"Tom, Tom, you are going too fast for me! What has the chaise to do with it?"
"Oh, yes! Well, the landlady cajoled Belinda to go with her into a parlour at the back of the house, because she said she would be more comfortable there, and then I wrote a letter in the sort of way I thought very likely Belinda would. I wrote that
you
had come for her, sir, and would give her a better gown than the one in Milsom Street, and so she was going to London with you instead. And I put in that she was very much obliged to him, because I thought she would say that, to be civil. And then I went out into the road to wait, and after an age the beau drove up in a post-chaise-and-four, and jumped down, and I went up to him, and asked him in the sort of voice a stable-boy would if he was Lord Gaywood, which Belinda said he was. And he said yes, so I gave him the note, and said a young lady with yellow curls had given me a shilling to do so. And, oh, sir, I do think it was the most first-rate lark I've ever kicked up, for he flew into the deuce of a passion, and he looked as though he would like to murder someone! And he asked what horses were you driving, and I could see it was you he wanted to murder, so I said gray ones, like I told you, because there
was
a chaise with four splendid grays, and yellow wheels, and they were famous steppers, so that I should think he will not easily catch them, and so you will have time to fetch Belinda, and be off before he can come back. For he set off after the other chaise in a twinkling, sir, and told the post-boys they should have double fees if they caught up with it. Sir,
are
you pleased with me?"
"Tom, I am delighted with you!" the Duke assured him. "My only regret is that I cannot see Gaywood's face when he does overtake that yellow-wheeled chaise! When you come to stay with me in London, you shall go to all the theatres, and the wild beast shows, and to Vauxhall, to see the fireworks, and anything else you may happen to have set your heart on! I am eternally obliged to you and if my uncle should hear about the sheep, you may tell him that I told you to shoot it! Will you do one thing more for me?"
"I should think I would!" asseverated Tom, dazed by the thought of the treats in store for him.
"Then ride back to Cheyney now, and tell them that I am coming out to dine there, and may be a little late, so that they will please to set dinner back. Don't tell anyone of this adventure!" He saw a slightly chagrined look on Tom's face, and smiled. "Well, only tell Captain Ware!" he amended. "You will find him there, you know."
It was plain that the prospect of again meeting this heroic personage was a lure Tom found hard to withstand. But he set his jaw, and said staunchly: "No! I shall come with you, sir, in case the beau should have returned!"
The Duke laughed. "Thank you, Tom, but even if he has returned I don't think I stand in need of protection!"
"Yes, but you don't know, sir," said Tom earnestly. "He is much bigger than you are, and in such a temper beside!"
"My dear Tom, I know him very well indeed, and I assure you I am not afraid of him! Indeed, you must go back to Cheyney, or your papa will be in what you call one of his fusses, and that might end painfully for you, you know! Be off with you, and don't forget to tell them that I am coming to dine there!"
He succeeded in getting rid of his young friend, and having seen him mount, and ride off, turned to his waiting chaise, and directed the astonished postilions to drive him to the George inn, on the London road. They exchanged speaking glances, but it was not for them to question the eccentricities of the Quality, and if the Duke chose to be driven a distance of little more than a mile in a chaise-and-four no doubt he would grease their palms handsomely.
The Duke found Belinda waiting patiently in a small parlour at the George, her bandboxes at her feet. She was surprised to see him, but not in the least chagrined. She said: "Oh, sir, Lord Gaywood is such a very kind gentleman, and he is going to set me up in style in London, and give me that gown I saw in Milsom Street, and drive me in a chaise-and-four!"
"Lord Gaywood is deceiving you, Belinda," he said. "He will do none of these things. You know, it is very bad of you to have run away with him. Didn't I warn you that you must not go with strange gentlemen, however kind they may seem to be?"
"Oh, yes, sir, but indeed I thought of you, and how you told me it was a take-in!" Belinda explained. "And
this
time I did just what you would like, for I said I wouldn't go to London if he did not give me that lovely purple dress
first!
And he has gone to Milsom Street to buy it, so you see that he is a kind gentleman, after all!"
"Belinda," he said gravely, taking her hands, and holding them, "do you like Lord Gaywood better than Mr. Mudgley?"
"Oh, no!" she cried, the ready tears springing to her eyes. "But you cannot find Mr. Mudgley, and Lady Ampleforth boxed my ears, and I was very unhappy in that house. And Lord Gaywood said he would take care of me, and no one should be angry with me!"
"But I have found Mr. Mudgley," he said gently.
Her tears ceased to flow abruptly; she stared at him with her eyes very wide open.
"I promised that I would bring you to him. He wants you very much, and his mother does too. Which is it to be, Belinda?—a purple gown, or Mr. Mudgley?"
"Will you take me
now!
" Belinda asked urgently, her cheeks softly flushed. "Oh,
please
, will you take me now?"
"Yes, I'll take you now," the Duke replied, absurdly relieved at this instant decision. He added, feeling that her sacrifice deserved reward: "In a chaise-and-four!"
She clapped her hands in delight, saying that Mr. Mudgley would not be able to believe his eyes when he saw her drive up in such an equipage. The Duke, trying not to feel disappointed at this naive remark, led her out to the chaise, and handed her up into it. He found a nervous, and considerably bewildered landlady hovering beside him, and turned to her, "If the gentleman who escorted this lady to your house should return presently," he said, "will you be so good as to give him a message for me?"
