The Frightened Bride E-Book

Barbara Cartland

• Herausgeber: Barbara Cartland Ebooks Ltd
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: The Eternal Collection
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 257

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Beset by financial problems, Major Kelvin Ward, resigns his regiment in India and returns to England in the hope that his uncle, the Duke of Uxbridge, will provide the sums he needs to become a partner in shipping firm. When his uncle refuses, help comes from an unexpected stranger, with an even stranger condition attached to the transaction – that Kelvin must marry his wealthy daughter, immediately. Torn between an arranged marriage to someone he has never met, and his need for money, Kelvin agrees to the marriage. However, frightened and shy, Seraphina is not what he expected. As they sail to India to meet his new business partners, the perils of the sea draw them closer together, but will his reliance on her money tear them apart? From the bustling streets of the Indian capital to the beauty of the Lake Palace of Udaipur, how two strangers are brought together are all told in this vivid story of compassion, trust and the power of love.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

I visited Udaipur – the City of Dreams – for the first time in 1974. It is without exception the most beautiful, the most ethereal, romantic place I have ever seen. The Lake Palace is now a hotel, but its marble walls, pinnacles of amber and jade, its flowers, orange and lemon trees are still brilliant against the mosaics.

The present Maharana – the ‘Sun of the Hindus’ – handsome and charming, gave me the classic history of Rajasthan written by Lt. Colonel James Todd, political agent to the Western Rajput States, and published in 1835. To these books I owe the background of Udaipur in this novel.

The description of Bombay and the glories of Parell are all authentic. Now Raj Bhavan the Governor’s residence is an unassuming cluster of bungalows at Malabar Point. Parell was abandoned because a Governor’s wife died there of cholera.

Then after Bombay had suffered a fearful visitation of plague in 1896 – believed by some of the more loyal Indians to have been a divine punishment for the besmearing of Queen Victoria’s Statue – the house was turned into a plague research laboratory, which it remains to this day.

Chapter One ~ 1886.

“No!” the Duke of Uxbridge said firmly.

In the pale winter light coming through the windows of his London house he looked very old, wizened and almost gnome-like.

“Please listen to me before you decide,” the man sitting opposite him begged.

The contrast between the two men was startling.

Major Kelvin Ward had been spoken of as the smartest man in the British Army, and just to look at him in ordinary clothes was to realise that his clear-cut features and broad shoulders would be enhanced by regimentals.

“If it gives you any satisfaction, I am prepared to hear what you have to say,” the Duke replied. “But my answer will be the same.”

“I want you to realise my position, Sir,” Kelvin Ward said. “You know that my mother’s long illness and her surgical operations cost over £5,000, and that I had to go to the moneylenders for the money.”

“You can hardly expect me to feel it was my responsibility,” the Duke remarked sourly.

“My mother was your sister-in-law, married to your only brother,” Kelvin Ward said quietly.

“If my brother had had any sense,” the Duke retorted, “he would not have saddled himself with a wife and children, considering he was not in a position to support them.”

Kelvin Ward’s lips tightened, and it was with an obvious effort that he forced himself not to argue with his uncle but to continue what he was saying.

“A year later there was, as you know, an unfortunate incident involving my brother.”

“A forger and a cheat!” the Duke said scathingly.

“Geoffrey was neither!” Kelvin Ward corrected. “He was weak and he got into the hands of unscrupulous men who encouraged him to gamble.”

“A fool and his money are soon parted!” the Duke quoted with a mirthless laugh.

“In a moment of, I admit, complete madness,” Kelvin Ward went on as if the Duke had not spoken, “Geoffrey forged the cheque of another officer. Had the man in question been a gentleman he would have accepted the money from me and said no more about it.”

“Instead he blackmailed you, eh?” the Duke asked again with that mirthless attempt at a laugh.

“The whole incident cost me ten thousand pounds,” Kelvin Ward said quietly. “I asked for your help at the time, if you remember, and you refused.”

“Of course I refused,” the Duke replied angrily. “Do you imagine I have nothing to do with my money but to throw it away on my relations who have not even a particle of honesty or decency in their make-up?”

“Are you including me in that condemnation?” Kelvin Ward asked.

The Duke hesitated a moment, and then as if he felt he had gone too far said,

“I met the Commander-in-Chief a month ago. He appears to think very highly of you.”

“I am grateful!” Kelvin Ward said with a slight inclination of his head.

