A London Season (30 page)

He therefore now said grimly to
Mr.
Royden, who had managed to get up, and stood glaring at him, “Let
’
s have no more absurd bluster about anyone
’
s being
obliged
to marry you! Indeed, let me inform you instead that if there
’
s any woman to whom
you
are in honour bound to make an offer of marriage, it is Miss Radley. ” Here Elinor sat up suddenly in the chair where Sir Edmund had placed her, but he was still speaking. “And if, as it appears, she wishes it
—
God knows why, but I
’
m damned if she shan
’
t have whatever she wants
—
then
one
thing I mean to do here is ensure that you make her that offer!”

“Oh, indeed?” said
Mr.
Royden, very unpleasantly. “A woman I
’
ve had already, and could have again, I dare say, if she weren
’
t so coy that
—
”

But he got no further. Elinor
’
s indignant gasp coincided with the satisfying sound of Sir Edmund
’
s fist planting a very nicely timed blow on
Mr.
Royden
’
s chin. It knocked the recipient back against the drawing room door, where he clung to the handle in order to remain on his feet.

Meanwhile Elinor, leaping up, was running forward to catch Sir Edmund
’
s arm, crying out, “No, no, you quite mistake the matter! It is the very last thing on earth that I want! What could make you think so?”

He had been watching the other man and rubbing his knuckles, but at this he turned to face her. “You
don
’
t
wish it?” he said, puzzled. “But, good God, Elinor, you told me
—
you said you knew that a
lasting
passion, once formed
—
” And he, in his turn, was cut short. It had been a mistake, Elinor realized, for him to turn his back on the door.
Mr.
Royden must have had the key about him, and had seized his chance to turn it and summon Joe and another man into the room from the hall, where they had evidently been waiting. They were both armed with stout cudgels. Elinor
’
s cry to Sir Edmund to take care was just too late. Her acquaintance of
the caped frieze coat had come up behind him, and Sir Edmund, taken completely by surprise, was felled to the ground, where he collapsed unconscious.

19

H
e came back to his senses, head aching vilely, to hear a soft but distraught voice close to his ear, saying repeatedly, “Wake up, Edmund, oh, do, do wake up!” A hand was stroking his face, apparently in an attempt to rouse him, for the voice continued, rather desperately, “Oh,
dearest
Edmund, you
must
be all right, or I can
’
t bear it!”

Pleasant listening, he thought hazily, placing the source of these remarks. But when, in Miss Radley
’
s agitation, the stroking changed to a rhythmical slapping, Sir Edmund decided it would be best to apprise her that she had succeeded in her purpose of bringing him round. Struggling unsuccessfully to sit up, he got his eyes open and said, with an effort, “I shall do! Only a crack on the head. Damn the fellow
—
I never even saw him coming!”

Gingerly, he felt his head, winced, and closed his eyes again, at which Elinor uttered a soft cry, and he re-opened them to find her face solicitously close to his. “Rather more important,” he added, in a stronger voice, “what was that you were saying?”

Miss Radley was instantly covered with confusion. “Oh, please
—
it doesn
’
t signify! I didn
’
t mean
—
that is, I didn
’
t know you had come round. At all events,” she finished, none too coherently, “it
’
s of no consequence!”

Pulling his scattered thoughts together with commendable rapidity, and finding that the throbbing in his temples was mercifully receding, Sir Edmund at last managed to haul himself into a sitting position, saying, “There you are very much mistaken!” He gathered both her hands in his and looked hard into her grey eyes, which were still bright with
unshed tears; this, though a gratifying circumstance, was not a state of affairs he wished to see prolonged. “It is of the greatest consequence! At least, it is to
me
!
I love you, you see,” he added, very careful, this time, to make himself clear beyond possibility of misapprehension. “And I thought, when you spoke to me so feelingly about the enduring strength of a
lasting passion,
it was Royden you meant
—
not that I then knew his identity
—
and I stood no chance.”

“Oh, no, no, no!” she cried. “How could you think so? But I couldn
’
t
tell
you it was you for whom I had formed a lasting passion!”

“I wish you had!”

“And how could I suppose that
you
entertained any such sentiments for me? I mean, you have been positively avoiding me, and you went away from London, and oh, I have missed you so much!” said Miss Radley foolishly, shedding tears of pure happiness.

“I went away because I thought that if I couldn
’
t have you, it would be better not to come near you at all,” said Sir Edmund, taking her into his arms. “Only the thing was too strong for me, damn it, so back I came
—
and just at the right moment, one might say, except that I do
not
appear to have acquitted myself very creditably in the business! Where are we, by the by?”

“Oh, along the corridor from the hall, in a little room which they used as a store chamber when I was governess here,” Elinor told him. “The men Grenville has with him
—
it was one of them who hit you, you know
—
well, they put us both in here and locked the door, and I rather fancy, from what I heard them and Grenville say, he has driven off to London. I suppose he either has fresh horses here, or will get them in the village, and I only hope,” she said, quite vindictively, “that he may drive them into the village pond, which would not be at all surprising, for he is decidedly drunk, and seems to have some mad notion that if you and I are kept out of the way he may still wheedle himself somehow into Persephone
’
s good graces and run off with
her, under pretence of standing friend to her and Robert Walter. But that he will
not
do! I fancy we may rely upon Charlotte to put a stop to any such thing
—
Charlotte has behaved very well indeed, poor girl.”

