Faro’s Daughter

Chapter 14

Two large tears welled up in Miss Laxton’s eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Adrian,” she said brokenly.

The next instant she was in his arms, and his lordship had forgotten both the race and his betrothal to Miss Grantham, but was wholly occupied in kissing Phoebe, drying her wet cheeks, and assuring her that she should never be unhappy or frightened again. It was she who came to earth first, raising her head from his shoulder, relinquishing her clutch on the cape of his coat, and saying in a drowned voice: “We must not! Deborah!”

His lordship let her go. She sat up, swallowing a sob, and they looked at one another, two troubled young people caught up by fate and unable to see the way to free themselves. His lordship gave a groan, and dropped his head between his clenched fists. “I must have been mad!”

“Oh no!” Phoebe said, dabbing at her eyes with a small handkerchief. “She is so very lovely, and kind, and—and—oh dear!”

“I thought I loved her. But I don’t. I love you, Phoebe! What are we to do?”

Miss Laxton’s eyes brimmed over again. “You will marry her, and I shall g-go into a nunnery, or s-something. You will soon f-forget me,” she said bravely.

This frightful picture of the future made Adrian raise his head, and say forcefully: “No!”

“But what can we do?” asked Phoebe. “I cannot marry Deb.”

Miss Laxton turned pale. “Oh, you can never tell her so!” An appalled silence fell. His lordship got up, and began to pace about the room. “If I don’t tell her, we shall all three of us be made unhappy.”

“No, no! She will never know, and you will forget this!”

“I shall never forget!” said Adrian fiercely. “And I could not pretend to Deb. She would guess the truth.”

“But it would be such a dreadful thing for you to do!” whispered Phoebe.

His lordship was almost as pale as she. “Yes. I know,” he said. “But she has not said yet that she will marry me. Perhaps—perhaps she does not mean to.”

She looked astonished. “But I thought—you told me—”

“Yes, yes, but it was never said in so many words! She used to laugh at me when I asked her to marry me. Then—then it did seem to me that she had changed towards me, and I thought too—But it is true that she has never yet said it. Phoebe, do you think that she cares for me?”

“Oh, how can she not?” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Well, I do not think that she does. Lately she has been—oh, not cross, but—but different!”

A shocking thought presented itself to Miss Laxton.

“Adrian, can it be that she suspects, and is jealous, or—or hurt?”

Their eyes met; his lordship’s chin seemed to harden. “We must tell her the truth.”

Phoebe sprang up in some agitation. “No, no, I implore you! Only consider how frightful it must appear! She invited me to her house, and has been everything that is kind! How could I possibly steal you from her? I would rather die!”

His lordship quite saw the force of this argument, but he was not satisfied with it. “Yes, but you did not steal me,” he said. “We did not mean to fall in love! We could not help ourselves, and that she will surely understand! You are blameless at least! It is I who deserve to be horse-whipped!”

It was not to be expected that Miss Laxton could agree with this judgement. She began to argue the point, laying the blame at her own door, and finding all manner of excuses, for his lordship. He would not allow it, and the next few minutes were spent in a singularly profitless discussion, which might, indeed, have lasted for hours, had not his lordship perceived the uselessness of it, and silenced Miss Laxton by kissing her.

“Oh!” said Miss Laxton, burying her face in his coat. “If you do that, how can I behave as I ought? You must not, Adrian! Oh, please, you must not!”

“My conduct has been everything of the most damnable!” said his lordship, determined not to understate the case. “But it would be worse if I were to marry Deb. I have no doubts on that score. I must confess the whole to her, and throw myself on her generosity. If there had been an acknowledged engagement, the case would be hopeless indeed, for as a man of honour I could not draw back, exposing her to the world as a female who had been jilted. But it is not so! No one knows of the engagement but my mother and cousin. I cannot deceive Deb. I will not, indeed! She must be told the truth, and at once.”

“I am ready to sink!” declared Miss Laxton, grasping a chairback for support. “What will she think of me?”

“What will she think of me?” asked his lordship.

Happily for them both, Miss Grantham chose that moment to come back into the room. “Well, and is the race over?” she asked. “Have you come to the end of all your hairbreadth escapes, or am I too soon?”

Miss Laxton turned away to stare into the fire. Lord Mablethorpe braced himself, and said resolutely: “We have not been talking about the race, Deb. There is something I must say to you.”

