The Nonesuch (24 page)

Miss Trent began to pull on her gloves. ‘I do recollect it,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘I am very much obliged to you for your kindness in – in warning me, ma’am, but I beg you to believe that it was unnecessary! You have told me nothing that I haven’t told myself.’ She rose. ‘I must go. I wish I might have been able to give you the assurance you want. I cannot – but I don’t think Sir Waldo would ever stand in the way of what he saw to be Lindeth’s happiness.’

‘Thank you: I hope you may be right. Did you come in the gig? I’ll walk with you to the stables. By the bye, what has been the outcome of Mr Calver’s Harrogate scheme? I can picture your dismay! We heard of it from Lindeth, and from what he did
not
say I collect that Tiffany was – sadly disappointed by her aunt’s refusal to countenance it!’

Ancilla laughed. ‘Not sadly, ma’am! Furiously! Lord Lindeth made good his escape when he saw the storm about to break. I fancy we shall hear no more of the scheme.’

‘You must be thankful for it! A very rackety suggestion to have put forward! I daresay you will be glad to see the last of that young man.’

‘Well, I own that I can’t like Mr Calver, but I should be doing him less than justice if I didn’t tell you that when he saw that Mrs Underhill disliked the scheme he let it drop immediately. I must say, too, that I have felt very much more cordial since he confessed to me that he had spoken without reflection, meaning only to divert Tiffany’s mind, and was sincerely sorry for it. He assured me I might depend upon him to discover a hundred reasons, if it should be necessary, why the scheme was ineligible! He was extremely civil – as, indeed, he has always been.’

They had reached the stables; and they parted on this lighter note. Mrs Chartley stayed only until Ancilla had stepped up into the gig, and then walked back to the house, along the garden-path. Ancilla drove out of the stable-gate, and turned into the village street. Before the cob had broken into a trot a phaeton, drawn by a team of chestnuts, swept round the bend immediately ahead. Knowing herself to be in full view of the Rectory, Miss Trent saw with dismay that Sir Waldo was checking his team, with the evident intention of pulling up alongside the gig. There seemed to be nothing to do but to follow suit, since to urge the cob into a trot at that moment would be so uncivil as to make Sir Waldo think that she was trying to avoid a meeting.

The next instant the phaeton had stopped beside the gig, driven up so close that if she had not known how expert was the driver she would have feared that the wheels would be locked; the groom had jumped down, and run to the wheelers’ heads; and Sir Waldo was raising his hat, and smiling at her. ‘How do you do, ma’am? I must have been born under a lucky star! A moment earlier, and I should have missed you. I have been thinking myself singularly
un
lucky for the past sennight, you know.’

She replied, as easily as she could: ‘So, too, has poor Charlotte. Are you on your way to Leeds?’

‘Yes; have you any commissions for me?’

‘No, I thank you, none. I must not detain you.’

‘I have the impression that it’s I who am detaining you,’ he said quizzically.

She smiled, but said: ‘Well, I certainly ought not to linger: I have been with Mrs Chartley, and stayed longer than I meant to. And you, I expect, have a great deal of business to attend to in Leeds.’

‘Not so very much. I’m happy to say that I am nearing the end of it.’

‘You must be heartily tired of it,’ she agreed. ‘Have the builders finished their work?’

‘No, not yet. I am having – rather extensive alterations made.’

She laughed. ‘No need to tell me that, Sir Waldo! Your alterations are a matter of the greatest interest in the neighbour-hood, I promise you!’

‘Yes, so I’ve been told. Speculation is rife, is it? I should have known better than to suppose that no one would care a rush what I did with the house, for my own home is in the country. That’s the worst – and sometimes the best – of country-life: intense interest in one’s neighbours!’

‘Very true. And you, I would remind you, are an exception-ally interesting neighbour in these backward parts! Besides which, you have whetted curiosity by not choosing to disclose whether you mean to sell Broom Hall, or to keep it as a suitable house to stay in when the York Races are run. This reserve, sir, is felt to indicate that there is some mystery attached to your alterations, which you are afraid to make known!’

She spoke in a tone of raillery, and was surprised to see that although he smiled he looked rather rueful. ‘I think I am,’ he admitted. ‘My purpose
will
be known, but I prefer that it should remain a secret while I remain in the district.’

She said: ‘I was only joking you! Not trying to pry into your concerns!’

‘I’m well aware of that. But I have every intention of making a clean breast of the matter to you, Miss Trent. I am afraid that I shall fall under the displeasure of the majority of my neighbours, but I fancy your voice won’t swell the chorus of disapproval. You have too liberal a mind. I shall do myself the honour of coming to visit you in the very near future – as I warned you I should, aeon ago!’

