‘Tomfoolery!’ Ulverston said shortly.
‘You may name your friends! They will hear from mine!’
‘Good God, how can I meet you?’ demanded Ulverston. ‘I’m a guest in your brother’s house, you young fool!’
‘It is not my house! You’ve knocked me down: do you mean to deny me satisfaction?’
‘Y’know I’ve no taste for rodomontade!’ said Ulverston. ‘You should be thanking me for having given you the leveller you were standing in crying need of!’
He would have left the shed on the words, but Martin stood in his way. ‘Will you, my lord, name your friends, or don’t you care to pit your marksmanship against mine?’
‘Oh, go to the devil!’ snapped Ulverston. ‘Whom would you have me name? Your brother? Your cousin?’
Martin was for the moment nonplussed, but he recovered quickly, and said: ‘Mr Warboys will be happy to serve you!’
‘Thank you! I shan’t call upon him to act for me.’
Martin’s right hand came up like a flash, and struck him an openhanded blow across the cheek. ‘Does that make you change your mind, my lord?’
The Viscount, curbing his instincts, kept his own hands lowered, but he was by this time very angry indeed. He said: ‘Yes, that makes me change my mind! If no one else will teach you a lesson, Martin Frant, I will!’
Fourteen
It was fortunate for the cordiality of the relations between Stanyon and Whissenhurst that before she had reached the house Marianne was met by Miss Morville, who had walked out to look for her. It was evident that Marianne was much discomposed, her bosom heaving, her eyes full of tears, and her cheeks whitened. She uttered the one word: ‘Martin!’ in answer to her friend’s solicitous enquiry, and seemed inclined to fall into strong hysterics. Miss Morville needed no more to prompt her to convey Marianne upstairs to her own room, and to beg her to tell her the whole. The story which was poured into her ears was incoherent, and freely interspersed with self-blame. She unravelled it as best she might, and did what lay in her power to soothe Marianne’s fears. When, shuddering, Marianne told her of the brief fight in the shed, she could not help smiling a little, so very much shocked did Marianne seem to be. She apologized for this insensibility by explaining that she had so often seen her brothers at fisticuffs, and had so often applied raw steaks to their blackened eyes, that she no longer felt on this subject as perhaps she ought. She could even hope that the exchange of blows might have gone some way to relieve exacerbated tempers, but Marianne’s description of the scene, and of Martin’s mien when he picked himself up from the floor, soon put such comfortable ideas to flight. She knew his temper; she could imagine what his chagrin must be: her only dependence must be on Ulverston’s good sense.
‘If they were to meet – and I the cause – !’ Marianne said, wringing her hands.
‘Well, they shan’t meet,’ replied Miss Morville. ‘It would be most improper!’
‘Improper! It might be fatal!’
‘I cannot suppose that either would be so stupid.’
‘Not Ulverston, no! But Martin! In such anger! How can you tell what he might do?’
‘You are right: I can’t tell,’ owned Miss Morville, dispassionately considering it. ‘Well, there is nothing for it but to put a stop to a duel – if that is indeed what they intend, and I daresay it may be, for gentlemen have such nonsensical notions that one may believe them to be capable of any folly.’
‘Oh, if one could but prevent it! But they will tell us nothing, for females should never know anything about such things! They would dislike it so very much, if one attempted to interfere in a matter of honour!’
‘I am not in the least concerned with what they may dislike,’ replied Miss Morville somewhat tartly. ‘What I am thinking of is how excessively disagreeable it would be for you and the Frants to have such a scandal in your midst. Do let me beg of you, my dear Marianne, not to mention what has occurred to another soul! There will be no duel, if I have to lay an information against them both to prevent it.’
Marianne looked as though she hardly knew whether to be relieved or scandalized. ‘Oh, that would be dreadful!’
‘You need not be alarmed: I am persuaded there will be no need to proceed to such an extreme.’
Her air of assurance had its effect. Marianne dried her tears, and was soothed. By the time she had tidied her ruffled ringlets, and folded up her shawl, she was calm enough to descend the stairs to the saloon, where Ulverston and Theo were chatting to Sir Thomas and his lady.
There was nothing to be learned from the Viscount’s manner, but Miss Morville thought that Theo was looking grave. Of Martin there was no sign, and since the Bolderwoods did not mention him she supposed that he must have left Whissenhurst without seeing them.
This was soon found to have been the case. The Stanyon party left the Grange together, and while Ulverston was exchanging a word or two with Sir Thomas on the front steps Theo found the opportunity to draw Miss Morville aside, and to ask her if she knew what was amiss between Martin and the Viscount.
‘Yes, and so, I fancy, must everyone! Has Ulverston spoken to you?’
‘Not Ulverston, but I ran into Martin, and I never saw the boy look so wild! Some nonsense he blurted out to me, demanding if I would act for Ulverston in an affair of honour! He cannot, surely, have been serious!’
‘I fear it. What did you reply?’
‘He gave me little chance to do more than to say I should certainly do no such thing. If he had not looked as he did, I should have thought him to have been speaking in jest. But Ulverston – ! Good God, this cannot be permitted! I’ll speak to Martin.’