“No!” whispered Miss Laxton faintly, as one in honour bound.

His lordship ignored this small protest. “I do not know what you will think of me, Deb. There can be no words bad enough to describe my conduct!”

“No, no! Mine!” gasped Miss Laxton.

“Phoebe is blameless,” said his lordship manfully. “You will realize that, I know, however hardly you may think of me! She would have had you remain in ignorance of the whole! But I cannot! I am determined to tell you the truth, for I am persuaded that nothing but misery could come of keeping it from you!”

Miss Grantham’s sense of humour got the better of her at this point, and, tottering towards a chair, she sank into it, exclaiming in tragic accents: “Oh heavens! I am betrayed!”

His lordship blenched; both he and Miss Laxton regarded her with guilty dismay.

Miss Grantham buried her face in her handkerchief, and uttered one shattering word: “Wretch!”

His lordship swallowed, and squared his shoulders. “I am aware in what an odious light my conduct must appear to you, and I cannot attempt to excuse it,” he said. “Only, I did not mean to do it: it was something I could not help, Deb, indeed, it was! And I thought you had rather I told you than—than—”

Miss Grantham gave a shriek. “You have trifled with me!” she said, into the folds of her handkerchief. “You promised me marriage, and now you mean to cast me off for Another!”

Lord Mablethorpe and Miss Laxton exchanged stricken glances.

“I never thought I should live to be slighted!” pursued Miss Grantham. “Oh, was ever any defenceless female so deceived?”

Lord Mablethorpe and Miss Laxton instinctively held hands for mutual support. “Oh no, do not say so!” implored Phoebe. “He will soon forget me!”

“Do not let him deceive you, my unhappy child!” said Miss Grantham. “He will cast you aside as he has cast me! Oh, to think that I should have given my poor heart to a rake!”

“Deb!” exclaimed his lordship, horrified. “I’m not! Indeed, I’m not! And you never said you would marry me! It is not as though—”

“My whole life is blighted!” said Miss Grantham, in a hollow voice. “I shall very likely go into a decline!”

“Deb!” said his lordship, in quite a different voice. “Well, upon my word! Deb, if you don’t stop this instant, I’ll—I’ll shake you!”

Miss Grantham raised her head, and mopped her streaming eyes. “Oh Adrian, you foolish boy!” she said. “What in the world did you think I threw you together for, if not for this? I never had the least intention of marrying you!”

This disclosure astonished Miss Laxton so much that she was quite unable to do more than gaze at her hostess. Lord Mablethorpe, however, drew a sigh of heartfelt relief, and grinned. “It’s just like you to roast me! Somehow, I could not help thinking that you did not care for me. But I have behaved very badly to you, and I know it.”

“My poor boy, I fear that it is you who have been the victim. Don’t give it another thought! I wish you both very happy, and I am sure you were made for one another. Indeed, I feel that I have made up an unexceptionable match between you! We have now only to consider what is to be done next.”

Miss Laxton, recovering from her stupor, cast herself upon Deborah’s bosom, crying: “Oh, you are so good to me! I feel so dreadfully at having done such a thing! How can you not wish to marry him?”

“It is very bad taste on my part, indeed,” admitted Miss Grantham. “Perhaps I was born to be a spinster. But do not let us talk about me, for I shall do very well, I assure you. We must decide what is best to be done with you. Your parents can have no objection, I imagine, to your marriage with Adrian.”

“I am not as rich as Filey. I have not the half of his wealth,” said his lordship, looking anxious.

“You are not precisely a pauper, however. I call it a very good match, and so, I am persuaded, will Lord Laxton.”

“My brother Arnold told me that Sir James would do something very handsome for the family,” faltered Phoebe. “I do not know what it is, but I fancy Papa has sustained severe losses lately, besides what my brothers owe.”

“Well, so will I do something handsome,” said his lordship stoutly. A shade of uneasiness crept across his face. “When I am of age,” he added, in a rather flattened voice.

“Nonsense!” said Miss Grantham. “I do not wish to offend you, Phoebe, but I am not at all in favour of anything’s being done for your family. I see no reason why Adrian should be made to pay for the follies of your Papa and your brothers.”

This aspect of the case had not previously occurred to Miss Laxton, but upon reflection she found herself to be in complete agreement with it. “No, indeed! It would be very bad! I could not consent to such a thing. But what is to be done? My Papa will not care a fig for anything but the money!”

