The Reluctant Widow (25 page)

Nicky fairly gasped at this effrontery and could only gaze at him openmouthed. “You must be acquainted with Louis?” said Francis; mildly surprised. “A charming creature! One of my oldest friends!”

“Yes,” said Nicky. “Yes, I fancy I have met him!”

Elinor came back into the room just then with Miss Beccles and under cover of the necessary introduction Nicky escaped, to cool his heated head in the gardens. Since town hours were not kept at Highnoons, it was soon time to be dressing for dinner, and the uneasy party separated, Francis to deliver himself into the hands of his valet, Miss Beccles to superintend the laying of the table so that they might not all be shamed before such a fine gentleman, and Elinor to seek put Nicky, once more to implore him to send the groom up to the Hall with a message for Carlyon.

This he would by no means do, insisting that Carlyon’s assistance was not needed to deal with such a paltry fellow as Francis, and she went off to her own room quite out of charity with him.

The party which presently sat down to dinner was, with the exception of Miss Beccles who dignified the occasion by wearing her best lavender silk, as funereal as the most exacting critic could have desired. Francis had arrayed himself in a black coat and satin knee breeches which looked more fit for Almack’s Assembly Rooms than a country house. Elinor wore her black silk, and Nicky, not to be outdone by Francis, had put himself into a similar attire to his, though not, he enviously realized, of such extremely fashionable cut. Nothing could have exceeded the affability of the guest, but Miss Beccles would not be lured into contributing her mite to the conversation. Elinor labored under a sense of indefinable alarm, and Nicky’s attempts to conceal his dislike of Francis only served to emphasize it. Elinor wondered how they were to get through a whole evening. When she and Miss Beccles withdrew to the parlor, Miss Beccles confided to her that she owned she could not quite like the tone of Mr. Cheviot’s conversation and very much feared he was not a good man.

“I think him a dreadful man!” Elinor said.

“Well, my love, since you say so, I shall not scruple to tell you that I thought that tale he told about Mr. Romeo Coates—such an odd name, too!—rather too warm, and not at all the sort of thing your dear Mama would have wished you to be listening to.”

“I wish he had not come here! I am afraid of him!”

“My dear Mrs. Cheviot! Oh, dear, dear! My love, lock your door! Or, no! I will sleep on the couch in your room!”

Elinor could not help laughing. “Oh, no indeed, Becky! I am very sure he has no designs upon my virtue! But now that I have spent a couple of hours in his company I cannot doubt the justice of Carlyon’s suspicions. He is the very man to be doing some wicked, treacherous thing! We must not leave him alone in the house an instant! If only that odious boy would have sent to advise Carlyon! And beyond all else, how in the world are we to pass the evening? I was never so uncomfortable in my life!”

“Well, my love,” said Miss Beccles doubtfully, “if you think he might like it, I could offer to play at backgammon with him.”

Happily, she was not obliged to do so. Hardly had the gentlemen entered the parlor than all the bustle of an arrival was heard in the hall, and within a very few minutes the door was opened to admit Carlyon, his brother John, and a lady and gentleman who bore all the air of being in the first rank of fashion.

The lady, who came in on Carlyon’s arm, was decidedly younger than Elinor. She was extremely pretty, with such golden ringlets and such sparkling blue eyes that it did not need Nicky’s shout of “Georgy!” or Carlyon’s quiet introduction to “My sister, Lady Flint,” to inform Elinor of her identity. She rose at once, blushing and curtsying, and found her hand seized between two warm little ones, and heard herself addressed in a sweet, mischievous voice. “Mrs. Cheviot! My new cousin! Oh, you are such a heroine! I made Carlyon bring me to see you! This is Flint, my husband, you know! Oh, Nicky!”

Elinor’s hand was dropped. The engaging creature was off in a mist of gauze to throw her arms round Nicky’s neck, then to bestow hand and smile on Francis, and, upon Elinor’s murmuring her companion’s name, a handshake on Miss Beccles. She chattered all the while, explaining that she was on her way into Hampshire to spend a few weeks with the Dowager, but could not rest until she had discovered all the truth of what John had been telling her. Nothing would do but Flint must bring her not so very much out of their way, after all, to spend a night with Carlyon. While she rattled on in this style, her husband, a sensible looking man some years her senior, stood watching her in fond admiration, and Nicky pelted her with questions which she never paused to answer.

