Джорджетт Хейер - Sprig Muslin

This calm, conversational gambit did much to restore her tranquillity; she replied with tolerable composure: “No, I shall be visiting my sisters, and one of my aunts. When my brother and his wife remove to Ramsgate, with the children. My little nephew is inclined to be sickly, and it is thought that sea-bathing may be of benefit to him.”

They discussed sea-bathing, and childish ailments, until suddenly Hester laughed, and exclaimed: “Oh, how absurd this is! I am very much obliged to you: you have made me quite comfortable again. Is my face fit to be seen? I think we should go back: Almeria is disposed to be uncivil to Amanda, I am afraid, and although I daresay Amanda is very well able to take care of herself, I do think it would be better that they should not quarrel.”

“Undoubtedly! But when I left Amanda she was indulging in a fit of the sullens on the terrace, and had no intention of returning to the drawing-room.”

“Oh, dear! It will be very awkward if she won’t be in the same room with Almeria,” said Hester, looking harassed. “You see, I asked her if she would not like to remain with me, instead of seeking employment at an inn—which I cannot think at all suitable—and I fancy she will do so.”

“So she informed me, but I disbelieved her. Thank you: it was kind of you to invite her, but I wouldn’t for the world impose so much upon your good-nature. If she remained with you, which I doubt, she would very soon have the whole house in an uproar. Indeed, I shudder to think of the battle royal which would rage between her and Lady Widmore! You would be utterly crushed between them!”

“I don’t suppose I should,” she said reflectively. “I find I don’t notice things as much as perhaps I ought. I daresay it is through being pretty well accustomed to living with peevish persons. And I have my dogs, you know. Perhaps Amanda would like to have one of Juno’s pups. I thought that you wished for one, but it turned out otherwise.”

“Not at all!” he responded promptly. “I should be delighted to have one of Juno’s pups!”

The fugitive smile lit her eyes. “No, you wouldn’t. You are not at all the sort of man who would wish to have a pug at his heels. Do you think Amanda would run away from Brancaster?”

“I am perfectly sure that she would. Not, I fancy, while I am on the premises, for she’s no fool, and she must know she could not hope to get more than a mile or two away before I should have overtaken her. She doesn’t yet know how far it is to Chatteris, or what coaches go there, or even where to find a convenient carrier, but you may depend upon it that it would not take her long to discover these things. She would then hatch some scheme fantastic enough to baffle all conjecture, and by the time I had returned with her Brigade-Major she would have hired herself out as a washerwoman, or thrown in her lot with a band of gypsies.”

“I expect she would like to become a gypsy,” agreed Hester, apparently deeming this a reasonable ambition. “But I believe there are none in the neighbourhood just now. Of course, no one could wonder at it if she thought this a sadly dull house, but I do think that she would be more comfortable here than at an inn, particularly if she were employed at the inn in a menial capacity.”

He laughed. “Most certainly she would! But she won’t care a button for that, you know. I’m afraid the blame is mine: I was foolish enough to tell her that I should discover the Brigade-Major’s name and direction at the Horse Guards, which must scotch any hope we might otherwise have nursed of inducing her to remain under your protection. Really, I can’t think how I came to be so cork-brained, but the mischief is done now, and the only thing I can do is to carry her to my sister’s house.”

She got up, making an effectual attempt to straighten the lace shawl she wore over her shoulders. Sir Gareth took it out of her hands, and disposed it becomingly for her, which made her say, with a gleam of fun: “Thank you! You see how unhandy I am: I should be such a trial to you!”

He smiled, but only said: “You know, Hester, I am very much afraid that your father will be displeased with the outcome of this interview. Is there any way in which I can shield you?”

“Well, you could say that it was all a fudge, and what you really wish for is one of Juno’s pups,” she offered.

“No, that I most assuredly could not say!”

“Never mind!” she said consolingly. “I shall be quite in disgrace, I daresay, but it is not of the least consequence. I must find poor Amanda.”

“Very well. Unless she has recovered from the sulks, she is seated at the end of the terrace, plotting vengeance on me,” he replied, holding open the door for her.

