It was difficult to imagine what possible harm could threaten Lucilla in such elegant company, but Miss Wychwood thanked him, said that she could now be easy, and that she hoped he would contrive to derive some enjoyment from the expedition. She was perfectly aware that he regarded Harry Beckenham with a jealous eye; and guessed, shrewdly, that seeing Lucilla came to no harm was his excuse for accepting an invitation too tempting to be refused. The guess became a certainty when he said, in an off-hand way: “Oh, well, yes! I daresay I shall! I own, I should like to get a glimpse of the Heythrop country! And it isn’t everyone who gets the chance to see the house in a private way, so it would be a pity to miss it. I believe it is very well worth a visit!”

Miss Wychwood agreed to this, without the glimmer of a smile to betray her amusement at the instant picture this airy speech conjured up of young Mr Elmore’s dazzling his family and his acquaintances with casual references to the elegance and the various amenities of a ducal seat, which he had happened to visit, quite privately, of course, during his sojourn at Bath.

She saw the party off, a few minutes later, confident that Mr Carleton in his most censorious mood would be hard put to it to find fault with her for having done so. And if he did find fault with her, she would take great pleasure in reminding him that when he had so abruptly left her rout-party he had said that since Ninian and Harry Beckenham were taking good care of Lucilla there was no need for him to keep an eye on her.

The rest of the morning passed without incident, but shortly after Lady Wychwood had retired for her customary rest, Miss Wychwood, again wrestling with accounts in her book-room, received a most unexpected visitor.

“A Lady Iverley has called to see you, miss,” said Limbury, proffering a salver, on which lay a visiting-card. “I understand she is Mr Elmore’s respected parent, so I have conducted her to the drawing-room, feeling that you would not wish me to say you was not at home.”

“Lady Iverley?” exclaimed Miss Wychwood. “What in the world—No, of course I don’t wish you to tell her I’m not at home! I will come up directly!”

She thrust her accounts aside, satisfied herself, by a brief glance at the antique mirror which hung above the fireplace that her hair was perfectly tidy, and mounted the stairs to the drawing-room.

Here she was confronted by a willowy lady dressed in a clinging robe of lavender silk, and a heavily veiled hat. The gown had a demi-train, a shawl drooped from Lady Iverley’s shoulders, and a reticule from her hand. Even the ostrich plumes in her hat drooped, and there was a strong suggestion of drooping in her carriage.

Miss Wychwood came towards her, saying, with a friendly smile: “Lady Iverley? How do you do?”

Lady Iverley put back her veil, and revealed to her hostess the face of a haggard beauty, dominated by a pair of huge, deeply sunken eyes. “Are you Miss Wychwood?” she asked, anxiously staring at Annis.

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Annis. “And you, I fancy, are Ninian’s mama. I am very happy to make your acquaintance.”

“I knew it!” declared her ladyship throbbingly. “Alas, alas!”

“I beg your pardon?” said Annis, considerably startled.

“You are so beautiful!” said Lady Iverley, covering her face with her gloved hands.

An alarming suspicion that she was entertaining a lunatic crossed Miss Wychwood’s mind. She said, in what she hoped was a soothing voice: “I am afraid you are not quite well, ma’am; pray won’t you be seated? Can I do anything for you? A—a glass of water, perhaps, or—or some tea?”

Lady Iverley reared up her head, and straightened her sagging shoulders. Her hands fell, her eyes flashed, and she uttered, in impassioned accents: “Yes, Miss Wychwood! You may give me back my son!”

“Give you back your son?” said Miss Wychwood blankly.

“You cannot be expected to enter into a mother’s feelings, but surely, surely you cannot be so heartless as to remain deaf to her pleadings!”

