Gibbous House 82

Arabella took the peacock chair that I had vacated on standing for her entry as politeness dictated. I stood legs crossed at the ankle and leaned, one arm outstretched, against the mantlepiece of a poor effort in imitation of Mr Adams. There was little warmth emanating from below it, a meagre log fed a feeble flicker in the grate. Brougham, having executed his stiff approximation of a bow in the direction of Arabella, stood, hands behind his back, clearing his throat as if some blockage would hold him silent for ever. Whitscrape, being an insubstantial, pallid fellow, faded until he no more caught the eye than an artfully arranged coat stand.

Brougham began diffidently, with much circumlocution and further adjustment of buttons, cuffs, waistcoat and the irritating bolus in his gullet. I silently wished he would out with his proposal; Arabella sat demure with eyes downcast, Whitscrape might indeed have been a coat stand for all he moved.

'And so... Captain, not to delay further – and I hope I am not indelicate in my haste- I have the honour this propitious day to ask for the hand of you sister Arabella in marriage.'

He let out a huffing sigh as if these very words had been the obstruction that had caught so in his throat. And perhaps they were: we had presented Arabella as a woman of few prospects, being only my sister-in-law and as such having no claim on the house in Cadogan Square and little more than fifty pounds per annum, thanks to a legacy on the distaff side. In short, his prospective bride had been bound for a life of genteel poverty. It said little for his own desirability amongst his peers that he was yet a bachelor, or that he would be tempted so far beyond his circle - no matter what the prize.

A glint in Whitscrape's eye signalled his continued presence in the world of men and I took it as a sign that Brougham had said enough.

'You have chosen well, Brougham. My sister will make you a fine consort. We accept your proposal. It does us both great honour, I'm sure.'

He gave another of his stiff courtesies to Arabella, this time accompanied by a most repulsive leer. It was time to spring the gin and see how much the ermine would forfeit to escape its jaws:

'And we are both I am sure, cognizant of your extreme generosity in the matter of the responsibility.'

He nodded still mooning at his prize.

'For indeed,' I went on, 'a man might marry many women, even at an age as advanced as my sister's own...'

Brougham's head swivelled , perhaps he felt the trap around his legs and could not turn to face me.

'but only a rare individual would take a widow...'

The eyes bulged, mayhap he was wriggling his leg and the teeth of the gin were paining him somewhat.

'...and she the mother of a poor fatherless child.'

Brougham let out a bellow of pained rage and threw a look of venom toward a suddenly more visible Whitscrape, who gave him a very satisfied nod. Brougham did not address his enquiry to me, but to the lawyer:

'How much, you viper?'

Whitscrape named a sum, not inconsiderable. It seemed that Brougham's reputation, though of some pecuniary value to himself, would not have withstood a suit for Breach-of-promise.