Lord Mablethorpe felt at this point that the discussion could better be continued in Miss Laxton’s absence. He said that it was too late to think of ways and means that evening, but that he should call in St James’s Square next day, and talk the matter over thoroughly. Miss Grantham, catching a significant glance thrown in her direction, rose instantly to the occasion, and said that this was a wise decision, and that she thought it was high time Phoebe was in bed. She then left the young couple to bid one another a fond good night, only returning to the saloon when she had seen Phoebe to her room, and put her into the hands of the abigail.

She found Lord Mablethorpe walking about the room, his brow clouded with thought. She shut the door, and came to the fire, seating herself by it, and saying in her sensible way: “Well; now, let us contrive a little! Do you fancy the engagement will not be received with pleasure by the Laxtons? I cannot credit it!”

He looked a little rueful. “I fear it, Deb. I have been setting a few inquiries afoot, and there seems to be no doubt that Laxton is pretty well done-up.”

“Very true. Those brothers, too, are as expensive a pair as you may meet! I was talking to Horley about them, and received a very ill account of them. Tell me, my dear boy: dc you feel yourself in honour bound to support Phoebe’s family?”

“No, I do not,” said his lordship bluntly. “They have all of them behaved damnably to her, and it is my intention to have nothing more to do with them, after we are married, than we must. I might do something for the younger girls, if Phoebe liked,” he added magniloquently.

“Famous! I was beginning to fear that I had served you an ill turn by casting you into Phoebe’s arms. But this is excellent!”

“Yes, but the thing is, Deb, that the Laxtons are not likely to consider my offer beside Filey’s. I could not, if I would, do what he might for the family. It means nothing to him: he has almost as much money as Max!”

“That may be, but if Phoebe refuses to marry Filey her parents will be only too glad to discover that she has another, and very eligible suitor at hand.”

Lord Mablethorpe looked rather sceptical, and took another turn about the room. After a pause, he said with some hesitation: “There is another thing, Deb. I did not tell you, but my mother has always had a notion that I might marry my cousin Arabella one day. She is a great heiress, you know. She won’t like it at all if she learns that I mean instead to marry Phoebe Laxton. Phoebe has no more than three or four thousand pounds coming to her, I dare say: not that that would signify to my mother once she has put the idea of my marrying Arabella out of her head: but she don’t like Lady Laxton, and I am very much afraid that she will not like the match at all. I don’t mean that she won’t come round when she knows Phoebe, but—well, it may take a little time, because once she takes a notion into her head. Well, I daresay you know what I mean! When I am of age, I can do as I please, but until then I don’t see how I am to offer for Phoebe, in the proper way, when my mother will very likely oppose the match. I was thinking of Max, too.”

“Pray, what has he to say to it?” demanded Miss Grantham.

“He is not my guardian, but he is one of my trustees, and the thing is that my mother usually attends to him, and although he is the best fellow in the world, I do feel that he will not at all approve of this, on account of the Laxtons being so done-up, you know. He will be afraid that I shall be bled by them, and it will be of no avail for me to assure him that I don’t mean to be, because he thinks I am just a boy, and can be imposed upon.”

Miss Grantham was silent for a moment. Privately, she thought that Lady Mablethorpe and Mr Ravenscar would be too relieved to hear that Adrian no longer meant to marry herself to raise any very serious objection to his proposed alliance with a young lady of good birth and unexceptionable manners; but she was by no means anxious that Mr Ravenscar should learn of Adrian’s escape from her toils before she had recovered her aunt’s bills, or adequately punished him for his odious conduct. She said, therefore: “You mean that the matter must be kept secret until you come of age?”

“I think it would be less disagreeable for Phoebe,” he said. “I might talk my mother over, but I dread the thought of what Phoebe might be made to undergo at Lady Laxton’s hands if I did not. I mean to offer for her with all the propriety in the world, but if I am refused permission to address her I shall marry her out of hand, even if it means running all the way to Gretna Green to do it!”

She smiled. “Bravo! Meanwhile, what is to be done? Am I to keep her with me, or do we send her to stay with her aunt?”

He stopped short in his tracks, an arrested expression in his face. “I had forgot her aunt! Deb, I believe I should journey into Wales to see her, and to beg for her support! What do you think?”

