Charity Girl (11 page)

   But when he had been favoured with a glib explanation of her presence in the curricle he accepted it without even mental reservation. It was just like my Lady Emborough, he thought, to saddle my lord with a chit of a girl, with instructions to conduct her to her home in Hertfordshire, just as though it had been on the way from Hazelfield to London. And very much embarrassed the young lady was, by the looks of her! So he received her with a fatherly smile, and ushered her into the narrow hall of the house, saying that he would fetch up Mrs Aldham directly to wait upon her.

   The Viscount lingered on the flagway to exchange words with the second of his chief mentors and well-wishers, the expression on whose face, compound of sorrow and censure, caused him to say: 'Yes, you've no need to look at me like that – as though I didn't know as well as you do that this is a rare case of pickles!'

   'My lord,' said Stebbing very earnestly, 'when I heard you tell Miss you was going to take her into Hertfordshire I was that comfumbuscated I pretty near fell off my seat, because it looked to me like you was going to take her to Wolversham!'

   'No, I did think of doing so, but it wouldn't answer,' replied the Viscount.

   'No, my lord – as I would have taken the liberty of telling your lordship! As I beg leave to do now, for I wouldn't be able to sleep easy in my bed if I didn't, and it don't signify if you choose to turn me off, because – '

   'Of course it doesn't signify! You wouldn't go!' retorted the Viscount.

   The corners of Stebbing's grim mouth twitched involuntarily, but he refused to be beguiled. He said: 'My lord, I've known you do some hey-go-mad things in your time, but you've never till this day done anything so cockle-brained as to make me think you must be short of a sheet! Which I do! My lord, you're never going to take Miss to Inglehurst!'

   'But I am,' asserted the Viscount. 'Unless you can suggest where else I can take her?' He paused, regarding his henchman with mockery in his eyes. 'You can't, can you?'

   'You hadn't ought to have brought her to London at all!' muttered Stebbing.

   'Very likely not, but it's a waste of time to lay that in my dish now! I did bring her to London, and must now abide the consequence. Even you must own that to abandon her here would be the action of a damned ugly customer – which I am not, however hey-go-mad you may think me!' He saw that Stebbing was deeply troubled, and smiled, dropping a hand on his shoulder, and slightly shaking him. 'Stubble it, you old rumstick! To whom else should I turn for help in this hobble than to Miss Hetta? Bless her, she's never yet failed me! Good God,
you
should know how often we've rescued one another from scrapes!'

   'When you was children!' Stebbing said. 'That was dif ferent, my lord!'

   'Not a bit of it! Stable the grays now, and tell the postilions I shall be needing them to carry me to Inglehurst within the hour. I'll take my own chaise, but I shall have to hire horses: Ockley can be depended on to choose the right type, but warn him that I mean to return tonight. That's all!'

   He gave Stebbing no opportunity to utter any further protests, but turned on his heel, and went quickly into his house. Stebbing was left to address his embittered remarks to the weary gray at whose head he was standing before climbing into the curricle and driving it away.

It was past seven o'clock when the Viscount's beautifully sprung chaise reached Inglehurst, for although the journey had taken no more than three hours to accomplish he had not left Arlington Street until after four. Miss Steane, revived as much by the kindly and uncritical attitude of Mrs Aldham (yet another of those born on my Lord Wroxton's wide estates) as by the tea with which she had been regaled, set forth in a tolerably cheerful mood, suppressing as well as she could the inevitable shrinking of a shy girl, who, realizing too late her imprudence, found herself without any other course open to her than to submit to her protector's decree, and to allow him to thrust her into a household which consisted of a widow and her daughter who were wholly unknown to her. She could only hope that they would not resent her intrusion, or think her sunk beneath re proach for having behaved in a manner which she was fast becoming convinced was improper to the point of being unpardonable. Had she been able to think of an alternative to the Viscount's plan she believed she would have embraced it thankfully, even had it been the offer of a post as cook-maid, but no alternative had presented itself to her, and the thought of being stranded in London, with only a few shillings in her purse, and not even the merest acquaintance to seek out in all that terrifying city, was not one she could face.