“He was apparently unaware that you intended to leave your Regiment.”

“There was nothing else I could do,” Kelvin Ward replied. “As I have just explained, Sir, I owe fifteen thousand pounds, and it is impossible nowadays, even in India, for an Officer to live on his pay.”

“You knew that when you wasted ten thousand pounds saving that reprobate brother of yours from the prison, where he belonged.”

“Geoffrey was killed performing an action of great gallantry on the North-West Frontier,” Kelvin Ward said. “I see no point in defaming his memory.”

The Duke snorted.

“All I can say,” his nephew continued, “is that I am glad and I shall always be glad that his stupidity, for it was nothing more, was known to only a few people like yourself, and that the family name is still honoured at home and in the Regiment.”

“Very hifalutin talk!” the Duke jeered. “But pretty words do not fill your pockets, as you have apparently found out for yourself!”

“The position is this…” Kelvin Ward went on.

He was speaking in the quiet, unemotional voice of a man who is determined not to lose his temper however greatly he is provoked. His grey eyes in his thin sun-tanned face were steely as he looked at his Uncle, but otherwise he did not betray in any way the fact that he was fighting for his future.

“... I left the regiment because I knew that not only was it impossible for me to afford it, but also because I have reached an age when I must make some provision for myself.”

“I thought you were banking on my death,” the Duke said with a sneer.

“At a conservative estimate,” Kelvin Ward answered, “there is every likelihood of Your Grace living for another fifteen to twenty years. By that time I should be too old to start a new career.”

His lips twisted in a wry smile as he added,

“While as things are at the moment, I should in the meantime starve.”

“That is your business!” the Duke declared.

“I might point out to you,” Kelvin Ward continued, “that in most noble families it is usual to allow the heir apparent to the title some small income so that he is not put to the straits of borrowing against his future.”

There was a touch of irony in Kelvin Ward’s voice, and the Duke said,

“As you have done, I presume?”

“With very good reason, Sir. But by no means all I need. You have proclaimed your penury to all and sundry, so that the usurers do not consider me a good risk.”

“But you have tried?”

“Of course I have tried! The reason I was able to raise the five thousand pounds I required for my mother was their assumption that one day I would step into your shoes. But I had to find a guarantor for the ten thousand pounds to save Geoffrey. I cannot find another.”

“Then I suggest you find other ways of raising the money you require,” the Duke said.

“That is exactly what I am trying to do, Sir,” Kelvin Ward said patiently, “if you will just hear me out.”

“You are taking an unconscionable time in getting to the point,” the Duke said sharply.

“Then I will make what I have to say as short as possible,” Kelvin Ward promised. ‘I have some acquaintances in Bombay who are buying two trading ships. As you must well know, the shipping of goods between India, England and Europe has been increasing year by year.”

“I am not entirely deaf and blind about current events,” the Duke retorted.

“Then you will have seen some of the figures that have been published in ‘The Times’ and the ‘Morning Post’,” Kelvin Ward said. “It is, I believe, the quickest and most honest manner in which to make money.”

“So that is what you intend to do,” the Duke interposed.

“If I could put up five thousand pounds I could become a partner – admittedly a very junior partner – of these acquaintances. They intend to plough back the profits year after year until they own a whole fleet.”

“Very commendable!” the Duke said. “I hope you succeed in your aspirations.”

“You know what I am asking, Sir.”

“I have already given you the answer,” the Duke replied. “I do not intend to dissipate my money, what little I have, and I assure you it is a mere pittance, on madcap schemes.”

“You have just agreed that this is not a madcap scheme,” Kelvin Ward interrupted.

“…on madcap schemes,” the Duke continued harshly, “run by harum-scarum young men without experience of anything except riding about on a charger and killing defenceless locals who do not possess weapons to defend themselves.”

Kelvin Ward bit back the words that rose to his lips.

He had been two years on the North-West Frontier where the tribesmen were equipped with weapons provided by the Russians and used guerrilla tactics that took an unconscionable toll of British lives. It was hard to hear his uncle speak in such a manner. He had not however become an acknowledged leader of men without learning how fatal it was to lose one’s temper.

“All I am asking you, Sir,” he said, his voice as expressionless as it had been before, “is to lend me the money on a purely business-like basis.”

The Duke did not speak and he continued,

“You will receive an annual dividend exactly as if you had purchased a share on the Stock Market, and I am absolutely confident that by the end of our first trading year I shall be able to pay you back some of your loan, if not all of it.”