“No need to rely on Charlotte,” said Sir Edmund. “By the time I left Upper Brook Street, she had the support not only of Conington, but of young
Mr.
Walter himself. Not to speak of Franz, Josef and Johann!”

“You mean Robert Walter is back already? Oh, I am so glad!”

“Back, and extremely eager for serious conversation with me! But once I had discovered what must have happened to
you
, I had no time or inclination to stop and listen to him!”

“Then his errand in Germany must have prospered!” exclaimed Elinor. “And so I suppose he feels he can approach you, as Persephone
’
s guardian. For he is very correct and punctilious in such matters, you know. Oh, Edmund,
do
you think
—
supposing his family should be at least respectable, and after all, we know that
he
is a person of education
—
do you think such a marriage might after all be possible?” she ventured to suggest.

“Just at the moment,” said Sir Edmund, re-possessing himself of her hands, “I am not half as much interested in Persephone
’
s marriage as my own! Elinor, I can
’
t aspire to the interminable eloquence of your suitor
Mr.
Spalding, but now that we have cleared up our misunderstanding, and we find we are
not
indifferent to one another,
will
you marry me?”

“Need you ask?” was all she could say before being enveloped in a crushing and very satisfactory embrace, and kissed so hard that for some moments she would have been unable to utter another word anyway, even had she wished to.

“Delightful as all this is,” said Sir Edmund presently, “I can
’
t but think we might be more comfortable elsewhere. Put it down to decrepitude and advanced old age if you will, but I fancy that if I
’
m obliged to spend the night here, only for the sake of Royden
’
s disordered fancies, I shall awake with rheumatics as well as a sore head! I believe we should put our minds to the question of making our way out of this room. It strikes me as a damnably chilly, uncomfortable sort of place.”

This was true: the room was small and bare, and in spite of the warmth of the summer evening, the flags of the stone floor seemed dank. But an inspection showed nothing that seemed to offer a likely way of escape; the door was locked, of course, and the one window too small and high up to allow egress.

“Do you know how many people Royden has here?” asked Sir Edmund.

“Yes, fortunately I do!” said Elinor. “Because while he was having us put in here, he was
—
well,
gloating
, in the most stupidly melodramatic way! And he made quite a point of telling me that there were only those two men, and the housekeeper, who is deaf as a post
—
indeed, she was very hard of hearing even when I knew her eight years ago
—
so that I could not expect anyone to come to our aid, however hard I shouted.”

“Two of them
—
hm,” said Sir Edmund thoughtfully. “And he has left them both here, while he goes haring off to London?” She nodded. “Well, if I could take at least one by surprise
...
do you think, my love, you could make a pretence of strong hysterics?”

“I hardly need to
pretend
!”
she said ruefully. “If I had only kept my head better, they would never had had a chance to knock you down! And you are quite right, we
should
get out of here, because I am persuaded you ought to see a doctor.”

“Now, that
’
s well thought of
—
not that I share your opinion, but let us try for a fit of hysterics, in the course of which you make it clear that you are seriously alarmed for my health.
Can you manage that?”

“Easily,” said Elinor, shuddering at the memory of those dreadful few minutes when she had thought he might be
more than momentarily stunned.

“Then let
’
s see what we can do.”

It proved simpler than might have been expected. Elinor hammered loudly upon the door, screaming at the top of her voice, “Is there anyone there? You must come
at once
!
Oh, is there
nobody
there?” In a little while these tactics brought heavy footsteps treading along the passage, and Joe
’
s hoarse voice adjured her to shut her row. Ignoring Joe, she continued, in frantic tones, “Is
Mr.
Royden there? I must see
Mr.
Royden!”

“Can
’
t,” said Joe succinctly. “He
’
ve gone to Lunnon, haven
’
t he?”

“Then
you
must fetch a doctor! At once!” she said urgently. “For it was you who hit poor Sir Edmund, wasn
’
t it? And I can tell you, you will very likely hang for it! Oh, I am so afraid! He is dreadfully pale, and
—
and his breathing has changed most alarmingly!”

Giving her an encouraging smile, Sir Edmund lent colour to this statement by drawing several extremely noisy breaths, intermingled with rattles and snores. The man on the other side of the door was presumably impressed by these stage effects, for he hesitated, apparently in a quandary, and eventually, when urged once again by Elinor to think that Sir Edmund
’
s death would be laid at his door, summoned his companion. “Here, Bob
—
come and hark at this, will
‘
ee?”

More footsteps in the passage heralded the arrival of Bob, whom Sir Edmund obliged with an increase in the volume of his noisy breathing, while Elinor, summoning up histrionic powers which she had never suspected in herself, declared plaintively,
“
There
!
Am I to be left alone in a room with a dying man? I dare say you will
both
hang, for you may be very sure
Mr.
Royden will not put himself out to shield you, so if I were you, I would summon a doctor
instantly
!”