“I haven’t!” she interrupted. “Nor, I assure you, would Mrs Underhill ask it of me!”
“I’m happy to hear it. The devil of it is that I must leave with Julian, on Monday: I told the boy I would support his cause with my aunt, and I think I must. I should have wished to have postponed my departure until I could have escorted you to Derbyshire, but as things have fallen out I shall be obliged to leave you here until Julian’s affairs are settled, and one or two other matters as well. I’ll return as soon as I can, but—”
“I had as lief you did not,” she said. “And liefer by far that we should tell no one at Oversett, except Mrs Underhill (whom I hope to heaven I can pledge to secrecy!), of our intentions. Think me foolish if you will, but I don’t feel I could bear it! It will be so very much disliked, you know, and—well, I need not tell you what things will be said by certain ladies of our acquaintance! Then there is Tiffany. Waldo, she mustn’t know until she has recovered a little from Lindeth’s engagement! It would be too cruel—when you encouraged the poor child by flirting with her! Besides, I shudder to think of what life at Staples would be if she knew that you had preferred me to her! We should all of us be driven distracted. I must give Mrs Underhill time to fill my post—don’t ask me to leave her in the lurch, for I couldn’t do it: I have had nothing but kindness from her, remember! But as soon as she has done so I’ll go home to Derbyshire, and we may meet there. Oh, how much I long to make you known to Mama and William! But as for escorts—! My dear, how can you be so absurd as to suppose that at my age I should need one? The journey will be nothing—no more than fifty miles! I have only to go by the stage to Mansfield, and from there—”
“You will not go by the stage anywhere at all,” said Sir Waldo. “I’ll send my chaise to fetch you, with my own boys, of course.”
“To be sure!” she said instantly. “Outriders, and a courier too, I hope! Now, do, do be sensible, my dear sir!”
They were still arguing the matter when they reached the King’s Head. Leaving the Nonesuch in the stableyard, Miss Trent walked into the inn. She had on several occasions refreshed there with Mrs Underhill, and the first person she encountered was an elderly waiter who was well-known to her. Greeting him with a smile, and speaking with studied coolness, she said: “Good-day to you, John! Are Miss Wield and Mr Calver still here, or have they given me up in despair? I should have been here long since, but was most tiresomely delayed. I hope they may not have left?”
Even as she said it she became aware of tension, and of curious glances cast in her direction, and her heart sank. The waiter coughed in obvious embarrassment, and replied: “No, ma’am. Oh, no, they haven’t left! The gentleman is in one of the parlours—the same one as you was in yourself, ma’am, when you partook of a nuncheon here the other day.”
“And Miss Wield?”
“Well, no, ma’am! Miss is in the best bedchamber—being as she is a trifle out of sorts, and the mistress not knowing what else to do but to persuade her to lay down on the bed, with the blinds drawn, till she was more composed, as you might say. Very vapourish, she was—but the mistress will tell you, ma’am!”
Sir Waldo, entering the house at that moment, encountered an anguished look from Miss Trent, and said: “What’s amiss?”
“I couldn’t take it upon myself to say, sir,” responded the waiter, casting down his eyes. “But the gentleman, sir, is in the parlour, the mistress having put some sticking-plaster over the cut, and one of the under-waiters carrying a bottle of cognac up to him—the best cognac, sir!—the gentleman, as I understand, having sustained an accident—in a manner of speaking!”
“We will go up to him!” said Miss Trent hastily.
“Sinister!” observed Sir Waldo, following her up the narrow stairs. “Where, by the way, is the heroine of this piece?”
“Laid down upon the bed in the best bedchamber,” replied Miss Trent, “with the landlady in attendance!”
“Worse and worse! Do you suppose that she stabbed poor Laurie with a carving-knife?”
“Heaven knows! It is quite appalling—and no laughing matter, let me tell you! Mrs Underhill is very well known here, and it is perfectly obvious to me that that atrocious girl has created a dreadful scandal! The one thing I was hopeful of avoiding! Whatever you do, Waldo, don’t let her suspect that you regard me even with tolerance!”
“Have no fear! I will treat you with civil indifference!” he promised. “I wonder what she did do to Laurie?”
He was soon to learn the answer to this. Mr Calver was discovered in the parlour, reclining on a sofa of antiquated and uncomfortable design, a strip of sticking-plaster adorning his brow, his beautifully curled locks sadly dishevelled, a glass in his hand, and a bottle of the King’s Head’s best cognac standing on the floor beside him. As she stepped over the threshold, Miss Trent trod on splinters of glass, and on the table in the centre of the room was an elegant timepiece, in a slightly battered condition. Miss Wield had not stabbed Mr Calver: she had thrown the clock at his head.
“Snatched it off the mantelpiece and dashed well hurled it at me!” said Laurence.
The Nonesuch shook his head. “You must have tried to dodge it,” he said. “Really, Laurie, how could you be such a cawker? If you had but stood still it would have missed you by several feet!”
“I should rather think I did try to dodge it!” said Laurence, glaring at him. “So would you have done!”
“Never!” declared the Nonesuch. “When females throw missiles at my head I know better than to budge! Er—would it be indelicate to ask why she felt herself impelled to throw the clock at you?”
“Yes, I might have known you would think it vastly amusing!” said Laurence bitterly.
“Well, yes, I think you might!” said Sir Waldo, his eyes dancing.
Miss Trent, perceiving that her beloved had allowed himself to fall into a mood of ill-timed frivolity, directed a quelling frown at him, and said to the injured dandy: “I am so sorry, Mr Calver! I wish you will lie down again: you are not looking at all the thing, and no wonder! Your cousin may think it a jesting matter, but I am excessively grateful to you! Indeed, I cannot conceive how you were able to hold that tiresome child in check for so long!”
Slightly mollified, Laurence said: “It wasn’t easy, I can tell you, ma’am. It’s my belief she’s queer in her attic. Well, would you credit it?—she wanted me to sell her pearl necklet, or put it up the spout, just to pay for the hire of a chaise to carry her to London! I had to gammon her I’d pawned my watch instead!”
“How very wise of you!” said Miss Trent sycophantically.
“Pray do sit down, sir! I wish you will tell me—if you feel able—what caused her to—to take a sudden pet?”
“To do what?” interpolated the Nonesuch. Miss Trent, turning her back on him in a marked manner, sat down in a chair by the sofa, and smiled at Laurence encouragingly.
“You may well ask, ma’am!” said Laurence. He glanced resentfully at his cousin. “If you are fancying I was trying to make love to her, Waldo, you’re no better than a Jack Adams! For one thing, I ain’t in the petticoat-line, and for another I wouldn’t make love to that devil’s daughter if I was!”
“Of course you would not!” said Miss Trent.