“You are very optimistic!”

“You will help me?”

“No!” the Duke answered. “I cannot afford it!”

Just for a moment Kelvin Ward was motionless.

He had an impulse to tell his uncle exactly what he thought of him but he knew it would only result in an undignified scene from which he would gain nothing. After all, he told himself, he had not really anticipated that his uncle would come to his assistance. The Duke had refused his pleadings when he had almost gone down on his knees to ask him to help his mother when she was dying. He had never been able to forget the bitterness he had felt as he walked from Uxbridge House with his uncle’s metallic voice echoing in his ears.

“I have no use in my life for ailing women and impecunious nephews!” he had shouted.

Kelvin Ward had been desperate then, and only by raising the money at an exorbitant rate of interest from the usurers had he enabled Lady Ronald Ward to die in comfort.

Kelvin Ward rose to his feet.

“If that is your last word, Sir,” he said, “then there is nothing more I can do to convince you.”

“Nothing!” the Duke agreed. “You could have saved your time coming here and employed it better badgering someone else with your grandiose ideas!”

‘Hardly grandiose!’ Kelvin Ward thought to himself as he looked round the big, comfortable study.

He was sure that if he had a chance to search through the bookcases he would find many old volumes acquired by his ancestors which were first editions and therefore extremely valuable. There were the portraits of the previous Dukes of Uxbridge hanging on the walls, some of which had been painted by world famous artists. Although he would not wish his Uncle to sell them, it was at the same time, hard to accept the Duke’s constant moan of poverty when he was surrounded by so many treasures.

Admittedly the carpets were threadbare and the linings of the damask curtains were in rags, the servants’ livery was never renewed, and the Duke himself was known to be so parsimonious that it was a joke among his contemporaries.

‘Is he really speaking the truth when he says that he is poverty-stricken?’ Kelvin Ward asked himself.

It was a question which had been in his mind for many years, in fact ever since his father had died and he had become the heir to the Dukedom. His uncle had no intention of ever allowing his nephew any inside information about the family fortunes, nor had he at any time offered him any hospitality. Kelvin Ward had not even been offered a glass of wine since he had arrived at Uxbridge House and there was no question of his ever having had a meal in his uncle’s company. And yet he had come back from India in optimistic mood. He had told himself that his uncle might just for once help him to make a living

It had been a wrench to leave the regiment. Even now he could hardly bear to think of the soldiers he had trained and commanded without a pain in his heart that was almost like a wound. He had abandoned his army career, as he had told his uncle, only because he faced the cold, hard truth that he could not live on his pay. To get deeper and deeper into debt was against his character, his whole code of behaviour.

“I believe Kelvin Ward is the most incorruptible man I have ever met,” he had heard the Colonel of the Regiment say once when he did not know he was within hearing.

And yet now, he wondered wryly, if that epithet would apply to him in the future.

He had decided to go into commerce, to become a trader, and he was well aware that his accepted ethics of honour and integrity were not exactly the qualities that carried one quickly along the road to wealth.

The acquaintances, of whom he had spoken to the Duke, were very keen for him to join them.

“You are exactly the man we want,” one of them said. “People trust you instantly Ward, and today, where business is concerned, that is very important.”

Now it seemed to Kelvin Ward there was no chance of his entering the business world. His whole future seemed to be blank, and for the moment he had no ideas about dealing with it.

He left Uxbridge House having said a polite goodbye to his uncle, and without showing any rancour or ill-feeling.

“What did you give me – fifteen years?” the Duke asked jeeringly as a parting shot. “Well, I shall try to make it twenty-five just to spite you Kelvin! It would be a mistake for you to change all the stringent economies I have made on the estates.”

Kelvin Ward was sure his uncle was trying to provoke him into saying something he might later regret, so did not give him the satisfaction of a reply. Instead he bowed, and having left Uxbridge House walked in the cold sharp air through Mayfair towards his club in St. James’s.

Deep in his thoughts, he had no idea that practically every woman he passed turned her head to look back at him. It was not only that he was very elegant and what was known as a “fine figure of a man”. It was his strength of personality, something that made everyone he met instantly aware of his presence.

When he reached his club Kelvin Ward went into the Morning Room and threw himself down into a deep leather armchair. He wondered as he did so how long he could afford the subscription that he had to pay if he was to remain a member, and decided that at the moment, although he needed one, he could not afford to buy himself a drink.