Carlyon took advantage of her vivacity to draw near to Elinor and to explain that his sister, having heard John’s account of her marriage, had had such a desire to meet her that he had set dinner forward an hour so as to be able to drive the whole party over to drink tea at Highnoons. “I would not bring them to dinner,” he said. “It must have incommoded you. I trust we are not now unwelcome?”

“No, indeed!” she returned, in a low voice. “I have been wishing all the evening that Nicky would but have sent over to advise you of that gentleman’s arrival!”

“It is certainly interesting,” he said, glancing toward Francis, who was conversing with Flint. “I knew you would say so, provoking creature!”

“Where is Bedlington?”

“Prostrate! With the gout!”

He looked thoughtful, but made no answer.

“For heaven’s sake, my lord, what would you have me do?” “I will discuss it with you at a more convenient opportunity.”

“Meanwhile he may prowl about the house all night in search of you well know what!” “I hardly think so. Is not Nicky’s dog with you? Let him roam at large!” There was no time for more. Lady Flint came fluttering up to them, determined to make the further acquaintance of her new cousin. It was soon made plain that John had told her

nothing of the strange events which had taken place in the house. It was the marriage which had captivated the lively lady’s fancy. She soon drew Elinor to the sofa and sat down beside her there, engaging her in conversation, interrupted every now and then by her throwing a word to one of her brothers or to Francis, with whom she seemed to be on excellent terms. But presently, upon some” pretext, she flitted up with Elinor to her bedchamber and said to her with her pretty air of candor, “Carlyon said we should put you out of countenance, so many of us, and arriving without the least warning! But you do not regard it, do you? Oh, when I saw that notice in the Morning Post, you may suppose how ready I was to drop! I sent at once to Mount Street, to John! I declare, I would have made my poor Flint storm the Home Office I was in such a fever to know more! Tell me—do not think me impertinent, though to be sure I am!—how came you to do it?”

Elinor replied with a little reserve, “Indeed, I scarcely know! Lord Carlyon persuaded me, but I must suppose myself to have been out of my senses.”

Her ladyship gave a little gurgle. “Dearest Carlyon! How I shall tease him! But what is this story of housebreakers? I declare it is like a romance! How happy it must have made Nicky to be shot at! I have a very good mind to make Flint stay here for an age, for I was never so diverted in my life! But I dare say it will not do. I am in the family way, you know, and my poor dear Flint has taken such crotchets into his head! I was never so well, I vow! But nothing will do but I must go into the country, and ten to one Carlyon will aid and abet him. Do you like him?”

“Indeed,” Elinor said, quite taken aback, “Lord Flint appeared to me a most amiable—” “Stupid! Not Flint! Carlyon!”

Elinor was vexed to feel herself coloring. She replied stiffly, “Certainly. I am sure his manners and address are such as must universally please.”

There was a pout, an arch look. “Oh—! Sad stuff! Do you quarrel with him? Does he make you very cross?”

“If you must have the truth,” said Elinor, “he is the most odious, overbearing, inconsiderate, abominable man I ever met!”

She was instantly embraced. “Famous! How often I have said the same! You will deal admirably together. I am glad I have seen you. Oh, but it is enough to make oneself wish to be a widow to see you look so very becoming in that black dress! How shocking of me to say so, for you must know that I dote on Flint! Does Francis Cheviot stay long with you? I was so much surprised!”

“Only a night, I fancy. It is a little awkward, but he comes as proxy for his father, for—for the funeral.”