“It seems to me an excellent plan. She may well be able to assist you. In the meantime, I will keep Phoebe here, where she will be quite safe, depend upon it! You will not mention the matter to your mother, or to your cousin, until things are in a way to be settled.”

He grasped her hands gratefully. “You are the best of creatures, Deb! I do not know where we should be without you! I will come round tomorrow to talk the thing over with Phoebe, and to learn her aunt’s direction.”

She agreed to this, and he then took his leave of her, going home with his head in the clouds, so divorced from earthly considerations that he quite forgot to think out a convincing reason to account for his absence all day to his anxious parent. The result of this oversight was that he blurted out the truth when she questioned him, and then felt very guilty, because Lady Mablethorpe at once expressed her intention of calling in Grosvenor Square the very next morning to favour Mr Ravenscar with her opinion of his wicked callousness in exposing her only son to all the risks of curricle-racing.

On the following day, Miss Laxton stationed herself soon after breakfast at the window in the Yellow Saloon, to watch for Lord Mablethorpe’s arrival, while Miss Grantham went to her aunt’s dressing-room to see how that afflicted lady did.

Lady Bellingham’s spirits had undergone a further buffet by the arrival of a bill from her milliner. She had just thrust this iniquitous document into Deborah’s hands when her black page scratched on the door, and, upon being told to come in, handed a packet to Miss Grantham on a silver tray.

She picked it up, recognizing Mr Ravenscar’s bold fist, and observing that it had been brought round by hand, asked the boy if art answer was expected. No, he said: the messenger had not waited for any answer.

She dismissed him, and broke the seal, spreading open the stiff sheet of paper. A slim sheaf of bills was disclosed and, attached to them, one of Mr Ravenscar’s visiting-cards, with a curt message written across the top of it.

“With my compliments,” she read, and sat staring at the card in stunned silence.

Lady Bellingham eyed her with misgiving. “What is it, my love?” she asked uneasily. “Who is it from?”

Miss Grantham said, in a voice which did not seem to belong to her: “It is from Mr Ravenscar.”

Lady Bellingham gave a moan, and reached for her smelling salts. “I knew it! Tell me the worst at once! He is going to have us all arrested!”

“No,” said Miss Grantham. “No.” She handed the packet to her aunt, feeling quite unable to say anything more.

Lady Bellingham took the packet in a gingerly fashion, but when she saw what it contained, she dropped her smelling salts, and ejaculated: “Deb! Deb, he has sent them!”

“I know,” said Miss Grantham.

“They are all here!” declared her ladyship, sorting them with trembling fingers. “Even the mortgage, my love! Oh, was there ever anything so providential? But—but why has he done it? Don’t tell me you have been teaching him anything dreadful”

Miss Grantham shook her head. “I can’t think why he has done it, aunt.”

“Did you tell him you would not marry Mablethorpe, and don’t care to own it to me? That is it!”

“It is not, ma’am. I told him I would marry Mablethorpe. I said I would ruin him, too.”

“Then I don’t understand it at all,” said Lady Bellingham, laying the packet down on her dressing-table. “You don’t suppose, do you, my love, that he can have misunderstood you?”

“I am very sure he did not. But what is to be done?”

“Done, my dear?” repeated her ladyship. “Well, I think you should write him a pretty letter, thanking him for his goodness in restoring my bills. I must say it is most obliging of him! I never supposed that he would do so, for they say he is abominably close! But I shall tell anyone who says that to me again that it is not so at all!”

Miss Grantham pressed her hands to her cheeks. “My dear ma’am, you cannot think that I would accept this generosity! It is impossible! What am I to do?”

Lady Bellingham’s eyes started with horror. She caught up the packet and clasped it to her bosom. “Not accept it?” she gasped. “After all the trouble you have been to get these horrid things away from him? Oh, I shall go mad!”

“But that was different,” Miss Grantham said impatiently. “I never thought he would give them to me merely for the asking!”

“But, my love; you were trying to take them from him by force!” wailed her ladyship.

“Yes, and so I would have,” agreed Miss Grantham. “But to be beholden to him in this manner is intolerable!”

“Deb, they are my bills, and I don’t find it intolerable!” said her ladyship in imploring tones.

“It puts me in the most odious position! I can never lift my head again! Besides, he does not even like me! You must see, ma’am, that I cannot endure this! It is not as though I had behaved nicely to him: I have done everything I could to make him hate and despise me!”

