“Well, that is what I suspect,” nodded Miss Wychwood, “but it is only right that I should tell you that Ninian says it is no such thing. He says his father has never had a mercenary thought in his head.”
“On the whole,” said Mr Carleton, with considerable acerbity, “I should think the better of him if his motive had been mercenary! This mawkish reason for trying to marry Lucilla to his son merely because he and my brother were as thick as inkle-weavers fairly turns my stomach! I never liked the fellow, you know.”
Her eyes were alive with laughter. She said perfectly gravely, however: “For some reason or other I had suspected as much! Is there anyone whom you do like, Mr Carleton?”
“Yes, you!” he answered bluntly.
“M-me?” she gasped, wholly taken aback.
He nodded. “Yes—but much against my will!” he said.
That made her burst out laughing. Still gurgling, she said: “You are quite outrageous, you know! What in the world have I said or done to make you like me? Of all the farradiddles I ever heard that bears off the palm!”
“Oh, no! I never flummery people. I do like you, but I’m damned if I know why! It isn’t your beauty, though that is remarkable; and it certainly isn’t anything you have said or done. I think it must be your quality—that certain sort of something about you!”
“It’s my belief,” said Miss Wychwood, with conviction, “that you are all about in your head!”
He laughed. “On the contrary! But don’t delude yourself into thinking that my liking for you makes me think that you are a fit person to have charge of my niece.”
“How mortifying!” she retaliated. “What do you propose to do about that, sir?”
“Give her back into her aunt’s care, of course!”
“What, take her back to Chartley Place? What an addlebrained notion to take into your head! You had as well bestow your blessing on her marriage to Ninian without more ado!”
“No, not to Chartley Place! To Cheltenham, of course!”
She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll be able to do that! The last intelligence we had of poor Mrs Amber was that she was prostrate, with Lady Iverley’s doctor in attendance on her, and since Lucilla tells me that it takes her weeks to recover from these—these hysterical seizures I should very much doubt if she will be able to return to her own home for some time to come. Now I come to think of it, she has announced that she never wants to set eyes on Lucilla again, and although I don’t set much store by that I do feel that it would be unreasonable to expect her to change her mind before she is perfectly restored to health.”
“I’ll soon restore her to health!” he said savagely.
“Nonsense! You’d be more likely to terrify her into strong convulsions. And even if you did succeed you could still have Lucilla to contend with.”
“There will be no difficulty about that, I promise you!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt you could bully her into going with you to Cheltenham!” she said, with maddening affability. “What I do doubt is your ability to prevail upon her to remain there.”
He regarded her with kindling eyes. “I should not bully her, ma’am!”
“Well, do you know, I think that’s very wise of you,” she said, in an approving tone. “She has a great deal of spirit, and any attempt on your part to coerce her would be bound to set up her bristles. She would run away again, and it really won’t do for her to spend the next four years running away! No harm has come from her first flight, but if she were to make a habit of it—”
“Oh, be quiet!” he interrupted, between exasperation and amusement. “What did you call me? Outrageous, wasn’t it? What’s sauce for the gander, ma’am, is also sauce for the goose!”
“That’s given me my own again, hasn’t it?” she said, with unabated cordiality.
A tell-tale muscle quivered at the corner of his mouth; he met her quizzing look, and quite suddenly laughed. “Miss Wychwood,” he said, “I lied when I said I liked you! I do not like you! I am very nearly sure that I dislike you excessively!”
“What can I say, dear sir, except that your sentiments are entirely reciprocated!” she responded.
He smiled appreciatively. “Has anyone ever got the better of you in a verbal encounter?” he asked.
“No, but it must be remembered that I have not until today had much opportunity to engage in verbal encounters. The gentlemen I have previously been acquainted with have all been distinguished by propriety of manners and conduct!”
“That must have made ’em sad bores!” he commented.
She could not help thinking that that was one accusation which could not be levelled against him, but she did not say so. Instead, she suggested, rather coldly, that they should waste no more time pulling caps, but should turn their attention to a matter of much graver importance.