Miss Wychwood now realized that she was not entertaining a lunatic, but a lady of exaggerated sensibility, and a marked predilection for melodrama. She had never any sympathy for persons who indulged in such ridiculous displays: she considered Lady Iverley to be both stupid and lacking in conduct; but she tried to conceal her contempt, and said kindly: “I collect that you are labouring under a misapprehension, ma’am. Let me hasten to assure you that Ninian isn’t in Bath on my account! Do you imagine him to be in love with me? He would stare to hear you say so! Good God, he regards me in the light of an aunt!”

“Do you take me for a fool?” demanded her ladyship. “If I had not seen you, I might have been deceived into believing you, but I have seen you, and it is very plain to me that you have ensnared him with your fatal beauty!”

“Oh, fiddle!” said Miss Wychwood, exasperated. “Ensnared him, indeed! I make all allowances for a parent’s partiality, but of what interest do you imagine a green boy of Ninian’s age can possibly be to me? As for his having fallen a victim to my fatal beauty,as you choose to call it, such a notion has never, I am very sure, entered his head! Now, do, pray, sit down, and try to calm yourself!”

Lady Iverley sank into a chair, but shook her head, and said mournfully: “I don’t accuse you of wantonly ensnaring him. Perhaps you didn’t realize how susceptible he is,”

“On the contrary!” said Miss Wychwood, laughing. “I think him very susceptible—but not to the charms of a woman of my age! At the moment I believe him to be dangling after the daughter of one of my closest friends, but there’s no saying that by tomorrow he won’t be fancying himself in love with some other girl. I think it will be some few years yet before he outgrows the youthful gallantries which he is now enjoying.”

Lady Iverley looked to be unconvinced, but the calm good sense of what had been said had had its effect, and she said far less dramatically: “Are you telling me that he has cut himself off from his home and his family for the sake of a girl he never laid eyes on until he came to Bath? It isn’t possible!”

“No, of course it isn’t! Nor do I believe that he has the slightest intention of cutting himself off! Forgive me if I say that if you, and his father, had not set up his bristles by raking him down—really very unjustly!—when he returned to you, he would in all probability be with you today.”

Lady Iverley paid little heed to this, but said tragically: “I would never have believed he would have behaved so undutifully! He was always such a good, affectionate boy, so considerate, and so devoted to us both! And he hadn’t any excuse for leaving us, for his papa granted him every indulgence, and never uttered a word of censure when he was obliged to settle his debts! I am persuaded he has fallen under an evil influence.”

“My dear ma’am, it’s no such thing! He is merely enjoying a spell of freedom! He is extremely attached to his father, and to you too, of course, but perhaps you have kept him in lamb’s wool for rather too long.” She smiled. “I think he and Lucilla are suffering from the same complaint! Too much anxious care, and too little liberty!”

“Do not speak to me of that wicked girl!” begged Lady Iverley, shuddering. “I was never so deceived in anyone! And if it is her influence which has made my deluded child turn against us I shall not be surprised. A girl who could bring her poor aunt to death’s door would be capable of anything!”

“Indeed? I had no notion that things were as serious as that!” said Miss Wychwood, with a satirical smile.

“I fancy you do not understand what it means to have shattered nerves, Miss Wychwood.”

“No, I am happy to say that I don’t. But we must trust that the damage done to Mrs Amber’s nerves won’t prove to be past mending. I daresay she will feel very much better when she is assured that there is no danger of having Lucilla restored to her care.”

“How can you be so unfeeling?” said Lady Iverley, gazing reproachfully at her. “Have you no sympathy for the agonizing anxiety suffered by Mrs Amber, knowing that the niece to whose well-being she has devoted her life has left her to live with a stranger?”

“I am afraid I haven’t, ma’am. To own the truth, I feel that if Mrs Amber had been so excessively anxious she would have come to Bath to discover for herself whether or not I was a proper person to take care of Lucilla.”

“I see that it is useless to say any more to you, Miss Wychwood,” replied Lady Iverley, rising to her feet. “I shall only beg you to prove your sincerity by sending Ninian back to me.”

