Sprig Muslin

by Georgette Heyer

  The words were intended only for Mr Wetherby’s ears, but Beatrix’s hearing was sharp, and she heard them. She broke off in the middle of what she was saying to her guest, and demanded: ‘Did you say Sir Gareth’s head groom? I will come at once.’ She nodded to her husband, and got up. ‘I left a message in Berkeley Square that I wished Trotton to come here. Captain Kendal will excuse me, I am sure, if I run away for a few minutes.’

  ‘I beg pardon, ma’am, but it is the master Trotton has come to see,’ interposed the butler, catching Mr Wetherby’s eye, and exchanging with him a meaning look.

  ‘Nonsense! It is I who want to see Trotton, not your master!’ said Beatrix, not blind to this by-play.

  ‘Stay where you are, my dear,’ said Warren, going to the door. ‘I’ll find out what Trotton wants. There’s no occasion for you to put yourself out.’

  She was vexed, but to engage in a dispute with him in the presence of a guest did not suit her notions of propriety. She resumed her seat, and said, with rather a forced smile: ‘Pray forgive us! The thing is that I am in some anxiety about my brother, whose groom it is who has just come here.’

  ‘I am excessively sorry!’ he said. ‘I collect he is ill? Would you like me to go away? You must be wishing me at the devil!’

  ‘Indeed I am not! I beg you won’t think of running away! My brother is not ill – at least, I don’t think so.’ She stopped, and then said, with a little laugh: ‘It is very likely nothing at all, and I am refining too much upon the event. The fact is that my brother went into the country on a visit more than a fortnight ago, and although his servants were in the expectation of his returning four days later, he didn’t return, or send any word, so that I cannot help indulging a great many foolish fancies. But you were telling me about the fiestas in Madrid: do continue! How pretty the candles set on all the window-sills must have looked! Were you quartered in the town, Captain Kendal?’

  He answered her, and she led him on to describe such features of the Spanish scene as he had thought memorable, an expression on her face of absorbed interest, suitable comments rising mechanically to her lips, and her mind almost wholly divorced from anything he was saying.

  The circumstance of Trotton’s asking particularly to speak with Warren rather than with herself was not reassuring; a chilling fear that some dreadful news was presently to be broken gently to her by her husband began to creep into her heart; and only her good breeding kept her from jumping up, and following Warren.

  He was gone for what seemed to her to be an ominously long time, and when he at last came back into the room he was wearing the expression of a man who did not wish his wife to suspect that anything was wrong. It was too much; she exclaimed sharply: ‘What is it? Has some accident befallen Gary?’

  ‘No, no, nothing of the sort! I’ll tell you about it presently, but there’s no need for you to worry your head over it.’

  ‘Where is Gary?’ she demanded.

  ‘Well, I can’t tell you that, but you may depend upon it he’s perfectly well and safe wherever he is. Trotton parted from him at Kimbolton, so I daresay he may have gone off to stay with Staplehurst.’

  ‘Kimbolton?’ she repeated, astonished. ‘What in the world took him there, pray?’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s a long story, and of no interest to Kendal, my love!’

  ‘If you’ll allow me, sir, I’ll take my leave,’ said the Captain. ‘Mrs Wetherby must be very anxious to learn more. I would have gone before, only that she wouldn’t suffer me to!’

  ‘I should rather think not, and nor will I! Sit down, my boy!’

  ‘Oh, yes, pray do!’ Beatrix said. ‘Is Trotton still in the house, Warren?’

  ‘Having a heavy-wet in the pantry, I expect.’

  ‘Then, if Captain Kendal will excuse me, I will go down and speak to him myself!’ she said. ‘I don’t stand on ceremony with you, sir, but I am persuaded you will not care for that.’

  ‘I should rather think not, ma’am!’

  She smiled, and hurried out of the room. The Captain looked at his host, and said bluntly: ‘Bad news, sir?’

  ‘Lord, no!’ said Warren, with a chuckle. ‘But it ain’t the sort of news to blab to his sister! The groom’s a silly clunch, but he had that much sense! From what I can make out, my brother-in-law has picked up a very prime article, and has made off with her the lord knows where! He’s never been much in the petticoat-line, so his groom don’t know what to make of it. Told me he was sure Ludlow had gone out of his mind!’

