“Oh, I don’t think she’ll do that!” said Ninian consolingly. “She does seem to be quite knocked-up. What’s more, when my mother asked her if she was to direct one of the maids to pack up your gear and send it to you she said that if after all she had done for you you preferred a stranger to her she only trusted that you wouldn’t regret it, and wish her to take you back, because she never wanted to set eyes on you again!”

Lucilla considered this, but presently shook her head, and sighed: “I don’t set the least store by that, but it does at least make it seem that she won’t come to Bath immediately. It always takes her days to recover from her hysterical turns!”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But perhaps I ought just to mention to you that the first thing she did, before she took to her bed, was to send off a letter to Mr Carleton. Ten to one he won’t pay any heed to it, but I think I ought perhaps to warn you about it!”

“Oh, if that isn’t just like her!” cried Lucilla, flushing with wrath. “She is too ill to write to Miss Wychwood, but not too ill to write to my uncle! Oh, dear me, no! And if he means to come here, to force me to return, I can’t and I won’t bear it!”

“Well, don’t put yourself into a stew!” recommended Miss Wychwood. “If he does come here with any such intention he will find he has me to deal with—and that is an experience which I fancy he won’t enjoy!”

Chapter 4

On the following morning, Miss Wychwood sent her groom to Twynham Park with instructions to bring her favourite mare to Bath. He carried with him a letter to Sir Geoffrey, in which Miss Wychwood informed her brother that she had a young friend staying with her whom she wished to entertain with riding expeditions to the various places of interest in the surrounding countryside.

When she had first set up her own establishment in Camden Place, she had brought two saddle-horses with her, assuming, rather vaguely, that she would find riding, in Bath, the everyday matter it was at Twynham. It had not taken very long to disabuse her mind of this misapprehension. At Twynham, she had been used to ride, as a matter of course, every day of her life, whether into the village, on an errand of mercy to one of her father’s tenants struck down by sickness, or on a visit to a friend living in the neighbourhood; but she soon discovered that life in town—particularly in such a town as Bath, where the steep cobbled streets made equestrian traffic rare—was very different from life in the country. In Bath, one either walked, or took a chair: one could not stroll down to the stables on a sudden impulse, and order one’s groom to saddle up for one. It was necessary to appoint a time for one’s horse to be brought round to the house; and it was even more necessary that the groom should accompany one. Miss Wychwood found this intolerable, and frankly owned that it was one of the disadvantages of town-life. She also owned (but only to herself) that it was one of the disadvantages of being an unattached spinster; but having decided that the advantages of living under her own roof in Bath, subject to no fraternal vetoes, outweighed the disadvantages, she indulged in no vain repinings, but within a very few weeks sent her mare back to Twynham Park, where Sir Geoffrey, to his credit, kept her, exercised and groomed, for her use whenever she came to stay with him. She kept her carriage-horses in Bath, and one neatish bay hack, which, being an old and beloved friend, she could not bring herself to sell.

Seale brought the mare to Bath, but he was accompanied by Sir Geoffrey, bristling with suspicion that his sister had taken it into her wayward head to befriend some Young Person who would prove to be an adventuress. Unfortunately, he arrived in Camden Place to find only Miss Farlow at home, and when he had learnt from her the circumstances under which Annis had made Lucilla’s acquaintance he became convinced that his suspicion had been correct.

“How can you have been so caper-witted?” he demanded of his sister, an hour later. “I had not thought it possible that you could be such a noddy! Pray, what do you know about this young woman? Upon my word, Annis—”

“Heavens, what a piece of work about nothing!” interrupted Annis. “I collect you’ve been talking to Maria, who is positively green with jealousy of poor Lucilla! She is a Carleton: an orphan, living, since her mother’s death, with one of her aunts; and since this Mrs Amber is in indifferent health Lucilla has come to stay with me for a few weeks, as a sort of prelude to her regular come-out. Ninian Elmore escorted her here, and—”

“Elmore? Elmore? Never heard of him!” declared Sir Geoffrey.

“Very likely you might not: he’s a mere child, not long down, I fancy, from Oxford. He is the son and heir of Lord Iverley—and I daresay you haven’t heard of him either, for I collect that he lives retired, at Chartley Place. A Hampshire family, and, even if you haven’t heard of them, perfectly respectable, I promise you!”

