A London Season (33 page)

“
Is
Elinor going to become acquainted with Robert
’
s papa?” inquired Persephone, bewildered.

“I don
’
t see why not,” said her guardian. “Very pretty place, Heldenburg: you
’
ll like it, Elinor. Castles and torrents and cascades and so forth, just in the true romantic line! How would you like to go there on the second part of our wedding journey?”

“Very much,” said Elinor demurely, aware that she would happily have agreed to visit the North Pole on her wedding journey had that been Sir Edmund
’
s suggestion.

“Why not the
first
part of your wedding journey?” demanded Persephone.

“Because I want Elinor to myself for a while, before we become any further embroiled in your affairs, Persephone. Italy first, I thought
—
you
’
ve never been to Italy, have you, Elinor? You
’
ll like that, too.”

“But in any case, you will get married
soon
, won
’
t you?” Persephone urged her guardian.

“As soon as it can possibly be contrived,” said he, obligingly.

At this point
Mr.
Spalding, who had been sitting in his corner, two of the Lark Quartet very kindly plying him with claret and cold chicken (which he was relishing despite his inability to keep up with the general course of events), found his tongue again.

“Strange!” he remarked. “Very strange. I fear, Elinor, it argues a remarkable lack of steadiness in you.”

“What does?” said Sir Edmund, his good humour evaporating with alarming rapidity.

“It appears that she is betrothed to you! Miss Radley, I mean. But,” said
Mr.
Spalding, shaking his head, “quite apart from running away with
Mr.
Royden, not once but twice, she was betrothed to
me
!” He sounded quite plaintive.

“No, I was not!” said Elinor roundly, a good deal put out.

“No, she certainly was not,” Sir Edmund agreed. “My dear sir, weeks ago, in Cheltenham, I myself heard her refuse you in the most categorical manner.”

“One was not to suppose,” complained
Mr.
Spalding, “that that was final! One does not, I may say, expect such conduct in the wife of
—
”

But seeing that Sir Edmund was obviously preparing to say something very crushing indeed, Miss Radley hastily intervened. “I dare say one doesn
’
t! Pray, Edmund, leave this to me, because it is perfectly clear that he will take no notice of anything one says, so
you
at least may as well save your breath. Samuel, you must see by now that you are very well out of any imaginary contract you may have supposed to exist between us
—
and purely imaginary it
was
, I do assure you! Well! You have indicated yourself that you are better off out of it, and
I
think you should go home to Cheltenham and
—
and marry Miss Dunn!”

“Hm,” said
Mr.
Spalding.

“Who
is
Miss Dunn?” inquired Sir Edmund, amused.

“She will make you,” Elinor pursued, “the most admirable wife.”

“Hm,” repeated
Mr.
Spalding, and then, after a moment
’
s consideration, said, “There may be something in what you say. Yes, there may indeed be something in it. I believe I will think the matter over. I will sleep on it
—
yes, that is what I shall do, and in the morning we shall see what counsels prevail. Good night, Elinor. Good night, Sir Edmund.” And he withdrew, contenting himself with a stiff bow to the rest of the company.

“Can he sleep on it
—
here, I mean?” asked Conington. “Has anyone asked if they have a room for him?”

“Yes, I have, and they do,” Sir Edmund disclosed. “There will be rooms, as well, for Franz and Josef and Johann, and Robert too if he wishes. The landlord can
’
t provide fresh horses for the britzka till morning
—
however,
you
will have a pair tonight, Conington, for you must be wishing to return to Charlotte, and I
’
ll be obliged if you will take Persephone with you. Whether you all squeeze up for Robert to make a third in the curricle I must leave it to the three of you to settle! I am taking Elinor back to London now, and no one is going to make a third with
us
!”
he said firmly.

Out in the stable yard, as the phaeton, with a pair of fresh horses between its shafts, moved gently away, he said again, “Do tell me more about Miss Dunn. I believe I
’
ve heard you extol her merits to Spalding before.”

“Well, she
is
a very worthy lady,” said Elinor.

“Plain?” he surmised.

“Rather plain, I own, but
that
she cannot help! And she
would
make Samuel Spalding a very good wife
—
and she would be so glad to marry him!”

“Setting up as matchmaker along with Bella, are you?” said Bella
’
s brother, smiling.

“No,” replied Elinor, smiling back at him, “but I am so happy that I suppose I should like everyone else to be getting married and just as happy about it too!” At which he naturally felt obliged to rein in his horses and kiss her once again.

“It must,” he observed, “be something in the air.”

“Good God
—
it
is
something in the air!” she exclaimed a moment later, emerging from his
e
mbrace. “They are at it again! Listen, Edmund!”

He listened, and found that she was right. The window of the parlour in the Green Dragon stood open, and someone had evidently produced a couple of the musical instruments which the Lark Quartet seemed to carry constantly about their persons. He thought he heard a flute, and the horn again. To the accompanying strains of these instruments, the stirring finale of
Boadicea Queen of Britain
, in all its absurd splendour, came floating out to them through the peaceful dark of the Essex countryside.

“All hail to the Patron of marriage and mirth!

Was ever such merriment known upon earth
?”

“The answer to that is no!” said Sir Edmund. “No, decidedly not!” And he let the horses move on.

Anthea Bell
was born in England, where she lives today. She has specialized in the field of translation from French and German into English; a notable example of her work is the famous
Asterix
cartoon series.
A London Season
is her first novel.