Sprig Muslin (24 page)

"Yes, I do!" she replied warmly. "I like it excessively, for I have have always wished to have adventures, and I can see that this would be a truly splendid adventure. Except for the pistols."

"Oh, if that is all—! I promise you, you need not be afraid: I won't even fire in the air!"

"Oh, well, then— No, it won't do. Nothing is of any use, because I have nowhere to go to," said Amanda, plunging back into dejection.

But Hildebrand was not daunted. "Don't be unhappy!" he begged. "I had been thinking of where I should take you, and, if you should not dislike it, I fancy I have hit upon the very thing. Of course, if this had not chanced to fall at an awkward time, I should have taken you home, so that Mama could have looked after you, which, I assure you, she would have been delighted to do. But it so happens that my eldest sister is about to be confined, and Mama has gone away to be with her, while Father is at this very moment taking Blanche and Amabel to Scarborough, for a month. It is very vexatious, but never mind! I will take you to Hannah instead. She is the dearest creature, and I
know
you would be happy with her, for she used to be our nurse, and she will do anything in the world for me. And her husband is a very good sort of a man. He is a farmer, and they have the jolliest farm, not far from Newmarket. What I thought was that I should ride with you 'cross country, to St. Neots, and there hire a chaise. I suppose I shall be obliged to stable Prince there, or perhaps I could ride him as far as to Cambridge. Yes, that would be best, for I am accustomed to keep a horse when I am up, and I shall know he will be well cared-for at the livery-stables there."

"A farm?" said Amanda, reviving as though by magic. "With cows, and hens, and pigs? Oh, I should like that of all things I Yes, yes,
do
hold us up tomorrow!"

"Well, I will," he said, gratified. "Then, when I have escorted you to Nurse, I think I should post off to Scarborough, to ask Father just what ought to be done in such a case. Depend upon it, he will know exactly."

This part of the scheme held out no appeal to Amanda, but she did not say so. There would be time enough at her disposal to dissuade Hildebrand; the immediate need was to escape from Sir Gareth. It seemed to her very unlikely that he would run her to earth at Newmarket; while a farm, as she had already decided, would be an ideal refuge in which to await the capitulation of her grandfather. Her weariness forgotten with the revival of her hopes, she discussed with Hildebrand the various ramifications of his plot; and parted from him finally with only one flaw spoiling her satisfaction. Hildebrand, although willing to engage in any dangerous enterprise for her sake, drew the line at Joseph. A kitten, he said, would place the whole enterprise in jeopardy. Moreover, he doubted very much whether Joseph would enjoy riding on a horse. He rather though he would not. Amanda was obliged to give way on this point, and could only hope that Sir Gareth would be kind to Joseph when he found himself his sole support.

Chapter 13

«
HYPERLINK
 
\l"contents"
^
»

Mr. Ross, by his own overnight request, was roused by the boots, though not without difficulty, at an unseasonably early hour on the following morning. Having consulted his watch, he was just about to turn over in bed, and sink back into slumber, when the events of the previous evening came rushing back to him. He gave a gasp, and sat up, all desire to sleep being effectually banished by a recollection which, it had to be admitted, was extremely unwelcome.

It was extraordinary what a difference daylight made. A plan which had seemed, in the moonlight, to have everything to recommend it, was no sooner inspected in the clear light of the morning than it was found to bear the hallmarks, if not of madness, at least of alarming foolhardiness. Mr. Ross, thinking it over, was inclined to think he had been bewitched. It was not that he disliked the plan: given the right setting, there was nothing he had rather do than ride off with Amanda on his saddle-bow. The mischief was that the right setting was lacking. The adventure demanded an odd dragon or two in the background, and a few false knights in full armour. One could make do, at a pinch, with love-locks and a leather coat, exchanging the dragons and the knights for a contingent of Roundheads; but a nineteenth century scene was hopelessly anachronous. It was not an encounter with a dragon which one would have to avoid, but one with a stage-coach, or a carrier's van; and instead of winning great worship by the deed one was much more likely to be sent to prison, or, at the very least, severely reprimanded for having done something that one's elders would say was not the thing.

