The Masqueraders

‘My dear, my dear, you’re surely mad!’ she said, but her fingers clasped his. ‘You should not – you should not, Tony – for me!’

Came only a little laugh from behind her, and a tightening of the hold about her waist.

‘Lord, your unfortunate horse!’ said Prudence. ‘I believe I’m no featherweight.’

‘He’ll bear us both for as long as I need,’ Sir Anthony said. ‘We bear southwards, John, and leave you by Easterly Woods.’

‘Ay, sir,’ John answered, pulling the muffler down from his face.

Prudence turned her head, and smiled at his stolid countenance. ‘Tell Robin, John. Oh, but how he would have delighted in this.’

‘I’m like to find him bent on some madness,’ grunted John.

Easterly Woods came into sight; in a few minutes they were under the spreading beeches, and the horses were pulled up.

Sir Anthony sprang down and lifted Prudence from the saddle. She had an odd delight in this masterful treatment of her, though she could have come down easily enough by herself. For a moment as he held her she looked down into his eyes, and saw them alight with laughter, and something else, more deep than that. She was set lightly on her feet, and for an instant caught his hands in hers. Then she turned and pulled her coat from the roan’s saddle.

‘You remember, John?’

‘Yes, sir.’ John was holding the mare in readiness for Prudence.

She came to him, and took the bridle. She had very little doubt of her destination now. ‘You’ll keep Robin safe, John?’

‘Ay, trust me, mistress.’

The twinkle crept up. ‘What, will you leave me to the large gentleman?’

‘I will,’ said John, and exerted himself to say more. ‘And I’d not wish you in better hands, Miss Prue. You’ll do as he says, and come to no harm. Up with you!’

She put her foot into his hand, and was flung up into the saddle. Beside her Sir Anthony sat on the roan again.

‘Good luck to you, sir,’ John said. ‘You don’t need to fret over Master Robin, mistress.’

‘Get him away to-night,’ Sir Anthony said, and reached down his hand. ‘It was a good rough and tumble, John.’

John flushed unwontedly, and after a moment’s hesitation gripped the outstretched hand. ‘It was, sir. Goodbye, sir.’

The roan was pressed forward to the mare’s side; together they moved forward through the wood.

Twenty-eight

Exit Miss Merriot

Easterly Woods lay but two miles, across country, from my Lady Lowestoft’s house, and John covered the distance swiftly. He came to the house by the river as the lamps were lit, and found my lady waiting in the hall, and Sir Anthony’s chaise in the drive outside. He pulled off his hat and spoke before my lady could open her mouth. ‘I took Mr Merriot’s message to Sir Anthony, my lady,’ he said in a voice loud enough to carry to the listening lackeys by the door.

My lady’s black eyes snapped. ‘Yes?’ she said. ‘And he said?’

‘I was to tell you, my lady, he would not think of troubling you by coming here since Mr Merriot was took off. I’ve a note for his man.’

‘Bah, it is

a mistake the most absurd!’ cried my lady. ‘Mr Merriot will return at once! Where does Sir Anthony go?’

‘He did say, my lady, he would turn off to visit a friend,’ John answered. He remembered the mare, and added apologetically: ‘The mare cast a shoe, my lady, and I made bold to leave her with the smith.’

My lady nodded. Her eyes searched John’s face, but could read nothing therein. ‘Your mistress is in a sad way,’ she informed him, with considerable meaning.

‘Yes, my lady? Should I give the note to Sir Anthony’s man?’