“Oh!” said Sir Geoffrey, slightly daunted. Chewing the cud of this information, he made a recover. “That’s all very well!” he said. “But how do you know this girl is a Carleton? Not that I like the connection any the better if she is! The only one of the family I’m acquainted with is Oliver Carleton—”

“Lucilla’s uncle,” interpolated Miss Wychwood.

“Well, I can tell you this!” said Sir Geoffrey. “He’s a damned unpleasant fellow! Got no manners, never scruples to give the back to anyone he don’t happen to like, thinks his birth and his wealth gives him the right to ride rough-shod over men quite as well born as himself, and—in short, the sort of ugly customer I should never dream of presenting to my sister!”

“Do you mean that he is a libertine?” asked Miss Wychwood.

“Annis!” he ejaculated.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Geoffrey—!” she said impatiently. “I cut my wisdoms years ago! If you wouldn’t dream of presenting him to me, what else can you mean?”

He glared at her. “You seem to me to have no delicacy of mind!” he said peevishly. “What my poor mother would say, if she could hear you expressing yourself with such unfeminine want of refinement I shudder to think of!”

“Then don’t think of it!” she recommended. “Think instead of what Papa would say! Though I daresay that would make you shudder too! Where did you learn to be so mealy-mouthed, Geoffrey? As for Mr Oliver Carleton, between you, you and Lucilla have inspired me with a strong desire to meet him! She has told me that he has all but one of the faults you’ve described to me; and you have added the one she, naturally, knows nothing about. He must be a positive monster!”

“Levity was ever your besetting sin,” he said severely. “Let me tell you that it is not at all becoming in a female! It leads you into talking a deal of improper nonsense. A strong desire to meet a monster, indeed!”

“But I have never seen a monster!” she explained. “Oh, well! I daresay it is nothing but a take-in, and he is much like any other man!”

“I must decline to discuss him with you. I should suppose it to be extremely unlikely that you ever will meet him, but if some unfortunate chance should bring him in your way I should be doing less than my duty if I did not warn you to have nothing to say to him, my dear sister! His reputation is not that of a well-conducted man. And if we are to talk of take-ins,what reason have you to think you are not the victim of one? I don’t attempt to conceal from you that I am far from satisfied that this girl is the innocent you believe her to be. I know from Maria Farlow that she ran away from her lawful guardian, and in the company of a young man! That is not the conduct of an innocent—indeed, it is the most shocking thing I ever heard of!—and it wouldn’t surprise me if she were bent on inching herself into your regard!”

“You know, Geoffrey, no one who heard you talking such skimble-skamble stuff would believe you to have any more sense than a zero! How can you be so idiotish as to pay the least heed to what Maria says? She has been convinced from the outset that Lucilla is scheming to take her place in my household, but you may rest easy on that head! Lucilla is a considerable heiress—far plumper in the pocket than I am, I daresay! She won’t come into her fortune until she is of age, but she enjoys what I judge to be a pretty handsome income. Mr Carleton, who is her guardian, pays it to Mrs Amber; and it is very obvious to me that it must be a handsome sum, for Mrs Amber gives her what Lucilla calls pin-money,but which a girl in less affluent circumstances would think herself fortunate to receive as an allowance to cover the cost of all her clothing. Mrs Amber pays for every stitch the child wears—and, although she seems to be a foolish creature, I must acknowledge that her taste is impeccable. I should doubt if she ever counts the cost of anything she buys for Lucilla. None of your poplins or cheap coloured muslins for Miss Carleton!” She laughed suddenly. “Jurby unpacked her trunk, and I may say that Lucilla has risen enormously in her estimation! She informed me, in a positively reverential voice, that Miss has everything of the best! As for her having run away with Ninian, it was no such thing: she ran away from Chartley Place, and Ninian very properly acted as her escort. Her aunt had very foolishly taken her there on a visit, and a great deal of pressure was being brought to bear on Ninian, to make her an offer, and on her to accept it. It seems that this scheme was hatched years ago between their respective fathers, who were devoted friends. Ninian believes this to be the only reason his father has for trying so hard to bring the match about, but I suspect Lucilla’s fortune has a good deal to do with it. The estate she inherited from her father runs, I gather, close enough to Chartley to make its acquisition by the Elmores extremely desirable. Understandable enough, you will say, but can you conceive of anything more cocklebrained, in this day and age, than to try to force two children—for they are little more than children!—to get married when they have been on brother-and-sister terms since they were in short coats?”