Lady of Quality (4 page)

"It does seem a trifle unreasonable," admitted Miss Wychwood.

"Yes, and because, when he married my mama, Papa bought a house just beyond the gates of Chartley Place, and Ninian and I were almost brought up together, and were very good friends, nothing will persuade Lord Iverley that we were
not
made for one another! And,
most
unfortunately, Ninian has fallen in love with someone whom Lord and Lady Iverley have taken in strong dislike—though why they should have done so I can't imagine, for they never stir out of Chartley Place, and have never set eyes on her! I daresay they think her rather too old for Ninian, and I must own it does seem strange that he should be dangling after a lady at least thirty years of age, and very likely more!"

This circumstance did not seem strange to Miss Wychwood, but what seemed very strange indeed to her was that the Iverleys should be taking so serious a view of what was, to her understanding, a case of calf-love, of violent but short duration. She said, smiling a little: "I expect it does seem strange to you, Lucilla, but it is a well-known fact that young men are very apt to fall in love with women older than themselves. I fancy the Iverleys have no need to go into high fidgets over it!"

"Oh, no, of course they haven't!" Lucilla agreed. "Good gracious, he fell desperately in love with some girl when he was in his first year at Oxford, and even I could guess that she was
most
ineligible! Fortunately, he fell out of love with her before the Iverleys knew anything about it, so they didn't fuss and fret over it. But this time some tattling busybody wrote to tell Lord Iverley that Ninian was making up to this London-lady, so Lord Iverley taxed him with it, and Lady Iverley implored him not to—to hasten his father's end by persisting in—in his suit, and—"

"Good God!" interrupted Miss Wychwood. "What a couple of cabbage-heads! They deserve that Ninian should marry this undesirable female out of hand!" She caught herself up on this impulsive utterance, and said: "I shouldn't say so, but I have an unruly tongue! Forget it! Am I right in thinking that Chartley Place is somewhere to the north of Salisbury? Is that where you too five?"

"No, not now. I did live there until Mama died, three years ago, but since then I've lived at Cheltenham, with my aunt and my uncle, and the house, which belongs to me, has been leased to strangers."

This disclosure left Miss Wychwood at a loss. The words were melancholy, but the manner in which they were uttered was not at all melancholy. She said, tentatively: "No doubt it must have been distressing to you to see strangers in your house?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" responded Lucilla sunnily. "They are very agreeable people and pay a most handsome rent, besides keeping the grounds in excellent order. I should be happy to live in Cheltenham if my aunt would but take me to the Assemblies, and the theatre—but she won't, because she says I am too young, and it would be improper for me to go to balls and routs and drums until I have been regularly presented! But she doesn't think me too young to be married! That," she said, her eyes kindling wrathfully, "is why she took me to Chartley Place!" She paused, her bosom swelling with indignation. "Miss Wychwood!" she said explosively. "C—could you have conceived it possible that anyone could be so—so cockle-brained as to suppose that Ninian, having formed a strong attachment to another lady, would feel the least inclination to make me an offer? Or that I would be so obliging as to accept his offer? But they did!—all of them!" She stopped, deeply flushed, and it was a minute or two before she could overcome her agitation. She managed to do so, however, and continued, in a tight voice, saying: "I thought that if I consented to visit the Iverleys I could depend on Ninian to—to stand buff, even though he lacked the—the
spunk
to tell his father he didn't wish to marry me if I wasn't there to support him! I should have known better!"

Considerably astonished, Miss Wychwood asked: "But am I to understand that he told his father he was willing to offer for you? If that is so, isn't it possible that—"

"It isn't so!" said Lucilla flatly. "I don't know what he said to Lord Iverley, but to me he said that it would be unwise to provoke a quarrel, and that the best thing would be for us to
seem
to be willing to become engaged, and to trust in providence to rescue us before the knot was tied between us. But I have no faith in providence, ma'am, and I felt as though—as though I was being tangled in a net! And the only thing I could think of to do was to run away. You see, there isn't anyone I can appeal to since my uncle died—and I daresay he wouldn't have been of much use, because he always let Aunt Clara have her own way in everything! He was a great dear, but
not
a man of resolution."