She could not believe that these were the words of a man with nothing but idle dalliance in mind; but she felt obliged to demur. ‘I should be very happy, but – I don’t think – Sir Waldo, Mrs Underhill is to take Charlotte to Bridlington, and will be away from home for a sennight, or more!’

He made a sign to his groom, and said, with his glinting smile, as he gave his horses the office: ‘I know it. I may at last contrive to see you alone, Miss Trent!’

Miss Trent drove home in a happy dream, no longer caring whether her meeting with the Nonesuch had been observed by Mrs Chartley, or not; and able to dismiss that lady’s earnest warning with a light heart. Mrs Chartley, she now believed, had misjudged Sir Waldo. So too, indeed, had she: probably they had each of them been prejudiced by their mutual dislike of the Corinthian set; almost certainly (and very strangely) they had been misled by commonsense. Neither she nor Mrs Chartley was of a romantic turn of mind; and she at least had learnt, early in life, the folly of indulging fantastic dreams which belonged only to the realm of fairy-tales. Nothing could be more fantastic than to suppose that the Nonesuch bore the least resemblance to the handsome nursery-prince whose wayward fancy had been fixed on Cinderella, so perhaps they were not so very much to be blamed for their doubts. Inexperienced though she knew herself to be in the art of dalliance, Miss Trent could no longer doubt: she could only wonder. Try as she would she could discover no reason why she should have been preferred to all the noble and lovely ladies hopeful of receiving an offer from the Nonesuch. It seemed so wildly improbable as to be unreal. But when she had tried in vain to place a different construction upon the things he had said to her, it flashed into her mind that nothing, after all, was so wildly improbable as her own headlong tumble into love with the epitome of all that she held in contempt; and that that was precisely what she had done there was no doubt whatsoever.

She returned to Staples treading on air. Even Mrs Underhill, not usually observant, was struck by the bloom in her cheeks, and the glow in her eyes, and declared that she had never seen her in such high beauty. ‘Never tell me he’s popped the question?’ she exclaimed.

‘No, no, ma’am!’ Ancilla replied, blushing and laughing.

‘Well, if he hasn’t done it now, I’ll be bound you know he means to, for what else is there to cast you into alt?’ demanded Mrs Underhill reasonably.

‘Am I in alt? I didn’t know it! Dear Mrs Underhill, pray –
pray
don’t ask me questions I cannot answer!’

Mrs Underhill very kindly refrained, but she could not help animadverting on the perversity of fate, which had decreed that she should be away from Staples just as she would have most wished to be at home. ‘For gentlemen are so unaccountable,’ she said, ‘that he may need to be nudged on, and that I
could
have done!’

Miss Trent, albeit profoundly thankful that her employer would not be at hand to perform this office, recognized the kindly intention that had inspired her daunting speech, and thanked her with what gravity she could command, but told her that she would as lief receive no offer from a gentleman who required nudging.

‘Yes, that’s all very well,’ retorted Mrs Underhill, ‘and very easy for you to talk like that, when all you’ve got to say is yes, or no, as the case may be! As though it didn’t stand to reason that a gentleman that’s screwed himself up to the point, and very likely hasn’t had a wink of sleep all night for making up a pretty speech and learning it off by heart, needs a bit of encouragement, because he’s bound to feel bashful, on account of not wishing to make a figure of himself, which gentlemen, my dear, can’t abide!’

Miss Trent could not picture the Nonesuch overcome by bashfulness, but she kept this reflection to herself. She had no wish to prolong a discussion which she felt to be unbecoming, so after murmuring an agreement she directed Mrs Underhill’s thoughts into a different channel, by producing a list of all the things that must be attended to before that lady could leave Staples with a quiet mind. Fortunately the list was a long one, and included problems of great complexity, chief amongst which loomed the vexed question of the new winter curtains for the drawing-room. These were being made by an indigent widow, living in a village some miles distant from Staples: an arrangement which, owing partly to the dilatory disposition of the widow, and partly to the folly of the silk warehouse in sending silk for the linings which in no way matched the opulent brocade chosen by Mrs Underhill, had already been productive of considerable annoyance.

‘If it isn’t one thing it’s another!’ declared Mrs Underhill. ‘
Faithfully
did they promise to send me another pattern this week! And did they do it? Answer me that!’