"Yes, sir," she said doubtfully. "That is—"
"Tell him, if you please," continued the Duke, "that the Duke of Sale thanks him for his letter, but does not need any assistance from him in the management of his affairs!"
Chapter 26
| |
The Duke drove Belinda to the Christopher, and installed her in his parlour there while he dashed off one of his scrawls to his betrothed. It had occurred to him that he had told Mr. Mudgley that Lady Harriet would bring Belinda to him. To drive her to Furze Farm a day earlier than could have been expected, and without Lady Harriet, might, he felt, reawaken the mistrust he had been at such pains to allay in Mr. Mudgley's breast. So he begged his Harriet to prevail upon the Dowager to allow her to go with him, and to dine afterwards at Cheyney, offering as sops to that erratic old lady's possible scruples the presence of Lord Lionel at Cheyney, a promise to escort Harriet back to Laura Place at a seemly hour and a reminder that there would be moonlight. He sent this missive off by the hand of his footman, and having assured himself that his elusive charge had no immediate thought of wandering away again, went into his bedchamber to change his dress.
Nettlebed, upon learning of the projected dinner-party, did his best to persuade him into knee-breeches, but he was not really surprised when the Duke said that he should wear pantaloons and Hessians, and, for the first time in his long association with the Duke, bowed to this decree without either grumbling, or reminding his master that Lord Lionel always wore knee-breeches in the evening.
Much heartened by this evidence of the beneficial effects to be obtained by treating his servants with brutal severity, the Duke hurried into his clothes, and had packed Belinda and her bandboxes into the chaise again before Francis had had time to return with the answer to his letter. So emboldened by his victory over Nettlebed was he feeling that he drove round to Laura Place with the intention of being extremely high-handed with the Dowager, if she should dare to thwart him. Happily (since the Dowager was more than capable of holding her own against far more formidable males than he would ever be), this trial of strength proved to be unnecessary. When he was admitted into Lady Ampleforth's house, he found his Harriet already descending the stairs, with her hat on, and a cloak hiding her muslin gown.
He started forward to meet her saying: "Do you go with me? Will Lady Ampleforth trust you to me? How pretty you look!"
If she had not been in her best looks before, this impulsive exclamation naturally made her glow into something approaching beauty. She smiled tremulously, blushing, and murmuring: "Oh, Gilly, do I? I do not know how you can say so, when you have been with Belinda!"
He acknowledged the force of this, but said seriously: "I do not know how it is, Harriet, but I would rather look at you than at Belinda. You have more
countenance!
"
She now knew that whatever happiness might be in store for her this must rank as the most memorable day in her life. To conceal her swelling pride, she said in a rallying tone: "You are trying to flatter me, Gilly!"
"No," he said. "I know you too well to suppose that flattery would be acceptable to you."
Without making the slightest attempt to disabuse his mind of its curious misapprehension, Harriet said simply: "I am glad you think I have countenance, dear Gilly. I want only to be worthy of you."
"To be worthy of me!" he said, quite thunderstruck. "But I am the most commonplace creature! Indeed, I do not know how you can look twice in my direction when you have known my handsome cousin!"
"Gideon?" she said in surprised accents. "Of course I have a great regard for him, for I am sure he has always been very kind, and
you
love him, which must recommend him to me, you know. But surely no one in their senses could think of him when you were by, Gilly!"
Preys to their blissful delusions, they walked slowly out of the house to the waiting chaise.
"I was half afraid your grandmama would not let you come with me!" the Duke said foolishly.
"Oh, Gilly, was it very wrong of me? I was obliged to use a little stratagem, for she was so cross, and I could see she meant to say it would be improper for me to go! I—I said I knew Mama would not permit it! Not quite like that, you know, but letting it be seen that that was what I thought. It is very dreadful! She doesn't like Mama, and I knew very well that I had only to put
that
into her head, and she would say I might go with you!"
She sounded conscience-stricken, but the Duke laughed delightedly, so that any filial qualms that were troubling her gentle soul were instantly laid to rest. He handed her into the chaise, where Belinda greeted her without the smallest sign of guilt.
"Oh, my lady!" said Belinda. "Mr. Rufford—I mean, the Duke!—has found Mr. Mudgley!"
"Dear Belinda, you must be very happy!" Harriet said, laying a gloved hand on her knee.
"Oh, yes, ma'am!" agreed Belinda blithely. She paused, and added on a more wistful note: "But I wish I might have had that beautiful dress!"
"I am sure you would not wish for it rather than to be established so comfortably," Harriet suggested gently.
"No, indeed! Only that I might perhaps have stayed until Lord Gaywood came back, you know. For he went to buy it for me, and it
does
seem very hard that I must not have it after all!"
Harriet, quite dismayed, strove to the best of her ability to give Belinda's thoughts a more proper direction. The Duke, a good deal amused, intervened, saying: "Useless, my love! If you would but do what you may to convince her that this last adventure must be kept a secret between the three of us, it would be very desirable!"
"It seems very dreadful to be teaching the poor child to deceive the young man!" Harriet replied, in an under-voice. "I own, it might be wiser— But to have a secret from the man to whom one is betrothed is very wrong, and surely quite against female nature!"
"Dear Harriet!" he said, finding her hand, and raising it to his lips. "You would not do so, I know! But if she blurts out the whole to these people—? For they are simple, honest folk, and could not understand, perhaps."