“You are blessed with the happiest nature, Captain Audley,” Miss Taverner said smilingly. “Whatever you do, you are pleased to be doing, and your spirits infect everyone else with the same liveliness.”
“If I could not be pleased in such company I must be an insufferable fellow!” he replied warmly.
“You are certainly a flatterer.”
“Only so modest a creature as yourself could think so.”
“I am silenced. Do you find this mode of address generally acceptable amongst the heiresses of your acquaintance?”
“Miss Taverner, I appeal to your sense of what is fair! Is this kind? Is this right?”
“It was irresistible,” she replied mischievously.
“What is to be done? How shall I convince you?”
“You cannot; you are completely exposed.”
“I shall come about again, I warn you. My dependence is all on my brother. If he has the slightest regard for me he must assist me to convince you of my disinterestedness.”
“Dear me, how is he to do that, I wonder?”
“Why, very simply! He has only to sell you out of the three-per-cents and gamble away your whole fortune on ‘Change. I may then offer you my hand and heart with a clear conscience.”
“It sounds very disagreeable. I had rather keep my fortune, I thank you.”
“Miss Taverner, you are guilty of the most shocking cruelty to one wounded in the service of his country!”
“That is very bad, certainly. What shall I do to atone?”
“You shall drive me out in Worth’s curricle,” he said promptly.
“I am quite willing, but Lord Worth might view the matter in a different light.”
“Nonsense! His cattle must be honoured in being driven by you.”
“I wish he may think so, but I believe we shall do well to obtain his permission.”
“You shall be held blameless,” he promised. “You can have no objection to my ordering the curricle to be sent round.”
She wavered. “To be sure, I have once driven it. I suppose if you order it there can be nothing against it. You cannot do wrong in your own home after all.”
He grinned. “We will hear my brother’s comments on that. His greys are in the stable: can you handle them?”
“I can, but I have a notion I ought not. Are—are his chestnuts in the stable, too?”
“Miss Taverner,” said Captain Audley solemnly, “Julian is the best of good fellows, and the kindest of brothers, but he has the most punishing left imaginable! Frankly, I dare not!”
“I do not know what you mean by a punishing left, but you are very right. We must not take his chestnuts. I daresay he will not mind his greys being exercised.”
“He will know nothing of the matter, in any case. He has rid over to Longhampton. The word is, en avant!”
The greys, which were soon brought round to the house by a reluctant groom, had not been out for several days, and were consequently very fresh. Captain Audley looked them over, and said: “We had better take Johnson along with us. Miss Taverner, do you feel yourself to be equal to the task of driving them, or shall we send them away, and have out the gig?”
“A gig! By no means! I have driven this team before, and know them to be beautifully mouthed. I will engage to drive you without mishap. We will take no groom.”
“So be it!” said the Captain recklessly. “I have one sound arm, after all.”
It was not needed, however. Miss Taverner’s skill soon showed itself, and the Captain, who, never having driven with her before, had been at first holding himself in readiness to seize the reins, presently relaxed, and paid Miss Taverner the compliment of saying that she was as good a whip as Letty Lade. He directed the way, and since he gave the road to Longhampton a wide berth, it was a piece of the most perverse ill-luck that upon the way back to Worth they should come plump upon the Earl.
His lordship had stopped by the roadside to exchange a few words with one of his tenant-farmers, and was bestriding a raking bay mare. Judith was the first to catch sight of him, at a distance of a hundred yards, or more, and she gave a dismayed gasp, and exclaimed: “What is to be done? There is your brother!”
Captain Audley regarded her quizzically. “Oh, oh! I believe you would like to turn around and make off in the other direction!”
“Nonsense!” said Miss Taverner, sitting very erect. “Yours is the blame, after all.”
“But I have only one arm. I depend on your protection.”
“How can you be so absurd? Ten to one he will think nothing of it.”
“You are too sanguine. We had better turn our heads away and trust to his not recognizing us.”
“A man not recognize his own horses!” said Miss Taverner scornfully. “Oh, you are laughing at me! You are quite abominable!”
At the first sound of the curricle’s approach the Earl had raised his head and glanced casually up the lane. He was in the middle of making a civil inquiry into the health of his tenant’s family, but he broke off abruptly. The farmer followed the direction of his eyes, and said in no little surprise: “Why, here come your lordship’s greys, or I’m much mistaken!”
“You are not mistaken,” said the Earl grimly, and wheeled his mare across the lane.
Miss Taverner, observing this manoeuvre,, said: “There! You see! We shall have to stop.”
“I see no necessity. Drop your hands and drive over him.”
Miss Taverner threw him a look of withering contempt and checked her horses. In another minute the curricle had pulled up alongside the Earl, and Miss Taverner was meeting his gaze with an expression half of defiance, half of apology, in her blue eyes. “I am taking your brother for a drive, Lord Worth,” she said.
“So I see,” replied the Earl. “It was very civil of you to pull up to greet me, but you must not let me be detaining you.”
Miss Taverner eyed him doubtfully. “You must wonder at it, but—”
“Not at all,” said the Earl. “The only thing I wonder at is that you are not driving my chestnuts.”
