The Queen's Cup by G. A. Henty (best business books of all time txt) 📗

I did then. Lady Greendale is a remarkably clever woman, and her daughter is as nice a girl as I have come across for a long time, and without a scrap of nonsense about her. I wonder that she has not become engaged by this time. General Matthews, who, as you know, goes in a good deal for that sort of thing for the sake of his daughters, told me recently that he fancied from what he had heard that Miss Greendale's engagement was likely to be a settled thing before the season was over. He said there were three men making the running—Lord Chilson, the eldest son of the Earl of Sommerlay; George Delamore—his father is in the Cabinet, you know, and he is member for Ponberry; and a man named Carthew, who keeps race horses, and was a neighbour of hers down in the country. He is, I hear, a good-looking fellow, and just the sort of man a girl is likely to fancy. Matthews thought that the chances were in his favour. As you are a neighbour of theirs, too, I suppose you will know him?"

"I knew him at one time, Colonel, but I have not seen him now for a good many years, beyond meeting him two or three times at dinners and so on last season. He was away when I was at home before going out to India, and he had sold his estate before I came back."

"They say he has been very lucky on the turf, and has made a pot of money."

"So I have heard," Frank said; "but, you see, one generally hears of men's good luck, and not of their bad. Besides, many men do most of their real betting through commissioners, especially if they own horses themselves. He is a fellow I don't much care for, and I hope that whomever Miss Greendale may marry, he will not be the man."

"I thought, when you first asked me down last year, that you had got up the party specially for her, Mallett, and that you were going in for the prize yourself. But of course I soon saw that I was mistaken, as you were altogether too good chums for that to come about. I have often noticed that men and girls who are thrown a lot together are often capital friends, but, although just the pair you would think would come together, that they hardly ever do so. I have noticed it over and over again. Well, she is an uncommonly nice girl, whoever gets her."

Frank did not return to town until the end of June.

"I have to congratulate you upon the Osprey's victory," Bertha said, the first time he called to see them. "You may imagine with what interest I read the accounts of the yacht races. I saw you won two on the Thames, and were first once and second once at Southampton."

"Yes, the Osprey has shown herself to be, as I thought, an uncommonly fast boat. We should have had two firsts at Southampton, if the pilot had not cut matters too fine and run us aground just opposite Netley; we were a quarter of an hour before we were off again. We picked up a lot of our lost ground and got a second, but were beaten eight minutes by the winner."

"Have you entered for the Queen's Cup at Ryde?"

"I have not entered yet, but I am going to do so," he said.

"Mamma and I will be down there. Lord Haverley—he is first cousin to mamma, you know—has taken a house there for the month, and he is going to have a large party, and we are going down for Ryde week."

"Yes, and there will be the Victoria Yacht Club ball, and all sorts of gaieties. I have not entered yet, but I am going to do so. The entries do not close till next Saturday."

"You will call and see us, of course, Frank?" Lady Greendale said. "Haverley has a big schooner yacht, and I dare say we shall be a good deal on the water."

"I shall certainly do myself the pleasure of calling, Lady Greendale."

"I warn you, Frank, that Bertha and I will be very disappointed if the Osprey does not win the cup. We regard ourselves as being, to some extent, her proprietors; and it will be a grievous blow to us if you don't win."

"I do not feel by any means sure about it," he said. "I fancy there will be several boats that have not raced yet this season, and as two of them are new ones, there is no saying what they may turn out."

Frank only stayed two days in town. He learned from Jack Hawley that it was reported that Lord Chilson and George Delamore had both been refused by Bertha Greendale.

"Chilson went away suddenly," he said. "As to Delamore, of course as he is a Member he had to stop through the Session, but from what I hear, and as you know I have some good sources of information, I am pretty sure that he has got his conge too. I fancy Carthew is the favourite. As a rule I don't like these men who go in for racing, but he is a deuced-nice fellow. I have seen a good deal of him. He put me up to a good thing for the Derby ten days ago. He gives uncommonly good supper parties, and has asked me several times, but I have not gone to them, for I believe there is a good deal of play afterwards, and I cannot stand unlimited loo."

"Is he lucky himself?" Frank asked.

"No, quite the other way, I hear. I know a man who has been to three or four of his suppers, and he told me that Carthew had lost every time, once or twice pretty heavily."

"Carthew's horse ran second, didn't it, for the Derby?"

"Yes, the betting was twenty to one against him at starting."

"I wonder he did not give that tip as well as the other."

