A Breach of Promise

"I suggested that," Rathbone explained. "He was afraid she might not decline and then he would be back in his present situation, and he refuses absolutely to go through with it, but he will not tell me why."

Hester burst into laughter, then controlled herself again instantly.

"How marvelously arrogant!" she exclaimed. "She would be quite mad to accept him in those circumstances. All it would do would be to give her the opportunity to be the one to turn him down. There has to be more to it than you have been told."

"Perhaps he is already married?" Gabriel suggested. "Perhaps it is unhappy, an arrangement over which he had little control, a family obligation, and he has run away from it, fallen in love with her, but now realizes he ca

"That is quite plausible," Rathbone thought aloud. "Providing his family are some considerable distance away, perhaps Scotland or Ireland. He is bent on making a name for himself in London."

"Has his eye on someone higher," Athol said dismissively. "More money, better co

"Well, he is ruining his chances completely by losing a suit for breach of promise," Gabriel pointed out. He looked at Rathbone. "Didn't you say this young lady is an heiress?"

"Yes, very considerable," Rathbone agreed. He turned back to Hester. "And I have the strong impression that his emotion is fear, even panic, rather than greed. He is quite aware that this girl's father is ideally placed to assist him in his career, and has done so already. No, he is definitely a man caught in a situation which is intolerable to him, but I don't know why!"

Athol snorted. "If he won't tell you, then it is something he is ashamed of! An honorable man would explain himself."

It was a very bald statement, without sensitivity or allowance, and yet before Rathbone could frame a contradiction, he realized it was true. Were there not something profoundly wrong, real or imaginary, Melville would have explained his situation to Rathbone, if not to Zillah Lambert.

"Perhaps he is in love with somebody else?" Hester suggested.

"Then why doesn't he simply tell me?" Rathbone continued. "It is a plain enough thing to understand. I might not agree, but I would know what arguments I was facing."

Hester thought for a moment.

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"Why not?" she agreed. "Or…"

"It happens," he said, shaking his head. "That is not anything to be ashamed of. It is simply awkward, possibly embarrassing, but not worth this public disgrace."

"What about her mother?"

"What?" Rathbone was incredulous. The idea was inconceivable.

Athol misunderstood completely. "Don't suppose the poor woman knows," he put in. "Wouldn't have brought the action if she did." He shook his head, his face still bland and certain.

"Hester means what if the man is in love with the girl's mother," Gabriel enlightened him. "And even if she did know, it wouldn't stop her bringing the suit, because she will hardly be likely to tell the father, will she?"

"Good God!" Athol was astounded.

Rathbone collected his wits. "I suppose it's possible," he said slowly, remembering Delphine's lovely face, her delicacy, the grace with which she moved. Melville would not be the first young man to fall in love with an older woman. It had never entered Rathbone's thoughts, and even now he found it exceedingly difficult. Delphine had seemed so genuinely betrayed. But then maybe she had no idea.

Hester's mind was racing ahead. "Or perhaps the girl is in love with someone else and your client knows it," she suggested. "It could be a matter of honor with him, the greatest gift to her he could give… and she dare not tell her parents, if this other person is unsuitable. Or on the other hand, it might be pride-he could not marry a woman he knew did not love him but did love someone else. I wouldn't! No matter how willing he was to go through with it."

Rathbone smiled. "I'm sure you wouldn't. But there is an optimism, or an arrogance, in many of us which makes us believe we can teach someone to love us if only we have the chance." Then he wondered immediately if he should have said that. Was it not too close to the unspoken, vulnerable core of what lay inside himself? Did he not dream that with the chance, the time, the intimacy, Hester would learn to love him with the passion of her nature, not merely the abiding friendship? It had never occurred to him before that he might have anything in common with Melville beyond a terror of being trapped into a marriage he did not want. But perhaps he had?

He found himself unable to meet her eyes. He looked away, at the curtains, through the window at the trees, then at Gabriel.

He saw a flash of something in Gabriel's face which could have been understanding. Gabriel was intelligent, sensitive, and before his injury he must have been remarkably handsome. His was a world of loss which made Melville's situation, and even Zillah Lambert's hurt feelings, seem so trivial, so easy to settle with a word or two of goodwill and an ability to forgive. If they were to smile and remain friends, society would talk about it for a brief while, but only until the next scandal broke.

"I shall put it to him." He turned to Hester at last. "Thank you for helping me to clarify my mind. I feel as if I have the case in better perspective." He smiled at her, then looked again at Gabriel. "Thank you for your indulgence, Lieutenant Sheldon. You have been most gracious. I wish you a speedy return of health."

Gabriel bade him good-bye, as did Athol, and Hester rose and went with him to the door. Out on the landing, she looked at him gravely, studying his face. Was she imagining something personal rather than professional in his coming? He would very much rather she did not. He was not ready to commit himself again.

"Thank you," he repeated."I-I find myself at a loss to understand the case, and I am afraid I shall be of little help to my client until I do. It all seems like needless pain at the moment. I have no defense to offer for him."

"There must be something vital that you don't know," she said seriously. There was no disappointment in her face that he could see, and certainly no withdrawing, or sense of criticism, or hope deferred. The knot of anxiety eased inside him. He found himself smiling at nothing.

"I think you need to know what it is," she went on. "It may be… physical."

"I have thought of that," he said truthfully. "But how do you ask a man such a thing? Most men would suffer anything, even imprisonment, rather than admit it."

"I know," she answered so softly it was little more than a whisper. "But there are euphemisms which could be used, white lies. A doctor could be found to swear he had some illness which would make marriage impossible. Her father would understand that, even if she did not."

"Of course… thank you for clarifying the thought so well. I…" He bit his lip ruefully. "I admit I had not known how to phrase it to ask him. Although I am not at all sure that is the answer."

"Well, if it is not, you need to learn what is." She was perfectly direct. "You ca

"I know. Of course you are right. I suppose I shall have to learn them for myself"-he smiled suddenly, widely-"and charge my client accordingly. In which case I had better win!"