Friday's Child (51 page)

“My dear, pray do not cry so! I promise you I will set all to rights! The only thing is—Miss Wantage. it is the most absurd of predicaments to find oneself in, but I have been robbed of my purse, and here is this fellow expecting to be paid for his services. Are you able to lend me a guinea?”

Hero raised her head from the window-sill to reply: “Of c-course I am not! I have not my p-purse with me!”

“Oh, my God!” muttered Mr Tarleton. “Now we are in the basket!”

“I wish I were dead!” responded Hero.

“No, no, don’t do that! Heavens, what a coil! But how could I have guessed—My dear child, you cannot stay there! Do, pray, come down, and into the inn! Really, I don’t know whether I am on my head or my heels!” He mounted the steps, which the ostler had helpfully let down, and opened the door of the chaise, only to have his entrance to the vehicle hotly disputed by Pug. He recoiled, exclaiming: “Good God, what possessed you to bring that creature?”

“It was your fault!” Hero said, from the folds of her handkerchief. She blew her nose defiantly. “I did not want to bring him, and oh, I thought it was j-just like Sherry to throw him in on t-top of me!”

“Don’t, pray don’t begin to cry again!” implored the harassed Mr Tarleton. “We shall have the whole stable-yard about us in a trice! Only come inside the house, and I will set all to rights!”

“No one can set all to rights, for I am utterly ruined!” declared Hero. “My husband was c-coming to dine with me and I shall not be there, and he will never, never speak to m-me again! And if he finds out this dreadful scrape you have put me into it will be worse than all the rest!”

Mr Tarleton took her hand and helped her to alight from the chaise. “He shall not discover it. We will make up some tale that will satisfy him. But who—why—No, come into the inn, where we can be private! As for you, fellow, you must wait! Go into the tap-room and order yourself a glass of flesh-and-blood at my expense! And here’s a crown for you to keep your mouth shut!”

The postboy pocketed this douceur, but warned his client not to try to lope off without paying him for the hire of his horses. Mr Tarleton somewhat testily demanded to be told how he could do any such thing in his present pecuniary circumstances, and led Hero into the inn. Here he peremptorily ordered the landlord to show the lady into a private parlour. When this had been done, and landlord had rejoined him in the deserted coffee-room, he explained, with what assurance he could muster, that he had been robbed of his wallet and purse. The landlord was civil, but palpably incredulous, so Mr Tarleton haughtily said: “Here is my card, fellow!” Almost immediately after this he was obliged to correct himself. “No, curse it, that’s gone with the rest! But my name is Tarleton—of Frensham Hall, near Swainswick! You will have heard of it! I am escorting a—a friend to Wells—at least, I was doing so, but it so chances that she has discovered that she has left behind her in Bath a most important—er—package, and we are obliged to return there with what speed we can muster. Do me the favour of paying oft that postboy—or no! Better still, let one of your own boys or their cards lead the horses back here, and let my postboy drive us back to Bath with a fresh pair! You and he may thus be assured of receiving your money. Meanwhile—”

The landlord, who had been thinking, interrupted at this point. “Begging your honour’s pardon, if you live at Frensham Hall, how do you come to be travelling to Wells in a hired chaise?”

“What has that to do with you, fellow?” said Mr Tarleton, colouring in spite of himself.

“I don’t know as how it has aught to do with me, sir, but what I was thinking was that it seems a queer set-out to me that a gentleman wishing to travel only to Wells wouldn’t drive in his own carriage—ah, and at a more seasonable time o’ day, what’s more! Not being wishful to give offence, sir, you understand.”

“I am well known in Bath,” Mr Tarleton said stiffly. “Yes, and they know me at the Old Down Inn, so you may satisfy yourself only by sending to inquire there if a Mr Tarleton has ever changed horses with them.”

“Yes, and when I’ve sent one of my boys a mile and a half up the road to make them inquiries, who’s to say you
are
this Mr Tarleton?” retorted the landlord. “And if you’ re so well known in Bath, how comes it that postboy don’t seem to reckernize your honour? That’s what I’d like to know!”