“I should have liked to,” said Miss Taverner wistfully,
“but Captain Audley said he dared not, and of course I knew I must not without your leave. If you are displeased I beg your pardon. Captain Audley, how odious it is of you to sit laughing, and not to say a word in my defence!”
“My brother would never listen to my excuses with half so much complaisance, I assure you,” said the Captain, with a twinkle.
Miss Taverner turned her attention to the Earl again. “I hope you are not very angry, sir?”
“My dear Miss Taverner, I am not in the least angry, except on one account. My horses are at your service, but what are you about to have no one but that one-armed rattle by your side? If any accident occurred, as it might well, he would be of no assistance to you.”
“Oh, if that is all,” returned Judith, “you must know that I have been used to drive alone. My father saw no objection.”
“Your father,” said the Earl, “never saw you with one of my teams in hand.”
“Very true,” agreed Judith. “But what is to be done? Will you lead the horses, or shall Captain Audley alight and lead yours?”
“Captain Audley begs leave to inform Miss Taverner that he will die rather!”
“Drive on—Clorinda!” said the Earl, a little smile twisting his lips.
She bowed; the team moved forward, and in another minute was trotting away down the lane. The Earl watched it out of sight, and turned back to his tenant. His business did not occupy him long; he rode home presently across country, and arrived at Worth just as Miss Taverner was ascending the stairs to change her habit for a muslin frock. She looked over her shoulder and said archly: “Am I forgiven, Lord Worth? Do I stand in your black books?”
He came up the stairs and began to walk slowly along the gallery by her side. “You would be disappointed if I said you had not succeeded in vexing me, Miss Taverner.”
“No, indeed. You h
ave a very odd notion of me, to be sure! You think me shockingly unamiable.”
“I think you—” He stopped, and after a moment continued with a little constraint: “I think you take a great delight in crossing swords with me.”
“Mine is a sad character, according to you. But I shall protest against this attack. Our quarrels have been all of your making.”
“I cannot admit it to be true; I am not at all quarrelsome.”
She smiled, but allowed it to pass. They walked on until her bedchamber door was reached. Before she could open it the Earl spoke again. “Are you determined, Miss Taverner, to return to Brook Street on Monday?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Determined? I have the intention, certainly. Why do you ask me?”
“I have no knowledge of the engagements you may have made, but if it is not distasteful to you I should like you and Peregrine to extend your visit.” He saw a look of refusal in her face, and added with his sardonic smile: “You need not be afraid: I shall not be here. I have business which will take me into the Midlands for several weeks.”
“But why do you wish us to stay here?” asked Judith.
“I believe it may be of benefit to Peregrine’s health.”
“He seems to me to be better,” she said. “He does not cough so much, I think.”
“Undoubtedly, but I do not consider an immediate return to town advisable. The air of Worth will do him more good than the air of Waller’s.”
She agreed to it, but still hesitated. He said abruptly: “Oblige me in this, Miss Taverner!”
She raised her brows. “Is it a command?”
“I have carefully avoided giving it the least appearance of one.”
“What is your real reason, Lord Worth?”
“When I am unable to be in London to prevent you, Miss Taverner, from announcing your engagement to a Royal Duke, and Peregrine from committing some act of folly to the risk of his life or his fortune, I prefer to leave you safely provided for under my own roof.”
She said quickly: “You do think that something threatens Perry, then!”
He shrugged. “I think he is a rash young man who will get into trouble if he can.”
She was silent for a moment, and then said: “Very well. If you wish it we will remain here a little longer.”
“Thank you; I do wish it. My brother will do what lies in his power to make your stay agreeable, I trust. If you can keep him from overtaxing his strength I shall be your debtor.”
She could not prevent a suspicion from crossing her mind; she said with a certain reserve: “I cannot charge myself with such an office. I have neither interest nor influence with Captain Audley.”
There was a good deal of comprehension in his eyes, which were regarding her with something of the cynical gleam she so much disliked. “You are mistaken, Miss Taverner.”
“I do not understand you.”
“I shall not permit you to marry my brother. You would not suit.”
Miss Taverner whisked herself into her bedroom and shut the door with unnecessary force.
When she met the Earl again at the dinner-table he seemed to be unaware of having said anything to vex her. Her manner was cold; he gave no sign of noticing it; and after a while she came to the conclusion that her most dignified course would be to assume a similar unconcern.
Lady Fairford, applied to in a letter sent express, readily gave her consent to her daughter’s remaining at Worth under Mrs. Scattergood’s chaperonage; Miss Fairford’s presence easily reconciled Peregrine to the change of plan; and the Earl left his house on Monday, confident that his guests would be all very happily engaged with each other until his return.
His confidence was not misplaced. With riding-horses at their disposal. Assemblies at Longhampton, and their own company, the younger people were well satisfied. Captain Audley made a charming host, and it was not long before Peregrine liked him as well as his sister did, and thought him the very model of what he would secretly like to be himself. Three weeks slipped by without anyone’s noticing them, and by the time the party did at last break up every member of it was on excellent terms with the rest. Miss Taverner, while allowing the Captain to come as near to flirting with her as her sense of propriety would sanction, did not fall in love with him; and upon being asked by Peregrine whether she could fancy being married to him returned a decided answer.