“Yes, my love, indeed you have, and that is what makes it so particularly obliging of him! I daresay he must think you are mad, and that is why he has done it, because, he is sorry for you.”

This suggestion found no favour at all with Miss Grantham. She fired up at once, saying: “He must know very well that I am nothing of the kind! I don’t want him to be sorry for me. There is no reason why he should be!”

“Well, my love, perhaps he is sorry for me, and I am sure there is plenty of reason for that!”

Miss Grantham got up, kneading her hands together. “It must be paid!” she said.

“Paid?” gasped her aunt. “I can never pay the half of such sum.”

“Yes, yes, we always meant to pay the mortgage, my dear ma’am! It must be done!”

“I call it flying in the face of providence!” said Lady Bellingham, with strong feeling. “With all these other horrid bills of wine, and carriages, and green peas, and candles! I declare Deb, you are enough to try the patience of a saint!”

“Dear Aunt Lizzie, a run of luck, a little economy, and the thing is done!”

“You know we decided that it was impossible to live much cheaply than we do now, my love! Besides, there is Kit exchange to be thought of! Do but consider! If you do not like to write to Ravenscar I am very willing to do it for you.

“Certainly not! I will write to him myself. I will ask him to come to see me, and I will—yes, I will thank him, of course but I will make it plain to him that he shall be paid back every penny.”

“Next you will be wanting to pay him the interest!” said her ladyship.

“The interest! I had forgotten that! Oh, ought we to pay that too?” said Miss Grantham, appalled.

Lady Bellingham flung up her hands. “Deb, you are mad! I do not know what has come over you! It was bad enough when you wantonly threw away twenty thousand pounds—and I can scarcely bear to think of that, when I remember all the shocking bills!—but when it comes to refusing to accept the dreadful mortgage, which you have spent a week trying to get from Ravenscar, it goes beyond all bounds! Anyone would have supposed that you would be thankful to get the wretched thing so easily! But not at all! I do believe you would have preferred to have wrested it from Ravenscar by main force.

“Yes, I would,” replied Miss Grantham earnestly. “Much rather! That would have been my wits against his! This—oh, I wonder you cannot see how impossible it is!”

“I cannot, and I never shall,” said her aunt. “At least, I hope I shall not, but sometimes I feel as though I were going mad too. I wish you will let me call in the doctor to you! I am sure you have caught a touch of the sun, or contracted some horrid disease which is sending you out of your mind!”

Before Miss Grantham could repudiate this suggestion there was a hurried tap on the door, followed immediately by the entrance of Miss Laxton into the room, looking as white as her tucker.

“Good God, child, what is the matter with you?” exclaimed Lady Bellingham.

Miss Laxton took a wavering step towards Deborah. “Sir James!” she managed to utter, and crumpled up where she stood, in a dead faint.

“Oh, heavens, if it is not one thing it is another!” wailed her ladyship, looking round wildly for the vinaigrette. “Untie her laces! Where are those salts? Why is nothing ever where it is wanted? Ring the bell! Oh no, the hartshorn is in that cupboard! I shall go distracted! You ought to burn some feathers under her nose, but there are only the new ostrich plumes in my best hat, and really—However, take them if you like! I am sure I do not grudge them!”

Deborah, who had dropped on to her knees beside Miss Laxton’s inanimate form, raised her head to say: “My dear ma’am, it is quite unnecessary! Have the goodness to bring me a little water, and I will engage for it that she will soon come round! Poor child, what can have happened, I wonder? Did she say Sir James was here?”

“She said Sir James, but I heard nothing more. If this is his doing, I will step downstairs immediately, and give him a piece of my mind. This may be a gaming-house, but if he thinks to come to it simply to terrify stupid girls he is very much mistaken, and so he will find before he is a day older!”

Deborah took the glass of water from her, and sprinkled a little on Miss Laxton’s face. “Hush, ma’am! She is coming to herself! There, my dear! You are better now, are you not?”

Phoebe’s eyes opened, and stared blankly up into Miss Grantham’s face for a bewildered moment. Then, as realization came, she shuddered convulsively, and clutched at Miss Grantham’s arm. “Oh, don’t let him come in!”

“No one shall come in whom you don’t wish to see, my dear,” replied Miss Grantham calmly. “Do not agitate yours so! You are quite safe! Come, I want you to drink this hartshorn-and-water, and then you will be better!”

