The Foundling
- Georgette Heyer
The Most Noble Adolphus Gillespie Vernon Ware, Duke of Sale and Marquis of Ormesby; Earl of Sale; Baron Ware of Thame; Baron Ware of Stoven; and Baron Ware of Rufford – is a mild-mannered, young man with not-so-good looks. His wealth is enormous, his consequence unimaginable, his servants innumerable- but he’s not happy. Reason?
He wants to be ‘plain Mr. Dash of Nowhere in Particular’ , with no servants to run after him, little wealth to mar his life, and days full to the brim with adventures, adventures, and… what else? adventures.
He is ruled by a kindly but formidable uncle who believes that his nephew is a ‘good enough young man’, but rather spineless, and extremely unassertive. Lord Lionel Ware arranges for his newphew to be married to nice, quiet girl of quality who is the duke’s equal in looks- Lady Harriet Presteigne.
Our duke runs away. Literally.
Without a word to his uncle, friends and servants, he packs a bag and sets off – his only notice is to his cousin, who grins and promises to keep his secret.
His pretext is to extricate a minor cousin of his from blackmail- Matthew apparently was insensible enough to fall in ‘love’ with a girl of extraordinary beauty and write her letters- which were promptly confiscated by her guardian, who was now pestering Mathew for money from his noble relative- namely, our duke.
And so begins the journey of Gilly on his ‘holiday’- he befriends a young boy who insists on setting a village by its ears (by arranging back-races for broken-down animals, pointing a bottle and a cork and waylaying a mail-coach)- and the duke – the shy, retiring duke- is forced to enter a police-station and rescue him, dealing with the irate villagers on the way.
He finally manages to trace the hideous blackmailer, introduces himself as his cousin Mathew, engages him in conversation, and even makes off with the letters- without once arousing any suspicion in Mr.Liversedge (the black-mailer) that he himself was the duke.
Flushed with his success in dealing with the scum of the society, he returns to the inn he’s staying- only to be accosted by the fair, beautiful Belinda- the girl his cousin fell in love with.
Here’s an excerpt:
Upon the following morning, the Duke thought it wisest to visit Tom before that young gentleman had emerged from his room, to warn him that he had acquired a sister overnight. Tom was inclined to take this in bad part, giving it as his opinion that girls spoiled everything. When he learned that Belinda’s presence had made it necessary for the Duke to change his plans, his face fell perceptibly, and it was only an assurance that he should eventually be taken to London that enabled him to meet his new sister without overt hostility. He evinced little curiosity, which was a relief to the Duke, and, not having reached an impressionable stage in his career, was quite unmoved by the loveliness that presently burst upon him. He ate his breakfast in unusual silence, occasionally shooting a darkling look at Belinda, and lost no time in effacing himself when he had finished. The Duke sent him off to discover where he could hire a post-chaise-and-pair to carry the whole party to Hitchin that morning, for not only was he extremely anxious to hand Belinda over to her friend as soon as possible, but Belinda herself was troubled by fears that Mr. Liversedge might pursue and recapture her. It was in vain that the Duke explained to her that since Mr. Liversedge was neither her uncle nor her guardian he had no hold over her, and would scarcely dare to coerce her: she appeared to listen to his words, but it was apparent that they conveyed little to her intelligence.
“Tell me,” he said, “when you were in Oxford with Mrs. — Mrs. — I don’t recall the name, but the lady who was thought to be your aunt — “
“Oh, she was not my aunt!” Belinda said. “I did not like having to live with her at all, for she was so bothersome, and very often cross with me.”
“But who was she?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Mr. Liversedge was very friendly with her, and he said I should stay with her and do just what she told me.”
He could not help smiling. “And was that to make my — to make Mr. Ware fall in love with you?”
“Yes,” she replied innocently. ~’I did not mind that, for we went pleasuring together, you know, and he was excessively kind to me, and he said he would marry me, too, and then I should have been a grand lady, and had my carriage, and a silk dress besides.”
“Did you wish very much to marry him?”
“Oh, no!” Belinda replied placidly. “I didn’t care, if only I might have all the things Uncle Swithin said I should. He said it would be more comfortable for me if Mr. Ware gave me a great deal of money, and I think it would have been, because he was so jealous, you know, that there was no bearing it. Why, when I only went out to get a pound of black pudding from the pork-butcher, and a gentleman carried the basket for me, there was such an uproar! And he read poetry to me, too.”
“That was certainly very bad!” the Duke said gravely. “But tell me what happened afrer Mr. Ware — when you were no longer expecting to marry him! Did you run away from that lady?”
“Oh, no, she would not keep me any longer, because she quarrelled dreadfully with Uncle Swithin, and she said he was a Jeremy Diddler.”
“What in the world is that?” he enquired, amused.
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What follows next is a hilarious account of how he deals with the incredibly stupid but gorgeously beautiful Belinda – escapes the clutches of Mr. Liversedge – rushes his charges to safety – understands the excellent nature of his bethrothed – finds new friends- and ultimately finds himself – forms the rest of this story.
For my part, my favourite bit comes when the duke, finally sure of himself, meets with his all-knowing big cousin abd discusses his daring exploits with him- only to find that all his efforts were quite a waste. Mathew being a minor, none of the threats Mr. Liversedge taunted him with, including a breach of promise of marriage would have been held against him.
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“…But begin at the beginning, Gilly! By the by, I sent that young fool, Matt, back to Oxford with a flea in his ear. He ought to be flogged for embroiling you in his silly starts!”
“Poor Matt, he did not embroil me: I embroiled myself. But how came he into the business?”
“Nettlebed recalled that he had been closeted with you the night before you disappeared, and went after him. I met the pair of them in Baldock. Never mind that now! Proceed with your story!”
Thus adjured, the Duke settled down to regale his cousin with the entire history of his adventures. Gideon interpolated so many questions, and laughed so much that the candles were burning low in their sockets before the Duke had ended the tale. Then he demanded to know Gideon’s share in it, and this amused him quite as much as his own part had amused Gideon. When he heard of Lord Lionel’s discovery of his ring in Gideon’s desk, he gave such a crack of mirth that a fellow-guest in the adjoining room thumped indignantly on the wall.
“Yes, excessively droll, no doubt!” said Gideon, thrusting a hand into his pocket, and bringing out the ring. He tossed it into the Duke’s hand. “Take your ill-omened bauble! And now, little cousin, I will break to you a trifle of knowledge you do not appear to have been informed of before! No action for breach of promise can lie against a minor.”
For a moment the Duke stared at him. Then he said blankly: “Do you mean that I did it all for nothing?”
“That is what I mean, Adolphus,” replied Gideon, grinning at him.
This struck the Duke as being so exquisitely humorous that the gentleman in bed in the next room was obliged to thump on the wall again.
“Oh, but I am glad I didn’t know it!” gasped the Duke, wiping his eyes. “Yes, I know you think it ought to be a lesson to me in future to ask my big cousin’s advice, but I would not have missed my adventures for a fortune!”
“No,” said Gideon, regarding him under his drooping eyelids. “I have a notion you are not going to ask anyone’s advice in the future, Adolphus…“
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One of my favourites, yes. Definitely.
If you like adventure, tiny bits of romance, lots of wit and humour with subtle sarcasm thrown in – well, then ‘The Foundling’ is for you.
