has not told you that, either? She wrote a little novel—something to fill her idle hours in the country—and now it seems to have become all the rage. I have heard it is a very good one, too! I mean to read it as soon as I can. It was really on account of that that she wished to come to London. She said she had exhausted the resources of our little part of the world, and wished to see the Great One. Only now, I suppose, she finds it is really too much for her. She has led a very sheltered life, you know.”

Sir Basil was looking flabbergasted. “Excuse me, Mr. Calder, if I seem to be having some trouble getting my breath. So much news all at once . . . dear me! She is an authoress, and has thirty thousand pounds! Her father is a gentleman, and
she
desires to be a governess!”

“It is all rather odd, is it not? But women are like that, Sir Basil. You have not seen as much of 'em as I have. I dare say. I am dreadfully sorry to have inconvenienced you in this inexcusable fashion. But I shall attempt to make it up as soon as I can. First, by returning your check, and second, by taking
my daughter away. You shall resume your normal life as soon as possible, I hope.”

“Oh, Sir—I hope not!”

Mr. Calder regarded him in amazement. “Why, what do you mean, Sir?”

“I do not see how I can do without her! She has made herself invaluable here, both for my ward and for myself! I depended upon her coming to Paris with me!”

“I do not understand you, Sir. Surely you cannot still wish her to be in your employ! I do not think she will like to be, in any case! And, Sir, I have made up my mind. I think this prank has gone far enough.”

“Will you, Sir, allow her to make up her own mind?”

Mr. Calder looked uncertain. He thought perhaps he ought to inform his host that Anne already
had
made up her mind, but having already caused him so much chagrin, he did not see how he could refuse.

“Very well, Sir Basil. Why do not you send for her at once?”

The bell was pulled, and a footman sent to fetch the young lady from the schoolroom. Having not been informed of her father's presence in the house, she opened the door quickly, unsure why she had been sent for. The sight of the two occupants of the room almost made her jump.

“Father!” she exclaimed. “What—what on earth are you doing here?”

A nervous glance between the gentlemen was sufficient to tell her at least part of the story. The one was staring at her crossly, the other with an imploring look.

“I have come on purpose to attempt to undo some of the damage you have done Sir Basil, my dear.”

Anne looked inquiring, and then guilty. “Oh dear!”

“And to take you home.”

Mr. Calder paused. “Sir Basil, however, is such a charitable man that he seems to wish you to continue in his employ. I have attempted to make him see the true light of your character, but he seems blinded to it. We have therefore agreed to leave the decision to you. Well, my dear—do you wish to come home with me at once, or to go to Paris as the Ambassador's governess?”

Sir Basil coughed. “Ah—Miss Calder. I hope you will not make up your mind just yet. I should have preferred to do this in another way, but I seem to have no choice. I do not wish you to come to Paris with me as a governess.”

Miss Calder, already startled, looked doubly so. “Sir?”

“Not as my governess—that is to say Nicole's governess—but as my wife.”

Now it was Mr. Calder's turn to look flabbergasted. He stared back and forth between the two other occupants of the room, wondering if he had heard correctly. Had Sir Basil said “wife”? What on earth was going forward? His daughter's face had gone perfectly white, and then perfectly red. She was staring at the Baronet in shock. Sir Basil himself was utterly pale.

“I know this is not how it is generally done, Miss Calder. I have not much experience with this kind of thing, and hope you will forgive me. Perhaps we ought to walk out into the garden, where I can fall upon my knees—only I am not much good at that sort of thing. I only know that I shall be miserable if you tell me “no.”

Anne had raised a hand to her forehead, and was swaying slightly. Seeing that she was any moment in danger of fainting dead away, her father rushed to her side, just in time to catch her fall. Sir Basil, too, had jumped forward, and now struggled to help move her to a sofa. Here the two gentlemen bent over her, chafing her wrists and looking rather idiotic, under the circumstances, since neither of them had ever been in this situation before. It was some moments before either of them was composed enough to speak. By that time, Anne's lids had begun to flutter, and she gazed up into the face of Sir Basil Ives, bent in utmost sympathy above her.

“Did you really ask me to be your wife, Sir?”

Sir Basil nodded emphatically.

“You do not hate me?”

“On the contrary, I am in love with you. I wish you would say something.”

Anne did.

Chapter XXIV