Mr Tarleton had the greatest difficulty in maintaining his control over his temper. After a moment’s struggle, he succeeded in choking back the angry words which rose to his lips, and managed, after a most wearing argument, to persuade the landlord to have a fresh pair harnessed to the chaise, and to prevail upon the postboy who had brought him from Bath to take him back there as soon as he should have had time to refresh himself, which the landlord assured him he would certainly insist upon. Mr Tarleton then gave up his gold timepiece and his signet-ring as pledges, ordered coffee to be sent immediately to the parlour, and made haste to rejoin Hero.

He found her seated by the fire, clasping Pug in her arms, and looking the picture of tragedy. Such a look of reproach did she cast upon him as he entered the room that he exclaimed: “How could I tell? I thought you would like it! And when you kissed me—Good God, was there ever such a hideous coil?”

“Never, never!” Hero said, with whole-hearted fervour. “I cannot imagine why you should suppose that I should want you to run off with me! And to bring this horrid little dog, too!”

“But, my dear, surely you were aware that I have been head over ears in love with you these weeks past!”

Her face showed him plainly that she had been aware of no such circumstance. “In love with me? But you might be my—I mean—I mean—”

“No, I might not!” he said, nettled. “Not your father, if that is what you were about to say! But how came you to be living with Lady Saltash, under the name of Miss Wantage? Who is your husband? Do I know him? Is he in Bath now?”

“Yes, oh yes! He came there in search of me, because we had had a dreadful quarrel, and I ran away from him, only I never knew it, and I thought he came on Miss Milborne’s account, and that is why—Oh, he must not find out what has happened tonight! It is much, much worse than all the other scrapes I was in!”

“Good God!” said Mr Tarleton blankly. “But who is he?” An appalling thought dawned on him; he looked across at Hero with the grimmest foreboding, and asked: “Not—I do devoutly trust!—not the ferocious young gentleman of the Pump Room?”

“He is not ferocious!” replied Hero, flushing indignantly. “He is the dearest and best person in the world! It was just that he was in a very bad temper, because I went off with you! And when I think that he called Lord Wrotham out, only for kissing me once, I am afraid he will be in a much worse one if this should come to his ears! Oh, I do hope there may be some way of preventing his discovering it!”

“Indeed, so do I!” said Mr Tarleton frankly. “In fact, to be honest with you, my dear, my knees are already knocking together so that I wonder you do not hear them!”

She was obliged to smile at this, but relapsed almost immediately into gloom. “It doesn’t signify. What must he think when he finds no one in Camden Place at seven o’clock! Oh, do you not see that he will suppose I did not wish to meet him, and he will be so hurt, and so angry, and how can I ever explain that it was not my fault? I am utterly undone!”

“Let me think!” begged Mr Tarleton, sitting down by the table and clasping his head between his hands. “You have set my brain in such a whirl—! You could not tell him that you had gone to dine with some friends, I suppose?”

“No, I couldn’t!” said Hero, quite crossly. “He was coming particularly to see me, and oh, we were to have had buttered crab, and a n-neat’s tongue with c-cauliflowers!”

Mr Tarleton looked somewhat taken aback by this, and suggested feebly that such mundane considerations were of small consequence.

“It is Sherry’s favourite dinner!” Hero explained tragically.

“Well, never mind!” said Mr Tarleton. “You will be able to give him many such dinners, I dare say, and really, my child, at a moment like this to be vexing yourself over—”

“No, I shan’t, because he will be so angry that he will utterly cast me off, and I shall be left upon the world with only this odious little dog and a canary to love!”

“My dear Miss—I mean, my dear Lady Sheringham, I feel certain that your husband would not use you with such undeserved harshness! Do, I entreat you—”

“Yes, he would!” averred Hero, wiping her eyes with a very damp handkerchief. “Any husband would, after such a scrape as this!”

“Upon my word of honour, I assure you the man who could do so would be the veriest monster!”

Hero instantly took exception to such a term’s being applied to her beloved Sherry, and Mr Tarleton was only rescued from a morass of retractions and attempted explanations by the entrance of the waiter bearing the coffee he had ordered. While the waiter slowly and carefully arranged the cups on the table, he left the door into the adjoining coffee-room ajar. Sounds betokening some fresh arrivals to the inn reached the ears of the couple in the parlour. A voice which made Hero stiffen in her chair said with something less than its usual suavity: “Be so good as to show us to a private parlour, and to send up some refreshment for this lady! There has been an accident to my carriage, and we have been obliged to walk to this place.”

