Then there was the question of being obliged to give up her freedom, to turn her life upside-down, as he had himself said, to submit to his judgment, and how was she to know that he would not prove to be a domestic tyrant? He was certainly of an autocratic disposition. But then she remembered how well (and how unexpectedly) he had understood her jumbled thoughts, and with what sympathetic compassion he had refrained from pressing her to give him an answer, and she decided that however autocratically he might express himself he was no tyrant.

By this time she had reached the point where she was forced to own that she was in love with Mr Carleton, but for no discoverable reason. She thought, disgustedly, that she was behaving like a silly schoolgirl, and that it was a very good thing that he was going away. Probably she would find that she went on quite happily without him, in which case it would be a sure sign that she was not in love, but merely infatuated. So the wisest thing she could do would be to put him out of her mind. After which, she continued to think about him until Jurby came in to tell her severely that it wanted only ten minutes till dinner-time, and if she didn’t come up to change her dress immediately she would be late. “Which is not like you, Miss Annis! A full half-hour have I been waiting for you!”

Miss Wychwood said guiltily that she had been too busy to notice the time, thrust her accounts, on which she had done no work at all, into a drawer, and meekly went upstairs with her stern henchwoman. An attempt to dissuade Jurby from brushing her glowing locks, and pinning them up afresh, failed. “I have my pride to consider, miss, and permit you to go down with your hair looking as though you had come backwards through a bush I will not do!” said Jurby.

So it was ten minutes after the dinner-bell had sounded before Miss Wychwood hurried down to the drawing-room, where she found her guests patiently awaiting her. She apologized, saying, with her lovely smile: “I do beg your pardon, Amabel! So rag-mannered of me to have kept you waiting! I have been busy all the afternoon, and never noticed how the time was slipping by. I’ve been making up my accounts, and an errant shilling persisted in going astray!”

“Oh, and I interrupted you, didn’t I, dear Annis?” exclaimed Miss Farlow remorsefully. “I am sure it is no wonder that you should have lost count of your shillings! The only wonder is that you should be able to count them up at all, for I can never do so! I daresay it would divert you excessively if I were to tell you of the ridiculous mistakes I make in my addition. Not but what you had already been interrupted when I burst in on you, which, I hope you know me well enough to believe, I would never have done if I had known you had a visitor with you!”

“Yes, Mr Carleton called,” replied Miss Wychwood smoothly. “Good-evening, Ninian!”

Young Mr Elmore was wearing for the first time a new and beautiful pair of Hessians which had been made for him by the first bootmaker in Bath, and he could not resist the urge to draw attention to their shining magnificence, which he did by begging his hostess to forgive him for coming to dine with her in boots. “Which is not at all the thing, of course, but I thought you would excuse it, because I am engaged with a party of friends this evening, and it is not a dress-party.No ladies, I mean, or dancing, or anything of that sort!”

“I see!” said Miss Wychwood, twinkling at him. “Just a few choice spirits! Well, don’t get taken up by the Watch!”

He grinned, and blushed. “No, no, nothing of that nature!” he assured her. “Only a—a small jollification, ma’am!”

“Whatever brought my uncle here?” wondered Lucilla. “I thought I saw you talking to him in the Pump Room, ma’am!”

“Very true: you did!” responded Miss Wychwood. “But as he didn’t then know that he would be obliged to go up to London tomorrow, for a few days, he came to inform us of it. He was sorry not to find you at home, but I promised to make his apologies to you!”

Lucilla’s eyes widened in amazement. “Well!”she gasped. “Whoever heard of his being so civil?” She added shrewdly, and with a mischievous look: “If he really did say he was sorry not to find me at home, it was a great fib, for he never shows the least wish to see me, and I think it is you he always wished to see!”

“For the pleasure of picking quarrels with me, no doubt!” retorted Miss Wychwood, laughing. “Shall we go down to dinner now, Amabel?”

Lady Wychwood had looked up quickly at Lucilla’s saucy speech, as though struck by a sudden and by no means agreeable suspicion, and Annis was aware that her eyes were fixed on her face. For perhaps the only time in her life she was thankful to Miss Farlow for interrupting, even though Miss Farlow did so merely because she seldom missed an opportunity to give Lucilla a set-down. She said sharply: “A very odd thing it would be in your uncle if he were to leave Bath without taking leave of dear Miss Wychwood, to whom he has so much cause to be grateful! I am sure it isn’t wonderful that he should wish rather to see her than you, Miss Carleton, for gentlemen find girls only just out of the schoolroom excessively boring! Indeed, at your age I should never have expected a gentleman to wish to see me!”

