Lady of Quality (36 page)

Lady Wychwood, having reluctantly handed her daughter over to Nurse, was very well pleased to go for an ambling walk with Sir Geoffrey, and not sorry when Lucilla refused an invitation to accompany them. She set off in the direction of the London Road, leaning on her husband's arm, and saying: "How agreeable it is to be with you again, dearest! Now we can have a comfortable cose, without poor Maria's breaking in on us!"

"Yes, that's what I thought, when I coaxed you to come for a walk with me," he said. "Devilish good notion of mine, wasn't it?"

But he would not have thought it a good notion had he known that little more than ten minutes later Mr Carleton would be seeking admittance to Miss Wychwood's house.

Limbury, opening the door to Mr Carleton, said that Miss Wychwood was not at home to visitors. Miss Wychwood, he said, had been unwell, and had not yet left her room.

"So I have already been informed," said Mr Carleton. "Take my card up to her, if you please!"

Limbury received the card from him, and said, with a slight bow: "I will have it conveyed to Miss's room, sir."

"Well, don't keep me standing on the doorstep!" said Mr Carleton impatiently.

Limbury, an excellent butler, found himself at a loss, for he had never before encountered a morning caller of Mr Carleton's calibre. Vulgar persons he could deal with; no other of Miss Wychwood's friends would have demanded admittance when told that Miss Wychwood was not at home; and Sir Geoffrey, who disliked Mr Carleton, as Limbury was well aware, would certainly wish him to be excluded.

"I regret, sir, that it is not possible for you to see Miss Wychwood. Today is the first time she has been well enough to sit up for an hour or two, and her maid informs me that she had hardly enough strength to walk across the floor to the sofa. So I am persuaded you will understand that you cannot see her today."

"No, I shan't," said Mr Carleton, rudely brushing past him into the hall. "Shut the door! Now take my card up to your mistress immediately, and tell her that I wish to see her!"

Limbury was affronted by Mr Carleton's unceremonious entrance, and he by no means relished being given peremptory commands. He was about to reply with freezing dignity when a suspicion entered his head (he described it later to Mrs Wardlow as a blinding light) that he was confronting a man who was violently in love. To gentlemen in that condition much had to be forgiven, so he forgave Mr Carleton, and said in the fatherly way he spoke to Master Tom: "Now, you know I can't do that, sir! I'll tell Miss you called, but you can't expect to see her when she has only just got up out of her bed!"

"I not only expect to see her, but I am going to see her!" replied Mr Carleton.

Fortunately for Limbury, he was rescued from his predicament by the appearance on the scene of Jurby, who came down the stairs, dropped the hint of a curtsy, and said: "Were you wishful to see Miss Annis, sir?"

"Not only wishful, but determined to see her! Are you her abigail?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

"Good! I have heard her speak of you, and I think your name is Jurby, and that you have been with Miss Wychwood for many years. Am I right?"

"I have been with her ever since she was a child, sir."

"Good again! You must know her very well, and can tell me whether it will harm her to see me."

"I don't think it would
harm
her, sir, but I cannot take it upon myself to say whether she will be willing to receive you."

"Ask her!"

She seemed to consider him dispassionately for a moment; and then said: "Certainly, sir. If you will be pleased to wait in the drawing-room, I will do so."

She turned and went majestically up the stairs again; and Limbury, recovering from the shock of seeing the most formidable member of the household yield without a sign of disapproval to Mr Carleton's outrageous demand, conducted him to the drawing-room. He was immensely interested in this unprecedented situation, and his enjoyment of it was no longer marred by fear of Sir Geoffrey's wrath, because if Sir Geoffrey came the ugly he could now foist the blame of Mr Carleton's intrusion on to Jurby.

Mr Carleton had not long to wait before Jurby came into the drawing-room, saying: "Miss Annis will be happy to receive you, sir. Please to come with me!" She conducted him up the second pair of stairs, and paused on the landing, and said: "I must warn you, sir, that Miss Annis is by no means fully restored to health. You will find her very pulled by the fever, and I hope you won't agitate her."