Miss Laxton swallowed the mixture obediently, and burst into tears. Lady Bellingham said: “For heaven’s sake, child don’t start crying! If Sir James is downstairs, I will very so send him about his business! His mother was a very vulgar low kind of a woman, so that I am sure one cannot be surprised at anything!”

Miss Grantham helped Phoebe to rise from the floor, a put her into a large armchair. “Is he downstairs, Phoebe?”

“No! Oh, no, I think not! He walked away. He will have gone to my father. I am utterly undone! What shall I do? Where can I go? I dare not stay here another minute!”

Lady Bellingham sighed, and shook her head. “I declare cannot make head or tail of what she means! I dare say shi going mad too, if we only knew, and who shall wonder at.”

Phoebe clasped Miss Grantham’s hand feebly, and said t: indeed she was not mad. “It was my fault. It was all my fault I never thought—I went into the front saloon, to watch Adrian, and I didn’t think that anyone would see me. I pulled back the blinds, to see better, and he was there!”

“Who was there? Who was where?” demanded Ls Bellingham.

“Sir James, in the Square, walking by the house in the direction of St James’s Street!”

“I daresay he was on his way to White’s,” said her ladyship.

“But he saw me! I know he saw me, and knew me too! I not immediately perceive him, and when I did look toward him he was standing quite still, staring up at me! I thought I should have died of fright! I ran away from the window came directly in search of you, Deb! Oh, what is to be doing. I won’t go back, I won’t, but I know Papa will come to fetch me, and Mama too, very likely!”

“Well, if Augusta Laxton comes into this house I shall know what to do!” said Lady Bellingham, with unwonted pugnaciously. “I do not wish to speak ill of your Mama, Phoebe, but she is odious, mercenary, cheating wretch! She used to play faro at my parties, when we lived in the smaller house, and at times did I catch her cocking her card! Let her attempt to find her way in here, that is all I have to say!”

Miss Laxton, however, refused to be comforted. She quite sure that she would be wrested from her friends’ protection, and compelled to marry Sir James Filey. No representations which Miss Grantham could make of the impossibility of her being compelled to marry anyone bore any weight with her; she seemed to be determined to give herself up for lost. It was with considerable relief that Miss Grantham learned, a few minutes later, that Lord Mablethorpe was belowstairs.

“Desire him to come up!” she said. “You will not object to his coming into your dressing-room, aunt?”

“Oh no, let him come!” said her ladyship, quite exhausted by her efforts to reassure Phoebe. “I do not care who comes, if only they can put some sense into this stupid girl’s head! I will say this for you, Deb: you may lock people up in the cellar, and fling thousands of pounds in their faces as though it was mud, but you don’t cry! Nothing could be more tiresome, when all is said and done! If that is you at the door, Mablethorpe, come in this instant, and do something!”

Lord Mablethorpe came in, looking a little shy, and rather startled. He began to apologize for intruding upon Lady Bellingham in her dressing-room, but stopped short at the sight of Miss Laxton, and started forward, exclaiming, “Good God, what is the matter?”

Miss Laxton, who had been lying with her eyes closed, apparently on the verge of yet another swoon, revived sufficiently to sit up, and to cast herself into his lordship’s arms. Miss Grantham then abandoned her own attempts to bring relief to her suffering protégée, and stood back to see what success his lordship’s efforts might meet with.

“What a fool that woman is never to have told her daughter that nothing can be more fatal than to weep all down a man’s waistcoat!” whispered Lady Bellingham, quite exasperated. “They can’t bear it, and I’m sure I don’t wonder!”

But Lord Mablethorpe did not seem to mind being wept over. Miss Grantham could not but admire his handling of a situation which she frankly acknowledged to be beyond her power to mend. In a remarkably short time, Miss Laxton had stopped crying, and was even able to smile tremulously up at his lordship, and to beg his pardon for having been such a goose. Now that he had come, she said, she knew that she would be safe.

Lord Mablethorpe then demanded to be told the cause of her distress. When it had been explained to him, once (unintelligibly) by Phoebe, and once by Deborah, his brows drew together across the bridge of his beautiful nose, and he said with more decision than Deborah had ever before heard in his voice: “That settles it, then!”

Miss Laxton heaved a huge sigh, and tucked her hand in his. “I knew you would know what to do!”

