Sprig Muslin

She regarded him with great fixity. ‘Will she go with you?’

‘Lord, yes! Do anything to get away from Ludlow. The silly fellow seems to have frightened her, poor little soul.’

‘She! I never saw anyone less frightened in my life!’

‘Well, it don’t signify. The point is, I’m going to take her away. Ludlow will be obliged to put a good face on it, and I shouldn’t be surprised if once Amanda is out of his eye he’ll see what a cake he’s been making of himself, and try Hester again.’

‘If he can be persuaded to remain here,’ she said. ‘Does he know?’

‘Of course he doesn’t! Doesn’t even know I’m leaving tomorrow. I stayed behind after he’d gone up to bed, and told my brother I meant to be off early, and would carry Miss Smith to Oundle.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Didn’t say anything, but I could see the notion took very well with him. If you want to be helpful, you’ll see to it no one hinders the child from joining me in the morning. I’ve ordered the carriage for seven o’clock. Breakfast in Huntingdon.’

‘I’ll tell Povey!’ said Lady Widmore, a scheming light in her eye. ‘My woman has been saying that she’s as mad as fire with that chit, for coming here and spoiling Hester’s chances. Would you believe Hester could be such a ninny? – She has invited the wretched wench to remain here for a week! You may lay your life Povey will take care no one stops her from going with you. I suppose there’s no fear Ludlow will go after you?’

‘Lord, you’re as bad as Amanda!’ said Mr Theale impatiently. ‘Of course there’s no fear of it! He’d have to tell the truth about her if he did that, and that’s the last thing he’s likely to do.’

‘Well, I hope you may be right. At all events, it will do no harm if Povey tells Hester the girl’s still abed and asleep at breakfast-time. I wouldn’t put it beyond Hester to send Ludlow after her!’

‘What the devil should she do that for?’ demanded Mr Theale. ‘She’ll think I’m taking the girl to her relations!’

‘I’ll do my best to make her think that,’ retorted Lady Widmore grimly, ‘but ninny though she may be, she knows you, Fabian!’

He was not in the least offended by this insult, but went chuckling off to bed, where, like Amanda, he enjoyed an excellent night’s repose.

They were almost the only members of the party to do so. Not until the small hours crept in did sleep put an end to Lady Hester’s unhappy reflections; her father lay awake, first dwelling on her shortcomings, then blaming Sir Gareth for her undutiful conduct, and lately arguing himself into the conviction that it formed no part of his duty to interfere with whatever plan Fabian had formed; Lady Widmore was troubled by bad dreams; and her husband, as she had prophesied, succumbed to an attack of acute dyspepsia, which caused him to remain in bed on the following day, sustaining nature with toast and thin gruel, and desiring his wife not – unless she wished to bring on his pains again – to mention his sister’s name within his hearing.

Lady Widmore was the first person to put in an appearance at the breakfast-table. She, alone amongst the family, had attended the service Mr Whyteleafe held daily in the little private chapel. The Earl was always an infrequent worshipper, but it was rarely that Lady Hester rose too late to take part in the morning service. This morning, however, she had been an absentee. Sir Gareth, confidentially informed overnight by his host that the chaplain was employed for the edification of the servants and the ladies of the family, had not felt it to be incumbent upon him to attend either; but he was the second person to enter the breakfast-parlour.

Lady Widmore, after bidding him a bluff good-morning, told him bluntly that she was sorry his suit had not prospered.

‘Thank you: I too am sorry,’ replied Sir Gareth calmly.

‘Well, if I were you I wouldn’t give up hope,’ said her ladyship. ‘The mischief is that Hester’s the shyest thing in nature, you know.’

‘I do know it,’ said Sir Gareth unencouragingly.

‘Give her time, and I dare swear she’ll come round!’ she persevered.

‘Do you mean, ma’am, that she might be scolded into accepting me?’ he asked. ‘I trust that no one will make the attempt, for however much I must hope that her answer to me last night was not final, I most certainly don’t wish for a wife who accepted me only to escape from the recriminations of her relatives.’

‘Well, upon my word!’

ejaculated Lady Widmore, her colour rising.

‘I know that your ladyship is an advocate of plain speaking,’ said Sir Gareth sweetly.

‘Ay, very true!’ she retorted. ‘So I will make bold to tell you, sir, that it’s your own fault that this business has come to nothing!’

He looked coolly at her, a hint of steel in his eyes. ‘Believe me, ma’am,’ he said, ‘though you may be labouring under a misapprehension as little flattering to yourself as it is to me, Lady Hester is not!’

Fortunately, since her temper was hasty, the Earl came in just then, with his chaplain at his heels; and by the time he had greeted his guest, with as much cheerfulness as he could muster, and had expressed the conventional hope that he had slept well, she had recollected the unwisdom of quarrelling with Sir Gareth, and managed, though not without a severe struggle with herself, to swallow her spleen, and to call upon her father-in-law to persuade Sir Gareth not to curtail his visit to Brancaster.

The Earl, while responding with a fair assumption of enthusiasm, privately considered that it would be useless for Sir Gareth to linger under his roof. His daughter, he had decided, was destined to remain a spinster all her days; and he had formed the intention, while shaving, of putting the whole matter out of his mind, and losing no time in repairing to the more congenial locality of Brighton. He had been prepared to perform his duties as a host and a father while Hester mooned about the gardens with her affianced husband, but if this very easy way of entertaining Sir Gareth failed, as fail it assuredly must, he wondered what the devil he was to do with the fellow for a whole week in the middle of July.

‘Thank you, sir, you are very good, but I fear it is not in my power to remain,’ replied Sir Gareth. ‘I must convey my charge to Oundle – or even, perhaps, back to her parents.’