Pistols for Two

‘It’s very bad, of course, but –’

‘And if he, or your hoydenish niece, think they can force my hand, they will very soon learn to know me better!’

‘Yes!’ said Miss Tresilian bitterly. ‘I might have guessed you’d turn mulish, might I not? You always did make bad worse, and you always will!’

***

By the time Stamford was reached, Miss Tresilian was herself so weary that she could only suppose her companion to be made of iron. More than eighty miles had been covered, often at a pace which demanded the strictest concentration, and in six hours of fast driving he had allowed himself only two brief respites. During one of these Miss Tresilian had found the time to swallow a mouthful of ham, and a few sips of scalding coffee, and on this meagre fare she had been obliged to subsist, encouraged by a disagreeable reminder from his lordship that he had warned her how it would be if she insisted on accompanying him. She forgave him for that: he sat as erect as at the start of the journey, his hands as steady and his eyes as watchful, but she knew, without the evidence of the crease between his brows, how tired he must be. No conversation had been held during the past hour; Miss Tresilian, in fact, had fallen into an uneasy doze, and woke up in the yard of the George, demanding to know where she was.

‘Stamford,’ replied Lord Iver, looking down at her. ‘Quite done up?’

‘A little tired – nothing to signify!’

‘I’ll say this for you: you were always full of pluck! Our runaways are not here, but there are two other posting-houses in the town, and several smaller inns. They may well be racking up at one of them for the night.’

‘But it is still daylight!’

‘It will be daylight for some hours yet, but it is nevertheless past six o’clock. If they knew they were being followed no doubt they would go on, but I’ve no reason to believe that they do. They have been travelling at a fair rate, but with no suggestion of flight. Come, let me help you down! You will have time to dine while I am making enquiries at the other houses.’

She agreed to this, but when he left her installed in a private parlour she discovered herself to be too anxious to be hungry. She ordered some tea, however, which revived her, though it drew a sharp rebuke from his lordship, when he presently returned to the George. ‘Don’t scold!’ she begged. ‘It was all I wanted, I promise you. And you have eaten nothing!’

‘On the contrary, I had a sandwich and some beer at the Swan.’ His frown deepened. ‘I’ve been unable to get any news of them: they are certainly not in the town. If they changed horses here, no one recalls having seen them – though that’s not wonderful: the ostlers are kept too busy to take particular note of all the travellers who pass through the place.’

Her heart sank, but she said: ‘There’s nothing for it but to go on, then.’

He said roughly: ‘You’ve come far enough! I’ll have that portmanteau of yours carried up to a bed-chamber, and you may remain here. You needn’t be afraid I shan’t catch that pair: I shall, and will bring Lucy to you at once, so don’t argue with me, if you please!’

‘I don’t mean to,’ said Miss Tresilian, tying the strings of her bonnet. ‘Nor do I mean to be abandoned in this very noisy inn!’

‘Now, listen to me, my girl!’ said his lordship, in menacing accents.

‘Go and order the horses to be put-to!’ said Miss Tresilian, unimpressed.

***

No reliable news was to be gained at either of the two first pikes north of Stamford, but at Greetham, where they stopped for a change, an ostler clearly remembered the young lady and gentleman, for he had helped to fig out four lively ’uns for them, and not so many minutes ago neither. He’d suspicioned all along that there was something havey-cavey about them. Argufying, they were, the young gentleman being wishful to put up for the night, and Miss being that set on going on she was ready to nap her bib. Nothing would do for her but to get to Grantham, so off they’d gone.

‘Having made it plain that they were an eloping couple!’ said Miss Tresilian, as they drove away. ‘How Lucy could be so dead to shame – !’

Lord Iver returned no answer, and she sat staring with unseeing eyes at the fading landscape, lost in the gloomiest reflections. From these she was presently recalled by his lordship’s voice, ejaculating: ‘At last!’

The curricle had swept round a bend, and brought into view a post-chaise and four, bowling ahead at a spanking pace. ‘Hand me the yard of tin!’ commanded his lordship grimly.

‘You look after your horses!’ returned Miss Tresilian, already in possession of the long horn. ‘I can sound this quite as well as you can!’

In proof of this statement, she raised the horn to her lips and produced an ear-splitting blast.

‘That should startle them!’ observed his lordship. ‘Oh, my God, of all the infernal cawkers – !’

This outburst of exasperation was provoked by the sudden widening of the gap between the two vehicles: the post-boys, instead of making way for the curricle to pass, were springing their horses. ‘Hold on tightly!’ snapped his lordship, following suit.

‘Iver, for heaven’s sake – !’ she uttered, as the curricle swayed and bounded alarmingly.

He paid no heed; and one glance at his face showed her that to suggest that he might just as well, and far more safely, drive behind the chaise until the fugitives realized the folly of trying to escape from him would be a waste of breath. This foolish gesture of defiance had thoroughly enraged him: he was going to pass the chaise at the first opportunity that offered.

Feeling sick with apprehension, Miss Tresilian fixed her eyes on the road, and tried not to speculate on what would happen if some vehicle were to come round one of the bends towards them. My lord had swung out to the right, not yet attempting to pass, but obviously ready to open out his leaders. The road was narrow, and the chaise held obstinately to the centre. They rocked round another bend, and Miss Tresilian saw a straight stretch ahead. It was a little broader, but not broad enough yet, she decided. Then she saw his lordship drop his hands, and shut her eyes, realizing that her last hour had come. Rigid with fright, she awaited the inevitable crash.

‘Good girl!’ said his lordship approvingly.