“If you mean what’s to be done with Lucilla—” He broke off, frowning.
“Well, I do mean that. It would be useless to take her back to Mrs Amber—even if Mrs Amber were willing to receive her. It might be thought that you were the properest person to take charge of her—”
“Oh, my God, no!” he exclaimed.
“No,” she agreed. “It would be quite ineligible. You would be obliged to hire some genteel lady to chaperon her, and I should doubt very much if you could find anyone suitable for the post. On the one hand she must have enough strength of mind to enable her to exercise some degree of control over Lucilla; on the other she must be meek enough to bear with your overbearing temper, and to obey even the most idiotish of your commands without argument.” She smiled kindly at him, and added: “An unlikely combination, I fear, Mr Carleton!”
“I am relieved! If the unpleasant picture you have drawn is with the object of inducing me to leave my ward in your care—”
“Not at all! I shall be happy to keep her with me until some more suitable arrangement has been made, but at no time have I had the smallest intention of keeping her in my permanent charge. May I suggest to you that your immediate task must be to set about the business of launching her into Society? I am astonished that this very obvious duty should not have occurred to you.”
“Are you indeed, ma’am? Then let me tell you that I have made arrangements for my cousin, Lady Trevisian, to bring her out next year!”
“Oh, that will never do!” she said quickly. “After having had a taste of the very mild entertainments offered in Bath at this season, you cannot expect her to sink back into the schoolroom—which is what will happen to her if you succeed in bullocking Mrs Amber into resuming her guardianship.”
“In fact, ma’am,” he said, in biting accents, “you have made her dissatisfied—which proves how very unfit you are to have even temporary charge of any girl of her age!” He saw that his words had brought a flush into her face, and fancied that he detected a hurt expression in her eyes. It was a fleeting look only, but he said, in a milder tone: “I daresay you may have meant it for the best, but the result of your action has been to land us in a rare mess!”
“Pray don’t hide your teeth, sir! You do not think I meant it for the best! You’ve as good as accused me of trying to make mischief, and I very much resent it!”
“I haven’t done any such thing! And if I had it wouldn’t have been as insulting as your accusation, that I would bullock Mrs Amber!” She sniffed, which had the effect of bringing the smile back into his eyes. “What an unexpected creature you are!” he said. “At one moment a woman of the first consequence, at the next a hornet! No, don’t scowl at me! Really I’ve no wish to break squares!”
“Then don’t provoke me!” she said crossly. “Why don’t you ask your cousin to bring Lucilla out this year?”
“Because I’ve no fancy for finding myself at Point Non Plus! She wouldn’t do it: her eldest daughter is to be married in May, and she has her hands full already with all the ridic—with all the preparations for the wedding! I could no more persuade her to present Lucilla at such a moment than I
could bullock her into doing it!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” she exclaimed, looking daggers at him, “must you be so—so naggy?”
“Alas!” he returned mournfully. “The temptation to rouse you to fury is too great to be resisted! You can have no notion how much your beauty is enhanced by a blush of rage, and the fire in your eyes!” He watched her close her lips tightly, and his shoulders shook. “What, lurched, Miss Wychwood?” he mocked her.
“Oh, no, there is much I could say, but having been reared—unlike yourself!—to respect the common decencies of established etiquette I am unfortunately debarred from uttering even one of the things which spring to my mind!”
“Don’t give them a thought!” he begged. “Consider under what a disadvantage you must be if you respect the common decencies which I don’t!”
“If you had an ounce of—of proper feeling you would respect them!” she told him roundly. “You are a positive rake-shame—as my brother would say!” she added, rather hastily.
His face was alive with laughter, but he said reprovingly: “You shock me, ma’am! What an indelicate expression for a lady of quality to use!”
“Very likely! But as for its shocking you I shouldn’t think anything could!”
“How well you understand me!” he said, much gratified.