But Amanda was no longer on the terrace. No sooner had Sir Gareth left her, than Mr. Theale, an interested and shameless eavesdropper, had risen from the rustic bench immediately below the parapet, where he had been enjoying his cigarillo, and mounted the broad stone steps to the terrace. What he had heard had resolved his doubts: he was now assured that Sir Gareth had had the effrontery to introduce his particular into the chaste precincts of Brancaster Park. Mr. Theale had not previously held him in much esteem, but he was obliged to own now that he had underrated the fellow: such audacity commanded his instant respect. He wondered what peculiar concatenation of circumstances had rendered it necessary for Ludlow to adopt such a desperate course, and reflected that it all went to show how unwise it was to judge a man by the face he showed to the world. One would have supposed Ludlow to be the last man alive to desire a reluctant mistress, yet here he was, plainly determined not to let this little bird of paradise escape him. Mr. Theale sympathized with him, but could not forbear chuckling to himself. He rather fancied that he had the poor fellow at a disadvantage, for however infuriated he might be at having his mistress filched from him he would be obliged to accept the situation with apparent complaisance. Damn it, thought Mr. Theale, he can’t so much as mention the matter to me, let alone call me out! I’m poor Hetty’s uncle! He may be brazen, but he won’t kick up such a dust as that!

Fortified by this conviction, he threw away the butt of his cigarillo, and made his way towards the end of the terrace.

Amanda watched his advance with the light of speculation in her eye. He might be a fat old man, doddering on the brink of the grave, but he was clearly disposed to admire her, and might, with a little ingenuity, be turned to useful account. She smiled upon him, therefore, and made no objection to his seating himself beside her, and taking her hand between both of his.

“My dear little girl,” said Mr. Theale, in a voice of fatherly benevolence, “I fear you are in some trouble! Now, I wonder if I might be able to help you? I wish, my dear, that you would confide in me!”

Amanda drew a long breath of sheer ecstasy. Mr. Theale mistook it for a sigh, and patted her hand, saying fondly: “There, there! Only tell me the whole!”

“I am an orphan,” said Amanda, adding tragically: “Cast upon the world without the means to support myself!”

“My poor child!” said Mr. Theale. “Have you no kindred to care what becomes of you?”

“No, alas!” said Amanda mournfully.

“Let us take a turn in the garden!” said Mr. Theale, much heartened by this disclosure.

It could not have been said, when Amanda came to the end of her imaginative confidences, that Mr. Theale perfectly understood all the ramifications of her story. Certain features, such as the precise nature of the circumstances which had drawn Sir Gareth into her life, remained obscure, but this did not greatly trouble him. One thing was quite plain to him: Sir Gareth had hideously mangled a promising situation, which, reflected Mr. Theale, was a further example of the unwisdom of trusting to appearances. One wouldn’t have suspected that a fellow with such address, and such easy, pleasant manners, would have so grossly mishandled a shy filly whom anyone but a cod’s head must have guessed would respond only to a very light hand on the bridle. That Amanda had disliked him from the outset Mr. Theale did not for a moment believe, for the particular story Amanda had selected for his edification was the one she owed to the pen of Mr. Richardson. Sir Gareth had recognized the provenance, and had very unkindly said so; Mr. Theale, whose reading did not embrace the works of novelists admired by his parents, did not recognize it. Broadly speaking, he accepted the story, but the construction he put upon it was scarcely what the fair plagiarist would have desired. No doubt the little lovebird had encouraged the widowed parent of her young mistress to make up to her: probably, thought the cynical Mr. Theale, she had hoped to lure him into proposing marriage. That would account for the apparent inhumanity of the gentleman’s sister in turning her out of doors incontinent. Just how much time had elapsed, or what had happened, between this heartless eviction and Amanda’s arrival at Brancaster under Sir Gareth’s protection, Mr. Theale neither knew nor troubled to discover. She had said that she had met Sir Gareth for the first time on the previous day, but that, naturally, was a lie. Understandable, of course, but Mr. Theale was rather too downy a one to accept it. On his own admission, Sir Gareth had lingered on the road from London. He had pitched them a Canterbury-story about a visit to old friends in Hertfordshire: in Mr. Theale’s view, it had been a young friend who had detained him, and had succeeded in fixing his interest so securely that rather than lose her he had adopted the perilous course of bringing her to Brancaster. Mr. Theale considered it a bold stroke, but a trifle hare-brained: ten to one that had been when the chit had taken fright. When all was said and done, he thought, preening himself, an experienced man of fifty, even though he had become a little portly, could give Ludlow points, and beat him. A handsome face and a fine figure were very well in their way, but what was needed in this case was delicacy.