   Something of what was in her mind the Viscount guessed, for although London held no terrors for him, and he had never been stranded anywhere with his pockets to let, neither his consequence nor his wealth had made him blind to the troubles that beset persons less comfortably circumstanced. He might be careless, and frequently rackety, but no one in dire straits had ever appealed to him for help in vain. His friends, and he had many friends, said of him that he was a great gun – true as touch – a right one; and even his severest critics found nothing worse to say of him than that it was high time he brought his carryings on to an end, and settled down. His father did indeed heap opprobrious epithets on him, but anyone unwise enough to utter the mildest criticism of his heir to my lord met with very short shrift. The Viscount was well aware of this; but while he did not doubt his father's affection for him he was far too familiar with the Earl's deep prejudices to introduce Miss Steane into his household. My lord was a rigid stickler, and it was useless to suppose that he would feel any sympathy with a young female who had behaved in a way which he would undoubtedly con demn as brass-faced. My lord's views on propriety were clearly defined: male aberrations were pardonable; the smallest deviation from the rules governing the behaviour of females was inex cusable. He had placed no checks upon his sons, regarding (except when colic or gout had exacerbated his temper) their follies and amatory adventures with cynical amusement, but his daughter had never been allowed, until her marriage, to take a step beyond the gardens without a footman in attendance; and whenever she had gone on a visit to an approved friend or relative she had travelled in my lord's carriage, accompanied not only by her footman and her maid but by a couple of outriders as well.

   So the Viscount, not entertaining for more than a very few seconds the notion of conveying his protégée to Wolversham, had, in almost the same length of time, decided to place her in Miss Silverdale's care until he should have run her grandfather to earth, and compelled him to honour his obligations. The only flaw to this scheme which he could perceive was the objection which Miss Silverdale's mama might – and probably would – raise against it; but he had a comfortable belief in Miss Silverdale's ability to bring her hypochondriacal parent round her thumb, and was thus able to set out for Inglehurst without fear of meeting with a rebuff.

   However, he did feel that it might be prudent to warn Cherry that Lady Silverdale enjoyed indifferent health, and consequently indulged in rather odd humours, which found expression in fits of the blue-devils, a tendency to fancy herself ill-used, and a marked predilection for enacting what he called Cheltenham tragedies.

   She listened to him attentively, and, to his surprise, seemed to derive encouragement from this somewhat daunting description of her prospective hostess. She said, with all the wisdom of one versed in the idiosyncrasies of invalids: 'Then perhaps I can be of use in the house! Even Aunt Bugle says I am good at looking after invalids, and although I don't wish to puff myself off I think that is perfectly true. In fact, I have been wondering if I shouldn't seek for a post as attendant to an old, cantankersome lady: I daresay you know the sort of old lady I mean, sir!'

   Lively memories of the tyranny exercised by his paternal grandmother over her family and her dependants crossed his mind, and he replied rather grimly: 'I do, and can only trust that you will not be obliged to seek any such post!'

   'Well,' she said seriously, 'I own that it's disagreeable to be pinched at for everything one does, but one must remember how much more disagreeable it must be to be old, and unable to do things for oneself. And also,' she added reflectively, 'if a twitty old lady takes a fancy to one, one becomes valuable to her family. My aunt, and my cousins, were never so kind to me as during the months before poor old Lady Bugle died. Why, my aunt even said that she didn't know how they would go on without me!'

   She sounded so much gratified by this tribute that Desford bit back the caustic comment that sprang to the tip of his tongue, and merely said that Lady Silverdale was neither old nor dying; and although she would (in his opinion) wear down the patience of a saint it would be unjust to call her twitty.

   When they reached their destination, they were received by Grimshaw, who showed no pleasure at sight of one who had run free at Inglehurst ever since he had been old enough to bestride a pony, but said dampingly that if my lady had known his lordship meant to visit her she would no doubt have set dinner back to suit his convenience. As it was, he regretted to be obliged to inform his lordship that my lady and Miss Henrietta had already retired to the drawing-room.