The delicate brows rose. “Ah, you do not like him! But there is no harm in Him, you know, and you may meet him forever! I always invite him to all my parties. Everyone does so, for he is the most amusing creature, and such good ton! Mr. Brummell says that his tailor makes him. Was there ever anything so unkind? He is very good company, and always knows just which colors will set one off best and how one should furnish one’s new drawing room.” Elinor returned some noncommittal answer, and’ after some more of this inconsequent chatter Lady Flint allowed herself to be escorted downstairs again. It was soon time for the party from the Hall to be off, if they were to reach home before morning, so as soon as tea had been drunk and adieus spoken, the carriage was called for. There was no opportunity for Elinor to hold private converse with Carlyon. She could only throw him a very speaking glance as they stood in the hall, and this was received only with a slight smile. She was obliged to go through her part as hostess with a smiling face, and could only whisper as he shook her hand in farewell, “How dare you leave me with that creature?” “My dependence is on Bouncer,” he returned.

He followed his brother-in-law out of the house, allowing her no time to retort, and was soon in the carriage and driving away from Highnoons.

“My dear Carlyon, she is charming!” Georgiana said, out of the darkness beside him. “A very well-bred young woman,” pronounced Flint.

“She is a Rochdale of Feldenhall.”

“It is very strange. I do not pretend to understand it.”

“Dearest Flint, where would be the sport if one could?” demanded his wife. “But, Ned, you did not tell me how very handsome she is! She has a great deal of countenance, and dignity too—far more than I have, I am sure.”

“Which is to say more than none at all!”

“Very true! It is not in my line: never was! But there is some mystery you have not told me about! It is too’ provoking!”

“It exists in your own head.” “No! John is so silent!” “John is always silent.”

“Pooh! I am not such a fool as to be put off so! Something I have discovered, but not the whole. I wish I had not to go into Hampshire!”

He turned the subject with some reference to her projected stay with her mother-in-law. She was diverted, and the conversation turned no more upon Highnoons until the party was set down at the Hall. It was then that John, detaining Carlyon when he would have entered one of the saloons in the wake of his sister, said, “By God, you were right, Ned! What’s to do now?”

“I believe we should have expected to see him here.”

“Ay! But what has he done with poor old Bedlington? How has he persuaded him to remain in London? And what does he intend?”

“To find your memorandum, I collect.” “You are damned cool, upon my word!”

“No: interested, and as yet unsure of my ground. The case is plainly desperate, and I must indulge the hope that he will betray himself. Hush! do not speak of this before Georgy!” She had come out of the saloon and was advancing toward them. “I shall go to bed. How odious it is in you to be talking secrets!”

“No such thing!” said John. “Where’s Flint? I want a word with him!” She watched him stride off toward the saloon and turned her eyes back to her eldest brother, a roguish look in them. “Oh, Ned!”

“Well, and now what?”

A dimple peeped. “Gussie and Eliza would be agog if I told them, but I don’t know that I shall. But I thought you past praying for!”

“Nonsense! What can you mean?”

She put her arms round his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You are the best of kind, provoking brothers, and I won’t tease you—not a bit! But I think you are very sly!”

Chapter XIV

The visitors having all departed, Elinor was thankful to find that Francis Cheviot was ready to retire for the night, provided he might be assured that every door and window was secured against intruders. To Nicky’s mingled skepticism and scorn, the story of a thief’s having broken into the house seemed to have taken strong possession of his mind. He believed himself to be incapable of closing his eyes all night if the least possibility existed of anyone’s being able to enter the house, and debated the advisability of commanding his valet to sit up with a loaded gun. “If only I might trust him not to discharge his piece upon a mere false alarm!” he said. “But he is the stupidest fellow! If he did not know to such a nicety how to polish my boots I must have turned him off years ago! How difficult it is to decide what to do for the best! Would it be a comfort to us to know him to be standing guard over our slumbers? But then, if he were to take fright at a shadow and wake us all with firing at it, how shocking that would be! My nerves, I know, could scarcely support it, and I must suppose, my dear Cousin, that yours would not readily recover from it.”

“There is no need for the poor man to be kept up all night,” she responded calmly. “Bouncer is an excellent watchdog, and we have formed the habit of allowing him to roam over the house at will. At the least sound of stirring in the house he would give the alarm.”