  ‘Oh, I see!’ said the Captain, with a laugh. ‘No, that’s not a story for Mrs Wetherby, certainly!’

  ‘Trust Trotton to turn her up sweet!’ said Warren confidently. ‘Catch him giving his master’s secrets away! Devoted to him, you know: been with him since Gareth was a lad. The only wonder is he told me. Don’t suppose he would have, if my wife hadn’t summoned him to come here. The silly fellow’s in the deuce of a pucker: thinks his master’s heading for trouble! Funny thing about these old servants: never can be brought to believe one ain’t still in short coats!’

  ‘No, by Jupiter!’ agreed the Captain. ‘Like my old nurse, who is persuaded I got hit because she wasn’t there to tell me not to get in the way of the nasty guns!’

  ‘Exactly so!’ said Warren, laughing heartily. ‘I told Trotton I never knew a man more able to take care of himself than Ludlow, but I might as well have spared my breath. I shall have to discover what tale he’s fobbed my wife off with, or I shall be bowled out.’

  But when Mrs Wetherby came back into the room he soon found that this would be unnecessary. She was looking so much amused that he was surprised into exclaiming: ‘What the deuce did Trotton tell you to set you off laughing?’

  She threw him a saucy look. ‘The truth, of course! Did you think I couldn’t get him to tell me the whole? Pooh! How could you be so nonsensical as to suppose I should be shocked, as though I were a schoolroom miss? I was never more enchanted! When I had despaired of ever seeing the old Gary again, doing such daring things, and being so gay, and adventurous! How I wish I could have seen him snatching up this beautiful girl in his curricle, and driving off with her! Of all the absurd starts! Depend upon it, he sent Trotton home because he was off to the Border with his Amanda! Did Trotton tell you that was her name? Isn’t it pretty?’

  ‘What?’ ejaculated Captain Kendal.

  She was surprised, for he had fairly shot the word at her, but before she could answer Warren intervened, saying in a displeased voice: ‘You are talking nonsense, my dear, and allowing your romantic notions to run away with you. The Border, indeed! You may be sure there is no question of that!’

  ‘Oh, you are thinking of her trying to escape from him, and his chasing after her, and finding her in a cow-byre, or some such thing!’ she said, laughing. ‘My dear Warren, how can you be so green? No female in her senses would wish to escape from Gary, least of all a girl who was found in a common inn, entirely unattended!’

  ‘You will be giving Kendal a very odd idea of your brother if you lead him to suppose that Gary would for a moment contemplate marriage with such a girl,’ Warren said repressively.

  She was aware that her natural liveliness, exaggerated as it was by relief, had betrayed her into raillery that was beyond the line of being pleasing, and coloured, saying: ‘I was only funning, of course! It cannot be more than a – well, a charmingly romantic interlude! – but it will do Gary a great deal of good, so you must not expect me to pull down my mouth, and preach propriety, if you please!’

  After his one startled exclamation, Captain Kendal had not again unclosed his lips. They were indeed tightly gripped together, in a way that suggested to his hostess that he was tiresomely prudish. There was a stern look in his face, and an expression in his eyes which quite startled her. He might disapprove of her vivacity, but why he should look murderous she was at a l
oss to understand. She stared at him; he lowered his eyes; seemed to make an effort to suppress whatever emotion it was that had him in its clutch; and said curtly that it was time he took his leave. He would not stay for tea, but he said everything that was proper before shaking hands briefly with his hostess. Warren accompanied him to the front-door. ‘My wife, when she is in funning humour, talks a great deal of flummery,’ he said. ‘I need not ask you not to repeat her nonsense, I know.’

  ‘You need have no fear of that, sir!’ said Captain Kendal emphatically. ‘Goodnight! And thank you for a – very pleasant evening!’

  A bow, and he was gone. Warren went upstairs again to scold his wife for having shocked her guest, and to read her a homily on the evils of a long tongue; but he was himself a little puzzled by the Captain’s behaviour.

  Captain Kendal, meanwhile, hailed the first hackney he saw, and bade the jarvey drive him to Grillon’s Hotel. While this aged vehicle lumbered on its way to Albermarle Street, he sat rather rigidly upright, clenching and unclenching one fist, and frowning straight ahead. Arrived at Grillon’s, he demanded General Summercourt in a voice grim enough to make the porter look rather narrowly at him.

