Her Ladyship's Elephant Read online

  CHAPTER II

  IN WHICH THE CONSUL LOSES A RELATIVE AND GAINS A WIFE

  When Robert Allingford entered the smoking-room of his club, oneafternoon early in October, he was genuinely glad to find that it hadbut one occupant, and that he was Harold Scarsdale. The two men had meteach other for the first time at a house-party some eighteen monthsbefore, and their acquaintance had ripened into true friendship.

  "Hello!" he cried, accosting that gentleman. "You're enjoying to thefull your last hours of bachelor bliss, I see."

  "Speak for yourself," replied Scarsdale, who looked extremely bored."You're also on the dizzy brink."

  "It's a fact," admitted the Consul; "we are both to be marriedto-morrow. But that is all the more reason why we should make the mostof our remaining freedom. You look as glum as if you'd lost your lastfriend. Come, cheer up, and have something to drink."

  "They say," remarked the Englishman as he acquiesced in the Consul'ssuggestion, "that a man only needs to be married to find out of howlittle importance he really is; but I've been anticipating my fate. MissVernon's rooms are a wilderness of the vanities of life, and here I am,banished to the club as a stern reality."

  "Quite so," replied the American. "I'm in the same box. The dressmakershave driven me clean out of Belgrave Square. But you, you really have mysympathy, for you are to marry one of my countrywomen, and they are aptto prove rather exacting mistresses at times like these."

  "Oh, I'm fairly well treated," said Scarsdale; "much better than Ideserve, I dare say. How is it with you?"

  "Oh," laughed Allingford, "I feel as if I were playing a game of blindman's buff with English conventionalities: at least I seem to run foulof them most of the time. I used to imagine that getting married was acomparatively simple matter; but what with a highly complicated ceremonyand an irresponsible best man, my cup of misery is well-nighoverflowing."

  "I suppose you have been doing your required fifteen days of residencein the parish? London is slow work, now every one is out of town,"remarked Scarsdale.

  "My second-best hand-bag has been residing for the past fortnight in anadjacent attic, in fulfilment of the law," returned the American; "butaffairs at the consulate have kept me on post more than I could havewished."

  "I should not think you would have much business at this season of theyear."

  "On the contrary, it is just the time when the migratory American, whohas spent the summer in doing Europe, returns to England dead broke, andexpects, nay, demands, to be helped home."

  "Do you have many cases of that sort?"

  "Lots. In fact, one especially importunate fellow nearly caused me tolose my train for London yesterday. I gave him what he asked to get ridof him."

  "I suppose that sort of thing is a good deal like throwing money intothe sea," said Scarsdale. "It never comes back."

  "Not often, I regret to say; but in this case my distressed countrymanput up collateral."

  "Indeed. I trust you can realise on it if need be."

  "I don't think I want to," said the Consul, "seeing it's an elephant."

  "What!" cried Scarsdale.

  "An elephant, or rather, to be exact, an order for one to be deliveredby the Nubian and Red Sea Line of freighters in two or three days atSouthampton Docks. My friend promises to redeem it before arrival,expects advices from the States, &c., but meanwhile is terribly hardup."

  "I hope he will be true to his promises, otherwise I wish you joy ofyour elephant. You might give it to Lady Steele," suggested Scarsdale.

  "Yes. I think I can see it tethered to the railings in Belgrave Square,"remarked the Consul; "but I am not losing sleep on that account, for,though I've informed the steamship people that I am, temporarily, theowner of the beast, I more than suspect that the order and the elephantare both myths. But I have been telling you of my affairs long enough;how go yours?"

  "Swimmingly," replied the Englishman. "Miss Vernon has only one relativein England, thank Heaven! but my family have settled down on me inswarms."

  "Is Lady Diana Melton in town for the occasion?" asked Allingford.

  Scarsdale flushed, and for the moment did not reply.

  "I beg your pardon," said the American, "if I have asked an unfortunatequestion."

  "Not at all," replied his friend. "My great-aunt, who, as you know, is asomewhat determined old person, has the bad taste to dislike Americans.So she has confined herself to a frigid refusal of our weddinginvitation, and sent an impossible spoon to the bride."

  "So you are not to have her country place for your honeymoon," saidAllingford. "From what I have heard of Melton Court, it would be quitean ideal spot under the circumstances."

  "No, we are not going there. The fact is, I don't know where we aregoing," added Scarsdale.

  "Really!"

  "Yes. As you were saying just now, your countrywomen are apt to proveexacting, and the future Mrs. Scarsdale has taken it into her head thatI am much too prosaic to plan a wedding trip--that I would do the usualround, in fact, and that she would be bored in consequence; so she hastaken the arrangements upon herself, and the whole thing is to be asurprise for me. I don't even know the station from which we start."

