Part 3 (1/2)
The evening however ended early.
Since he had grown older King George disliked late nights and he had also given up drinking as deeply as tie had done when he was young.
Those had known him in the old days could tell stories of how a dinner-party would go on until four o'clock in the morning, when most of the guests left in such a state of inebriation that they had to be carried to their carriages.
But the succession of ladies with whom the King fell in love, starting with Mr Fitzherbert, had gradually persuaded trim that such roistering was bad for his health.
Now when he rose to his feet in the Royal manner to indicate that it was time to say good-night, a: great number of his guests were considering where they should go next.
”Have you an engagement, William? Or shall we go to White's together?” Captain Lionel Worfield asked.
The Viscount considered for a moment.
He was thinking of a very attractive lady who was waiting for him in her boudoir in Berkeley Square, and also that at this hour his mistress who was performing at Covent Garden would be hoping that his carriage would be at the Stage Door.
”Is it anything important,” he enquired, ”or can it wait until tomorrow ?”
”It is not exactly urgent,” his cousin replied. ”But I have had a rather strange letter from Uncle Roderick.”
The Viscount stopped.
”You have had a letter?” he enquired and there was no mistaking the surprise in his voice.
”That is what I am telling you,” Lionel answered. ”Have you had one too?”
”I have!”
Lionel laughed.
”I imagined that you would have. What do you think it means?”
”What it says, I suppose,” the Viscount replied.
His carriage came to the door at that moment and without discussing it further both men got into it. ” White's!” the Viscount said to the footman.
As the horses moved off he lay back against the comfort-ably padded seat and remarked ”I have often wondered what our estimable uncle in-tended to do with his millions.”
”Is he really as rich as he is reputed to be?” Lionel asked.
”So I understand, ” the Viscount replied. ”Even the Chancellor of the Exchequer speaks of him with a note of awe in his voice!”
”Then what is this girl like when he says he looks on her as his daughter?”
”I have not the slightest idea,” the Viscount answered, ”but I knew that she had been left his Ward by her father and mother when they died and that he has been introducing her to Social Life in Rome. ”
”And in Paris,” Lionel added. ”A friend of mine who was there three months ago described a party Uncle Roderick gave as the most luxurious affair he had ever attended.”
The Viscount raised his eye-brows, then said ”I presume your letter says the same as mine?”
”I have it with me,” Lionel answered. ”I thought there might be a chance of discussing it with you.”
He drew the letter as he spoke, from the inside pocket of his dose-fitting coat and handed it to the Viscount.
”I will wait until we are inside the Club,” his cousin said. ”It is too dark in here to read anything but the greedy expression on your face!”
He laughed as he spoke, taking any sting from his words.
”I admit I could do with a few thousands at the moment, or even hundreds, ” Lionel replied, ”but I am also well aware that with you in the running I have not a chance of being first past the winning post!”
The Viscount did not contradict ”him or, if he intended to do so it was too late, because at that moment, Carlton House being only a short distance from White's Club, the horses came to a standstill.
The two cousins walked up the steps and into the most exclusive and important Club in the whole of St Jamess, which as usual was packed with their friends.
They extricated themselves with some difficulty from those who wanted to congratulate the Viscount on his win and found a quiet corner in the Coffee Room.
Having ordered drinks from an attentive waiter the Viscount drew out the letter which his cousin had handed him. He read it slowly: ”My dear Nephew I have returned to England after an absence of two years and am re-opening Worfield House where I intend to entertain for my Ward, Astara Beverley.
She is in fact, to all intents and purposes my daughter, and as I am getting on in years it is her future which concerns me.
The greatest wish of my life is that Astara should marry happily and if possible a member of my family, and live at Worfield House.
It would, I realise, be impossible for any young man to afford the upkeep of such an enormous mansion and the Estate unless I provide for it in my will.
I have therefore decided that my fortune, which as you may be aware is a very considerable one, will be settled jointly on Astara and the man she marries.
It is with this thought in mind that I invite you to come to Warfield House at the earliest possible opportunity to make Astara's acquaintance.
It will also give me great pleasure to see you again and hear of your exploits in the last two years: With my regards to your parents, I remain your affection-ate uncle, Roderick Worfield.”
The Viscount read every word, then returning the ”letter to his cousin remarked: ”It is identical to the one I received, and written in the same hand.”
”You mean that Uncle Roderick did not write it himself?” ”No, of course he did not. And I do not mind betting you, Lionel, that it was inscribed by Astara Beverley.”
Lionel Worfield regarded the letter with interest.
”Now that you mention it,” he said, ”the writing is distinctive and - yes, by Gad it is feminine!”
”I presume our uncle and Astara have between them concocted this idea of having us on show, ” the Viscount said.
”Well, as I have already told you,” Lionel remarked, ”it is just a waste of time my journeying to Hertfords.h.i.+re if you intend to go there.”
”None but the brave ... ! ” the Viscount teased.
”... deserve the fair! ” Lionel finished. ”But how do we know she is fair?”
”She is not only fair, she is extremely beautiful!” the Viscount replied.
”'Who told you that?”
”Some friends who met her in Rome. In fact they in-formed me that she will be the toast of St James s within a week of appearing in London.”