The social backdrop is supplied by Lady Louisa Barking’s annual ball in Albert Gate, given this year to demonstrate that the family took a calm view of Connie’s marriage and to distract attention from Lord Shotover’s debts. Honoria St. Quentin, the novel’s thoughtful observer-figure, withdrew early in the evening with Lord Shotover to a dim ante-chamber. The two formed a quick intimacy based on contrast: she was detached, anti-matrimonial, and morally exacting; he was an avowedly worthless younger son who yet recognised genuine devotion when he saw it. Shotover confided that he had smuggled in Captain Decies, a young Irish officer in love with Constance, and that he believed his family were selling the girl against her will in a ghastly mistake. Honoria, looking out on the moonlit Park, became conscious of the unreality of the gaslit world within and of her collision with “unknown and incalculable” human forces. When cries of distress reached her from the balcony, she barred the door against Shotover’s attempt to escape, declared that an unwilling marriage was the real disgrace, and compelled him to accompany her outside.
On the balcony they found Constance prostrate across the balustrade and Decies pleading. Honoria raised the girl, who sobbed out that she was engaged to Richard and would be good, but that Decies had that evening asked her to elope. Decies, in turn, declared his love and his income, named his heir Uncle Ulick, and announced that he had proposed an immediate flight to Gretna. Honoria, with uncharacteristic audacity, devised an alternative: the engagement must be broken openly and honourably. She insisted that Constance go that very night to Lowndes Square and tell Richard the truth herself, that Shotover wait with the carriage, and that she accompany the bride. Lord Shotover, having “chucked discretion,” agreed. They drove to Lowndes Square, where Richard’s valet eventually admitted Constance. Honoria paced among the shrouded furniture of Lady Calmady’s sitting-room for nearly half an hour, growing afraid of passion in some “active and violent form.” When at last the door opened, Constance came groping out, broken with weeping. At the far end of the hall, in full lamplight, stood the young baronet himself: his head poised proudly, his features those of his mother, but his body cruelly foreshortened, his hands nearly brushing the marble floor. Honoria, struck with “uncontrollable pity and horror,” hurried the girl to the carriage. Shotover, mounted on the box, restored a commonsense English tone by announcing that he was confoundedly hungry and would be glad of some supper.
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