“What is the matter, Kelvin? You look hipped,” a familiar voice said as his friend, Sir Anthony Fanshawe, lowered himself into an adjacent chair.

“l am!”

“What has happened?”

“I have been with my uncle.”

“The cheese-paring Duke is enough to throw anyone into a despondency. I imagine that he said he could not help you?”

“He was very positive he would not!”

“I never expected him to say anything else,” Sir Anthony said. “My father, who knew him all his life, often said when he was alive that if the Duke saw someone bleeding to death by the roadside, he would pass by quickly in case it should cost him anything to stop.”

“Your father was right!” Kelvin said briefly.

“What are you going to do?” Sir Anthony enquired.

“I have not the slightest idea!”

“Will you have a drink?”

“If you can afford one.”

“I can stand you that,” Sir Anthony said with a smile and put up his hand to the waiter.

An hour later they were still sitting in the Morning Room and while they had discussed every possibility, there seemed to be nowhere they could turn to find the money that Kelvin Ward so urgently required.

“I suppose I have been a fool!” he said at one moment. “Other men come back from India complete Nabobs, jingling their ill-gotten gains. There are ways out there of making money, as you well know, Anthony.”

“I cannot see you stooping to them,” his friend replied.

“Beggars cannot afford pride,” Kelvin said bitterly.

“If you, of all people, had done those sort of things,” Sir Anthony said, “it would have reacted on the whole Regiment. You know that as well as I do.”

“That is exactly why I did not do them,” Kelvin Ward said, “but that does not help me at the moment.”

“We will think of something,” his friend said consolingly. “If I had the money I would give it to you, you know that!”

Kelvin Ward smiled.

“You are the best friend I ever had, Anthony, but unfortunately you too are in debt. If only I could get this shipping business going you could come in with me.”

“There must be someone you can approach,” Sir Anthony said, knitting his brow.

“I have thought of everyone,” Kelvin replied. “Having been out of England for so long I have lost touch with most people I knew well, and being my uncle’s nephew does not exactly help matters!”

Without saying more they were both aware that the Duke had made more enemies than almost any man in the country. Everyone disliked him. Everyone deplored and denounced the meanness with which he had treated his brother, Kelvin’s father, who had been very popular. And worse still, the manner in which he had ignored and neglected his sister-in-law after her husband’s death.

There was practically no-one who had not a tale of some sort to tell against the Duke. He had never been known to give a penny to charity. He treated his employees on the estate with a meanness that was even denounced in the newspapers. He was not only a miser, but a spiteful and vindictive one, and it was true to say that he had not a friend in the world.

“What are you going to do this evening?” Sir Anthony asked after their conversation seemed to pause for lack of new ideas for raising money.

“I cannot afford to do anything!” Kelvin Ward replied. “I was a fool to waste what ready money I had in coming back from India. I should have stayed out there and seen if there was any chance of getting a decently paid job.”

“There are not many for men like you,” Sir Anthony said gloomily.

They both knew this was true. It was impossible to visualise Kelvin Ward becoming a clerk in the East India Company or hiring himself out to a commercial firm.

“For Heaven’s sake! Let us have another drink!” Sir Anthony said.

A waiter approached them, but it was not in answer to his raised hand. Instead the man held out a silver salver towards Kelvin Ward. There was a letter on it. He looked at it in surprise.

“When did this come?”

“It has just been brought by hand, Sir. A groom is waiting for your answer.”

Sir Anthony looked at the white envelope with curiosity and teased his friend,

“Some fair charmer must know you are in London.”

Kelvin Ward did not answer. He was reading the letter with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Ask the groom to wait a moment,” he said to the waiter.

“Very good, Sir.”

The waiter went away and Kelvin Ward said,

“What do you know of Sir Eramus Malton?”

“Is that who has written to you?”

“Yes,” Kelvin Ward replied, “but I do not understand it.”

“What does the letter say?”

Kelvin Ward handed the sheet of heavy and expensive writing paper to his friend. Sir Anthony took it and read it.

     ‘Sir Erasmus Malton presents his compliments to Major Kelvin Ward and would like to see him on a matter which will be to Major Ward’s advantage.’

“Now what the devil does that mean?” Kelvin Ward asked. “Anything that Sir Erasmus could do for you would certainly be to your advantage.”