Sitting up in bed, hugging his knees, and staring out of the window at the promise of another hot day, Mr. Ross seriously considered crying off from the engagement. But the more he thought about it, the more impossible did it appear that he could do so. For one thing, he could scarcely climb a ladder to Amanda's window in broad daylight; for another, his last words to her had been an assurance that she might trust him, and to fail her at the eleventh hour would be conduct of unforgivable baseness. She had already doubted his mettle, too. There was nothing for it but to do his best to carry the adventure through to a triumphant conclusion. Instead of wishing that he had not been quite so impulsive, he forced his mind to dwell on the wrongs Amanda had suffered at the
perfidious Sir Gareth's hands; and in this way he managed to keep up his resolution. By sacrificing one of a pair of black silk evening stockings, he contrived to fashion a very tolerable mask, and when he tried it on in front of the mirror, with his frieze riding-cloak wrapped round him, and his hat pulled low on his brow, the effect was so awe-inspiring that his spirits rose considerably. But he had little appetite for his breakfast. However, he drank some coffee, and ate a slice of ham, taking care, in case Sir Gareth should later enquire for him, to talk at great length to a bored and sleepy waiter about his plans for his supposed journey into Wales. He asked searching questions about the road, and the towns he would reach, and rose at last from the table with the comfortable conviction that if Sir Gareth asked any questions he would certainly be told that Mr. Ross, desirous of covering as much ground as possible before the heat of the day made travel disagreeable, had set forward on his way to Wales an hour earlier.

But Sir Gareth made no enquiries. In his experience, very young gentlemen found it much harder to wake up in the morning than did their seniors. He was frequently obliged, when he invited Mr. Leigh Wetherby to visit him in the country, to employ the most ruthless methods of getting his nephew out of bed; and he had not expected to see Hildebrand at the breakfast-table.

He was glad to find that his captive was apparently resigned to her fate. She attempted no further argument, and if her expression was discontented, and the glances she cast at him repulsive, at least she was able to enjoy a pretty substantial breakfast. He refrained tactfully from addressing anything but commonplace remarks to her; and to these he received cold and generally monosyllabic answers.

The start of the journey was slightly delayed by the tardiness of the post-boy in presenting himself at the White Lion for duty. He had been granted a holiday on the previous day, and pleaded that he had not known that his services had been commanded for such an early hour. There was no post-master at the inn, since only two boys were employed there, and the landlord told Sir Gareth that all postilions were the same: dratted nuisances, always taking twice as long as they ought to lead their horses home, quarrelling amongst themselves, and for ever sneaking off into the village when they should have been at hand, ready to put off their white overalls, and jump into the saddle. He was incensed with this one for having stayed away all night; but there was one person who would have been a good deal relieved, had he known of the defection. Mr. Ross, trotting along the Bedford road, on the look-out for a suitable ambush, had suddenly realized that a post-boy from the White Lion could scarcely fail to recognize the handsome chestnut which had been stabled in one of the loose-boxes there.

The chaise which Sir Gareth had been forced to hire was not one of the light, modern vehicles, nor was it very well-hung. Sir Gareth, observing the scornful and slightly affronted glance which Amanda pointedly cast at its worn squabs, gravely apologized for conveying her to Bedford in a carriage wholly unworthy of her dignity, and promised to transfer her there into the smartest and fastest chaise the best posting-house could produce. She sniffed.

She was plainly determined not to unbend; and since Sir Gareth had not the smallest wish to make civil conversation at so early an hour, he did not attempt to charm her out of her sulks, but leaned back in his own corner of the chaise, idly looking out of the window at as much of the countryside as he could see. This was not very much, for the lane, which was narrow, and appeared to be little used, was bordered by uneven and straggling hedges. It passed through no towns, and the few villages it served were none of them more than hamlets. Here and there a cluster of farm-buildings were to be seen, and several narrow lanes, no better than cart-tracks, debouched on to it. After a time, wearying of a singularly uninteresting prospect, Sir Gareth turned his head, and surveyed Amanda. It struck him immediately that her expression of sullen resignation had vanished, and, an instant later, that there was an air of suppressed excitement about her. There was a pretty colour in her cheeks, her eyes were very bright, and she was sitting bolt upright, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Amanda," said Sir Gareth, with mock severity, "what mischief are you brewing?"

