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He little dreamed that it was to his title and position she had become so deeply attached, he could not guess that after he had married her there would be no more Lord Masherville worth mentioning that that individual, once independent, would be entirely swallowed up and lost in the dashing personality of Lady Masherville, who would rule her husband as with a rod of iron.
Marvelle, "I must call at the Van Clupps' " "I'll call there with you. I owe them a visit. Has Marcia caught young Masherville yet?" "Well," hesitated Mrs. Marvelle, "he is rather slippery, you know so undecided and wavering!" Lady Winsleigh laughed. "Never mind that! Marcia's a match for him! Rather a taking girl only what an accent! My nerves are on edge whenever I hear her speak."
Once she tried what effect an opposite flirtation would have on his mind, so she coquetted desperately with a young country squire, whose breed of pigs was considered the finest in England but Masherville did not seem to mind it in the least. Nay, he looked rather relieved than otherwise, and Marcia, seeing this, grew more resolute than ever.
He knew well enough what her antecedents were, and a faint shudder crossed him as he thought of the pork-dealing uncle, who would, by marriage, become his uncle also. He had long been proud of the fact that the house of Masherville had never, through the course of centuries, been associated, even in the remotest manner with trade and now!
Rush-Marvelle had her hands full of other matters, she was aiding and abetting Marcia Van Clupp to set traps for that mild mouse Lord Masherville, and she was too much absorbed in this difficult and delicate business to attend to anything else just then.
If you don't hook Masherville at the Carringten fete, you'll lose him! You mark my words!" Marcia had dutifully promised to do her best, and she was not having what she herself called "a good hard time of it." Lord Algy was in one of his most provokingly vacillating moods moreover, he had a headache, and felt bilious.
Two of these pensive wanderers were Marcia Van Clupp and Lord Algernon Masherville, and Lord Algy was in a curiously sentimental frame of mind, and weak withal, "comme une petite queue d'agneau afflige" He had taken a good deal of soda and brandy for his bilious headache, and, physically, he was much better, but mentally he was not quite his ordinary self.
"Guess he came in as gently as a lamb!" she said. They understood her. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle rose from her chair in her usual stately and expensive manner. "I congratulate you, my dear!" kissing Marcia affectionately on both cheeks. "Bruce Errington would have been a better match, but, under the circumstances, Masherville is really about the best thing you could do.
She looked so charming so irresistible, that Masherville lost all hold over his wits. Scarcely knowing what he did, he put his arm round her waist. Oh, what a warm, yielding waist! He drew her close to his breast, at the risk of breaking his most valuable eyeglass, and felt his poor weak soul in a quiver of excitement at this novel and delicious sensation.
A vision of Masherville Park, Yorkshire, that "well-timbered and highly desirable residence," as the auctioneers would describe it, flitted before Marcia's eyes, and, filled with triumph, she went straight into her lordly wooer's arms, and kissed him with thorough transatlantic frankness. She was really grateful to him.
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