The Reluctant Widow

by Джорджетт Хейер

  “Why, thank you! He was always one to mend quickly.”

  “Fortunately for himself!” Greenlaw said, in his sardonic way. “He tells me you had my Lord and Lady Flint with you for a night. I trust her ladyship enjoys her customary health?”

  He lingered for a few minutes inquiring after the various members of Carlyon’s family, and then put on his coat and departed. Carlyon went back into the bookroom.

  Here Nicky found him some fifteen minutes later. Nicky came in with a worried frown on his face, saying that he had been whistling and calling to Bouncer all through the home wood and feared he must have strayed on to Sir Matthew’s land.

  “Then you had best recover him without any loss of time,” Carlyon said.

  “Yes, I know I had, and I have the greatest dread that he may be caught in a trap, or perhaps shot by one of those brutes of keepers. For Sir Matthew swore he would tell them to shoot him if he disturbed his birds, and—”

  “Well, I fancy Sir Matthew will not proceed to those lengths, but you should certainly go to look for him or you will find yourself quite in Sir Matthew’s ill graces.”

  “I don’t care for that if only poor old Bouncer is not in trouble. You know, he did once get stuck in a fox’s earth, Ned, and had to be dug out. I own, I would wish to set out to search for him at once, only do you ought?”

  “Most decidedly I do.”

  “Yes, but there is Francis Cheviot to be thought of, after all!” Nicky reminded him.

  “I am sure Bouncer is more important than Francis Cheviot.”

  “I should just think he was! Why, he is worth a dozen of him! Only fancy, Ned, he barks at Francis whenever he sees him! And I did not teach him to do so! He is most intelligent! I have not let him bite Francis though, because with such a mean fellow there’s no saying what might come of it. I do wish he would come in!”

  “From my knowledge of him, he is not at all likely to do so before nightfall.”

  “Ned, I cannot be dawdling here when he may be caught in some trap!”

  “My dear boy, there is no reason why you should.”

  “Very well then, I shall go out after him. But I warn you, Ned, it may be hours before I find the old fellow, and while I am gone Francis may be up to some more of his tricks!”

  “Unlikely, I think.”

  “Of course,” said Nicky huffily, “if you do not choose to tell me what you have in your head you need not, but I think it pretty shabby of you!”

  Not receiving any other answer to this than an amused look, he left the room with a dignified gait and was soon striding off in the direction of Sir Matthew Kendal’s lands. Carlyon left the bookroom and desired Barrow to send for his chaise from the stables. Miss Beccles found him drawing on his gloves in the hall, and said diffidently and a little anxiously, “You are leaving us, my lord?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “I dare say there is no need for you to remain, sir?” she ventured.

  “None, I believe. I have already begged Mrs. Cheviot to think no more of what has happened here today.”

  “I am sure if you feel it to be safe for her to remain here, my lord, it must be so indeed,” she said simply.

  His eyes lit with amusement but he let it pass, merely bowing and saying in a perfectly grave tone, “You are very good, Miss Beccles.”

  “Oh, no! When it is you, my lord, who—Indeed, I am all obligation! Such distinguishing observance! Never backward in the least attention! I am sure we may place every dependence upon your lordship’s judgment. And as for—Well, I am sure when dear Mrs. Cheviot has been in a pucker, I have said to her a dozen times: “Depend upon it, my love, when his lordship comes, everything will be in a way to be settled!’”

  He looked a trifle rueful. “And what does Mrs. Cheviot commonly reply, ma’am?”

  The poor lady colored up and became entangled in a riot of half sentences from which it emerged that although dear Mrs. Cheviot had a mind capable of every exertion, indeed something more of quickness than most females, the awkwardness of her situation had inclined her to indulge lately in odd humors.

  “I fear Mrs. Cheviot has no very high idea of my management,” he remarked.

  “Oh, my lord, I am sure—I She has a kind of sportive playfulness which—But your lordship has such a superior understanding! I need not make the least excuse for the occasional liveliness of Mrs. Cheviot’s manners!”

  “Not the least,” he agreed. “Does she abuse me soundly?”