Miss Wychwood blinked. "Is he dead, then? I beg your pardon, but I thought you said that your uncle would very likely come to find you, if he could be persuaded to bestir himself!"

Lucilla stared at her, and suddenly gave a crack of scornful laughter. "Not
that
uncle, ma'am! The other one!" she said.

"The other one? To be sure! How stupid I am to have supposed you only had one uncle! Do, pray, tell me about your
horrid
uncle, so that I shan't become confused again! Was your amiable uncle his brother?"

"Oh, no! My Uncle Abel was
Mama's
brother. My Uncle Oliver is a Carleton, and Papa's elder brother—though only three years older!" said Lucilla, in further disparagement of Mr Oliver Carleton. "He and my Uncle Abel were appointed to be my guardians, but naturally they weren't obliged to take care of me while Mama was alive, except for managing my fortune."

"Have you a fortune?" asked Miss Wychwood, much impressed.

"Well, I
think
I have, because Aunt Clara is for ever telling me to beware of fortune-hunters, but it seems to me that it belongs to my Uncle Oliver, and not to me at all, because I am not allowed to spend it! He sends my allowance to Aunt Clara, and she only gives me pin-money, and when I wrote to tell him that I was old enough to buy dresses
myself,
he sent me a disagreeable answer, refusing to alter the arrangement! Whenever I have appealed to him he always says that my aunt knows best, and I must do as she bids me! He is the most odiously selfish person in the world, and hasn't a particle of affection for me. Only fancy, ma'am, he has an
enormous
house in London, and has never asked me to visit him! Not once! And when I suggested that he might like me to keep house for him he answered in the rudest way that he wouldn't like it at all!"

"That was certainly uncivil, but perhaps he thought you rather too young to keep house. I collect he is not married?"

"Good gracious, no!" said Lucilla. "Which just
shows
you, doesn't it?"

"I must own that he does sound very disagreeable," admitted Annis.

"Yes, and what is more his manners are most disobliging—in fact, he is detestably top-lofty, never takes the least trouble to behave with civility to anyone, and—and treats one with the sort of stupid indifference which makes one
long
to hit him!"

Since it was obvious that she was fast working herself into a state of considerable agitation, it was perhaps fortunate that the entrance of Miss Farlow acted as an effectual stop to any further animadversions on the character of Mr Oliver Carleton. Miss Farlow's demeanour informed her employer that she was deeply wounded, but determined to bear the slight cast upon her with Christian resignation. Nothing could have exceeded her civility to Lucilla, which was so punctilious as almost to crush that ebullient young lady; and the manner in which she listened to whatever Annis said, and instantly agreed with it, was so servile that an impartial observer might well have supposed her to be the slave of a tyrannical mistress. But just as Annis, exasperated beyond endurance by these tactics, was on the point of losing her temper, Mr Elmore was announced, creating a welcome diversion.

He was looking decidedly out of temper, and, with only a glowering glance at Lucilla, devoted himself to the task of apologizing to his hostess for presenting himself in topboots and breeches: a social solecism which plainly lacerated all his finer feelings. In vain did Miss Wychwood beg him not to give the matter a thought, and draw his attention to her own morning-dress: nothing would do for him but to explain the circumstances which had compelled him to appear before her looking, as he termed it, like a dashed shabrag. "Owing to the haste in which I was obliged to set out on the journey I had no time to pack up my gear, ma'am," he said. "I can only beg your forgiveness for being so improperly dressed! And also for being, I fear, so late in coming here! I was detained by the necessity of providing myself with additional funds, what little blunt I had in my pockets having been exhausted by the time I reached Bath!"

"I
knew
it was wrong of me to have deserted you!" cried Lucilla remorsefully. "I am so very sorry, Ninian, but why didn't you tell me you were brought to a standstill? I have
plenty
of money, and if only you had asked me for it I would have given you my purse!"