She jumped guiltily. "I shan't tell you! But I said I should make you sorry, and I
shall!"

He laughed, but forbore to tease her. He wondered what fantastic plot she was hatching, but not with any feeling of uneasiness. He would certainly have to keep an eye on her when they broke the journey for rest and refreshment, but he rather suspected that she would not attempt to escape again until they reached London. Well, between them, Beatrix and Miss Felbridge ought to be able to keep her under guard until he could hand her over to her grandfather.

He was lying back, with his eyes half closed, hoping that he would not find, upon enquiry at the Horse Guards, that the Brigade-Major had left town, when a loud shout smote his ears, and the chaise drew up with a jarring lurch. "What the devil—?" he exclaimed, and sat up, looking out of the window to see what had caused the abrupt halt.

The chaise had stopped just short of a small cross-road, and the cause was instantly apparent. A sinister figure, with a mask over his face, and a voluminous cloak enveloping his frame, was covering the astonished post-boy with a silver-mounted pistol, and threatening, in alarmingly gruff accents, to blow his head off if he moved an eyelid. The apparition was bestriding a good-looking hack, and finding it a little difficult at one and the same time to keep this animal still and the pistol correctly levelled.

One comprehensive glance told Sir Gareth all he wished to know. His lips twitched, he looked round at Amanda, saying: "You little fiend!" and then opened the door of the chaise, and sprang lightly down on to the road.

Mr. Ross became flustered. Events were not turning out quite as he had expected. He had certainty found an excellent ambush in the little cross-road, and the post-boy had not hesitated to obey at least the first part of his command to stand and deliver. Unfortunately, Prince, also bidden savagely to stand, was not as docile. For one thing, he was unaccustomed to shouts being uttered just above his head, and, for another, he could tell that his master was strangely nervous. He began to fidget, backing, sidling, trying to get his head. The harassed Mr. Ross knew that Amanda would find it very hard to mount him, and became more flustered. A quick look showed him that Amanda, instead of nipping out of the chaise by the off-side door, was having difficulty in opening it. And he had not bargained for Sir Gareth's jumping down in such a reckless fashion. Everything, in fact, was going wrong. He dismounted swiftly, and ordered Sir Gareth to stand where he was, but as he dared not release Prince's bridle, and had not had the forethought to dismount on the right instead of the left, he found himself in a most awkward fix, trying to keep Sir Gareth covered by the pistol gripped in his right hand while his left was being dragged across his chest by Prince's efforts to back away.

"Don't brandish that pistol about, you young fool!" Sir Gareth said.

"Put up your hands!" retorted Hildebrand. "If you move another step I shall fire!"

"Nonsense! Come, now, enough of this folly! Give me the pistol at once!"

Hildebrand, seeing Sir Gareth advancing in the coolest fashion, took an involuntary step backwards. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the post-boy had slid out of his saddle, and was preparing to attack him from the rear; he tried to shift his position so that he could keep both men covered; Prince, now thoroughly alarmed, cannoned into him; and the unexpected jolt caused his finger to tighten around the trigger of his pistol. There was a loud report; Amanda screamed; the post-boy made a dive for his startled horses' heads; Prince reared up, snorting with fright; and Sir Gareth reeled back against the wheel of the chaise, a hand clapped to his left shoulder.

"How could you? Oh, how
could
you?" Amanda cried, almost tumbling out of the chaise. "You
promised
me you would not! Now see what you've done! Are you badly hurt, sir? Oh, I am so very sorry!"

Sir Gareth could not see her very clearly. The world was spinning before his eyes, and his limbs were turning to water. His senses were slipping away too, but he knew what had happened, and he managed, before he lost consciousness, to speak one word:
"Accident
. . .
!"