  The General was discovered, seated at a desk in a small writing-room. There was no one else in the room. The General looked up, and when he saw who had come in, his face hardened, and he said: ‘You, eh? And just what do you want, young man?’

  ‘I want to know what took you to Bow Street today, sir!’ the Captain replied.

  ‘Oh, you do, do you?’ snapped the General, exploding into the wrath of a much harassed man. ‘Then I will tell you, you damned, encroaching jackanapes! Thanks to you my granddaughter has been missing from her home for more than a fortnight. Read that!’

  Captain Kendal almost snatched the sheet of writing-paper that was being thrust at him, and rapidly read the lines written in Amanda’s childish hand. When he came to the end, he looked up, and said fiercely: ‘Thanks to me? Do you imagine, sir, that Amanda took this step with my knowledge? That I would permit her – By God, if that is the opinion you hold of my character I do not wonder at your refusing your consent to our marriage!’

  The General glared at him for a moment. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said shortly. ‘If I had, I should have come to you and choked her whereabouts out of you! But if you hadn’t come making up to her, putting ideas into her head, egging her on to defy me –’

  ‘So far from egging her on to defy you, I have told her that I will not, while she is so young, marry her without your consent, sir! And she knows I mean what I say!’

  ‘Yes! And this is the outcome! I am to be forced to consent! Well, you may be sure of this, Neil Kendal! – I will not! Damme, I will not!’

  ‘I collect, then, that you haven’t put a notice in the Morning Post, sir?’

  ‘No! I have put the matter in the hands of the Runners. They have been searching for her now for a se’enight!’

  ‘And she has been missing above a fortnight!’ the Captain flung at him. ‘Taking it mighty coolly, are you not, sir?’

  ‘Damn your impudence, I made sure she was hiding in the woods! She did so once before, when she couldn’t get her own way, the little puss!’

  ‘Call off the Runners!’ said the Captain. ‘I can tell you more than they appear to have discovered, and pretty hearing it is! Where Amanda is I don’t know, but whom she is with I do know!’

  ‘For God’s sake, Neil, what do you mean?’ demanded the General, turning pale. ‘Out with it!’

  ‘She is with a fellow called Ludlow – Gareth Ludlow – who came upon her in a common inn, where, I know not, and bore her off to Kimbolton. I have been dining tonight with Ludlow’s sister, a Mrs Wetherby, and what I heard in that house – My God, I don’t know how I contrived to keep my tongue still!’

  ‘Ludlow?’ the General said numbly. ‘Bore her off? My little Amanda? No, no, it isn’t possible! Tell me the whole, damn you!’

  He listened in silence to Captain Kendal’s succinct recital, but it seemed as though he had hardly taken it in, for he sat looking blankly at the Captain, repeating uncomprehendingly: ‘Abducted her – trying to escape from him – found in a cow-byre?’ He managed to pull himself together and said in a firmer voice: ‘It isn’t possible! She’s nothing but a child! Did you discover from these Wetherbys –’

  ‘Exactly what I have told you! They knew no more, and you may be sure I asked no questions! They suppose Amanda to belong to the muslin company: a very prime article was the term used by Wetherby! Upon no account would I have said one word that might lead them to the truth!’

  ‘It isn’t possible!’ the General said again. ‘A man of Ludlow’s quality – good God, in whatever case he met her he must have recognized at a glance that she was a child – a gently-bred child, and as innocent – Why the devil didn’t he restore her to me? Or, if she wouldn’t tell him what her name was, place her in the care of a respectable woman?’

  ‘Yes, why?’ said the Captain harshly. ‘That is a question he will answer to me before he is much older! What kind of a man is he?’