  "I'm afraid I can't commiserate you," returned Allingford, laughing,"for I'm guilty of doing the very same thing myself, and my bride electhas no idea of our destination. She spends most of her spare time intrying to guess it."

  At this moment a card was handed to Allingford, who said: "Why, here ismy best man, Jack Carrington. You know him, don't you? I wonder what canhave started him on my trail," and he requested the page to show him up.

  A moment later Carrington entered the room. He was one of thebest-dressed, most perfect-mannered young men in London, the friend ofevery one who knew him, a thoroughly delightful and irresponsiblecreature. To-day, however, there was a seriousness about his face thatproclaimed his mission to be of no very pleasant character.

  After greeting his friends, he asked for a few words in private with hisprincipal, and as a result of this colloquy Allingford excused himselfto Scardsdale, saying that he must return to his lodgings at once, asCarrington had brought him news that his brother Dick had arrivedunexpectedly from America, and was awaiting him there.

  "What a delightful surprise for you!" exclaimed Scarsdale.

  "Yes, very--of course," returned Allingford drily; and after a mutualinterchange of congratulations on the events of the morrow, and regretsthat neither could be at the wedding of the other, the Consul and hisbest man left the club.

  "He did not seem over-enthusiastic at Carrington's news," musedScarsdale, and then his mind turned to his own affairs.

  It was not astonishing that Robert Allingford received the news of hisbrother's arrival without any show of rejoicing. A family skeleton isnever an enjoyable possession, but when it is not even decentlyinterred, but very much alive, and in the shape of a brother who hasattained notoriety as a black sheep of an unusually intense dye, it maybe looked upon as little less than a curse.

  Yet there were redeeming qualities about Dick Allingford. In spite ofhis thoroughly bad name, he was one of the most kind-hearted andengaging of men, while the way in which he had managed his own and hisbrother's property left nothing to be desired. Moreover, he was quite inhis element among his miners. Indeed his qualities, good and bad, wereof a kind that endeared him to them. He loved the good things of thislife, however, in a wholly uncontrollable manner, and, as his incomeafforded almost unlimited scope for these desires, his achievementswould have put most yellow-covered novels to the blush. Dick's redeemingvirtue was a blind devotion to his elder brother, from whom he demandedunlimited advice and assistance in extricating him from athousand-and-one scrapes, and inexhaustible patience and forgiveness forthose peccadilloes. When Robert had taken a public office in England itwas on the distinct understanding that Richard should confine hisattentions to America, and so far he had not violated the contract. TheConsul had taken care that his brother should not be informed of theday of his
marriage until it was too late for him to attend in person,for he shuddered to think of the rig that Richard would run in staid andconventional English society. Accordingly he hastened to his lodgings,full of anxious fore-bodings. On arrival his worst fears were fulfilled.Dick received him with open arms, very affectionate, very penitent, andvery drunk. From that gentleman's somewhat disconnected description theConsul obtained a lurid inkling of what seemed to have been a triumphalprogress of unrestrained dissipation from Southampton to London, ofwhich indignant barmaids and a wrecked four-in-hand formed the mostredeeming features.

  "Now explain yourself!" cried Robert in wrath, at the conclusion of hisbrother's recital. "What do you mean by this disgraceful conduct, andwhy are you in England at all?"

  "Saw 'proaching marriage--newspaper," hiccoughed Dick--"took firststeamer."

  "What did you come for?" demanded Allingford sternly.

  "Come? Congratulate you--see the bride."

  "Not on your life!" exclaimed the Consul. "You are beastly drunk and notfit for decent society."

  "Fault--railroad company--bad whisky," explained the unregenerate one.

  "I'll take your word for it," replied his brother. "You ought to be ajudge of whisky. But you won't go to my wedding unless you are sober."And he rang for his valet.

  "This is my brother, Parsons," he remarked to that individual when heentered. "You may put him to bed at once. Use my room for the purpose,and engage another for me for to-night."

  "Yes, sir," replied his valet, who was too well trained to betray anyemotion.

  "When you have got him settled," continued the Consul, "lock him in, andlet him stay till morning." With which he straightway departed, leavinghis stupefied brother to the tender mercies of the shocked and sedateParsons.

  Allingford stood a good deal in awe of his valet, and dreaded to see thereproachful look of outraged dignity which he knew would greet him onhis return. So he again sought the club, intending to find Scarsdale andcontinue their conversation; but that gentleman had departed, and theConsul was forced to console himself with a brandy and soda, and settledown to a quiet hour of reflection.