‘No, ma’am,’ said Miss Trent obediently. ‘They sent you a civil letter, explaining why there must be a little delay. Would you perhaps wish me to write to the warehouse, desiring them to send the new pattern to Mrs Tawton, so that she may judge –’

‘No, that I wouldn’t!’ interrupted Mrs Underhill. ‘
She
judge? She wouldn’t know black from white, for a sillier creature I never met! And so slow that – Well, there! I knew how it would be when Mrs Chartley asked me if I’d put some work in her way, for I never yet employed anyone out of kindness but what it cost me more and was worse done than if I’d sent all the way to London to have it made for me! I’d liefer by far have dipped my hand in my pocket, and made her a present of the money, and so I would have done if Mrs Chartley hadn’t warned me not, for fear of hurting the silly woman’s pride. Which is another thing I don’t hold with. Don’t you ever, my dear, send out work to anyone that has claims to gentility, for if they don’t do it in their time instead of yours ten to one they’ll do it wrong, and very likely look as if you’d insulted ’em if you tell ’em it’s not been done to your satisfaction!’

‘I won’t,’ said Miss Trent. ‘If you think I may be trusted to judge, I’ll take the lining-silk to Mrs Tawton, and look at it beside the brocade. If the pattern is sent before your return, that is. Or would you prefer to let it stand until you can take it yourself?’

‘No, that I wouldn’t!’ said Mrs Underhill. ‘It’s this winter I want my new curtains, not next! Though I don’t like to be asking you to run
my
errands, which you might well take offence at!’

‘I’m not so genteel, ma’am! So that is settled. Then there is the fruit to be given to –’

‘Oh, my goodness, if that hasn’t put me in mind of old Matthew!’ exclaimed Mrs Underhill. ‘Well, I’m sure it’s no wonder I should have forgot, with all the fuss and worry about Charlotte, and the packing, and such! He’s laid up with his rheumatism, and there’s a bottle of liniment, and a bit of flannel to be taken to his cottage, which I’ll have to find the time to do, because he’s a pensioner, and Mr Underhill was always very particular not to neglect any of them.’

‘I shall be glad of a walk, and I’ll go tomorrow morning, as soon as I have seen you and Charlotte safely into the carriage,’ promised Ancilla.

Since Mrs Underhill, who rarely spent a night away
from Staples, was rapidly becoming distracted, this duty proved to be more arduous than might have been expected, and entailed much hurried unpacking to discover whether various indispensable comforts had been included in the numerous trunks and portmanteaux, as Mrs Underhill’s maid asserted they had; or whether they had been overlooked, as Mrs Underhill feared they must have been. However, after only one false start, because Charlotte found that she had forgotten her travelling chess-board, the travellers at last drove away, leaving behind them a somewhat breathless and exhausted household.

‘Phew!’ uttered Courtenay, restoring the handkerchief he had been waving to his pocket. ‘You’d think they were bound for the Antipodes!’ He turned to his giggling cousin, and said, with all the air of a young gentleman virtuously mindful of his mother’s parting injunctions: ‘I’m riding over to Crawshays, and if you care to go with me you may. Only don’t keep me kicking my heels for ever while you rig yourself out!’

Having no other engagement, and apprehending that Miss Trent might bear her off to visit the aged Matthew, Tiffany accepted this handsome invitation, and ran into the house to put on her riding-dress. Relieved of responsibility for one morning at least, Miss Trent presently set forth with a basket over her arm, glad of the exercise after her close attendance on Charlotte, and only too happy to be alone with her thoughts.

It was on her way back to Staples that she was overtaken by Lindeth, driving the late Mr Calver’s gig. He pulled up beside her, his eyes dancing with amusement. ‘Good-morning, ma’am! You have missed
such
a capital sight! Do get up beside me, and let me drive you home!’

She smiled up at him. ‘Why, thank you, but I enjoy walking, you know! What sight have I missed?’

He laughed. ‘I’ll tell you – but you must let me drive you! I think it’s going to rain, and you have no umbrella.’

‘Very well,’ she replied, taking the hand he stretched down to her, and mounting nimbly into the gig. ‘Though I think the clouds are too high for rain. Don’t keep me in suspense another moment!
What
did I miss?’

‘Arthur Mickleby, trying to catch the thong of his whip over his head!’ he said, still laughing. ‘I missed it too, but if you’d seen him – ! What must he do but practise the trick half-a-mile back on this lane, just where the trees overhang the road!
What a
cawker!’

She began to laugh too. ‘Oh, no! Did it get caught up?’

