“Yes, do let us!” she said, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry for this abrupt change of subject. In an effort to bridge an awkward gap, she said, as she encouraged her mare to break into a canter: “I must tell you that I shouldn’t—I trust!—have allowed my vexation to take such strong possession of me if my cousin Maria had not chosen that most unlucky moment to talk me almost to the gates of Bedlam!”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all!” he replied. “If I were forced to endure more than five minutes of her vapid gibble-gabbling there would be nothing for it but to cut my throat! Or hers,” he added, apparently giving this alternative his consideration. “No, I think not: the jury, not having been acquainted with her, would probably find me guilty of murder. What shocking injustices are perpetrated in the name of the law! How the case of your cousin brings that home to one! She ought, of course, to have been strangled at birth, but I daresay her parents were wanting in foresight.”
This drew a positive peal of laughter out of Miss Wychwood. She turned her head towards him, her eyes brimful of merriment, and said: “Oh, how often I have felt the same! She is the most tactless, tedious bore imaginable! When I left Twynham, my brother prevailed on me to employ her as my companion, to lend me countenance, and I have seldom ceased to wonder at myself for having been so want-witted as to have agreed to do it! How horrid I am to say so! Poor Maria! she means so well!”
“Worse you could not say of her! Why don’t you send her packing?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I own, I am often tempted to do so, but I am afraid it isn’t possible. Her father, according to what Geoffrey tells me, was sadly improvident, and left her very ill provided for, poor thing. So I couldn’t turn her off, could I?”
“You might pension her off,” he suggested.
“And have Geoffrey plaguing my life out to hire another in her place? No, I thank you!”
“Does he do that? Do you permit him to plague you?”
“I can’t prevent him! I don’t permit him to dictate to me—which is why we are so frequently at outs! He is older than I am, you see, and nothing will ever disabuse his mind of its belief that I am a green and headstrong little sister whom it is his duty to guide, admonish, and protect! Which is, I acknowledge, very admirable, but as vexatious as it is misjudged, and seldom fails to send me up into the boughs!”
“Ah! I thought there was more to his descent on you than his little boy’s toothache! He came, in fact, to warn you to have nothing to say to me, didn’t he? Does he suspect me of having designs on your virtue? Shall I tell him that his suspicion is groundless?”
“No, certainly not!” she said emphatically. “I am very well able to deal with Geoffrey myself. Ah, there are the children! Indulge me with a race to overtake them, Mr Carleton! I have been pining these many weeks for a good gallop!”
“Very well, but ‘ware rabbit holes.”
“Pooh!” she threw at him, over her shoulder, as the mare lengthened her stride.
She had the start of him, but he overtook her, and they reached the two winning posts neck and neck, and were greeted, by Lucilla with applause, and by Ninian with mock reproach, for having, he said, set Lucilla such a bad example.
“Don’t you mean a good example?” enquired Mr Carleton.
“No, sir, I don’t, for how the deuce am I to stop her galloping hell-for-leather when she has seen Miss Wychwood doing it?”
“As though you could ever stop me if I choose to gallop!” said Lucilla scornfully. “You couldn’t catch me!”
“Oh, couldn’t I? If I had my Blue Devil between my legs we’d soon see that!”
“Blue Devil would never come within lengths of my Lovely Lady! Oh, sir, that is the name I’ve given her! I thought at first that I would call her Carleton’s Choice, but Ninian said he didn’t think you would care for that!”
“Then I am very much obliged to him! I should not have cared for it!”
“Well, I meant it as a compliment!” said Lucilla, slightly aggrieved.
“Good God!” he said.
Ninian chuckled, and said: “I told you so! I don’t like Lovely Lady either: a sickly name to give a horse! But at least it’s better than the other!”
“Shall we ride on to visit the Saxon fortifications, or would you prefer to remain here abusing one another?” intervened Miss Wychwood.
Thus called to order the combatants hastily begged pardon, and the whole party moved forward.