“Oh, how can you be so abominable?” she demanded, laughing in spite of herself. “Do, pray, stop trying to goad me into being as uncivil and as disagreeable as you are yourself, and let us consider what is to be done about Lucilla! I perfectly understand how awkward it would be for your cousin to be saddled with her at this moment, but have you no other relation who would be willing to bring her out?”
“No, none,” he replied. “Nor can I think her come-out of such urgency. She can only just have reached her seventeenth birthday, and the last time I went to Almack’s I found the place choke-full of callow schoolroom misses, and determined that my ward shouldn’t swell their ranks!”
“I know exactly what you mean!” she said. “Girls pitchforked into the ton without a notion of how to go on, and betrayed by their anxiety not to seem as innocent as they are into quite unbecoming simpering, titters, and—oh, you know as well as I do the sort of detestable archness which so many very young girls display! That is why I have made it my business to introduce Lucilla into Bath society! I think it of the first importance that a girl should learn how to conduct herself in company before being introduced into the ton. But you need have no fears that Lucilla would disgrace you! She is neither shy nor coming: indeed, her manners are very pretty, and do Mrs Amber the greatest credit! If you doubt me, come and see for yourself! I am holding a small rout-party here on Thursday, particularly in her honour, and shall be happy to welcome you to it. That is, if you are still in Bath then? But perhaps you don’t mean to make any very long stay here?”
“I must obviously remain in Bath until I’ve settled what’s to be done with Lucilla, and shall certainly come to your party. Accept my best thanks, ma’am!”
She said mischievously: “I warn you, sir, it will be the most boring party imaginable! I have invited all the young persons of my acquaintance, and as many of their parents who don’t care to allow their daughters to go unchaperoned to parties! I daresay you can never have attended any party even half as insipid!”
“I would hazard a guess, Miss Wychwood, that you have never before given such an insipid party!” he said shrewdly.
“No, very true!” she confessed. “To own the truth, I laughed myself into stitches when I read over the list of my invited guests! However, I’m not giving it to please myself, but to introduce Lucilla into Bath society. I am confident that she will make a hit. She did so when I took her to an informal party the other day.”
“So I suppose the next confounded nuisance I shall have to face will be sending either love-lorn cubs, or gazetted fortune-hunters to the rightabout!”
“Oh, no!” she said sweetly. “I don’t number any fortune-hunters amongst my acquaintances! I collect, from certain things she has said, and from her extremely costly wardrobe, that she is possessed of a considerable independence?”
“Lord, yes! She’s rich enough to buy an Abbey!”
“Well, in that case I need not scruple to provide her with a good abigail.”
“I thought she had one. Indeed, I’m sure of it, for I’ve been paying her wages for the past three years. What has become of her?”
“She quarrelled with Mrs Amber, when Lucilla’s flight was discovered, and left the house in a rage,” she responded.
“Women!”he uttered, with loathing. “It’s of no use to expect me to engage an abigail for her: what the devil does she imagine I know about such things? Since you have usurped Mrs Amber’s place, I suggest that it is for you to engage a maid!”
“Certainly!” she replied, quite unruffled.
“Where is Lucilla?” he demanded abruptly.
“She has ridden out to Farley Castle with a party of young friends, and I don’t expect to see her back for several hours yet.”
He looked annoyed, but before he had time to speak an interruption occurred, in the person of Miss Farlow, who came into the room, with her bonnet askew, and words tripping off her tongue. “Such a vexatious thing, dear Annis! I have been all over the town, trying to match that sarcenet, and, would you believe it, not even Thorne’s were able to offer me anything like it! So what with this horrid wind, which has positively blown me to pieces, and—” She stopped, becoming suddenly aware of the presence of a stranger. “Oh, I beg your pardon! I didn’t know! What a sadly shocking thing of me to do, bursting in on you, which of course I should never have done if James had informed me that you had a visitor! But he never said a word about it—just relieved me of my parcels, you know, for it was he who opened the door, not our good Limbury, who I daresay was busy in the pantry, and I desired him to give the large one to Mrs Wardlow, and to have the others carried up to my bedchamber, which he said he would do, and then we exchanged a few words about the way the wind whips at one round every corner, and how dreadfully steep the hill is, particularly when one is burdened with parcels, as, of course, I was, and which has made me quite out of breath, besides tousling me quite abominably!”