  “You know it is her way to indulge in a good deal of raillery, my lord!” Miss Beccles explained earnestly. “Then she has been so much on the fidgets, you know! I am sure it is no wonder! But with every disposition in the world to fancy herself able to contrive all without assistance, and perhaps with a little distaste of submitting to authority, it cannot be called in question that she can only be comfortable when your lordship is so obliging as to advise her how she should go on.”

  He held out his hand. “Thank you. I depend upon your good offices, Miss Beccles. Good-by! I shall be at Highnoons again tomorrow.”

  He was gone, leaving her to blink after him in bewilderment.

  Less than an hour later, having assured herself that Elinor lay deeply and peacefully asleep, Miss Beccles, herself conscious of being very much exhausted by the events of the morning, went downstairs with the intention of desiring Mrs. Barrow to send some tea and bread and butter to the parlor on a tray. She was brought up short by the sight of Francis Cheviot standing in the hall enveloped in his fur-lined cloak, a muffler swathed about his throat, and his hat already in his hand. He was giving Barrow some languid directions, but he turned when he heard the governess’s footsteps on the stairs and said, “Ah, I am happy to have this opportunity of addressing you, ma’am! I would not have you sent for, in case you should be ministering to poor dear Mrs. Cheviot, but I am glad you are come—very glad! And how does the sufferer find herself?”

  “Mrs. Cheviot is asleep, sir, I thank you,” she replied, dropping him a prim little curtsy.

  “One hoped she might be. ‘Great nature’s second course,’ you know. Upon no account in the world will I have her disturbed!”

  “Oh, I should not think of doing such a thing, sir!” she said naively.

  “Ah, I knew I should find you persuadable in this! And yet propriety of taste dictates that I should take my leave of her! How difficult it is to decide what one should do!”

  “Are you—are you leaving us, sir?” she uttered, hardly able to believe her ears.

  “Alas! With every wish to show dear Mrs. Cheviot attention, I find I cannot remain at Highnoons with any degree of comfort. My nerves are already sadly disordered, ma’am. It would not do for me to stay. I should not be the least use to my cousin.” He raised one white hand. “Yes, yes, I know what you would say! Am I wise to run the risk of exposing myself to all the hazards of a journey undertaken in this inclement weather? It is very just, but I am persuaded I ought to make the attempt. And if Crawley wraps me up well and I draw my muffler over my mouth, we must trust that no ill will result—no irremediable ill!”

  She was so thankful to learn that he was indeed leaving Highnoons that she agreed to this with so much eagerness that he frowned and reminded her gently that the evil properties of the east wind could scarcely be overestimated. She said hopefully that perhaps the wind would not be found to be so very much in the east as he feared. “But you will not go without a little nuncheon, sir! Oh, dear, if it is not one o’clock already! I am sure so much has happened today I have not noticed how the time has flown! I will send to the kitchen directly!”

  “You are most obliging, dear ma’am, but if I am to reach London by dinnertime I must remove at once. And I could not support the notion of dining at an inn in my present sad state of health. I could not answer for the consequences! My chaise is called for already; indeed, I cannot imagine why it is not at the door, but these fellows take a delight in dawdling, you know! I wonder if Crawley has procured a hot brick t
o put at my feet? Where is Barrow? Ah, he has gone to fetch the clock, as I desired him to do! Miss Beccles, I have been searching my mind to discover in what way I may serve my kind hostess, for one must wish to show every observance! That clock, which has vexed her so much by its lamentable trick of declaring the hour to want but a quarter of an hour to five o’clock! A handsome timepiece, and so like my poor Cousin Eustace to let it remain out of order! But I will have it set to rights, ma’am, and it shall be attended to by, my own clockmaker. I would not trust it to another, for some of those fellows, you know, meddle more than they mend. Pray inform Mrs. Cheviot that her clock shall be returned to her in working order as soon as I can contrive it! Ah, here is Barrow! Place it carefully inside my chaise, Barrow, if you please! You will present my most respectful compliments to Mrs. Cheviot, Miss Beccles, and of course my deep apologies for not making my adieus to her in person. She will, I trust, forgive me! That she will appreciate my anxiety to be safely in my own lodging before nightfall I cannot doubt. She has such exquisite sensibility! I am happy to think such air estimable female should have become one of my family. Ah, and dear Nicholas! Now, where is dear Nicholas? A charming boy, I am sure, if he would but outgrow his taste for savage mongrels. Barrow, you may send for Mr. Nicholas. I know he will wish to say good-by to me, and not for the world would I wound him by the smallest show of inattention!”