Chapter 10
It was considerably past noon when Miss Wychwood re-entered her house, and there were unmistakable signs that her uninvited guests had arrived, and were partaking of a late nuncheon in the breakfast parlour. James was halfway up the stairs, lugging, with the assistance of one of the maids, a large trunk; the page-boy was collecting as many of the smaller articles of luggage as he could conveniently carry; Lady Wychwood’s abigail was sharply admonishing him, and warning James to be careful not to let the trunk fall; and Limbury had just come out of the parlour with a tray. He was looking somewhat harassed, as well he might, for the hall was littered with portmanteaux, valises, and bandboxes, amongst which he was forced to pick his way. At sight of his mistress, he looked even more harassed, and begged her to excuse the disorder, in a voice which gave her to understand that it was no fault of his that the luggage was still in the hall. “The coach in which it was packed, ma’am, arrived barely a quarter of an hour ago, and since Nurse wanted something out of one of the trunks, and insisted on searching for it immediately, and was unable to recall in which of the trunks she had packed it, we have been, as you might say, slightly impeded.” He added, in an expressionless tone: “It happened to be in one of the valises, ma’am.”
The abigail took up the tale, bobbing a curtsy, and saying that she was sure she was excessively sorry that Miss should have come home to find her house in such a pickle, which would not have happened if the second-coachman had not fallen so far behind on the road, and if Nurse had not been so foolish as to have packed at the bottom of a trunk what one would have supposed she must have known she would need on the journey.
“Well, never mind,” said Miss Wychwood. “Are Sir Geoffrey and her ladyship eating a nuncheon, Limbury?”
Lucilla, who was looking at the impedimenta in round-eyed astonishment, whispered: “Good gracious, ma’am! What an extraordinary amount of baggage for just a few days! One would think they had come to spend months with you!”
“They probably have,” replied Miss Wychwood bitterly. “Run up and change your dress, my love! I must greet my sister-in-law, I suppose, before I do the same.”
“I will bring a fresh pot of tea for you directly, Miss Annis. Would you care for a baked egg, or a bowl of soup?”
“No, nothing, thank you: I’m not hungry!”
Limbury bowed, set his tray down on one of the trunks, and opened the door for Miss Wychwood to pass into the parlour.
Her brother, his wife, and Miss Farlow were seated at the table, but they all rose, and Amabel tottered towards her, and almost fell into her arms, saying faintly: “Oh, Annis, dearest one, how glad I am to see you at last! How good you are to me! You cannot imagine how much I have longed for you through this dreadfully agitating time! I can’t describe to you what I have been through! Now I can be comfortable again!”
“Of course you can!” said Annis, returning her fond embrace, and gently pushing her back to her chair. “Sit down, and tell me how Tom is!”
Lady Wychwood shuddered. “Oh, my poor, precious little son! He was so brave through it all, even though he was screaming with pain most of the night! Nothing eased it until I ventured to give him a few drops of laudanum, in a teaspoon, which did send him to sleep for a very little while, but, alas, not for long, and I dared not give him any more, for I am convinced it is unwise to dose children with laudanum. And this morning the pain was so much worse that if the trunks had not been packed, and the horses harnessed, I think I must have gone against Geoffrey’s wishes, and taken the poor li
ttle love to Melling after all!”
Miss Wychwood cast a satirical glance at her brother. He was obviously discomposed, but he returned the glance with a defiant glare, and said, in minatory accents: “You forget, my love, that it was you who wished Westcott to see Tom!”
“Oh, I am persuaded you were right, dear Lady Wychwood!” exclaimed Miss Farlow, for once in her life stepping opportunely into an awkward breach. “My dear father always said that it was a false economy to consult any but the best medical practitioners in such cases! I daresay this Melling you speak of would have bungled the extraction, but once Westcott had coaxed dear little Tom to open his mouth he whisked the tooth out in the shake of a lamb’s tail!”
“Well, that’s good news, at all events!” said Miss Wychwood. “I collect he is now relieved of his pain, for I heard no screams of anguish when I entered the house.”
“He is asleep,” said Lady Wychwood, sinking her voice as though she feared to disturb the rest of her son, tucked into a crib three floors above her. She directed a wan smile at Miss Farlow, and said: “Cousin Maria sang lullabies to him until he dropped off. I don’t think I can ever be grateful enough to her for all she has done this morning! She even accompanied us to Westcott’s, and was of the greatest support to me through the ordeal. She had the strength of mind to hold Tom’s hands down at the Fatal Moment, which I could not bring myself to do!”
