Джорджетт Хейер - The Nonesuch

“I am well aware of it.”

“Even if her birth matched his!” she said earnestly. “It must seem shocking in me to say such a thing of her, but I feel it would be quite wicked of me not to put you on your guard!”

“You believe it to be necessary?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen how she can bring people round her thumb, and how charming she can be, when she chooses. But she hasn’t a particle of that sweetness of disposition which is in your cousin, and nothing but misery could be the outcome of a marriage between them!”

“Let me assure you, ma’am, since you seem to think I might succumb to her wiles, that my taste runs to females of quite another complexion!”

“I am glad of it,” she said, thinking, however, that he might well be courting more danger than he was yet aware of.

“That’s the kindest thing you have yet said to me,” he murmured.

She glanced at him, a puzzled expression in her eyes. They met his, and saw that they were quizzically smiling; and the suspicion flashed into her mind that he was trying to beguile her into flirtation. It was swiftly succeeded by the startling realization that she could very easily be so beguiled. That would never do, of course; so she said lightly: “I should be sorry to see anyone in Tiffany’s toils. Which puts me in mind of something I had to say to you! Tell me, Sir Waldo, what do you think of this proposed expedition to Knaresborough?”

“Too far, and the weather too sultry,” he replied, tacitly accepting her rebuff. He thought she sighed faintly, and said: “Do you wish for it, then?”

“I own I should like to go, if it were possible. Your cousin’s description of the Dripping Well made me long to see it. Tiffany, too. No sooner had Lord Lindeth told us of the wild, ragged rocks, and the cavern which was once the lair of bandits than she became mad after it!”

He smiled. “Mysteries of Udolpho?”

“Naturally! And I must own that it sounds most romantic. Isn’t it odd that it should be Lord Lindeth, a stranger to the district, who should have told us about it?”

“Oh, no! Natives are never enraptured by their surroundings. Over great familiarity,you know, genders despite.”

“Very true. I wish it were not too far to make an expedition eligible. I had not thought it about sixteen miles.”

“Which would mean a ride of thirty-two miles.”

“Nothing of the sort! Two rides of sixteen miles, with a long rest between for repose and refreshment! That’s a very different matter.”

“Out again, Miss Trent! Refreshment, certainly; but instead of reposing yourself you would spend your time clambering up rocky crags, and exploring caverns. Why don’t you go by carriage, if go you must?”

“Because nothing would prevail upon Tiffany to sit beside me in a carriage, driving sedately along the road when she might be on horseback, enjoying a canter over the moor. To be honest with you, I should think it sadly flat myself! Do you picture us being quite knocked up? I know my own powers, and as for Tiffany, she is the most indefatigable girl imaginable. However, it is very hot, so I’ll say no more.”

“You may say no more, but if the Beautiful Baggage is indeed mad after it there will be not the least need for you to do so, will there?”

She choked, but replied awfully: “Sir Waldo, you go too far! Besides, you have only to drop a word in your cousin’s ear to make him cry off, which will end the matter.”

“My dear Miss Trent, if it would give you pleasure to go I withdraw my objection. In fact, I’ll accompany you.”

There could be no denying that it was very agreeable to be talked to in such a manner. Miss Trent was no self-deceiver, and she did not deny it; but she was uneasily aware of running the risk of forming far too strong an attachment to the Nonesuch. Commonsense told her that he was merely alleviating boredom with a little dalliance, probably thinking (for she was persuaded he would not wantonly trifle with any female’s affections) that she was past the age of being taken in by his light advances; but although there was often a laugh in his eyes there was also a certain warmth, and, in his voice, a note of sincerity hard to withstand. She remembered that her aunt had told her once, in a moment of exasperation, that she was a great deal too nice in her requirements; and she thought, wryly, that poor Lady Trent had spoken more truly than she knew, and would have been as much surprised as dismayed to have learnt that her provoking niece, having repulsed two very eligible suitors, had discovered that no less a personage than the Nonesuch would do for her.

It would be fatal to indulge a tendre for him; and the wisest course to pursue would be to avoid his company; but as this, in the circumstances, was impossible, the next best thing would be to maintain a cool friendliness. So she said, with all the composure at her command: “Yes, it would be prudent in you to do so, no doubt. Your presence will divert Tiffany far more surely than mine.”

“Oh, I’ve another reason than that!” he said.

She put up her brows, saying frigidly: “Indeed?”

The disarming twinkle was in his eyes. “Four is a more comfortable number than three, don’t you think?” he suggested blandly.

She agreed to it, but with a quivering lip. Sir Waldo, duly noting this circumstance, continued to expatiate on the advantages of adding a second gentleman to the expedition, producing several which made it quite impossible for Miss Trent to keep her countenance. He was interrupted in this unchivalrous assault upon her defences by the reappearance on the scene of Tiffany, who came dancing out on to the terrace with Julian and Courtenay at her heels, and disclosed that the party of four had become a party of six.

“We have settled it between us to go to Knaresborough on Friday!” she announced, sparkling with delight. “It is to be a regular cavalcade, which will be such good fun! Lizzie Colebatch is to go with us, and Courtenay too, of course. And you, Sir Waldo—if you please?”

It was said so prettily, and with such an appealing smile, that he thought it no wonder that Julian should watch her in blatant admiration. He replied: “Thank you: I do please!”

“Miss Colebatch!” Ancilla exclaimed, taken aback. “Tiffany, I don’t think Lady Colebatch will permit her to go!”

