A London Season (28 page)

“To find her, of course-where do you suppose?” And he was thrusting his way past the three young musicians when Conington, who had been doing some thinking of his own during these last exchanges, said, “Just a moment, Sir Edmund!”

“Yes?”

“Another thing has occurred to me: suppose, after all, Royden did not mean to be in the post-chaise himself, but commissioned his servants to carry Persephone off? They might not have known Miss Radley was
not
Persephone!”

“The same thought struck me, too,” said Sir Edmund,
“since I can tell you, from my own experience, that no one who had any alternative would choose to go a long journey cooped up with Persephone in a closed carriage! No, I am assuming that Miss Radley has been bundled into this damned chaise, and borne off to be delivered to Royden instead of my ward, when she thought only to confront him here in the street. Unwise of her, perhaps, but in all the circumstances very understandable.”

“And when he finds out the mistake,” said Conington carefully, picking his words with one eye on his betrothed, “do you think she is likely to come to any harm?”

But Sir Edmund
’
s temper was visibly wearing thin. “Any possibility of that,” he said, “is just what I am anxious to avert.”

With which he turned on his heel and was gone from the room, not stopping to shut the door, so that the others could hear him as he made his way downstairs, urgently commanding Beale to have his phaeton brought round again instantly from Lord Yoxford
’
s stables, with four fresh horses put to it.

“He does seem
concerned
about Elinor, doesn
’
t he?” inquired Persephone pensively, of nobody in particular.

At the front door, however, Sir Edmund seemed to suffer some further delay, for his voice could be heard mingled with that of another man, and with occasional interpolations from Beale. The conversation, whatever it was, was brief enough, and was concluded by Sir Edmund, his voice rising in barely controlled impatience, saying, “For God
’
s sake, man, I
’
ve no time to discuss that! Not now! Oh, go on up, you
’
ll find
‘
em all in the Yellow Parlour, but I can
’
t stay for anything whatever just at present!” And the door slammed behind him as the other man
’
s rather lighter tread was heard on its way up the stairs.

No more than Sir Edmund himself did the newcomer appear to feel that he required to be formally announced by the butler. A moment later, to the inexpressible joy of Persephone,
Mr.
Robert Walter entered the room, crying,

“Seffi! You are here!”

The fact that
he
was there was perhaps the more surprising, as Persephone, from the depths of his embrace, incoherently tried to make him understand. She was not very successful.

“But no, no! A good, swift crossing, a chaise and four, and I am back,” he assured her fondly. “What is all this about a note? Two notes?
Liebchen
, this I do not understand, but it can be of no moment now. Listen: though my father does not quite like me to marry an Englishwoman, all else is well, and he will soon come round to it, so do not distress yourself.” And he kissed her again.

No one present was disposed to censure the manner of their ecstatic reunion. Conington and Charlotte were pretty closely entwined themselves, to the great easing of Charlotte
’
s mind, and the remaining members of the Lark Quartet were beaming expansively upon the two couples and uttering exclamations which were evidently expressive of surprise, delight and congratulation. It was left to Beale, standing in the doorway, to utter a reproving cough.

“Ahem! The Reverend
Mr.
Spalding!” announced the butler, before beating a rapid retreat from what was now a distinctly overcrowded room.

Since the large clerical gentleman who had advanced into the Yellow Parlour in Beale
’
s wake was a perfect stranger to all its occupants
—
who, besides, had their minds on matters quite other than the ordinary forms of social etiquette
—
they could none of them think of a word to say, but simply stared at him.
Mr.
Spalding, for his part, was peering round in search of a familiar face.

“Miss Radley?” he inquired. “Miss Radley? Dear me, I do not see Miss Radley here! I passed Sir Edmund Grafton in the street, or should I say, I was passed
by
Sir Edmund Grafton in the street, but he would not stay to give me the information I sought. Indeed, he did not appear to recognize me, but no doubt that was because he was not expecting to see me here so soon. Where, pray, is Miss Radley? I do not,” he added, as if aggrieved, “know anyone
else
here!” At this Lord Conington, a well-bred young man who was normally punctilious in observing social forms, withdrew his arm from Charlotte
’
s waist and said civilly, “Pray let me introduce you
Mr.—
Spalding? Miss Persephone Grafton, who is Sir Edmund
’
s ward; Miss Charlotte Royden, who is engaged to marry me
—
I am Conington, by the by;
Mr.
Robert Walter
—
er, Franz, Josef and Johann, whose surnames I am afraid I have not yet learnt myself in the course of our acquaintance, but no doubt
Mr.
Walter, their compatriot, can supply them. I don
’
t believe, as you say, that we have had the pleasure of meeting before, but you must be a friend of Lord Yoxford
’
s.”

Franz, Josef and Johann, their amiability unimpaired, continued to beam upon the company at large, while Robert and Persephone showed not the smallest inclination to move apart from one another, and thus drew the clergyman
’
s stern glance to themselves. He did not try to claim intimacy with Lord Yoxford, but turned to the matter immediately before him. “The latitude that young people will allow themselves these days is, I believe, remarkable!” he pronounced. “Is this, I ask in some surprise, Miss Grafton,
is
this behaviour suited to a young lady of your years, not to mention your birth and upbringing?”

