The result of this period for reflection was that every other feeling gave place to the overmastering desire to see Hero at the earliest possible moment. He was knocking on the door of Lady Saltash’s house at an unconscionably early hour next morning, only to be denied admittance by a portly butler, who informed him that neither her ladyship nor Miss Wantage had as yet come downstairs. His look of austere surprise made Sherry flush and retreat in disorder. He had been on the point of announcing his intention to go up to Hero’s bedchamber, quite forgetting that no one in Bath knew her to be his wife, and the realization of the scandalous comment he would thus have occasioned in Lady Saltash’s household shook him temporarily off his balance, so that he went off without leaving his card.
By way of passing the time, and giving a little relief to his feelings, he called on his cousin, at the York Hotel, and favoured him with a pithily worded opinion of his morals and character. Ferdy, who was partaking of a continental breakfast in bed, made no attempt to defend himself, but uttered a few soothing noises, and said it had all been Gil’s fault.
“You may think yourself devilish lucky I don’t haul you out of that bed, and give you a leveller!” said the Viscount, eyeing him in a frustrated way. “Very lucky indeed, let me tell you!”
“Assure you, dear old boy, I do!” Ferdy said winningly. “Very glad you don’t mean to do it! Always bellows to mend with me if I have a set-to with you!”
“Chicken-hearted!” the Viscount taunted him.
“Anything you like, Sherry!” Ferdy said.
The Viscount gave it up, laughed, and consented to join his cousin in a cup of coffee.
He was in Camden Place again by half past ten, again to be refused admittance. The ladies, said the butler, were not at home. This time the Viscount produced his card, but although the butler bowed in a polite way he did not relent towards his lordship.
The Viscount then had the happy thought of repairing to the Grand Pump Room, where he ran straight into his mother and Miss Milborne, who were the centre of a chattering group of persons. Lady Sheringham immediately claimed his attention, and made him known to her new acquaintances. One of the Misses Chalfont said that she felt herself to know his lordship already, and received a frosty look for her pains. The Viscount then perceived that Sir Montagu Revesby made one of the group, and favoured him with the coldest of bows, deliberately turning his shoulder when Sir Montagu said smilingly: “I am delighted to see you again, my dear Sherry!” The elder Miss Chalfont then attached his lordship firmly to her side, and asked him if he did not consider the weather clement enough for an expedition to Wells. He replied briefly: “No.”
“Cruel!” said Miss Chalfont, making play with a pair of fine eyes. “I have made up my mind I will go there, for I quite dote on cathedrals, do not you, my lord?”
“Cathedrals?” said the Viscount, varying his response. “Good God, no!”
“I am sure I do not know how it will answer, this notion the girls have taken to go to Wells,” interposed Lady Sheringham. “But if dearest Isabella should like the drive, I know you will be pleased to take her in your curricle, Anthony.”
“Nothing, ma’am, would afford me greater pleasure,” replied the Viscount, casting a darkling glance at Miss Milborne, “were it not that I shall be otherwise engaged.”
“Oh! naughty!” cried Miss Chalfont. “You do not know which day we mean to go!”
“I shall be engaged for the whole of my stay in this cur — in this place,” responded the Viscount.
The dowager, much scandalized by this disobliging speech, showed a tendency to argue the point, but Miss Milborne intervened, saying that she had no notion of going for such a long drive at this season of the year. Through the ensuing babel of protests, Sir Montagu’s voice made itself heard, gallantly offering to drive Miss Milborne in his curricle, wherever she should like to go. She thanked him civilly, but returned no positive answer. Miss Chalfont’s questing eye alighted at this moment on a newcomer to the Pump Room, and since he was quite the most handsome young man who had yet come in her way, she withdrew her attention from Sherry, who lost no time in making his escape. Lord Wrotham, coming up to the party, fell alive into Miss Chalfont’s clutches, and was granted nothing more than an excellent view of the Incomparable’s profile for the following quarter of an hour. When he at last found an opportunity to approach Miss Milborne, she behaved to him with chill civility, and affected not to hear his urgent request for some private speech with her. He was about to press the matter when he caught sight of Hero, leading Lady Saltash to a chair, and attended by Mr Tarleton, and the Honourable Ferdy Fakenham and a third gentleman who was a stranger to George. He got up quickly, said: “Pray excuse me!” to Miss Milborne, and made his way across the room to warn Hero that Sherry was present. Miss Milborne gazed after him with a wooden countenance, and a bosom swelling with indignation.
George had hardly reached Hero’s side when Sherry bore down upon them. His eyes were fixed on his wife’s face, and he would no doubt have ignored everyone else had he not been brought sharply to earth by Lady Saltash, who said compellingly: “Well, Anthony? How do you do?”
He was obliged to pause by her chair, to take her hand, and to answer her questions. After asking him how his mother did, she said in a significant tone: “You are acquainted, I believe, with Miss Wantage?”
Sherry stammered that he rather thought he was, and as one in a trance shook hands with Hero. She did not meet his eyes, murmured a conventional greeting, and swiftly disengaged herself. Turning to Lady Saltash, she said: “Are you quite comfortable there, dear ma’am? You will not mind my leaving you?”
“No, no, child, be off with you!” Lady Saltash replied. “I know very well you are agog to go! I only wish you may not come to grief one of these days! Mind you have a care to her, Mr Tarleton, and do not be letting her spring your horses in the middle of Bath, which I dare say she is quite capable of doing! Sit down beside me, Sheringham, and tell me all the London gossip!”
“I beg you will hold me excused, ma’am!” Sherry said. “If Miss — Miss Wantage wishes to drive, I should be happy to take her in my curricle, for I have the greatest desire to renew my acquaintance with her!”
“But Miss Wantage is promised to me,” said Mr Tarleton gently.
He encountered a look that startled him. The Viscount, controlling himself with a visible effort, said: “I shall be much obliged to you, ma’am, if you will afford me the favour of a few minutes’ conversation with you, alone!”
Hero, terrified of a scene in public, conscious that her mother-in-law had perceived her, and was staring at her as though she could not credit her eyesight, said hurriedly: “Some other time, if you please! Indeed, I am engaged with Mr Tarleton this morning!”
She put her hand on Mr Tarleton’s arm as she spoke, nipping it compellingly. He instantly sketched a bow to the Viscount, and led her out of the Pump Room. He felt that she was trembling, and laid his hand over hers, saying: “Do not be alarmed! Who was that ferocious young man? I did not properly catch his name.”
“Lord Sheringham,” she replied in a shaking voice. “You will think it very odd of me, and I cannot explain it to you, but I have a particular desire not to be alone in his company!”