“Oh, my God!” he ejaculated. “As though I hadn’t enough to deal with! Who was the tale-pitcher who carried that news to Wolversham?”
“My dear Ashley, you cannot, surely, have forgotten how inevitably the smallest piece of news flies round the county! Steward’s gossip, but in this case it reached Wolversham by way of one of the chambermaids, who is the daughter of our head groom. Lady Wroxton gave her leave to come to Inglehurst, on the occasion of her parents’ silver wedding—and so you can wish for no further explanation!”
He was regarding her intently. “That’s not the whole story, is it?”
“No, not quite. Lord and Lady Wroxton visited us two days ago.”
“If my father undertook a drive of sixteen miles, either his gout has spent itself, or he must have supposed me to be on the verge of disgracing him!” interjected the Viscount.
“Well, he was walking with a stick, but I think he is much improved in health,” said Henrietta, forgiving this rude interruption for the sake of the balm it applied to her sorely troubled heart. “They came to enquire after Charlie—at least, that was what Lord Wroxton told Mama—but their real purpose, I am very sure, was to discover the truth of the story they had heard. I didn’t have much conversation with Lord Wroxton, but your mama made an excuse to take me apart, and she asked me, without any roundaboutation, to tell her if it was true that you had brought Cherry here, and, if so, why you had done so. She said that I need not scruple to open my budget to her, because she was very sure that you had a good reason for having done so. Des, I do like your mama so much!”
“Yes, so do I,” he agreed cordially. “She’s a right one! What did you tell her?”
“I told her the truth, exactly as you told it to me. And she then disclosed to me that she had received a letter from your aunt Emborough, saying that Lady Bugle had called upon her, demanding to know what you had done with Cherry. It seems that one of her daughters—I can’t recall her name, but I know it was most extraordinary—”
“They all have extraordinary names—all five of ‘em!”
“Good gracious! Well, this one seems to have been on the listen when you talked to Cherry, that night at the ball; and when it was discovered that Cherry had run away, she put it into Lady Bugle’s head that she had gone off with you! How Lady Bugle can have believed such a nonsensical story I can’t conceive, but apparently she did, and at once drove over to Hazelfield to demand of Lady Emborough what were your intentions! Lady Emborough wrote to your mama that she had laughed to scorn the idea that you had had anything to do with Cherry’s flight, and had assured Lady Bugle that so far from stealing Cherry away from Maplewood at dawn you had been eating breakfast at Hazelfield at ten o’clock. But she also wrote that she was burning to know whether you had had anything to do with Cherry’s escape, because she recalled that it had seemed to her that you were much more interested in Cherry than in her cousin, who is a singularly beautiful girl.”
“Lucasta,” he nodded. “I was, but never mind that! My aunt wrote to my mother, you say. She hasn’t divulged any of this to my father, has she?”
“No, and your mother hasn’t shown him her letter. But it was he who first heard the local tittle-tattle, and I have a very shrewd notion that it was he who insisted on coming to visit us, to discover how true it was. Or, rather, that your mama should do so! You know what he is, Des!”
“None better! He would think it beneath him to betray the least interest in the exploits of his sons—to anyone, of course, but the sons themselves!”
“Exactly so!” she said, with a twinkle. “Most fortunately, this visit was paid when Mama was feeling particularly pleased with Cherry, for having found a lace flounce which was thought to have been thrown away years ago, so I am quite certain she must have spoken of her to Lord Wroxton with the warmest approbation!”
“Did he see Cherry?”
“Yes, certainly he did—but whether he liked her or not I don’t know! He was perfectly civil to her, at all events.”
“That’s nothing to judge by,” said Desford. “He would be, even if he had taken her in dislike. Well, there’s nothing for it: I shall have to sleep at Wolver-sham tonight, which means a further delay. I’m sorry for it, Hetta, but you see how I’m fixed, don’t you? I don’t ask you if you are willing to keep Cherry here for a few more days, because I know what your answer would be. Bless you, my dear!” He possessed himself of her hands, and again kissed them, and with no more words took his departure.
Chapter 11
The Viscount’s reception at Wolversham was unexpectedly benign. It did not surprise him that Pedmore should greet him with a beaming smile, and say, as he relieved him of his hat and his gloves: “Well, my lord, this is a pleasant surprise!” because he knew that Pedmore held him, and both his brothers, in deep affection; but he smiled a little wryly when Pedmore said: “His lordship will be pleased to see you, sir! My lady is taking her afternoon rest, but you will find his lordship in the library. Will you be making a long stay, my lord?”
“No: only one night,” the Viscount replied. “Will you give orders for the housing of the post-boys? But of course you will!”
“Of course I will, my lord!” said Pedmore fondly.
The Viscount, having assured himself, by a swift glance at the Chippendale mirror which hung in the hall, that the folds of his neckcloth had not become disarranged, or his shining locks ruffled—two possibilities certain to incur censure from his father—trod resolutely towards the double-doors which opened into the library. He paused for a moment before entering the room, bracing himself to face what he felt sure (in spite of Pedmore’s encouraging words) would be a pretty sulphurous reception; but when Lord Wroxton looked up from the journal he was perusing to see who had come into the room he said nothing more alarming than: “Ha! Is that you, Desford? Glad to see you, my boy!”
Admirably overcoming his astonishment, the Viscount crossed the floor to the wing-chair in which my lord was sitting, dutifully kissed the hand which was held out to him, and said, with his attractive smile: “Thank you, sir! For my part, I am very glad to see you, with your foot out of cotton at last! Are you in as plump currant as you look to be?”
“Oh, I’m in pretty good point!” said his lordship boastfully. “The last time I saw you you said I was all skin and whipcord, jackanapes, but damme if you didn’t nick the nick! It’ll be a long trig before you step into my shoes!”
“So I should hope!” retorted the Viscount. “Don’t try to bamboozle me into thinking you’re in your dotage, and are likely to stick your spoon in the wall at any moment, because I know to a day how old you are, sir!”
The Earl, apostrophizing him as an impudent whipster, told him that if he thought he could talk in such an improper style to his father he would very soon learn how mistaken he was; but he was secretly rather pleased, as he always was (except when his temper was exacerbated by gout) when any of his sons showed themselves to be full of what he called proper spunk. So, having, for form’s sake, read the Viscount a brief scold, he bade him sit down, and tell him what he had been doing since he was last at Wolversham.
“That’s what I’ve come to do,” said the Viscount. “And since I’ve no more liking for beating about the bush than you have, sir, I’ll tell you at once that I’ve driven over from Inglehurst, where I learned of your visit there.”
“I thought as much!” said the Earl. “Come to beg me to help you out of this scrape you’ve got yourself into, have you?”
“No, nothing of that sort,” responded Desford. “Merely to give you a round tale, which—since I understand you learned by way of the backstairs of Cherry Steane’s presence at Inglehurst, and that it was I who took her there—I’m tolerably certain you haven’t yet heard.”