Lucilla’s eyes flashed, and she replied swiftly: “How fortunate!”

Ninian uttered a choking sound, which he turned into a very unconvincing cough; and Lady Wychwood rose, and said with gentle dignity: “Yes, do let us go down, dearest, or we shall be in disgrace with your cook. Cooks always look black if one keeps dinner waiting, and one cannot blame them, for it must be dreadfully provoking to have one’s work spoilt!”

She then recounted a mildly amusing story about a French cook she had once employed, and Annis, grateful to her for bridging the awkward gap, laughed, and led her on to tell a few more anecdotes. Behind them, on the staircase, came Miss Farlow, muttering to herself. Not much of what she said reached Annis’s ears, but such overheard scraps as “pert minx .. . grossly indulged .. . shocking manners” were enough to give her fair warning that she would be forced to listen to Miss Farlow’s outraged complaints before the evening was out.

Lucilla and Ninian brought up the rear. Ninian whispered: “You abominable little gypsy! You dashed nearly had me in whoops!”

Lucilla jerked up an impatient shoulder, saying under her breath that she didn’t care; but at the foot of the stairs she caught up with Annis, who was standing aside to allow Lady Wychwood to precede her into the dining-room, and detained her by tugging a fold of her dress, and said in her ear, as Miss Farlow, in obedience to a sign from Annis, followed Lady Wychwood: “I’m sorry! I know I ought not to have said it! Don’t say I must beg her pardon, because I won’t!”

Annis smiled, but held up an admonitory finger, murmuring: “No, very well, but don’t do it again!”

Lucilla followed her into the room in a chastened mood, and for the better part of the meal remained largely silent. But by the time the second course was placed on the table a chance remark made by Ninian put her in mind of something she wanted to ask Annis, and she said impetuously: “Oh, Miss Wychwood, will you take me to the Dress Ball at the Lower Rooms on Friday?”

“Not without your uncle’s permission, my dear—and I doubt very much if he would give it.”

“But he isn’t here, so how can I ask him if I may go?” objected Lucilla. “Besides, even if he was here he would be bound to say that you must be the only judge of what is proper for me to do!”

“Oh, no, not a bit of it! He keeps a stricter watch over you than you think!”

“Well, he needn’t know anything about it!” said Lucilla, with something very like a pout.

“I hope you are not suggesting that I should try to conceal from him that I had allowed you to do anything of which I am very certain he would disapprove!” said Miss Wychwood. “You must remember that he has entrusted you to my care! How very shocking it would be if I were to prove myself unworthy of his trust! You are trying to get me into a scrape, and I beg you won’t!”

“No, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t go to the Dress Ball,” argued Lucilla. “I have been to several private balls, so why may I not attend a public one?”

“I daresay it does seem rather hard to you,” said Miss Wychwood sympathetically, “but there is a difference between the private parties you’ve been to and a public ball, believe me! The private parties you’ve attended have been informal hops, not balls; and have been got up for the entertainment of girls, like yourself, who are not yet out. Don’t eat me! but I am afraid that if your uncle asked me if it would be proper for you to go to the Friday Dress Ball I should be obliged to say that I didn’t think it would be at all the thing for a girl not yet out.”

“No, indeed!” struck in Miss Farlow. “A very off appearance it would present! In my young days—”

Miss Wychwood flickered a warning glance at Lucilla, and silenced her cousin by saying: “You sound just like my Aunt Augusta, Maria! That is what she was used to say whenever I wanted to do something she disapproved of. And I strongly suspect that it was said to her, and to you too, in your young days, and that you found it quite as provoking as I did!”

Miss Farlow opened her mouth to argue this point, but shut it again as she encountered a quelling look from Miss Wychwood which she dared not ignore. Lucilla was not so easily silenced, and continued to harp on the subject until Miss Wychwood lost patience, and said: “That’s enough, child! I daresay Harry Beckenham will be disappointed not to see you at the ball, but he will certainly not be surprised.”