“Dear me, no, Perry! What should put such a notion into your head?”
“I thought you seemed to like him very well.”
“Why, so I do! I am sure everyone must.”
“Well, I will tell you what, Ju: I should not mind it if you did marry him. He is a capital fellow.”
She smiled. “Certainly; but he is not at all the sort of man I could fancy myself in love with. There is a volatility, a habit of being too generally pleasing which much preclude my taking him in any very serious spirit.”
“I am sure he is in love with you.”
“And I am sure he is as much in love with any other passable-looking female,” replied Miss Taverner.
The matter was allowed to drop. Towards the end of January the Taverners were in London again, only to set forth a week later for Osterley Park. Even Peregrine, who had plunged once more into the pleasures of town, thought an invitation from Lady Jersey too flattering to be declined. He raised no objection, and, indeed, after settling-day at Tatter-sail’s was inclined to think that a further stay in the country would be a very good thing.
“Yes,” agreed his cousin dryly. “A very good thing if at the end of one week in town you can tell me you are floored.”
“Oh, well!” replied Peregrine. “It is not as bad as that, I daresay. I have had shocking bad luck, to be sure. Fitz gave me the office to back Kiss-in-a-Corner. I turned the brute up in Baily’s Calendar—a capital steeplechaser! Yet what should win that particular race but Turn-About-Tommy, whom I’ll swear no one had ever heard of! Never was there such ill-luck! I am not so well up in the stirrups as I should like, but I daresay my luck will have turned by the time I am back from Osterley.”
“I hope it may. You do not look very well. Are you in health?”
“Oh, never better! If I look a trifle baked to-day that is because Fitz, and Audley, and I had a pretty batch of it last night.” He pulled out his snuff-box and offered it. “Do try some of my mixture! It is famous snuff, quite the thing!”
“Is this the snuff you were given at Christmas? No, I thank you! With Judith’s eyes upon me I dare not be seen taking scented snuff.”
“Well, you very much mistake the matter,” said Peregrine, helping himself and shutting the box. “Even Petersham pronounced it to be unexceptionable!”
“But I care more for Judith’s opinion than for Petersham’s.”
“Oh, lord! That’s nonsensical!” said Peregrine, with brotherly scorn.
He soon took himself off to join Mr. Fitzjohn, and Mr. Taverner, turning to Judith, who sat quietly sewing by the fire, said: “Is he in health? He looks a trifle sickly, I think. Or do I imagine it?”
“He has not been in good health,” Judith replied. “He had a troublesome cough—a chill caught on our journey to Worth, but I believe him to be quite on the mend now.”
“You do right to take him out of London. Another run of bad luck, and he will be quite in the basket, as they say.”
She sighed. “I cannot stop him gaming, cousin. I can only trust in Lord Worth. He is keeping Perry on an allowance, and I believe has an eye to him.”
“An eye to him! If you had said an eye to his fortune I could more readily believe you! I have it on the authority of one who was present that Lord Worth rose from the macao-table at Watier’s a couple of months ago with vowels of Perry’s in his pocket to the tune of four thousand pounds!”
She looked up with an expression of startled alarm in her face, but was prevented from answering him by the entrance of Captain Audley. The Captain had been walking down Brook Street, and would not pass the house without comi
ng in to pay a morning call. Miss Taverner made the two men known to each other, and was glad to see that no such formal civility as had been the result of presenting her cousin to Worth was the outcome of this introduction. Captain Audley’s manners were too easy to permit of it. A cordial hand-shake was exchanged; Mr. Taverner made some polite reference to the Captain’s wound; and the talk was directed at once to events in the Peninsula. The news of the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo had not long been made known; there was plenty to say; and half an hour passed apparently to both men’s satisfaction. Upon the Captain’s departure Mr. Taverner acknowledged him to be a very pleasant fellow, and one whom he was glad to make the acquaintance of; and in discussing him the original subject of conversation was forgotten. It was recalled to Judith’s mind later, and when she saw Peregrine again she repeated what their cousin had said, and desired to know the truth of it.
Peregrine was vexed. He coloured and said in a displeased voice: “My cousin is a great deal too busy! What concern of his are my affairs?”
“But Perry, is it true, then? Do you owe money to Lord Worth? I had not thought it to have been possible?”
“No such thing. I wish you will not bother your head about me!”
“Bernard said he had it from one who was present.”
“Lord! cannot you let it be? I did play macao at Worth’s table, but I don’t owe him anything.”
“Bernard said Lord Worth has vowels of yours amounting to four thousand pounds.”
“Bernard said! Bernard said!” exclaimed Peregrine angrily. “I can tell you, I don’t care to recall that affair! Worth behaved in a damned unpleasant fashion—as though it were anything extraordinary that a man with my fortune should drop a few thousands at a sitting!”
Regency Buck Page 23