  “Mr. Nick has gone off after the dog and won’t be back till anywhen, sir,” growled Barrow.

  “How very unfortunate! My kind compliments to him, Miss Beccles. Assure him of the happiness he will confer upon me if he chooses to honor my abode with his presence any time he should find himself in town! But not his dog! I have the greatest dislike of dogs. Is that you, Crawley? Is my chaise ready at last? One would have said it had to be fetched from the Antipodes! Miss Beccles, your very obedient servant! Do not forget to deliver my compliments and thanks to Mrs. Cheviot! Pray do not dream of coming to the door with me! If you were to catch a cold through any fault of mine I could never forgive myself!”

  Quite dazed by this flow of gentle eloquence, she could only curtsy again and assure him that his messages should not be forgotten. He bowed himself out and was handed up into his chaise by Crawley, who then swathed several rugs round him and placed a hot brick from the kitchen at his feet.

  “A hem good riddance!” said Barrow when the chaise had moved off down the drive. “Him and his quirks! What would he be wanting with that old clock, miss?”

  “To have it set going for Mrs. Cheviot. I am sure it is very kind and she will be glad of it!”

  “Have it set going!” exclaimed Barrow in a tone of strong disapproval. “That old clock’s been stopped these dunnamany years! I disremember when I knew that clock to tick!”

  It was plain that he objected to having the existing state of affairs interfered with. Miss Beccles felt herself to be unequal to argument and merely repeated that it was very kind of Mr. Cheviot. She added that if Mrs. Barrow would make her some tea she would be glad of it, so Barrow took himself off kitchenwards, muttering against the officious ways of some visitors.

  The relief of knowing Francis to have left Highnoons was so great that after she had drunk her tea and eaten some slices of bread and butter, Miss Beccles indulged herself with a nap in front of the parlor fire. She was roused by Nicky who came in just before three o’clock with the distressing intelligence that he had not yet succeeded in finding Bouncer, in spite of hunting all over Sir Matthew Kendal’s preserves and twice falling foul of his keepers. “But I thought I should come back to make sure all was well here,” he said, “and that fellow Cheviot not playing off any more of his tricks!”

  “Oh, but he has gone, dear Mr. Nicky!” said Miss Beccles, hurriedly setting her cap straight “Such a mercy, is it not?”

  “Gone!” he exclaimed, looking thunderstruck.

  “Yes, and do you know, I cannot think it was ha who hit poor Mrs. Cheviot, for it was her having been struck down that made him take the resolve to leave us! But I was so thankful, for you know I could not like him, and Mrs. Barrow was growing so cross at being obliged to make so many jellies that I scarcely dared show my face in the kitchen!”

  “Oh, very well!” said Nicky, shrugging up his shoulders and then blinking at the twinge this gesture cost him, “I suppose it is Carlyon’s doing, and no concern of mine! I am sure I am very glad to hear that he has gone, for that puts me quite at liberty to go on searching for Bouncer, which I had a deal rather do than thrust myself in where I am not needed!”

  Miss Beccles looked up at him in dismay. “I fear you are not quite pleased, dear Mr. Nicky!” she faltered.

  “Pleased! No such thing! I am excessively pleased, ma’am! I rate Bouncer a trifle higher than Francis Cheviot, I can tell you! And if Carlyon should inquire after me, you may tell him that I am gone off on my own affairs and have no notion when I shall be back, but he need not trouble his head over me for I shall contrive very well by myself!”

  Having delivered himself of this embittered speech, he stalked out of the room, leaving Miss Beccles in quite a flutter of apprehension, and unable to hazard any guess as to the cause of his annoyance.

  It was four o’clock before Mrs. Cheviot put in an appearance. She came down then, however, looking a little pale still, but declaring herself to be quite restored. “I must have been asleep for hours!” she said. “No indeed, I have not got the headache now, Becky—or only the least little degree of headache: nothing to regard!”