These reproaches caused
Mr.
Walter to glower at the latest arrival and to ask his loved one, “Seffi, who is this person?” “I haven
’
t the remotest idea!” said Persephone, regarding
Mr.
Spalding with mild surprise, and remaining as close to her Robert as before. “I
’
ve never met him in my life!”

“Ah, perhaps not, Miss Grafton, but
I
, I fancy, have had the pleasure not precisely of
meeting
you, but of
hearing
you!” said
Mr.
Spalding, becoming playful and wagging a finger at her. “In Cheltenham, at the house of the late Lady Emberley, whose devotion to the maintenance of the highest moral standards still makes her sadly missed from our congregation
—
however, yes, it was while I was calling upon Miss Radley that I chanced to hear you executing a piece upon the pianoforte, and singing, and if I may say so, a very superior performance it was!”

“Yes, very likely,” said Persephone, never one to waste time on unnecessary displays of modesty, “but what in the world can that signify now?”

“I am come, as soon as my parish duties would permit,”
Mr.
Spalding told her, “in search of Miss Radley herself
—
of Miss Radley whom, as I have previously remarked, I do not at the moment see present.” He looked accusingly round at the company, as if supposing that one of them might be concealing Elinor from him.

“No, indeed you don
’
t,” remarked Conington, recalled to a sense of Elinor
’
s present supposed plight. “The fact is,
Mr.
Spalding, that Sir Edmund has gone off after her! That, you understand, accounts for his not having leisure to stop and talk to you, for we think it probable that she has been abducted by
Mr.
Grenville Royden, Miss Royden
’
s brother
—
or some agent of his
—
in error for Persephone.”

“
What
!”
exclaimed Robert Walter and Samuel Spalding, as one man, and
Mr.
Spalding would have said a great deal more too had not Conington added swiftly, “And I think I had better at least
try
to explain the whole to you, Walter.”

This he manfully proceeded to do, aided by occasional contributions from Persephone and nods of confirmation from the afflicted Charlotte.
Mr.
Spalding, although the explanation was not directed at him, had sat down and was listening open-mouthed, now and then exclaiming, “Scandalous!” or “Shocking!” while
Mr.
Walter himself made certain interruptions, turning at one point to stare indignantly at his beloved and demand, “You thought this of
me
, Seffi? That I
—
I
should run up debts and then fail to satisfy my creditors?”

He was so obviously outraged at the notion that Persephone, wilting under his fierce gaze, said meekly, “A
—
a great many gentlemen of the
beau monde
think nothing of it, you see, Robert, but truly I am sorry. If I had only stopped to think, of course I should have known you would do such a thing.
”

At the end of Conington
’
s careful recital,
Mr.
Spalding, in whom a considerable head of steam had been building up as he listened (though it turned out that he had not been quite able to follow the whole story), was at last able to get his word in. “Disgraceful! Elinor
—
ah, poor unhappy creature! I had thought, a brand saved from the burning! But I suppose one might have feared the worst. Well! I was never so shocked in my life! Perhaps, however, she may yet be saved from herself. Frailty, thy name is woman!”

“Are you talking about my cousin Elinor?” asked Persephone, a dangerous gleam in her eye, while Conington said patiently, “Sir, I am afraid you have mistaken my meaning.”

“No, no. For I must inform you,” said
Mr.
Spalding, weightily, “that I am acquainted with Miss Radley
’
s history.”

“Then I beg you will keep it to yourself,” said Conington, quite sharply for so amiably behaved a young man, and
Mr.
Spalding, a little daunted, fell silent long enough for
Mr.
Walter to put in, “Yes, what is to be done for Miss Radley? Can we be sure Sir Edmund will find her? Should we call in the officers of the law?”

At this, Charlotte uttered a small distressful cry, and Conington said quickly, “Not, I think, unless there
’
s nothing else for it. I hope we may be able to hush this up without going to such lengths.”

“Oh yes!” said Persephone. “Poor Charlotte
—
and poor Elinor too, and it is not
their
fault, not in the least, that
Mr.
Royden is so horrid after all. And when my cousin Edmund catches up, I dare say it will turn out well enough.”

“Not Dover, Lord Conington!” said Robert Walter suddenly. “I have been thinking.
Not
Dover! I mean, I do not suppose he intended to convey Persephone there. For though he could not know the day I should return to London, it was always possible we might have met on the road. Indeed, with the good crossing I had, we almost certainly
would
have met
—
and though
I
might not have spared a second glance for a hired post-chaise, suppose Persephone had caught sight of
me
, baiting at an inn, for instance? That would have ruined all. No, since I suppose he did not really mean to take her out of the country, there could be no advantage in his going to Dover.”

“You are right,” said Conington, impressed by this reasoning. “We should have thought of that before. Where, then, would he take her?”

Charlotte, summoning up her courage, said diffidently, “I should suppose to Royden Manor, dearest. You see, the house is almost shut up now, with only our old housekeeper living there, and it is quite isolated, so I can think of nowhere more suitable for
—
for what we think Grenville had in mind!”

This earned her an approving glance and another comforting embrace from Conington. “Well though
t
of, Charlotte! Depend upon it, Walter, she
’
s right,” he said. “And there is Sir Edmund, more likely than not gone off on a wild goose chase! Well,” he added briskly, “I see nothing for it but to go after them ourselves, do you, sir?”