   Too well-accustomed to the butler's habitual air of disparaging gloom to be either surprised or offended the Viscount said: 'Yes, I guessed how it would be, but I daresay her ladyship will forgive me. Be a good fellow, Grimshaw, and drop the word in Miss Hetta's ear that I want to see her privately! I'll wait in the library.'

   Grimshaw might be proof against the Viscount's smile but he was not proof against the lure of a golden coin slid into his hand. He did not demean himself by so much as a glance at it, but his experienced fingers informed him that it was a guinea, so he bowed in a stately way, and went off to perform the errand, not allowing himself to show his disapproval of Miss Steane by more than one look of outraged surprise.

   The Viscount then led Miss Steane to a small saloon, and ushered her into it, telling her to sit down, like a good girl, and wait for him to bring Miss Silverdale to her. After that he withdrew to the library at the back of the hall, where, after a few minutes, he was joined by Miss Silverdale, who came in, saying in a rallying tone: 'Now, what's all this, Des? What brings you here so unexpectedly? And why the mystery?'

   He took her hands, and held them: 'Hetta, I'm in a scrape!'

   She burst out laughing. 'I might have known it! And I am to rescue you from it?'

   'And you are to rescue me from it,' he corroborated, the smile dancing in his eyes.

   'What an unconscionable rogue you are!' she remarked, drawing her hands away, and disposing herself on a sofa. 'I can't conceive how I am to rescue you from the sort of scrapes you fall into, but sit down, and make a clean breast of it!'

   He did so, telling his story without reservation. Her eyes widened a little, but she heard him in silence, until he reached the end of it, saying: 'I would have taken her to Wolversham, but you know what my father is, Hetta! So there was nothing for it but to bring her to you!'

   Then, at last, she spoke, shattering his confidence. 'But I don't think I can, Ashley!'

   He stared incredulously. 'But, Hetta – !'

   'You can't have considered!' she said. 'If I know what your father is you should know just as well what my mother is! Her opinion of your Cherry's exploit wouldn't differ from his by so much as a hair's breadth!'

   'Oh, I know that!' he said. 'I shan't tell her the true story, stoopid! All I have to do is to say that my Aunt Emborough placed her in my charge, with instructions to deliver her into old Nettlecombe's hands, but owing to his having misread the date – or the letter informing him of it having gone astray – or some such thing – he is still out of town, so that I was at my wits' end to know what to do with the child.'

   'And what,' she enquired conversationally, 'will you say when she asks you why you didn't rather place her in your mother's care?'

   He took a minute or two to find an answer to this poser, but finally produced, with considerable aplomb: 'When I was at Wolversham, little more than a sennight since, I found my father quite out of curl, and Mama in too much of a worry about him to be troubled with a guest.'

   She drew an audible breath. 'You are not only a rogue, Des, but a Banbury man as well!'

   He laughed: 'No, no, how can you say so? There's a great deal of truth in that part of the story, and you can scarcely expect me to tell your mother that if I were to walk in with Cherry on my arm my poor misguided Papa would instantly leap to the conclusion that I had not only fallen in love with her, but had brought her home in the hope that she would captivate him into bestowing his blessing on precisely the sort of match he most abominates. I daresay she might captivate him, for she's a taking little thing, but hardly to that point!'

   'Is she very pretty?' asked Miss Silverdale, keeping her fine eyes on his face.

   'Yes, very, I think – even when dressed in cast-off garments which don't become her, and with her hair in a tangle! Enormous eyes in a heart-shaped face, a mouth clearly made for kissing, and a great deal of innocent charm. Not in your style, but I fancy you'll see what I mean when I present her to you. When I first saw her she looked to me to be scared out of her wits – which, half the time, she is, thanks to the Turkish treatment she has endured in her aunt's house – but when she isn't frightened she chatters away in the most engaging fashion, and has the merriest twinkle in her eyes. I think you will like her, Hetta, and I'm pretty sure your mother will. From what I gather she has a positive genius for waiting on – er – elderly invalids!' He paused, scanning her face. It was inscrutable, so, after a moment, he said coaxingly: 'Come, now, Hetta! You can't fail me! Good God, I've depended on you all my life! Yes, and if it comes to that, so have you depended on me – and have I ever failed you?'