“She will come!” Amanda averred. “So will you go at once to tell the post-boy he must drive you to Brancaster Park?”
“No,” replied Hildebrand, setting his jaw. “I’ll have nothing to do with the fellow! Besides, what a shocking waste of money it would be to be hiring a chaise to carry me to Brancaster Park, when I shall reach it very much more quickly if I ride there—or, at any rate, to Huntingdon, where I may hire a chaise for Lady Hester’s conveyance—that is, if you think she won’t prefer to travel in her own carriage?”
Amanda, thankful to find him suddenly so amenable, said approvingly: “That is an excellent notion, and much better than mine! I see you have learnt habits of economy, which is something I must do too, for an expensive wife would not suit Neil at all, I daresay. But I have a strong feeling that that odious Lady Widmore would cast a rub in the way of Lady Hester’s coming to my aid, if she could, and she would be bound to discover what she meant to do, if Lady Hester ordered her carriage. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I am persuaded that Lady Hester must slip away secretly. So, when you reach Brancaster Park, you must insist on seeing her alone,and on no account must you disclose your errand to anyone else.”
Hildebrand was in full agreement with her on this point, having the greatest reluctance to spread further than was strictly necessary the story of the day’s dreadful events, but an unwelcome consideration had occurred to him, and he said uneasily: “Will it not make Mrs. Chicklade even more unamiable, if we bring Lady Hester here to stay? You know, I don’t like to mention it to you, but she has been saying such things! I don’t think Chicklade will attend to her, because he seems to be a good sort of a fellow, but she wants him to tell Dr. Chantry he won’t have Sir Gareth here, or any of us, because nothing will persuade her we are respectable persons—which, when one comes to think of it, we are not,” he added gloomily. “Depend upon it, she doesn’t believe the hum you told her, about Sir Gareth’s being our uncle.”
“We must remember always to say ‘my uncle’ when we have occasion to mention him,” nodded Amanda. “In fact, we had better call him Uncle Gareth even between ourselves, so that we get into the habit of it.”
“Yes, but she is so horridly suspicious that I daresay that won’t answer. And, in any event, it wouldn’t explain Lady Hester. I don’t think we ought to say that she is betrothed to Sir—to Uncle Gareth—if you are not perfectly sure of it. Ten to one, it would make her feel very awkward, if it turned out to be no such thing.”
“Yes, very true,” she replied, frowning over this difficulty. “I don’t at all wish to put her in an uncomfortable situation, so we must think of some tale which that disagreeable woman will believe.”
He watched her doubtfully, but after a moment her brow cleared, and she said: “Of course I know the very thing to make all right! Lady Hester must be my aunt! Because it is the circumstance of my having no chaperon that makes Mrs. Chicklade so disobliging. While I was putting off my stained gown, she kept on asking me the most impertinent questions, and saying that she wondered that my mother should let me travel in such a way, just as if she was sure I had no mother, which, indeed, I haven’t, as I told her. And also I told her that I had an aunt instead, and I could see that she didn’t believe me, though it is quite true. So, I think, Hildebrand, that the thing for you to do is to inform Chicklade that you feel it to be your duty to fetch my aunt, and that will convince Mrs. Chicklade that I was speaking the truth!”
Thus it was arranged, Chicklade greeting the suggestion with instant approval, and a good deal of relief. Hildebrand saddled Prince, and rode off, leaving Amanda preparing to banish Mrs. Bardfield irrevocably from the sick-room. It seemed likely that she would enjoy this task very much more than he expected to enjoy his.
He managed to reach Huntingdon in good time, by riding wherever possible across country. He learned there that his goal was situated very much nearer to St. Ives, and so rode on to that town. At the Crown, he was able to hire a post-chaise and pair, and to stable Prince; and midway through the afternoon he arrived at Brancaster Park.
Amanda, having strictly enjoined him to disclose his errand to none but Lady Hester, had seemed to think there could be no difficulty about doing this, but when he was admitted into the house by a servant, who civilly enquired what his name was, he saw that it was only too probable that Lady Hester would refuse to receive a gentleman quite unknown to her. He explained, stammering a little, that his name would not be familiar to her ladyship; and then, as he thought the servant was looking suspiciously at him, he added that he was the bearer of an urgent message. The man bowed, and went away, leaving him in a large saloon, where he instantly fell a prey to all sorts of forebodings. Perhaps the Earl would come in, and demand to know his business; perhaps Lady Widmore would intercept the message to her sister-in-law; or, worse than all, perhaps Lady Hester was not at home.
The minutes ticked by, and he became more and more apprehensive. He hoped that his neckcloth was straight, and his hair tidy, and, seeing that a mirror hung at one end of the room, he went to it, to reassure himself on these points. He was engaged in smoothing his rather creased coat when he heard the door open behind him, and turned quickly to find that he was being regarded by a lady in a pomona green half-dress and a lace cap tied over her softly waving brown hair. Much discomposed to have been surprised preening himself in front of a mirror, he blushed scarlet, and became tongue-tied.
After thoughtfully observing these signs of embarrassment, the lady smiled, and stepped forward, saying: “Pray do not mind! I know exactly how one is always quite positive that one’s hat is crooked, or that there is a smut on one’s face. How do you do? I am Hester Theale, you know.”
“How do you do?” he returned, still much flushed. “My name is Ross—Hildebrand Ross, but—but you don’t know me, ma’am!”
“No,” she agreed, sitting down on the sofa. “But Cliffe said that you have a message for me. Won’t you be seated?”
He thanked her, and sat down on the edge of a chair, and swallowed once or twice, trying to think how best to explain himself to her. She waited patiently, her hands folded in her lap, and smiled encouragingly at him.
“It is Amanda!” he blurted out. “I mean, it was she who made me come, because she said she knew you would help her, but I didn’t above half like to do it, ma’am, only—only the case is so desperate, you see!”
She looked startled, and exclaimed: “Oh, dear! Didn’t Sir Gareth find her, then? Of course I will do anything I can to help her, and if my uncle is the cause of her sending you to me, it is quite too dreadfully mortifying—though only to be expected, I am ashamed to say.”
“No, no! I mean, Sir Gareth did find her, but—well, it isn’t for herself that Amanda wishes you to go to her, but for him!”
She blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?” she said, bewildered.
He got up jerkily, squaring his shoulders. “The thing is—I don’t know how to tell you—but I—but he is very ill, ma’am!”
“Sir Gareth very ill?” she repeated, still looking bewildered. “Surely you must be mistaken? He was perfectly stout when I saw him yesterday!”
“Yes, but the thing is that I have shot him!” said Hildebrand, rushing his fence.