Mrs. Tim of the Regiment (44 page)

I reply primly that Tim and I are old married folk, and completely inured to each other's charms.

‘Look at her, Mother she's blushing,' says the dreadful man with a grin.

‘I'm not blushing,' I retort indignantly. ‘My skin is so fair that when I eat tomatoes they show through.'

‘Tell me when you've quite finished girding at each other,' says Mrs. Loudon with asperity. ‘There's some things I want fetched from Inverness, and dear knows how I'm to get them here. Dobbie says he wants a whole day at the car, the engine's knocking like a riveting machine, and he thinks it's a bludgeon pin or something.'

Guthrie says he's sorry to hear about it, but he fails to see what he can do, unless his mother wants him to go to Inverness on Donald's bicycle. It's only a hundred-odd miles there and back, of course, but the bike is tied together with bootlaces – or perhaps she would like him to ride over on the fat pony which is used for mowing the lawn.

Mrs. Loudon retorts that she wants nothing except that he should have some sense, and he had better go and catch fish, as that's about all he's good for.

At this moment Tony arrives and says the Bentley wants exercising, and will I go for a run. Mrs. Loudon jumps at this chance of getting her shopping done, and asks shamelessly if the Bentley would run well in the direction of Inverness. Tony replies that it would like nothing better; we can go one way by some place with an unpronounceable name – lunch at Inverness, and return the other way.

Mrs. Loudon says, ‘You really should see it, Hester.'

Guthrie says, ‘Why should she? I can't think why anyone should want to.'

Once it is known in the house that I am setting forth upon this expedition, I am besieged by people with commissions to be done. Mrs. Falconer wants some wool matched, and two pairs of black cashmere stockings; Mrs. Loudon has a long list of things chiefly wine and groceries; Guthrie wants flies and four new casts; Annie requires elastic and buttons for Betty's underwear.

All this takes time, but at last we are ready to start. Tony says would I like to drive. I am amazed and touched at this proof of friendship, but refuse the offer unconditionally the Bentley is so enormous compared with our small shabby Cassandra that I feel sure it would run away with me, and so disgrace me for ever in Tony's eyes.

Tony says, ‘Just as you like, of course,' and steers carefully out of the gate. We float along rapidly amongst the mountains and the forests, enjoying the lovely breeze.

We have gone quite a long way – I don't know how far – and are rounding a very sharp bend with considerable care, when Tony swerves to the side of the road, and stops suddenly with a jarring of brakes.

‘Good Lord!' he exclaims.

The cause of his consternation is at once apparent: a small yellow sports car is leaning drunkenly against a tree at the side of the road. One wheel is buckled and the windscreen is a mass of splinters.

‘It's Hector MacQuill's car,' Tony says anxiously. ‘The reckless devil has done it this time with a vengeance. I hope to goodness nobody's hurt. We'd better see – '

I begin getting out, but Tony seizes my arm. ‘You stay where you are, Hester,' he says firmly.

At this moment Hector MacQuill appears from amongst the trees; he looks slightly dazed but appears to be unharmed.

‘What's all this, Hector?' cries Tony in a relieved tone of voice. ‘You seem to have smashed up the Yellow Peril successfully – I knew you'd do it some day.'

‘I wish to goodness I had chosen some other day,' replies the young man gloomily. ‘I don't care a blow about the car – the thing is we're in a frightful hole–'

‘I can see that,' Tony says facetiously.

‘Perhaps I could speak to you for a minute,' says Hector, with a glance at me.

Tony follows him over to the car, and they discuss something in low voices – I can't help wondering what it is all about. The car seems to be completely wrecked, and I see nothing for it but to go to the nearest garage, and send a break-down lorry.

After some minutes' conversation, Tony comes back to me, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You'll never guess what's happened,' he says mysteriously. ‘Here's our friend Hector running off with Miss MacArbin. Who said Romance was dead?'

‘Miss MacArbin!' I exclaim.

‘None other,' responds Tony. ‘He has a precedent for the deed, of course. I confess I did not think her wildly exciting, but there's no accounting for tastes. Perhaps the explanation lies in the fact that forbidden fruit is always the sweetest – anyway, here they are, and lucky to be alive – I don't know what happened. Hector is in such a state that he doesn't know himself.'

‘But where
is
Miss MacArbin?'

‘Hiding in the trees and awaiting our decision,' replies Tony dramatically. ‘Shall we bind them with the towing rope and deliver them to their respective families, or shall we drive on, and leave them to their fate, or shall we risk the wrath of both their clans, and further love's young dream by taking them to Inverness and putting them in the train? These are the three courses open to us, as far as I can see.'

‘But are they – do they– ' I stammer.

‘Apparently they are, and do,' he replies gravely. ‘They have been meeting secretly for some time, and are quite convinced that they wish to follow the example of their notorious forebears.'

‘Well, I suppose they know their own minds – '

‘I suppose nothing of the kind,' says Tony with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘And it is quite against my principles to help anybody to marry anybody else. I am convinced that marriage is an overrated sport except, of course, in exceptional cases. These two young people will probably live to curse our names unless Hector succeeds in smashing himself up before the year is out. However, it's none of our business '

‘You
will
give us a lift, won't you, Mrs. Christie?' says Hector, himself, coming forward and putting an end to Tony's unseasonable dissertation. ‘We don't want to get anybody into trouble, but ' ‘Of course we're going to help you!' I exclaim.

‘I say, it's awfully good of you,' he says, his brow clearing. ‘I'll just get hold of Deirdre and tell her the good news.'

Tony is now busy unstrapping the suitcases from the back of the ill-fated Yellow Peril, and transferring them to the luggage grid of the Bentley.