“I am sorry to be disobliging,” said Miss Wychwood, “but I shall do nothing of the sort! A most impertinent piece of meddling that would be! Ninian’s concerns are no bread-and-butter of mine. May I suggest that you speak to him yourself? And I think you would be wise not to mention this visit to him, for he would, I am certain, very much resent your having discussed his business with anyone other than his father!”

Chapter 13

The riding-party did not return until close on six o’clock, by which time Miss Farlow was begging Miss Wychwood to prepare herself to meet the news of a disaster’s having befallen the company, and saying that she had known how it would be from the start, if dear Annis permitted Lucilla to go off with a set of heedless young people. As two middle-aged and far from heedless grooms had accompanied the party, this description of it was singularly inept; but when Lady Wychwood placidly reminded her of this circumstance she only shook her head and demanded of what use two grooms could be? She was very sure that dear Annis must be excessively anxious, however bravely she tried to hide it.

Miss Wychwood was not at all anxious; she was not even surprised, for she had never expected to see Lucilla as early as had been promised, and had, in fact, told her chef, as soon as she had seen the party off, not to serve dinner until a later hour than was usual. “For you may depend upon it they will find so much to interest them at Badminton that they will never notice the time!” she said.

She was perfectly right, of course. Just after seven o’clock, Lucilla and Ninian burst into the drawing-room, both full of apologies, and disjointed attempts to describe the glories of Badminton, and the splendid time they had had, which had included—only fancy!—a delicious cold nuncheon, especially provided by his Grace’s housekeeper for their delectation. Nothing had ever been like it!

It seemed that careless Harry Beckenham had gone to considerable trouble to ensure the success of the expedition. “I must own,” said Ninian honestly, “I didn’t expect him to have done the thing in such bang-up style! He actually sent a message to Badminton yesterday, warning the housekeeper that it was very likely he would be bringing a few friends to visit the house today! Or perhaps he wrote to the steward, for it was the steward who led us over the place, and told us all about everything. And I must say it was amazingly interesting!”

“Oh, I never enjoyed anything as much in all my life!” said Lucilla, with an ecstatic sigh. “Corisande and I were in raptures, and neither of us had a notion how late it was until Miss Tenbury chanced to catch sight of a clock in one of the saloons, and drew our attention to it. And so we were obliged to hurry away immediately, and I do hope, ma’am, that you aren’t vexed!”

“Not in the least!” Miss Wychwood assured her. “I am famous for my foresight, and had set dinner back before you were all out of sight!”

Ninian then disclosed that (if she did not think him very uncivil) he had accepted an invitation from Harry Beckenham to join him and Mr Hawkesbury at the White Hart for dinner. “Oh, and he told me to present his compliments to you, ma’am, and to explain why he was unable to come in to beg you, in person, to forgive him for having made us all so late! The thing is, you see, that he was obliged to escort Miss Stinchcombe and Miss Tenbury to their homes. He said that he knew you would understand.”

Miss Wychwood said that she perfectly understood, and that she would have thought Ninian quite muttonheaded if he had refused Mr Beckenham’s invitation. What she did not tell him was that she was considerably relieved to learn that he would not be dining in Camden Place that evening. The foresight for which she had said she was famous had several hours earlier warned her that an awkward situation might arise, if it came to Lady Iverley’s ears that Ninian, according to his usual custom, had dined with her, instead of hastening to his doting parent’s side. It seemed improbable that he would return to the Pelican before going to the White Hart, since he would think it unnecessary to change his riding clothes for evening attire—indeed, quite improper for him to do so, when he knew that it was impossible for his host, or the amiable Mr Hawkesbury, to change their raiment. That meant that whatever message Lady Iverley might have left for him at the Pelican he would not receive until an advanced hour of the evening, which was, she acknowledged, regrettable, but not as regrettable as it would have been if Lady Iverley had been able to lay the blame of his failure to respond instantly to the summons at her door. So she sped Ninian on his way, adjured Lucilla to make haste to put off her riding-habit, and left whatever tomorrow’s problems might be to take care of themselves.