“But where was Geoffrey at the Fatal Moment?” enquired Annis, in seeming bewilderment.
Lady Wychwood began to explain that Geoffrey had been unable to go to the dentist because he had a business engagement in the town, but he broke in on this, well-aware that his loving sister was not one to be so easily bamboozled. “No use trying to come crab over Annis, my love!” he said, laughing. “She’s far too needle-witted! Well, you are right, Annis, and I don’t mind owning that I cut my stick when I saw what a state Tom had worked himself into, kicking, and screaming, and saying he wouldn’t have his tooth drawn! Well, what could I do in such a situation, I ask you?”
“Spanked him!” said Annis.
He grinned, and admitted that he had been strongly tempted to do so, but Amabel uttered a shocked protest, and Miss Farlow said that she knew he was only funning, and that it would have been the height of brutality to have spanked dear little Tom when he was demented with the agony he was suffering.
Annis then withdrew, saying that she must put off her riding habit, and recommending Amabel to lie down on her bed for an hour or two, to recover from so many sleepless nights. As she left the room, she heard Miss Farlow eagerly endorsing this piece of advice, assuring dear Lady Wychwood that she had no need to be anxious about poor little Tom, and telling her that a hot brick had already been put into her bed. “For I gave orders for that to be done before we drove to Westcott’s, knowing that you would be quite exhausted after all the trials you have been forced to undergo!”
Sir Geoffrey, following his sister out of the room, caught up with her at the head of the stairs. “Stay a moment, Annis!” he said. “Something I wish to consult with you about! These new vapour-baths which I hear so much about: do you agree with me that they would be of benefit to Amabel? The state of her health has been causing me grave concern—very grave concern! She insists that she is in perfectly good point, but you must have noticed how pulled she looks! It’s my belief she never has been in high health since her confinement, and this unfortunate business of Tom’s abscess has put her quite out of curl. You would be doing me a great favour if you would prevail upon her to take a course of the baths, which, I’m told, are excellent in such cases.”
She regarded him steadily, and with a disquieting smile in her eyes, which had a discomposing effect on him, but all she said was: “I am sorry you should feel so anxious about her. She is certainly tired, and overwrought, but that was to be expected, wasn’t it, after so many sleepless nights? She seemed, when I was visiting you, to be in a capital way!”
He shook his head. “Ah, she is never one to complain of feeling out of sorts, and, I daresay, would be laid by the wall before she would admit to being fagged to death when you were visiting us! But so it was—not that she will own it!”
“I’ve no doubt she won’t,” said Miss Wychwood. “I have heard, of course, of the new baths in Abbey Street, but I know nothing about them, except that they are under the management of a Dr Wilkinson. And I cannot suppose, dear brother, that if you have failed to persuade Amabel to try a course of them she would yield to any persuasion of mine.”
“Oh, I think she might!” he said. “She sets great store by your opinion, I promise you! You have great influence over her, you know.”
“Have I? Well, I should think it most impertinent to exert it in a matter of which she can be the only judge. But you may be easy! Amabel may remain with me for as long as she chooses to do so.”
“I knew I might depend on you!” he said heartily. “You are wishful to change your dress, so I won’t detain you another minute! I must make haste to be off myself, so I’ll take my leave of you now. I daresay I shall be riding over to see how Amabel goes on in a day or two, but I know I can rely on you to take good care of her!”
“But surely you have brought her here so that she may take good care of me?”
He thought it prudent to ignore this, but halfway down the stairs he bethought him of something he had forgotten to tell her. He paused, and looked back at her, saying: “Oh, by the bye, Annis! You asked me to send the nursery-maid, didn’t you? There was no time for me to send a message to Amabel, so I have arranged to hire a suitable girl to wait on the nursery here.”
“You shouldn’t have put yourself to the trouble of doing that,” she answered, rather touched.
“Not trouble at all!” he said gallantly. “I wouldn’t for the world upset your servants! Maria has promised to attend to the matter this very day.”
