Page 116 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
Peter smiled. “I do, Oliver.”
Oliver gave a small chuckle that soon turned into a full, prodigious laugh. Peter could not help joining him in the mirth.
“I say,” said Peter, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, “we really ought to have fought a duel or something. That’s how it goes in all the melodramas.”
“Ah yes,” said Oliver. “Swordplay to settle the score once and for all.”
“Indeed. We haven’t had a proper rivalry, Oliver. We really should.”
Oliver snapped his fingers. “I got it. We’ll disagree on something. Think quickly. What is something we can disagree on so that we can have a nice, long, vicious rivalry, culminating in a fight to the death?”
At this, the men’s laughter began anew.
“Hello,” said Lord Ambrose. “I seem to be missing all the fun.”
The man stood in the threshold looking stately as ever, and in tip-top health, Peter thought.
“I’ve not had the opportunity yet to congratulate you,” said Peter, stifling a giggle.
“Alas,” said Ambrose, “I saw you were roped by my brother-in-law. The tale of the five Frenchmen was it?”
“I’m afraid so. Anyway, M’Lord, you must be proud to be receiving Oliver here as your son-in-law today.” He turned and winked at Oliver.
“I most certainly am,” said Ambrose, a warm smile on his face.
“Yes,” said Peter, “I suppose you wouldn’t want a rake like myself in his place, eh?”
“Oh, come now, Peter,” Ambrose said with a chuckle. “You’re a fine man, and you’re going to make some father in this world extremely happy.”
“Yes,” said Peter, pacing across the floor with his hand on his chin as if to simulate deep thought. “Yes ...” He stopped mid-pace and spun on his heel. “No, M’Lord. I won’t have it. There is none I would like to make happier than yourself.” He stood rod straight and clicked his heels. “Lord Stamford, I would be honoured if you would grant me your daughter Madeline’s hand in marriage.”
At this, Oliver turned and spat a chuckle from his lips.
The look on Lord Ambrose’s face was something Peter could never have imagined. It was a perfect combination of pique and bewilderment.
“See here, Lord Peter,” said Ambrose. “I am aware of your sense of humour. Indeed it seems you’ve inherited that much from your dearly departed father. But I find your humour to be most unseemly.”
Peter turned to Oliver. “Oliver, perhaps I should ask you for Madeline’s hand, then?”
“It is not mine to give,” said Oliver. “But while we’re on the subject, Lord Stamford ...” He imitated Peter’s previous stance, erecting himself to full height and clicking his heels. “I would be greatly honoured if you would grant me your daughter Emily’s hand in marriage.”
The man looked as though he’d been struck. “See here …” said Ambrose, “I’ll not have my daughter’s names tarnished in this manner with crude jokes and ill intentions!”
It was then that Peter recalled that his future father-in-law’s heart was only recently recovered to full strength. He approached the man and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Lord Stamford, it is time Oliver and I were upright with you. This is no jest. And yes, it may seem unconventional at first, but in a very short time, I’m sure you’ll agree that it all makes perfect sense. Would you sit down?”
He offered a chair. Ambrose stared at him incredulously.
“Please,” said Oliver. “We have much explaining to do.”
Ambrose took a seat and the men began their explanation, beginning with the day of Oliver’s engagement. They alternated in recalling the narrative, each one according to experience. In the end, Peter was relieved to find that he was correct in assuming that Ambrose would agree—yes, it was unconventional, but it made perfect sense.
Ambrose stood. “My dear fellows, you do this house honour with your honesty. I must say I am ‘bowled over’, as the Americans say. It is surely a fantastic story that would be easily discounted if not for the foundation of truth on which it is set. That truth is in your hearts, gentlemen. And I thank you both for it.”
He shook the hands of both men heartily.
“Would you both wait here? I would like to summon my wife. Oh, and my daughters.”