The landlord began to say that his only private room had been bespoken already, but he was interrupted by a fresh voice, glacial with arctic rage, but even better known to Hero. “I shall be glad of a cup of hot coffee—
hot,
if you please!—but I prefer to drink it here, in your public room; and while I am doing so I shall be obliged to you if you will have horses harnessed to a chaise to convey me instantly to Bath.”

Hero gave a gasp and sat bolt upright in her chair, round-eyed with astonishment. The landlord was heard to explain apologetically that he kept only one chaise, which was out on hire at the moment.

“I do not care what kind of a vehicle I ride in, but a vehicle I must and will have!” announced Miss Milborne. “Whose is the chaise standing in your yard, pray?”

“It is hired by the party in the parlour, ma’am. Indeed, I have nothing to offer but my own gig, and it would not be suitable!”

“I thank you, it will do excellently, if you will be so good as to hire it to this—this gentleman!” said Miss Milborne in bitter accents.

The waiter, having arranged the table to his satisfaction, withdrew at this point and closed the door behind him. To Mr Tarleton’s surprise, Hero rose up from her chair, pushing Pug from her lap as she did so, and tiptoed to the door and tried to peep through the keyhole. She could see very little, so she set her ear to the crack instead and listened with an intent face to what was going on in the coffee-room. When Mr Tarleton would have asked what in the world she was about, she lifted an imperative finger and hissed: " 'Sh!”

Apparently the landlord had withdrawn to carry out Miss Milborne’s orders, for Sir Montagu’s voice was clearly heard to say: “Now, my dearest Miss Milborne, let me assure you that you are entirely mistaken! Come, do not let us quarrel! The most unavoidable and unfortunate accident—”

“If you attempt to lay a finger on me, sir, I shall scream at the top of my lungs!” interrupted Miss Milborne.

“But, my dear ma’am, only listen to me! I should not dream of touching you! But—”

“No! And no doubt you did not dream of trying to force your most unwelcome caresses upon me, and
mauling
me in your arms as though I had been the sort of vulgar wretch you are plainly accustomed to dealing with!” retorted Miss Milborne. “No doubt, too, you would have been so obliging as to have unhanded me without the inducement of a pin’s being stuck into you!”

At this Hero’s eyes began to dance, and she gave a smothered choke of laughter.

“If,” Sir Montagu was saying, “if, in the intoxication of finding myself alone in the presence of one for whom I cherish the most passionate devotion, the most—”

“I beg you will spare me any more of these transports!” said Miss Milborne. “If passionate devotion led you to suggest to me that since we were stranded in so remote a hamlet there was no help for it but for me to become betrothed to you, I can only trust that I may never encounter such devotion again! I do not know by what means you may have contrived the accident to your carriage, but I am no longer in any doubt as to why you were so desirous of driving me back to Bath by another route than the post-road! You sought, sir, to entrap me into marriage with you, since you were aware that you had no hope of winning my hand by more gentlemanly methods. But you were much mistaken in my character if you supposed that I was so weak and foolish a female as to submit to your infamous proposals!”

Hero, who had listened to this speech with a rapt look of concentrated thought on her face, now left the door and ran to Mr Tarleton’s side. “I am saved!” she whispered joyfully. “It is Isabella Milborne, and the most odious man imaginable! I have known Isabella all my life, and I know she will help me out of this tangle! And I dare say she may be very glad to see me, too, because she may drive back with me in the chaise, and she cannot wish to sit perched up in the landlord’s gig, you know. It is not at all the style of thing which would suit her. Do you remain in this room, Mr Tarleton, while I arrange it all!”

“But Lady Sheringham, consider a moment!” he said urgently. “Are you sure—”

“Yes, yes, and in any event, how could I leave poor Isabella to Sir Montagu’s mercy?”

“From what I have been privileged to hear, I should judge poor Isabella to be very well able to protect her virtue!” said Mr Tarleton dryly.

“Yes, was it not famous to hear her giving him such a set-down? She is a most spirited girl! But it cannot be very comfortable for her, I dare say! Pray hold Pug’s leash, dear sir!”

Mr Tarleton, on whom the events of the evening were beginning to leave their mark, accepted the leash meekly, and, with some misgiving, watched his companion open the door and walk into the coffee-room.

Miss Milborne, who was standing by the fireplace, holding one foot, in a mired half boot of orange-jean, to the glow, turned her head and uttered an exclamation of astonishment. “Hero!”