  “My love, I wish you had stayed on your bed! And you have removed your bandage! Now, my dear Mrs. Cheviot, is this wise? Is it prudent?”

  “You would not have had me continuing to go about looking such a figure of fun!” Elinor protested.

  “I am sure it was no such thing! Besides, there is no one to see you but me, my love, for Mr. Nicky is out looking for poor Bouncer and he said he did not know when he might return. I do not know what should have occurred to provoke him, but the fact is he was sadly out of spirits when he came in an hour ago.”

  “Oh, is Nicky cross? Perhaps Mr. Cheviot has vexed him! Has that odious creature taken to his bed again? I have a very good mind to tell Mrs. Barrow not to be making him any more gruel, in the hope that he may thus be induced to leave Highnoons!”

  “Oh, my love, there is no need! He has gone!”

  Elinor stared. “Becky! You are trying to take me in!”

  “No, indeed, I would not do such a thing! He said he could not bear to stay after what happened to you this morning. I must say, I thought it poor-spirited of him and not quite manly, but I was so thankful to say good-by to him I would not put the smallest rub in his way!”

  “No, not for the world! But this is marvelous indeed! It is Carlyon’s doing! He told me Mr. Cheviot might be gone before I expected it! Now, how may he have contrived this blessed deliverance? It puts me quite in charity with him, I declare!”

  “My love, I wish you will not talk in that wild, heedless fashion! It is not becoming in you, when his lordship, I am sure, has shown himself all compliance, and most truly the gentleman! Such a contrast to Mr.

  Cheviot, too! One cannot but be struck by it!”

  Elinor showed a heightened color, but said lightly, “Oh, let a man but be well-looking and domineer over you, and I know you must fall into admiration, Becky! But how came Mr. Cheviot to leave Highnoons in such haste?”

  “Indeed, my love, I fear we have wronged him, and it was not his doing that you were hurt. And I think it cannot have been his lordship who sent him off, for he had left the house an hour before, you know. Mr. Cheviot desired his kind compliments to you and his apologies for not taking leave of you in person, but he would not stay to see you for fear of not being in town in time for his dinner. Though, to be sure, I think he could have had a neat, plain dinner at an inn, but “he has such odd fancies!”

  “He wants only gruel! I am obliged to him for his civility, and hope I may never be called upon to entertain him again.�
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  “No, my love, but I do think he meant to be conciliating. He was so obliging as to say that he desired above all things to show you observance, and he had the happy notion of taking away that provoking clock to be mended for you.”

  Elinor had been leaning back in her chair, but she sat up with a start at this and exclaimed, “Took the clock away? Which clock?”

  “Why, the one from the bookroom, my love, that has vexed you so! He will have it mended by his own clockmaker, and—”

  “Becky, you cannot have let him do so!” Elinor cried, her countenance grown suddenly white.

  “But, my dear Mrs. Cheviot, what objection can there be?”

  “Objection! When you knew what we have been so much afraid of! What he came here to find!”

  “Elinor, this is the merest irritation of nerves! Pray, what has a clock that will not go to do with secret papers?”

  Elinor seemed not to be attending. She had both hands pressed to her temples as though in an effort to concentrate her thoughts. “The clock was locked,” she said. “I had been trying to open it. Then I put it back as it was, and—yes, yes, it was then that I picked up the inventory again from the mantelpiece where I had laid it down! And then I saw the clock was not standing quite straight, and I adjusted it, those papers in my hand! And it was then that I was struck down! Becky, Becky, what a fool I have been not to have perceived it before! That was why he stunned me! He thought I had contrived to open the back of the clock and had discovered the papers in it! I see it all now, and it is too late! He knew they were there and must have been only waiting his moment to take them out! Oh, Becky, what a piece of work is this! Oh, how could you have let him take the clock away? But the blame is mine! What shall I do? We must get it back! Nicky—” She broke off. “No, not Nicky! he would dash off in pursuit and very likely get hurt, and I should never forgive myself, nor would Carlyon, I dare say! Becky, what must I do?”