"Well, he did say that he thought it might run into a place, but that he was sure that he had no chance with the favourite. As it turned out, he was nearer winning than he expected; for the favourite went down the day before the race, from 5 to 4 on, to 10 to 1 against. There was a report about that he had gone wrong in some way. Some fellows said that there had been an attempt to get at him, others that he had got a nail in his foot. The general feeling had been that he would win in a canter, but as it was he only beat Carthew's horse by a short head."

"Had Carthew backed his horse to win?"

"He told me that he had only backed it for a hundred, but had put five hundred on it for a place, and as he got six to one against it he came uncommonly well out of it."

"And do you think it likely that Miss Greendale will accept him?"

"Ah! that I cannot say. He has certainly been making very strong running, and if I were a betting man I should not mind laying two to one on the event coming off."

Frank joined the Osprey, which was lying off Portsmouth Harbour, on the following day.

"I am back earlier than I expected, George," he said, as Lechmere met him at the station. "I have got tired of London, and want to be on board again."

"Nothing gone wrong in town, I hope, Major?" George said next day, as he was removing the breakfast things. "You will excuse my asking, but you don't seem to me to be yourself since you came on board."

"Well, yes, George. I am upset, I confess. I am sure you will be sorry, too, when I tell you that it is more than probable that Miss Greendale is going to marry Mr. Carthew."

George put the dish he was holding down on the table with a crash, and stood gazing at Frank in blank dismay.

"Why, sir, I thought," he said, slowly, "that it was going to be you and Miss Greendale. I had always thought so. Excuse me, sir, I don't mean any offence, but that is what we have all thought ever since she came down to christen the yacht."

"There is no offence, George. Yes, I don't mind telling you that I had hoped so myself, but it was not to be. You see, Miss Greendale has known me since she was a child, and she has never thought of me in any other way than as a sort of cousin—someone she liked very much, but had never thought of for a moment as one she could marry. That is all past and gone, but I should be sorry, most sorry, for her to marry Carthew, knowing what I do of him."

"But it must not be, sir," George said, vehemently. "You can never let that sweet young lady marry that black-hearted villain."

"Unfortunately I cannot prevent it, George."

"Why, sir, you would only have to tell her about Martha, and I am sure it would do for his business. Miss Greendale can know nothing about it. So far as I can remember, she was not more than sixteen at the time. I don't suppose Lady Greendale ever heard of it. She knew, of course, of Martha's being missing, because it made quite a stir, but I don't suppose that she heard of her coming back. She was only at home three weeks before she died. There were not many that ever saw her, and father told me that he and the others made it so hot for Carthew one day at Chippenham market that he never came down again, and sold the place soon after. I don't suppose the gentry ever heard anything about it. If they had, Lady Greendale would surely never let her daughter marry him."

"No, I feel sure she would not; but still, George, I don't see that I can possibly interfere in the matter. The story is three years old now, and even if it had only happened yesterday, I, after what has occurred between us, could not come forward as his accuser. It would have the appearance of spite on my side; and besides, I have no proof whatever. He would, of course, deny the whole thing. I do not mean that he would deny that she said so—he could not do that—but he might declare that she had spoken falsely, and might even say that it was an attempt to put another's sin on his shoulders. Moreover, as I told you, I have other reasons for disliking the man, and, on the face of it, it would seem that I had raked up this old story against him, not only from jealousy, but from personal malice.

"No, it is out of the question that I should interfere. I would give everything that I am worth to be able to do so, but it is impossible. If I had full and unquestionable proofs I would go to Lady Greendale and lay the matter before her. But I have no such proofs. There is nothing whatever except that poor girl's word against his."

George's lips closed, and an expression of grim determination came over his face.

"I dare say you are right, Major," he said, after a pause; "but it seems to me hard that Miss Greendale should be sacrificed to a man like that."

Frank did not reply. He had already thought the matter over and over again, and had reached the opinion that he could not interfere. If he had not himself proposed to her, and been refused, he might have moved. Up to that time he had stood in the position of an old friend of the family, and as such could well have spoken to Lady Greendale on a matter that so vitally concerned Bertha's happiness. Now his taking that step would have the appearance of being the interference of a disappointed rival, rather than of a disinterested friend. He went up on deck, sat there for a time, and at last arrived at a conclusion.

"It is my duty. There can be no doubt about that," he said to himself. "If Bertha really loves Carthew, she will believe his denial rather than my accusation, unsupported as it is by a scrap of real evidence. In that case, she will put down my story as a piece of malice and meanness. But, after all, that will matter little. I had better far lose her liking and esteem than my own self respect. I will tell Lady Greendale about this. The responsibility will be off my hands then. She may not view the matter as an absolute bar to Carthew's marrying Bertha––that is her business and Bertha's—but at any rate I shall have done my duty. I will wait, however, until Bertha has accepted him.

"I have made up