“I seem to know the name but I cannot place it.”

“I suppose Sir Erasmus is one of the richest men in England,” Sir Anthony informed him. “At the same time, he is rather a mystery. No-one seems to be quite sure how he made so much money, but he certainly possesses it and he seems to have a finger in every pie.”

“Is he a gentleman?”

“I really do not know, but I think so. No-one has ever suggested he is not, but I do not move in the same society as tycoons and millionaires, and that is where Sir Erasmus is to be found.”

“Then what can he want with me?” Kelvin Ward enquired.

“I imagine he is going to offer you a job,” Sir Anthony replied.

“But he has never met me. Now I think about it, I have heard of him. Not only here in England, but in India. What was it I was told?”

“That he is rich as Croesus, I expect,” Sir Anthony said. “I have heard my cousin, the Foreign Secretary, speaking of him. I believe he is rather impressed by Sir Erasmus. I will find out more when he comes back from Paris.”

“In the meantime, I have to answer this note.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Accept if nothing else. Smell money and hope that some of the gold-dust will rub off on you!”

Kelvin Ward looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Shall I say I will call on him within the hour? It might look as if I was inviting myself to dinner.”

“Well at least you would not have to buy your own meal,” Sir Anthony remarked laconically.

“That is certainly a major inducement to make me accept Sir Erasmus’s invitation,” Kelvin Ward said with a laugh.

He rose from his chair and walked towards a writing table. He wrote a few lines, enclosed the sheet in an envelope and calling the waiter told him to take it to the groom waiting outside.

“The die is cast” he said as he went back to his friend.

“Now what will Fate produce?”

“Perhaps you will discover that Sir Erasmus is your long-lost Godfather. He will make you his heir and disappear in a cloud of smoke!” Sir Anthony joked.

“I only hope your prediction comes true!” Kelvin Ward said. “But I have the dismal conviction there is nothing in this but perhaps an invitation to a social soirée or an obligation to propel an unfledged debutante round a ballroom.”

“God forbid!” Sir Anthony said piously.

“Amen to that!” Kelvin Ward smiled.

A little over an hour later Kelvin Ward was ushered into a library twice the size and a hundred times more impressive than that in which he had conversed with his uncle. He had not known quite what he expected when he had taken a Hackney carriage to Malton House in Park Lane. The name of the mansion had been changed ten years ago when Sir Erasmus had bought it. Before that it had belonged to a nobleman, who on his death bed omitted to leave enough money for his heirs to continue living in the grandeur to which they had been accustomed.

It was obvious to Kelvin Ward that a huge sum of money must have been spent on redecorating and refurbishing what had been an impressive but undoubtedly dilapidated building. He admired the painted ceiling in the entrance hall from which hung gigantic chandeliers and saw on the walls a profusion of valuable paintings that were enough to make a connoisseur of the arts open his eyes in surprise long before he encountered his host.

Kelvin Ward had been trained in the army to notice detail and he did not fail to appraise the thickness of the carpet in the library, the Genoese velvet that curtained the windows and the unique objets d’art on the side-tables. The owner of such magnificence was certainly more impressive than his uncle. Sir Erasmus Malton was a man with a distinct and undeniable personality. His features were refined and there was no doubt he was in fact a gentleman.

Kelvin Ward who had half-expected to meet a self-made tycoon who had risen up the social ladder from the gutter, was pleasantly surprised by Sir Erasmus’s cultured voice and firm handshake as he said,

“It is good of you to come and see me at such short notice, Major Ward.”

Kelvin Ward inclined his head and Sir Erasmus indicated a chair in front of a finely carved marble fireplace.

“You had a pleasant journey back from India?” Sir Erasmus asked, crossing his legs.

“The ship was not full,” Kelvin Ward replied, “so I did not have to be too sociable.”

“That on shipboard is undoubtedly a blessing,” Sir Erasmus smiled.

The butler, attended by two footmen, proffered Kelvin Ward several different sorts of wine, and there were pâté sandwiches in a crested silver dish.

As the servants left the room, Sir Erasmus said, “You must be wondering why I wished to see you.”

“I admit to feeling extremely curious,” Kelvin Ward replied.

“You may be even more surprised by what I have to say,” Sir Erasmus said slowly. “I have been following your career, Major Ward, for several years.”

Kelvin Ward looked startled.

“In what way?”

