‘I warned her against him the day of her father’s wedding. And what a straightforward, outspoken topic it was then! I don’t believe it; it’s only one of old Sheepshanks’ stories, half invention and half deafness.’
The next day Lady Harriet rode over to Hollingford, and for the settling of her curiosity she called on the Miss Brownings, and introduced the subject. She would not have spoken about the rumour she had heard to any who were not warm friends of Molly’s. If Mr. Sheepshanks had chosen to allude to it when she had been riding with her father, she could very soon have silenced him by one of the haughty looks she knew full well how to assume. But she felt as if she must know the truth, and accordingly she began thus abruptly to Miss Browning.
‘What is all this I hear about my little friend Molly Gibson and Mr. Preston?’
‘Oh, Lady Harriet! have you heard of it? We are so sorry!’
‘Sorry for what?’
‘I think, begging your ladyship’s pardon, we had better not say any more till we know how much you know,’ said Miss Browning.
‘Nay,’ replied Lady Harriet, laughing a little, ‘I shan’t tell what I know till I am sure you know more. Then we’ll make an exchange if you like.’
‘I’m afraid it’s no laughing matter for poor Molly,’ said Miss Browning, shaking her head. ‘People do say such things!’
‘But I don’t believe them; indeed I don’t,’ burst in Miss Phoebe, half crying.
‘No more will I then,’ said Lady Harriet, taking the good lady’s hand.
‘It’s all very fine, Phoebe, saying you don’t believe them, but I should like to know who it was that convinced me, sadly against my will, I am sure.’
‘I only told you the facts as Mrs. Goodenough told them me, sister; but I’m sure if you had seen poor patient Molly as I have done, sitting up in a corner of a room, looking at the Beauties of England and Wales till she must have been sick of them, and no one speaking to her; and she as gentle and sweet as ever at the end of the evening, though maybe a bit pale—facts or no facts, I won’t believe anything against her.’
So there sat Miss Phoebe, in tearful defiance of facts.
‘And, as I said before, I’m quite of your opinion,’ said Lady Harriet.
‘But how does your ladyship explain away her meetings with Mr. Preston in all sorts of unlikely and open-air places?’ asked Miss Browning,—who, to do her justice, would have been only too glad to join Molly’s partisans, if she could have preserved her character for logical deduction at the same time. ‘I went so far as to send for her father and tell him all about it. I thought at least he would have horsewhipped Mr. Preston; but he seems to have taken no notice of it.’
‘Then we may be quite sure he knows some way of explaining matters that we don’t,’ said Lady Harriet, decisively. ‘After all, there may be a hundred and fifty perfectly natural and justifiable explanations.’
‘Mr. Gibson knew of none when I thought it my duty to speak to him,’ said Miss Browning.
‘Why, suppose that Mr. Preston is engaged to Miss Kirkpatrick, and Molly is confidante and messenger?’
‘I don’t see that your ladyship’s supposition much alters the blame. Why, if he is honourably engaged to Cynthia Kirkpatrick, does he not visit her openly at her home in Mr. Gibson’s house? Why does Molly lend herself to clandestine proceedings?’
‘One can’t account for everything,’ said Lady Harriet, a little impatiently, for reason was going hard against her. ‘But I choose to have faith in Molly Gibson. I’m sure she’s not done anything very wrong. I’ve a great mind to go and call on her—Mrs. Gibson is confined to her room with this horrid influenza—and take her with me on a round of calls through the little gossiping town,—on Mrs. Goodenough, or Badenough, who seems to have been propagating all these stories. But I’ve not time to-day. I’ve to meet papa at three, and it’s three now. Only remember, Miss Phoebe, it’s you and I against the world, in defence of a distressed damsel.’
‘Don Quixote and Sancho Panza!’dv said she to herself, as she ran lightly down Miss Browning’s old-fashioned staircase.
‘Now, I don’t think that’s pretty of you, Phoebe,’ said Miss Browning, in some displeasure, as soon as she was alone with her sister. ‘First, you convince me against my will, and make me very unhappy; and I have to do unpleasant things, all because you’ve made me believe that certain statements are true; and then you turn round and cry, and say you don’t believe a word of it all, making me out a regular ogre and backbiter. No! it’s of no use. I shan’t listen to you.’ So she left Miss Phoebe in tears, and locked herself up in her own room.
Lady Harriet, meanwhile, was riding homewards by her father’s side, apparently listening to all he chose to say, but in reality turning over the probabilities and possibilities that might account for these strange interviews between Molly and Mr. Preston. It was a case of parler de l‘âne et l’on en voit les oreilles.dw At a turn in the road they saw Mr. Preston a little way before them, coming towards them on his good horse, point device,dx in his riding attire.
The earl, in his threadbare coat, and on his old brown cob, called out cheerfully,—
‘Aha! here’s Preston. Good day to you. I was just wanting to ask you about that slip of pasture-land on the Home Farm. John Brick-kill wants to plough it up and crop it. It’s not two acres at the best.’
While they were talking over this bit of land, Lady Harriet came to her resolution. As soon as her father had finished, she said,—
‘Mr. Preston, perhaps you will allow me to ask you one or two questions to relieve my mind, for I am in some little perplexity at present.’
‘Certainly; I shall only be too happy to give you any information in my power.’ But the moment after he had made this polite speech, he recollected Molly’s speech—that she would refer her case to Lady Harriet. But the letters had been returned, and the affair was now wound up. She had come off conqueror, he the vanquished. Surely she would never have been so ungenerous as to appeal after that.
‘There are reports about Miss Gibson and you current among the gossips of Hollingford. Are we to congratulate you on your engagement to that young lady?’
‘Ah! by the way, Preston, we ought to have done it before,’ interrupted Lord Cumnor, in hasty goodwill. But his daughter said quietly, ‘Mr. Preston has not yet told us if the reports are well founded, papa.’
She looked at him with the air of a person expecting an answer, and expecting a truthful answer.
‘I am not so fortunate,’ replied he, trying to make his horse appear fidgety, without incurring observation.
‘Then I may contradict that report?’ asked Lady Harriet, quickly. ‘Or is there any reason for believing that in time it may come true? I ask because such reports, if unfounded, do harm to young ladies.’
‘Keep other sweethearts off,’ put in Lord Cumnor, looking a good deal pleased at his own discernment. Lady Harriet went on:—
‘And I take a great interest in Miss Gibson.’
Mr. Preston saw from her manner that he was ‘in for it,’ as he expressed it to himself. The question was, how much or how little did she know?
‘I have no expectation or hope of ever having a nearer interest in Miss Gibson than I have at present. I shall be glad if this straightforward answer relieves your ladyship from your perplexity.’
He could not help the touch of insolence that accompanied these last words. It was not in the words themselves, nor in the tone in which they were spoken, nor in the look which accompanied them, it was in all; it implied a doubt of Lady Harriet’s right to question him as she did; and there was something of defiance in it as well. But this touch of insolence put Lady Harriet’s mettle up; and she was not one to check herself, in any course, for the opinion of an inferior.