‘It's rather fun, isn't it, Hester?' he says. ‘But we shall have to be careful not to get mixed up in it there's going to be an unholy row when it's discovered.'

Miss MacArbin now appears from her hiding place looking more ethereal than ever, and I feel glad that the Fairy Princess has got a Prince worthy of her beauty. They make a splendid pair.

‘You know Mrs. Christie, don't you, Deirdre?' says Hector, putting his arm through hers and gazing at her with adoring eyes.

‘Of course I do,' she replies.

‘We met at the dinner party, didn't we?'

‘And once nearly before that,' says Miss MacArbin with her sunlit smile. ‘I was the White Lady at Castle Darroch.'

‘And you thought she was the ghost of Seónaid,' cries Hector boyishly. ‘By Jove, that was a near thing. I thought some of you saw me running into the wood when the rain came. Deirdre and I found the ruin a good place to meet there is a secret passage from the tower which we found useful on more than one occasion.'

‘Well, jump in – if you've finished talking,' Tony says. ‘And you had better cover yourselves with the rugs when we get near Inverness – Mrs. Christie and I don't want our throats cut by Clan MacQuill, nor our bodies thrown into Loch-an-Darroch by Clan MacArbin '

‘The whole thing is awful rot, isn't it?' says Hector, helping his fellow runaway into the car. ‘If Father could only
see
Deirdre–'

' The Bentley's pace precludes any further conversation with our passengers. The miles flash by, and it seems but a few minutes before we are running through the streets of Inverness. By this time, however, Tony has outlined a plan which seems to me a feasible one. Deirdre and I are to be dropped at the entrance to the station, we are to take two tickets to Edinburgh, and make our way to the platform. Tony will park the car, and he and Hector will take two platform tickets and meet us at the train. Hector and I will then exchange tickets, and the runaways will get into different parts of the train. In this way the two victims of the feud will not be seen by anybody in each other's company a circumstance which would at once give rise to talk and conjecture.

The plan is carried out without a hitch. Deirdre meets a friend on the way to the booking office, but, as her companion is merely an innocuous female, no suspicions are aroused. I find her a comfortable seat in the train and wish her the best of luck.

‘I do hope we'll meet again,' says Miss MacArbin.

‘We must,' I reply firmly.

She does not burden me with thanks, for which I feel suitably grateful.

‘I'm rather frightened, Mrs. Christie,' she says suddenly. ‘It's such a plunge – do you think they'll ever forgive us?'

‘Of course they will – and even if they don't he's a perfect dear,' I tell her comfortingly.

So I leave her and walk down the platform to meet the others. Tony is bubbling with mirth. ‘We've just seen old Brown,' he says. ‘The biggest gossip of the district – if only he knew what was afoot – '

Hector is grave, and I like him for it. ‘I shall never forget what you have done for us,' he says as he shakes hands. ‘Once the train starts I shall go and find her. She'll be feeling rather scared, I expect.'

We wish him every happiness, and leave him to his fate.

‘Well,' says Tony. ‘I don't know what you feel about it, but I'm simply starving it's frightfully late.'

We repair to a small hotel and order lunch. Tony is in splendid form, and full of amusing comments on our adventure. He is a most entertaining companion when he is in this mood.

By the time we have finished it is nearly teatime. Tony says it is too much trouble to move, and he thinks we should stay where we are and order tea. The waiter, who has just brought the bill, looks somewhat surprised at Tony's remarks, as we have both eaten enormously of veal-and-ham pie and various other substantial dishes. After a certain amount of byplay for the waiter's benefit, Tony is persuaded not to order tea at present, and I manage to drag him away.

The drive home is accomplished in record time.

‘Not a word about today's doings to
anyone
, if you value your life,' says Tony as we turn in at the gate, and I realise with a thrill of excitement that he is only half joking. This elopement is bound to cause a tremendous stir in the neighbourhood, and the consequences are wrapped in the mysterious veils of the future.

Mrs. Loudon has heard the approach of the car, and comes out to meet us, and, at the sight of my hostess, I suddenly remember that I have done none of the important commissions which were entrusted to me before starting. I have brought back from Inverness neither wine nor groceries, neither wool nor flies. What an awful thing! I would give five pounds – ill though I could spare it – if, with a wave of magic wand, the car could be filled with the required number of parcels – but, alas, the days of miracles are past.

I look at Tony and Tony looks at me. I can see that he has just remembered too.

‘Good Lord!' he exclaims. ‘We've done it this time.'

Mrs. Loudon is surprised when she sees no parcels in the car, and even more astonished when I confess that I forgot all about the shopping.

‘Oh well,' she says. ‘I suppose we'll have to manage somehow never mind about it. You enjoyed yourself, I suppose, and that's the main thing.'

Mrs. Falconer is less forgiving; she treats me to a homily on the subject of memory, in which Papa comes out very strong. ‘Papa was very anxious that us girls should all have good memories,' she says. ‘So he engaged a man to come and teach us the right way to remember – things. This man had a system quite infallible it was. Say you wanted to remember seventy-four, you had to think of seven apples and four bananas on a dessert dish. But one day when he was going away he forgot his umbrella, and Mama – who had never liked the man, he was very good-looking, of course – said that a man who forgot his umbrella was not fit to teach anyone how to remember things. So that was the end of it, and we never learnt any more.'

Guthrie says: ‘It's easy to remember things unless your mind is full of something else.'

I have no idea what he means, as he can't possibly know anything about Hector and Deirdre MacArbin.

Fifteenth June

Awake with a feeling that something exciting has happened, and decide that it must be the result of yesterday's adventure. The breakfast table is buzzing with the news of the elopement – brought to the house with the milk. I listen to it all in silence, and find great difficulty in concealing the fact that I know more about it than anyone else.