“I heard about you and I wished to learn more,” Sir Erasmus said. “I know of your distinguished career in the army, that you have been decorated and have won the admiration of your senior officers.”

“Thank you,” Kelvin Ward said. “It is always pleasant to hear complimentary things about oneself, but I cannot understand why it should interest you.”

“l am coming to that,” Sir Erasmus said. “What I want you to realise is that I have given you a great deal of thought. I have also learnt of the part you played in saving your brother from being discredited.”

Kelvin Ward sat up abruptly.

“How could you have known that?”

“I have a way of learning things about the people who interest me,” Sir Erasmus said so quietly that it did not sound like boasting.

Kelvin Ward was silent. He was indeed perturbed that an outsider should have learnt of Geoffrey’s dishonesty. He had hoped that very few people indeed were aware of what had happened.

“I also know,” Sir Erasmus went on, “that by his death your brother most admirably made reparation for the past.”

“Thank you,” Kelvin Ward said again.

“But your part in what was undoubtedly a very unsavoury incident I felt was very commendable,” Sir Erasmus continued, “and I also thought it courageous of you to leave your regiment knowing that you could not afford to stay on.”

“How can you know all this about me?” Kelvin Ward enquired.

“I know more,” Sir Erasmus answered. “I am aware that you came back to England hoping to persuade your uncle to finance your plans for venturing into the world of commerce.”

“I cannot imagine...” Kelvin Ward began only to be interrupted by his host who finished,

“...I think I am also right in my assumption that the Duke has refused to help you.”

“You do not have to be clairvoyant to guess that!” Kelvin Ward said in a hard voice.

“Therefore, I imagine you have not yet formed plans for the immediate future.”

“When your note came to the club,” Kelvin Ward answered, “I was sitting with a friend trying to find a solution to my problems.”

“That is why I have asked you here,” Sir Erasmus said, “I have a proposition to put to you, Major Ward, which I think you will find interesting.”

“There is no need for me to say, Sir, that I shall be only too glad to listen to anything that might assist me at the moment.”

Sir Erasmus paused for a moment as if he was choosing his words. At the same time Kelvin Ward was well aware that he was in complete command of the situation. There was no doubt that he was an extremely clever and astute man. There was something about his high forehead, the sharpness of his eyes, even in the way he moved, that bespoke a man who could, if he wished, command an empire.

Only to look at him, Kelvin Ward felt, was to realise that he would reach the top, whatever the difficulties. There was a force and a power about him and he did not doubt that he could, if he wished, be very ruthless.

“I have made enquiries about you for a special reason,” Sir Erasmus said, “which has not been idle curiosity. Indeed I would not have time for such trivialities. I will say quite frankly that I have also made enquiries about other men of your age.”

His voice was impressive as he said,

‘Without flattering you, Major Ward, I consider you at this present time, to be easily the most outstanding young man in Society.”

“In Society?” Kelvin Ward questioned with a smile. “That hardly applies to me. I have been out of England for the last four years, and even when I was here, I had neither the inclination nor the means to cut a dash in the social world.”

“We are speaking of rather different things,” Sir Erasmus said coldly. “I am referring to your social status. You are of the nobility, your family is part of our history, and you are the heir to a Dukedom.”

“And a great deal of good it does me at the moment!” Kelvin Ward remarked bitterly.

“Nevertheless, when your uncle dies, as die he must like the rest of us, you will become the Duke of Uxbridge!”

Kelvin Ward did not answer and Sir Erasmus continued,

“Not only because of those assets but, because I consider your character, your personality and your behaviour to be exemplary in every way, I am suggesting that I can help you very considerably in the project in which you are interested,”

“It is exceedingly kind of you,” Kelvin Ward said. “As you know so much you are doubtless aware that I saw my uncle today and asked him to lend me, entirely as a business proposition, five thousand pounds. With this money I could become a junior partner with some acquaintances who, with two ships, intend to start trading from Bombay.”

“I know all that,” Sir Erasmus said with a touch of impatience, “but it was not five thousand pounds that I envisaged as your collateral, but that you should have the handling of something like three hundred thousand!”

Kelvin Ward drew in his breath.

“If somebody had said this to me yesterday,” he said, “I would have thought it a joke.”

“It is certainly no joke,” Sir Erasmus said, “but there is of course one condition attached to my proposition.”

“And what is that?” Kelvin Ward enquired.

“It is,” Sir Erasmus said gravely, “that you should marry my daughter!”