Sprig Muslin

Hildebrand, lying on his stomach at some little distance from them, his fingers writhing amongst his disordered locks as he wrestled with literary composition, vouchsafed only an absent grunt.

‘Hildebrand, would you be so obliging as to pretend to compromise me, and then refuse to marry me?’ said Amanda cajolingly.

‘No, can’t you see I’m busy? Ask Uncle Gary!’ said Hildebrand.

This was not encouraging, nor, when he was brought to attend to what was being said to him, did he return any more satisfactory answer. He recommended her not to be silly, and added that she didn’t know what she was talking about.

‘I think you are uncivil and disobliging!’ said Amanda roundly.

‘Oh, no, I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be!’ said Hester, looking round for her scissors. ‘I expect – oh, t

here they are! however did they come to get over there? – I expect he did not quite understand. Really, Hildebrand, you will only have to refuse to marry Amanda, and surely that is not much to ask?’

‘Oh, I don’t mind doing that!’ he said, grinning.

‘You are an unprincipled woman, Hester,’ Sir Gareth told her, at the earliest opportunity.

‘Yes, I think I am,’ she agreed reflectively.

‘There can be no doubt of it. Are you really proposing to allow Amanda to regale her Brigade-Major with this abominable story she has concocted?’

‘But I can see no harm in that, Gareth!’ she said, vaguely surprised. ‘It will make her wish to go to London, besides giving her something to do in planning it all, which she needs, you know, because since the calf at the farm was sent off to the market it is really very dull for her here. And the Brigade-Major cannot possibly be foolish enough to believe the story. Anyone must see that she hasn’t the least notion of what it means to be compromised.’

‘And having said that, do you still maintain that she should be permitted to marry the fellow?’ he asked.

‘It depends on what he is like,’ she replied thoughtfully. ‘I should wish to see him before I made up my mind.’

Her wish was granted on the following afternoon. Sir Gareth, half asleep under a big apple-tree, with Joseph wholly asleep on his knee, became drowsily aware of a menacing presence, and opened his eyes. They fell upon a sandy-haired, stockily-built young gentleman who was standing a few feet away, grimly surveying him. Contempt and wrath flamed in his blue eyes as they took in the splendour of the frogged dressing-gown, which, since his coats fitted him far too well to be eased on over his heavily bandaged shoulder, Sir Gareth was obliged to wear. Interested, and mildly surprised, Sir Gareth sought his quizzing glass, and through it inspected his unknown visitor.

Captain Kendal drew an audible breath, and pronounced in a voice of awful and resolute civility: ‘Am I correct, sir, in thinking that I address Sir Gareth Ludlow?’

‘Sir,’ responded Sir Gareth gravely, but with a twitching lip, ‘you are!’

Captain Kendal appeared to struggle with himself. His fists clenched, and his teeth ground together; he drew another painful breath and said in measured accents: ‘I am sorry, sir – damned sorry! – to see that you have your arm in a sling!’

‘Your solicitude, sir,’ said Sir Gareth, entering into the spirit of this, ‘moves me deeply! To own the truth, I am sorry to see it there myself.’

‘Because,’ said Captain Kendal, through his shut teeth, ‘your disabled condition renders it impossible for me to deal with you as you deserve! My heartfelt wish is that you may recover the use of your arm before I am obliged to leave England!’

‘Good God!’ exclaimed Sir Gareth, enlightenment dawning on him. He lifted his quizzing-glass again. ‘Do you know, I had quite a different picture in my mind? I wish you will tell me what your name is!’

‘That, sir, you will know in good time! You will allow me to tell you that what I learned at Kimbolton brought me here with two overmastering desires: the first to bring you to book, and the second to shake the hand of the boy who tried to rescue from your clutches a girl whose youth and innocence must have protected her from any but an unprincipled villain!’

‘Well, I am afraid you can’t realize the first of these very proper ambitions,’ said Sir Gareth apologetically, ‘but there’s nothing easier to accomplish than the second.’ He sat up, and looked round, disturbing Joseph, who stood up, sneezed, and sprang off his knee. ‘When I last saw him he was in the throes of dramatic composition, over there. Yes, there he is, but not, I perceive, still wrestling with his Muse.’

‘What?’ said Captain Kendal, taken aback. ‘Are you trying to hoax me, sir?’

‘Not at all! Wake up, Hildebrand! We have a visitor!’

‘Do you imagine,’ demanded the Captain, ‘that I am the man to be taken-in by your shams?’

‘I am sure you are not,’ replied Sir Gareth soothingly. ‘You do seem to leap a little hurriedly to conclusions – but, then, I don’t know yet precisely what it was you learned at Kimbolton.’

‘Why,’ the Captain shot at him, ‘did the chambermaid find your ward’s door locked? Why did your ward think it necessary to lock her door?’

‘She didn’t. I locked the door, so that she shouldn’t escape a second time. Yes, come over here, Hildebrand! Our visitor wishes to shake you by the hand. Let me present Mr Ross to you, sir! This, Hildebrand, unless I much mistake the matter, is the Brigade-Major.’

‘What, Amanda’s Brigade-Major?’ exclaimed Hildebrand. ‘Well, of all things! However did you find us out, sir?’