“Yes, yes, she will!” Tiffany asserted, with a trill of laughter. “Lindeth and Courtenay have persuaded her, promising that you will be with us, you dear dragon!”

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean,” said Ancilla. “Miss Cole-batch dislikes the hot weather so much that I should have thought her mama must have forbidden her to go on such an expedition. Does she perfectly understand where it is you mean to go?”

She was reassured on this point; but although Lady Cole-batch’s sanction made it improper for her to raise any further objection she could not feel at ease. Lady Colebatch was an indolent, good-natured woman who was much inclined to let her children overrule her judgment, but Ancilla knew how quickly Elizabeth wilted in the heat, and began to wish that the expedition had never been projected. Courtenay was confident that all would be well, for they meant to make an early start, so that they would have reached Knaresborough long before midday; and Tiffany said gaily that Lizzie only disliked the heat because it made her skin so red.

The three younger members of the party then began to discuss the route they should follow, the hour at which they should assemble, and the rival merits of the various inns in Knaresborough, Julian inviting the company to partake of a nuncheon at the Crown and Bell, and Courtenay asserting that the Bay Horse was superior.

“Well, as you wish!” Julian said. “You must know better than I do! Shall we ask Miss Chartley to go with us? Would she care for it?”

“Patience! Good gracious, no!” exclaimed Tiffany. “What put such a notion as that into your head?”

“You don’t think she would like it? But she’s an excellent horsewoman, and I know she loves exploring ancient places, for she told me so.”

“Told you so? When?” demanded Tiffany.

“At Kirkstall, when we were wandering about the ruins. She knows almost as much as her father—do let us invite her to go with us!”

Miss Trent found herself digging her nails into the palms of her hands. It was irrational, but little as she wanted Tiffany to captivate Lindeth she could not help dreading the threatened tantrum. Since Courtenay was the one marriageable man whose devotion Tiffany neither desired nor demanded she was perfectly happy to include Miss Colebatch in the party, but that any one of her admirers should betray even the smallest interest in another lady invariably roused a demon of jealousy in her breast. She said now, with a glittering smile, well-known to her family: “Why? Do you like her so much?”

He looked at her in a little surprise. “Yes—that is, I like her, of course! I should think everyone must.”

“Oh, if you have a fancy for insipid girls—!” she said, shrugging.

“Do you think her insipid?” he asked. “She doesn’t seem so to me. She is very gentle, and persuadable, I agree, but not insipid,surely! She doesn’t want for sense, you know.”

“Oh, she has every virtue and every amiable quality! For my part, I find her prosy propriety a dead bore—but that’s of no consequence! Do, pray, invite her! I daresay she will be able to recite you the whole history of the Dripping Well!”

Even Julian could not mistake the rancour behind the smile. Miss Trent saw the slight look of shock in his face, and decided that she could not bear to hear her charge expose herself any more. She said quietly: “I am afraid it would be useless to invite Miss Chartley, sir. I know that Mrs Chartley wouldn’t permit her to go with us on such a long, fatiguing expedition. Indeed, I begin to wonder whether we should any of us attempt it.”

This alarming apostasy caused an instant throw-up. Miss Chartley was forgotten in the more urgent necessity of alternately abusing Miss Trent for chickenheartedness, and cajoling her into unsaying her words. But before he left Staples Julian had received from Tiffany an explanation of her spiteful outburst which quite cleared the cloud from his brow. She owned her fault so contritely that he longed to take her in his arms and kiss away her troubled look. He perfectly understood how provoking it must be to have Patience Chartley held up to her continually as a model; and he thought her penitence so candid and so humble that by the time he took his leave he had not only assured her that she was not in the least to be blamed for flying into a pet, but also that he didn’t care a rush whether or not Patience went with them to Knaresborough. Later, he tried to disabuse his cousin’s mind of whatever unjust thoughts it might harbour: not because Waldo referred to the matter, but because it seemed to him that he carefully avoided doing so. He said rather haltingly:

“I daresay it may have seemed odd to you that Miss Wield was—that she shouldn’t wish for Miss Chartley to accompany us on Friday.”

“What, after such a slip-slop as you made?” said Sir Waldo, laughing. “Not in the least odd! You did grass yourself, didn’t you? I hadn’t believed you could be such a greenhorn.”

Flushing, Julian said stiffly: “I don’t understand what you mean! If you imagine that Miss Wield was—was cross because I wished to invite Miss Chartley—it wasn’t so at all!”

“Wasn’t it?” said Sir Waldo, amusement lurking beneath his too-obviously assumed gravity. “Well, take my advice, you young cawker, and never praise one woman to another!”

“You are quite mistaken!” said Julian, more stiffly than ever.

“Yes, yes, of course I am—being so green myself!” agreed Sir Waldo soothingly. “So, for God’s sake, don’t stir any more coals to convince me of it! I am convinced—wholly!—and I detest brangles!”

Mr Underhill’s optimistic plan of making an early start on Friday morning was not realized. He was certainly up betimes; but in spite of his having hammered on his cousin’s door at an early hour, warning her to make haste, since it was going to be a scorching day, the rest of the breakfast-party, which included Sir Waldo and Lord Lindeth, had finished the handsome repast provided for them before Tiffany came floating into the parlour, artlessly enquiring whether she was late.

“Yes, you are!” growled Courtenay. “We’ve been waiting for you this age! What the deuce have you been about? You have had time enough to rig yourself out a dozen times!”