  He had been engaged upwards of three months, and, it is needless to say,had learned much in that space of time. An engagement is a liberaleducation to any man, for it presents a series of entirely new problemsto be solved. He ceases to think of and for himself alone, and theaccuracy with which he can adjust himself to these novel conditionsdetermines the success or failure of his married life. RobertAllingford, however, was engaged to a woman of another nation; of hisown race, indeed, and speaking his own tongue, but educated under widelydiffering standards and ideals, and on a plane of comparative simplicitywhen viewed in the light of her complex American sister. The littleEnglish girl was an endless mystery to him, and it was only in laterlife that he discovered that he was constantly endowing her with acomplicated nature which she did not possess. He could not understand awoman who generally--I do not say invariably, for Marion Steele washuman after all, but who generally meant what she said, whose pleasureswere healthy and direct, and who was really simple and genuinelyignorant of most things pertaining to the world worldly. He knew thatworld well enough--ten years of mining had taught him that--and he hadbeen left to its tender mercies when still a boy, with no relativesexcept his younger brother, who, as may well be imagined, was rather aburden than a help.

  But if Robert Allingford had seen the rough side of life, it had taughthim to understand human nature, and, as he had been blessed with a largeheart and a considerable measure of adaptability, he managed to get onvery well on both sides of the Atlantic. True, he seldom appreciatedwhat the British mind held to contain worth; but he was tolerant, andhis tolerance begat, unconsciously, sympathy. On the other hand, theConsul was as much of a mystery to his fiancee as she had ever been tohim. In her eyes he was always doing the unexpected. For one thing, shenever knew when to take him seriously, and was afraid of what he mightdo or say; but she soon learned to trust him implicitly, and to estimatehim at his true sterling worth.

  In short, both had partially adjusted themselves to each other, and werelikely to live very happily, with enough of the unknown in theircharacters to keep them from becoming bored. Allingford had never spokendefinitely to his fiancee concerning his younger brother, and she knewinstinctively that it was a subject to be avoided. To her father she hadsaid something, but Sir Peter had little interest in his children'saffairs beyond seeing that they were suitably married; and since he wassatisfied with the settlements and the man, was content to leave wellenough alone.

  The Consul, therefore, thought himself justified in saying nothingabout the unexpected arrival of his brother, especially as the chancesof that gentleman's being in a fit state to appear at the wedding seemedhighly problematical.

  Next morning there were no signs of repentance or of Dick; for if adeserted bed, an open window, and the smashed glass of a neighbouringskylight signified anything, it was that Mr. Richard Allingford wasstill unregenerate and at large.

  The bridal day dawned bright and clear, and Carrington lunched with theConsul just before the ceremony, which, thanks to English law, tookplace at that most impossible hour of the day, 2.30 P.M.

  The bridegroom floundered through the intricacies of the service, signedhis name in the vestry, and achieved his carriage in a kind of dream;but woke up sufficiently to the realities of life at the reception, toendure with fortitude the indiscriminate kissing of scores of newrelations. Then he drank his own health and the healths of otherpeople, and at last escaped upstairs to prepare for the journey andhave a quiet fifteen minutes with his best man.

  "Now remember," he said to that irresponsible individual, "you are theonly one who knows our destination this evening, and if you breathe itto a soul I'll come back and murder you."

  "My dear fellow," replied Carrington, "you don't suppose, after I'veendured weeks of cross-questioning and inquisitorial advances from thebride and her family, that I am going to strike my colours and give thewhole thing away at the eleventh hour."

  "You have been a trump, Jack," rejoined the Consul, "and I only wish youmay be as happy some time as I am to-day."

  "It is your day; don't worry about my affairs," returned Carrington,with a forced laugh which gave colour to the popular report that theonly vulnerable point in his armour of good nature lay in hisimpecunious condition and the consequent impossibility of his marryingon his own account.

  It was only a passing cloud, however, and he hastened to change thesubject, saying: "Come, you are late already, and a bride must not bekept waiting."

  Allingford was thereupon hustled downstairs, and wept upon from allquarters, and his life was threatened with rice and old shoes; but hereached the street somehow with Mrs. Robert in tow, and, barring thecircumstance that in his agitation he had embraced the butler instead ofSir Peter, he acquitted himself very well under the trying ordeal.

  As they drove to the station his wife was strangely quiet, and herallied her on the fact.

  "Why," he said, "you haven't spoken since we started."

  Her face grew troubled. "I was wondering----" she began.

  "If you would be happy?" he asked. "I'll do my best."

  "No, no, I'm sure of that, only--do tell me where we are going."

  The Consul laughed. "You women are just the same all the world over,"he replied, but otherwise did not commit himself; but his wife noticedthat he looked worried and anxious, and that he breathed a sigh ofunmistakable relief as their train drew out of Waterloo Station. She didnot know that the one cloud which he had feared might darken his weddingday had now been dispelled: he had seen nothing of his brother.