He waved an airy hand, and went off down the stairs, feeling that he had done all that could have been expected of him.
By the time Miss Wychwood descended to the drawing-room he had left the house, and Amabel, as Miss Farlow informed her in an audible aside, was laid down on her bed, with the blinds drawn, and a hot brick at her feet. She would have described all the arrangements she had made for Amabel’s comfort, had Miss Wychwood not checked her, and moved past her to greet Lord Beckenham, who had called to return thanks for the previous evening’s party, and was making ponderous conversation to Lucilla. He kissed her hand, and told her that his intention had been to have left his card, but that hearing from Limbury that she was at home he had ventured to come in, just to see how she did.
“Miss Carleton has been telling me that you went out riding this morning. You are inexhaustible, dear Miss Annis! And now I hear that Lady Wychwood has come to stay with you, which must have meant that you were obliged to go to a great deal of trouble! I wish—indeed, we must all of us wish! that you would take more care of yourself!”
“My dear Beckenham, you speak as though I were one of these invalidish females for ever hovering on the brink of a decline! You should know better! I don’t think I’ve suffered a day’s illness since I came to Bath! As for being knocked-up by a small rout—what a poor thing you must think me!” She turned to Lucilla, and said: “My dear, did you tell me that you were going to go for a walk in the Sydney Garden with Corisande and Edith and Miss Frampton this afternoon? I had meant to have accompanied you to Laura Place, and to have had a chat with Mrs Stinchcombe, but I’m afraid I must cry off, now that Lady Wychwood has come to visit me. Oh, don’t look so downcast! Brigham can go with you to Laura Place, and I will send the carriage to bring you back again in time for dinner. You will make my excuses to Mrs Stinchcombe, and explain the circumstances, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes, indeed I will, ma’am!” said Lucilla, her clouded brow clearing as if by magic. “I will run up to put on my bonnet immediately! Unless—unless there is anything you would wish me to do for you here?”
“Not a thing!” sa
id Miss Wychwood, smiling affectionately at her. “Say goodbye to Lord Beckenham, and be off with you, or you will keep them waiting!” When the door was shut behind Lucilla, she addressed herself to Miss Farlow, speaking with cool friendliness. “You too should be off, Maria, if you have pledged yourself to hire a suitable maid to wait on the nursery, which I understand is the case.”
“Oh, yes! I was persuaded it was what you would wish me to do! If I had known one would be needed I would have popped into the Registry Office this morning, on my way home from Milsom Street, only if I had done so I should have been too late to welcome dear Lady Wychwood, for, as it was, I had so much shopping to do that I almost was too late. Not that I mean to complain! That would be a very odd thing for me to do! But so it was, and I saw a chaise drawn up outside the house just as I was passing that house with the green shutters, so I ran the rest of the way, and reached our house at the very moment James was helping Nurse to get down from the chaise. So I gave all my parcels to Limbury, and told him to take them down to the kitchen, and was able—though sadly out of breath!—to welcome dear Lady Wychwood, and explain to her how it came about that you were obliged to depute that agreeable task to me. And then, you know—”
“Yes, Maria, I do know, so you need not tell me any more! These details are of no possible interest to Lord Beckenham.”
“Oh, no! Gentlemen never care for domestic matters, do they? I well remember my dear father saying that I was a regular bagpipe when I recounted some little happening to him which I quite thought would entertain him! Well, I mustn’t run on, must I? You and his lordship will be wanting to talk about the party, and although I should like very much to stay I see that it wants only two minutes to the hour, and I must tear myself away!”
Lord Beckenham showed no disposition to follow her example; he remained for more than an hour, and might have stayed for another hour had not Amabel come into the room. This gave Miss Wychwood an opportunity to get rid of him, which she did quite simply by telling him that Amabel ought to be in her bed, for she was quite worn-out, and in no fit state to have come down to the drawing-room. He said at once that he would go away, and pausing only to express his concern to Lady Wychwood, and his hope that Bath air, and the tender care which he knew well she would receive in her sister-in-law’s house, would soon restore her to the enjoyment of her usual health, he did go away.
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