  The General made a hopeless gesture. ‘How should I know? I’m not acquainted with him. A man of fashion: he belongs to the Corinthian set. Handsome fellow, with a fine figure, rich enough to be able to buy an abbey. He’s not married – I fancy there was some sort of a tragedy, years ago. I’ve never heard any ill of him: on the contrary, I believe him to be very well liked. But what’s that to the purpose? If she has been all this time with him – By God, he shall marry her! He has compromised her – my granddaughter! – and if he thinks –’

  ‘He marry her – ! We’ll see about that!’ interrupted the Captain grimly. ‘Now, sir! The first thing you must do is to call off the Runners, so that we may get through this damnable business with as little noise as possible. I’m off to Kimbolton in the morning, and if I can get no news of Ludlow there I’ll try a cast or two. But something I must learn: he cannot have passed unnoticed in so small a place. If you like to leave it in my hands, very well! If you prefer to accompany me, better!’

  ‘Accompany you, you insubordinate, insolent young dog?’ exploded the General. ‘What right have you to meddle in my affairs? Don’t think I’ll consent to let you marry Amanda, for I won’t! My granddaughter to throw herself away on a penniless cub in a Line Regiment? No, by God! I am going to Kimbolton, and I desire neither your aid nor your company!’

  ‘As you please!’ shrugged Captain Kendal. ‘I shall be leaving at first light, and no doubt that would not suit you. I beg you will not neglect to send a letter to Bow Street. We shall meet in Kimbolton! Goodnight!’

  Seventeen

  At very much the same time as these stirring events were taking place in London, Lord Widmore received letters from his two youngest sisters, and learned from them that with neither had Lady Hester sought shelter. As he had by then argued himself into a belief that she could have gone nowhere else, the tidings came as a severe shock to him, and caused him to exclaim unguardedly: ‘Gertrude and Constance have not seen Hester since we left London!’

  Until that moment, Mr Whyteleafe had been left in ignorance of the true state of affairs, Lord Widmore being very much more circumspect than his sire. But Mr Whyteleafe was present when the letters were brought up from the receiving-office, and this involuntary outburst not only arrested his attention, but caused him to demand from his lordship an explanation. He got the explanation from Lady Widmore. Her ladyship’s disregard for appearances made her much inclined to treat the escapade as a very good joke, an attitude of mind which so much revolted her lord that it was with relief that he unburdened himself to the chaplain. Mr Whyteleafe’s reactions were all that they should have been. He changed colour, and uttered: ‘Not at Lady Ennerdale’s! Not with Mrs Nutley, or Lady Cookham! Good God, sir, this is terrible!’

  Lord Widmore, looking upon him with approval, deci
ded to admit him into his confidence. As a result, he learned for the first time of the existence of Hildebrand Ross. Until that moment no one had told him that the person supposedly sent by Lady Ennerdale to escort her sister on the journey had been other than a servant. He now discovered that Hester had gone away with an unknown young gentleman of undoubted gentility but suspicious aspect, and exclaimed: ‘She has eloped!’

  But Mr Whyteleafe did not think that Hester had eloped. Mr Ross, although sufficiently depraved to utter unblushing lies to a man whose cloth should have commanded his respect, was scarcely of an age to contemplate marriage with a lady approaching her thirtieth year. Mr Ross, he feared, was no more than a go-between.

  Lady Widmore, laughing in a very vulgar way, asked who the deuce was there for Mr Ross to go between, but she was not attended to. By rapid stages Mr Ross became an infernal agent, employed either by a secret and obviously ineligible lover, or by a daring kidnapper. Lady Widmore, declaring that she was in stitches, said that any kidnapper who thought to wring a groat out of a family that had not a feather to fly with must be so bottleheaded that even such a goosecap as Hester would be able to escape from his clutches. In her opinion, Hester herself, more sly than any of them had suspected, had employed Mr Ross to assist her to slip away from Brancaster without exciting surprise or opposition. She recommended her husband to subject his butler to a rigorous inquisition. If anyone knew what kind of an undergame Hester was engaged in, she said, he might lay his life that one was Cliffe, whose maudlin affection for Hester had often put her ladyship out of all patience.

  Lord Widmore failed to elicit any information from Cliffe, but Mr Whyteleafe was more successful. Cliffe, already anxious and more than a little doubtful of the wisdom of his having abetted Hester, crumbled under the powerful exhortations of the chaplain. He was brought to realize that his mistress’s reputation, nay, even her life, perhaps, was at stake, and, weeping, he gave up the only piece of information he had. He told Mr Whyteleafe that he had recognized the post-boy in charge of the chaise that had borne Lady Hester away as one of the lads employed at the Crown Inn at St Ives.