“Well, it’s to be hoped he does,” said Lady Bellingham, with some asperity. “If I had known that all you wanted was to hear someone say that settles it, I would have said it myself, for I an sure it is easy enough to say, and doesn’t signify in the least!”

“I do know what to do,” said his lordship, laying Phoebe back against the sofa-cushions, and rising to his feet.

“Don’t leave me!” implored Phoebe.

He smiled warmly down at her. “I am never going to leave you again, my sweet.”

“You can’t come and stay here!” interpolated Lady Belling ham. “I should be very pleased to have you, of course, but now that Kit is home, we have no room.”

“I don’t mean to stay here, ma’am. I am going to take Phoebe to her aunt in Wales. Deb, I shall need you too!”

Miss Grantham could not help laughing at his air of authority. “The devil you will! What do you mean to do, you absurd creature?”

“I mean to marry Phoebe out of hand, if her aunt will permit. I shall take her to Wales, lay the whole case before her aunt and—”

“And what if her aunt does not permit? I suppose you will abide by her decision?”

He grinned. “No, I shan’t. But I hope she may give her countenance to the marriage. If the worst comes to the worst I shall have a special licence with me, and we shall be married. But these runaway matches are not at all the thing, and I should prefer to have the marriage performed with the greatest possible degree of propriety, to save Phoebe the embarrassment of any scandal.”

“Quite right!” said Lady Bellingham approvingly. “I never thought you had so much sense, Adrian! It will answer very well. You will be able to put a notice in the Morning Post, saying that Phoebe was married from the house of her aunt, and although it may seem a trifle odd, it will be much better than to have it known that it was a horrid clandestine affair. Where does your aunt live, my dear?”

Miss Laxton, on whom these arbitrary plans for her future had acted like a strong tonic, sat up, and replied that her aunt was a widow, and lived at Welshpool, in Montgomery. She added that she knew her aunt would approve of her marriage to Adrian.

“That means the Holyhead road,” said his lordship. “I shall inform my mother that I am going into the country for a few days’ shooting, with some friends. I often do so: it will occasion not the least remark! Deb, I have no right to expect it of you but I do beg that you will go with Phoebe in the chaise, which I shall hire! I mean to ride beside you, of course.”

“What, am I to go with you to play propriety?” asked Miss Grantham, amused. “And pray what is to become of me at the journey’s end?”

“I shall bring you safely back to town,” promised his lordship. “I have thought it all out. Once the knot is tied, I shall leave Phoebe in her aunt’s care, and return to London to inform her parents and my own mother of the event. When that is done, and they are ready to receive Phoebe with the attention and the courtesy which is due to my wife, I shall fetch her to town again. After that, I dare say we shall go down to Mablethorpe.”

“I see that you have it all planned,” said Miss Grantham admiringly. “But I cannot perceive the least use in my going upon your bridal trip.”

But Miss Laxton at once caught her hand, and begged her not to desert her; and his lordship said, with a touch of austerity, that her presence was necessary to remove from the journey any flavour of elopement. Lady Bellingham, possibly reflecting that the excitement of the adventure might drive the thought of the mortgage out of her niece’s head, gave it as her opinion that Deborah ought certainly to go. Miss Grantham submitted, therefore, and promised to have herself and her proteg6e in readiness to set forward on the journey in an hour’s time. Lord Mablethorpe then left the house, to make his own arrangements. He would, he said, have a post-chaise at the door within the hour. The two ladies were to drive away in it, and he engaged himself to overtake them a few miles out of London.

In all the bustle of preparation, Miss Grantham had time only to scribble a hasty note to Mr Ravenscar, in which she informed him that she had received his very obliging communication, and would be grateful for an opportunity of meeting him upon her return from the country, further to discuss the matter. She added that she expected to be in London again within a few days and gave the letter to Silas, with instructions to deliver it by hand at once.

Miss Laxton spent the hour before her departure in an agony of dread, but the post-chaise-and-four was at the door before the arrival of an avenging parent could frustrate all Lord Mablethorpe’s schemes. Lady Bellingham bade farewell to travellers, announcing herself to be perfectly able to fob off Augusta Laxton, and a dozen like her; the two ladies climb into the chaise; the post-boys cracked their whips; the equipage lurched forward over the cobbles; and Miss Laxton was able to let her breath go at last.