"I hope so too," he replied.

She seemed to be satisfied with this reply, for she opened the door into Miss Wychwood's bedroom, and ushered him in, saying in a voice wholly devoid of interest: "Mr Carleton, miss."

She stayed, holding the door open, for a few moments, because when she had carried the news of Mr Carleton's arrival to her mistress Miss Wychwood had behaved in an extremely agitated way, and had seemed not to know whether she wished to see him or not. She had started up from her recumbent position, uttering distractedly: "Mr Carleton? Oh, no, I cannot—Jurby, are you hoaxing me? Is he indeed here? Oh, why must he come back just when I am so hagged and miserably unwell? I won't see him! He is the most detestable—Oh, whatever am I to do?"

"Well, miss, if you wish me to send him away, I'll try my best to do it, but from the looks of him it's likely he'll order me to get out of the way, and come charging up the stairs, and the next thing you'll know he'll be knocking at your door—if he don't walk in without knocking, which wouldn't surprise me!"

Miss Wychwood gave an uncertain laugh.
"Odious
man! Take this horrid shawl away! If I
must
see him, I will
not
do so lying on the sofa as though I were dying of a deep decline!"

So, when Mr Carleton entered, he found Miss Wychwood seated at one end of the sofa, the train of her dressing-gown lying in soft folds at her feet and her glorious hair hidden under a lace cap. She had managed to regain a measure of composure, and said, in a tolerably steady voice: "How do you do? You must forgive me for receiving you like this: Jurby will have told you, I daresay, that I have been unwell, and am not yet permitted to leave my room."

As she spoke, she tried to rise, but her knees shook so much that she was obliged to clutch at the arm of the sofa to save herself from falling. But even as she tottered Mr Carleton, crossing the room in two strides, caught her in his arms, and held her close, breast to breast, and fiercely kissed her.

"Oh!" gasped Miss Wychwood, making a feeble attempt to thrust him off. "How
dare
you? Let me go at once!"

"You'd tumble over if I did," he said, and kissed her again.

"No, no, you must not! Oh, what an abominable person you are! I wish I had never met you!" declared Miss Wychwood, abandoning the unequal struggle to free herself, and subsiding limply within his powerful arms, and shedding tears into his shoulder.

At this point, Jurby, smiling dourly, withdrew, apparently feeling that Mr Carleton was very well able to deal with Miss Wychwood without her assistance.

"Don't cry, my precious wet-goose!" said Mr Carleton, planting a third kiss under Miss Wychwood's ear, which, as her head was resting on his shoulder, was the only place available to him.

A watery chuckle showed that Miss Wychwood's sense of humour had survived the ravages of influenza. "I am not a wet-goose!"

"You can't expect me to believe you if you don't stop crying at once!" he said severely. He swept her off her feet as he spoke, and set her down again on the sofa, himself sitting beside her, taking her hands in his, and pressing a kiss into each pink palm. "Poor Honey!" he said. "What a wretched time you've been having, haven't you?"

"Yes, but it is very unhandsome of you to call me a poor Honey!" she said, trying for a rallying note. "You had as well tell me that I've become a positive antidote! My glass has told me so already, so it won't come as a shock to me!"

"Your glass lies. I see no change in you, except that you are paler than I like, and are wearing a cap, which I've not known you to do before." He surveyed it critically. "Very fetching!" he approved. "But I think I prefer to see your guinea-curls. Will you feel obliged to wear caps when we are married?"

"But—
are
we going to be married?" she said.

"Well, of course we are! You don't suppose I'm offering you a
carte blanche,
do you?"

That made her laugh. "I shouldn't be surprised if you were, for you are quite abominable, you know!"

"Wouldn't you be surprised?" he demanded

Her eyes sank before the hard, questioning look in his. She said: "You needn't glare at me! I only meant it for a joke! Of course it would surprise me!"

"Unamusing! Are you afraid I should be unfaithful to you? Is that why you said '
are
we to be married?' as though you still had doubts?"