Miss Wychwood, having observed with malicious enjoyment the effect on Mr Carleton of this tangled speech, intervened at this point, saying: “I’ve no sympathy to waste on you, Maria! Indeed, I think you very well served for being so foolish as to walk home, instead of calling up a chair! As for ‘bursting in’, I am glad you did, for I wish to make Mr Carleton known to you—Lucilla’s uncle, you know! Mr Carleton, Miss Farlow—my cousin, who is kind enough to reside with me.”
He favoured Miss Farlow with a brief bow, but addressed himself to his hostess, saying, with the flicker of an impish smile: “Lending you countenance, ma’am?”
“Exactly so!” she said, refusing to rise to this bait.
“You astonish me! I hadn’t supposed that any lady so advanced in years as yourself would be conscious of the need of chaperonage! Is your name Annis? A corruption, I believe, of Agnes, but I like it! It becomes you.”
“Well!” exclaimed Miss Farlow, bristling in defence of her patroness, “I’m sure I don’t know why you should, not that I mean to say it is not a very pretty name, for I think it very pretty, but if it is a corruption it cannot be thought to become dear Miss Wychwood, who is not in the least corrupt, let me assure you!”
“Thank you, Maria!” said Miss Wychwood, bubbling over with ill-suppressed mirth. “I knew I might depend on you to establish my character!”
“Indeed you may, dearest Annis!” declared Miss Farlow, much moved. She glared through starting tears at Mr Carleton, and added, with a gasp at her own temerity: “I shall take leave to tell you, sir, that I think it most ungentlemanly of you to cast aspersions on Miss Wychwood!”
“No, no, Maria!” said Miss Wychwood, trying to speak with proper sobriety, “you wrong him! I don’t think he meant to cas
t aspersions on me—though I own I wouldn’t be prepared to hazard any large sum on such a doubtful chance!”
“Hornet!” said Mr Carleton appreciatively.
She twinkled at him, and awoke a reluctant smile in his hard eyes. “Let us leave my character out of the discussion! You have come to Bath—at great personal inconvenience—to see your niece, but, most unfortunately, she is not here at the moment. So what is to be done? You will scarcely wish to sit here, kicking your heels, until she returns!”
“No, by God I wouldn’t! Any more, I dare swear, than you would wish me to do so!”
“No, indeed! You would be very much in my way! Perhaps it would be best if you were to dine here tonight.”
“No,” he said decisively. “You’re very obliging, ma’am, but it would be best if you brought her to dine with me, at the York House. I’m putting up there, and they seem to keep a tolerable table. I shall expect you both at seven—unless you prefer a later hour?”
“Oh, no! But pray don’t depend upon my joining you! My abigail shall escort Lucilla to York House, and I feel sure I can rely on you to bring her back later in the evening.”
“That won’t do at all!” he said. “Your presence at any discussion about Lucilla’s future is indispensable, believe me! I do depend upon your joining me. Don’t fail me!”
With that, he took his leave, bowing slightly to Miss Farlow, but grasping Miss Wychwood’s hand for a moment, and favouring her with a rueful grin.
Chapter 6
“Well!” uttered Miss Farlow, in accents of strong reprobation, as soon as Limbury had conducted Mr Carleton out of the room. “What a very uncivil person, I must say! To be sure, Sir Geoffrey did warn us, and I do hope, dearest Annis, that you will not dine with him this evening! Such impertinence to have invited you—if an invitation you could call it, though I never heard an invitation delivered so improperly! I quite thought you must have given him a heavy set-down, and was astonished that you did not!”
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