‘I should rather think it did! By the time I came along he was in such a rage, cursing the tree, and the whip, and that nappy gray of his, that I couldn’t have helped laughing if it had been to save my life! Every time he got hold of the butt, and tried to twitch the thong free, the gray took fright, and started forward, so of course Mickleby was obliged to let the whip go while he got the hard-mouthed brute quiet again. So there he was, backing under the tree with the whip swinging like a pendulum, and knocking his hat off!’

Miss Trent, much enjoying this story, said: ‘To think I should have missed it! Did he succeed in freeing it?’

‘Oh, lord, no! It’s still there – but I’ll lay you odds it won’t be for long! Mickleby’s gone off home: to fetch a ladder, I think! Before anyone comes along and sees the whip dangling, and starts making enquiries! I would, too. He was ready to murder me, but there was nothing I could do about it.’

‘Poor Arthur! I expect you were perfectly odious!’

‘Not a bit of it! I picked up his hat for him! Of course, the whole thing was Waldo’s fault: Mickleby must have seen him catch his thong over his head. I tell Waldo that if he stays here much longer he’ll get to be so puffed up that there’ll be no bearing it! Mickleby, and the rest of them, copy every single thing he does, you know. If he took to wearing his coat inside out they’d do the same!’

‘Yes, I think they would,’ she agreed. ‘Fortunately, he never does anything extravagant! Indeed, he has exerted a very beneficial influence over his devout worshippers – and has won great popularity amongst their parents in consequence!’

He grinned. ‘I know he has. He is the most complete hand! But he won’t be popular with ’em when they find that he only wanted Broom Hall for his wretched brats!’

‘Wretched brats?’ repeated Miss Trent, in a queer tone.

‘Well, that’s what my cousin George calls ’em!’ chuckled his lordship. ‘He don’t approve of them at all! He’s a very good fellow, but a trifle too full of starch and propriety. Always in the established mode, is George! He told Waldo that to be housing the brats in a respectable neighbourhood is carrying his eccentricity too far. I must say, I wouldn’t dare do it myself. Well, even the Rector was pretty taken aback when Waldo broached it to him, and I fancy he’s in a bit of a quake over what people like Mrs Mickleby will say to him when they learn that he was in Waldo’s confidence!’ He became aware suddenly that Miss Trent was curiously silent, and stopped short in the middle of his cheerful rattle, and glanced round to find that her eyes were fixed on his face. There was a blank look in them, which made him say uneasily: ‘Waldo told you about his children, didn’t he, ma’am?’

She looked away, saying stonily: ‘No. He hasn’t mentioned them.’

‘Oh, lord!’ exclaimed Lindeth, in the liveliest dismay. ‘I had a notion that – Now I am in the suds! For God’s sake, ma’am, don’t betray me! I don’t want one of Waldo’s trimmings!’

He spoke half-laughingly; she forced her lips into a faint smile, and replied: ‘You may be easy on that head, sir. I shall certainly not speak of it.’

‘He warned me he didn’t want it talked of,’ said Lindeth remorsefully. ‘He never does himself, you know, except, of course – But I’m not going to say another word!’ An alarming thought suddenly assailed him; he said apprehensively: ‘
You
aren’t scandalized, are you, ma’am? I mean, I know all the old tabbies will nab the rust at having brats of that sort planted at Broom Hall, but
you
don’t hold up your nose at what you don’t think
quite the thing
!
After all, most men wouldn’t care a straw what became of the poor little devils, much less squander a fortune on housing them, and feeding them, and educating them! You may say that he’s so full of juice that it can’t signify to him, but –’

Miss Trent, feeling herself to be on the verge of strong hysterics, interrupted him. ‘My dear Lord Lindeth, I assure you that you have not the smallest need to say more! I collect that you and Sir Waldo will soon be leaving Yorkshire?’

He hesitated, before saying: ‘Yes – that is, I am not perfectly sure! I must go home, of course, but – I hope to be in Yorkshire again as soon as – well,
soon
!’

‘Next month, for the York Races,’ she agreed. ‘I daresay you have frequently attended them. This will be the first time I have had that opportunity. Mrs Underhill has the intention of getting up an agreeable party for the event, you know.’

He followed this lead readily enough; and the rest of the short drive was beguiled with innocuous chattery, in which his lordship bore decidedly the major part. He would have turned in at the gates of Staples, but Miss Trent would not permit it, saying that if he would set her down at the lodge she would enjoy the walk up the avenue to the house. Her command over both her voice and her countenance was such as to banish from his mind any lingering fear that his indiscreet tongue might have wreaked more mischief than had ever been in his head; and he drove off with a cheerful wave of his beaver.