"No, I'm not afraid of that. After all, if you did become unfaithful I should only have myself to blame, shouldn't I?"

The hard look vanished; he smiled. "I don't think you would find many people to agree that
you
were to blame for
my
sins!"

"Anyone with a particle of commonsense would agree with me, because if you were to set up a mistress it would be because you had become bored with me."

"Oh, if that's the case we need not worry! But you do still have doubts, don't you?"

"Not when you are with me," she said shyly. "Only when I'm alone, and think of all the difficulties—what a very big step it would be—how much my brother would dislike it—I wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be a mistake to marry you. And then I think that it would be a much greater mistake
not
to marry you, and I end by not knowing
what
I want to do! Mr Carleton, are you
sure
you want to marry me, and—and that I'm not a mere passing fancy?"

"What you are trying to ask me is whether I am sure we shall be happy, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose that is what I mean," she sighed.

"Well, I can't answer you. How can I be
sure
that we shall be happy when neither of us has had any experience of marriage? All I can tell you is that I am perfectly sure I want to marry you, and equally sure that you are not a 'mere passing fancy' of mine—what a damned silly question to ask me! If I had ever been such a shuttlehead as to have asked one of my passing fancies to marry me, I shouldn't be a bachelor today!—and there are two other things I am
sure
of! One is that I have never cared for any of the charmers with whom I've had agreeable connections as I care for you; and another is that I have never in my life wanted anything more than I want to win you for my own—to love, and to cherish, and to guard—Oh, damn it, Annis, how can I make you believe that I love you with my whole heart and body, and mind?" He broke off, and said sharply: "What have I said to make you cry? Tell me!"

"Nothing! I d-don't know why I began to cry. I think it must be because I'm so happy, and I've been feeling so dreadfully miserable!" she replied, wiping her tears away, and trying to smile.

Mr Carleton took her back into his arms. "You're thoroughly knocked-up, sweetheart.
Damn
that woman for having foisted her influenza on to you! Kiss me!"

"I won't!" said Miss Wychwood, between tears and laughter. "It would be a most improper thing for me to do, and you have
no
right to fling orders at me as though I were one of your bits of muslin, and I won't submit to being ridden over rough-shod!"

"Hornet!" said Mr Carleton, and put an end to further recriminations by fastening his lips to hers.

Not the most daring of her previous suitors had ventured even to slide an arm round her waist, for although she enjoyed light-hearted flirtation, she never gave her flirts any cause to think she would welcome more intimate approaches. She had supposed that she must have a cold, celibate disposition, for she had always found the mere thought of being kissed, and (as she phrased it) mauled by any gentleman of her acquaintance shudderingly distasteful. She had once confessed this to Amabel, and had privately thought Amabel's response to be so foolishly sentimental as to be unworthy of consideration. Amabel had said: "When you fall in love, dearest, you won't find it at all distasteful, I promise you." And sweet, silly little Amabel had been right! When Mr Carleton had caught Miss Wychwood into his arms, and had so ruthlessly kissed her, she had not found it at all distasteful; and when he did it again it seemed the most natural thing in the world to return his embrace. He felt the responsive quiver that ran through her, and his arms tightened round her, just as some one knocked on the door. Miss Wychwood tore herself free, uttering: "Take care! This may well be my sister, or Maria!"

It was neither. The youngest of her three housemaids came in, bearing a jug and a glass on a tray. At sight of Mr Carleton this damsel stopped on the threshold, and stood goggling at him, with her eyes starting from their sockets.

"What the devil do you want?" demanded Mr Carleton, pardonably annoyed.

"Please, sir, I don't want anything!" said the intruder, trembling with terror. "I didn't know Miss had a visitor! Mrs Wardlow told me to bring the fresh barley-water up to Miss, being as Betty is sick!"

"Barley-water?"
ejaculated Mr Carleton, in revolted accents. "Good God! No wonder that you are in low spirits if that's what they give you to drink!"