Revolted, Mr Elmore was understood to say that he was not, he thanked God, reduced to such straits as that. He had laid his watch on the shelf, which was bad enough, but better than breaking the shins of his childhood's friend. These mysterious words left his listeners at a loss, so he was obliged to explain that he had pawned his watch, which he considered to be preferable to borrowing money from Lucilla. Miss Farlow said that such sentiments did him honour; but his childhood's friend said roundly that it was just the sort of nonsensical notion he
would
take into his head; and Miss Wychwood was obliged to intervene hastily to prevent a lively quarrel between them. Miss Farlow, who, whatever her opinion might be of girls who ran away from their homes and insinuated themselves into the good graces of complete strangers, had (like many elderly spinsters) a soft spot for a personable young man, encouraged him to unburden himself of his several grievances, and lavished so much sympathy on him that by the time the dinner-bell was heard he was in a fair way to forgetting the humiliating experiences he had undergone, and was able to make a hearty meal, washed down with the excellent claret with which Sir Geoffrey kept his sister provided. At which point Miss Wychwood ventured to ask him whether he meant to remain in Bath, or to return to his anxious parents.

"I must return, of course," he replied, a worried expression in his eyes. "For they won't know where I am, and I fear my father will be fretting himself into a fever. I should never forgive myself if he were to suffer one of his heart-attacks."

"No, indeed!" said Miss Farlow. "Poor gentleman! Your mama, too! One hardly knows which of them to pity most, though I suppose her case is the worse, because of having
double
the anxiety!" She saw that he was looking guilty, and said consolingly: "But never mind! How happy they will be when they see you safe and sound! Are you their only offspring, sir?"

"Well, no: not precisely the
only
one," he answered. "I'm their only son, but I have three sisters, ma'am."

"Four!" interpolated Lucilla.

"Yes, but I don't count Sapphira," he explained. "She's been married for years, and lives in another part of the country."

"I collect your father doesn't enjoy good health," said Miss Wychwood, "which makes it of the first importance that you shouldn't leave him in suspense for a moment longer than is necessary."

"That's just it, ma'am!" he said, turning eagerly towards her. "His constitution was ruined in the Peninsula, for besides being twice wounded, and having a ball lodged in his shoulder, which the surgeons failed to extract, after subjecting him to hours of torture, he had several bouts of a particularly deadly fever, which one gets on the Portuguese border, and which he never perfectly recovered from. And although he doesn't complain, we—my mother and I—are pretty sure that his shoulder pains him a good deal." He hesitated, and then said shyly: "You see, when he is well he is the most amiable man imaginable, and—and the most indulgent father anyone could wish for, but the indifferent state of his health makes him very—very irritable, and inclined to become agitated, which is very bad for him. So—so you will understand that it is of the first importance not to do anything to put him into the hips."

"Indeed I understand!" said Miss Wychwood, regarding him with a kindly eye. "You must certainly go home tomorrow, and by the quickest way possible. I'll furnish you with the means to pay your shot, redeem your watch, and hire a post-chaise, and you may repay me by a draft on your bank—so don't set up your bristles!"

She smiled as she spoke, and Ninian, who had stiffened, found himself smiling back at her, and stammering that he was very much obliged to her.

Lucilla, however, was frowning. "Yes, but—Well, I see, of course, that it's your duty to go home, but what will you say when you are asked what has become of
me?

Nonplussed, he stared at her, saying after a pause during which he tried in vain to think of a way out of this difficulty: "I don't know. I mean, I shall say that I can't answer that question, because I gave you my word I wouldn't betray you."

Lucilla's opinion of this was plainly to be read in her face. "You had as well tell them immediately where I am, because your father will make it a matter of obedience, and you'll knuckle down, just as you always do! Oh, why,
why
didn't you do as I
begged
you? I knew something like this would be bound to happen!"

He reddened, and replied hotly: "If it comes to that, why didn't
you
do as
I
begged? I warned you that no good would come of running away! And if you mean to blame me for escorting you when I found you wouldn't listen to a word of reason it—it is beyond everything! A pretty fellow I should be if I let a silly chit of an ignorant schoolgirl wander about the country alone!"