The Shocking Miss Anstey (27 page)

‘It’s time he did.’ An eyebrow lifted for a moment. ‘But he’s coming here, I fancy, to Cheltenham. I’ve a niece, you remember?’

‘Indeed yes. But may I express the hope---‘ Mr. King stopped suddenly. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘Precisely. It’s why I mentioned Luttrell. You know there was a quarrel?’

‘How could I not know? It was the talk everywhere.’

‘If it should happen here----’

‘My lord!’ Mr. King was appalled. ‘My lord, it would be a scandal.’

‘It is anywhere. However . . .’ There was a judicious pause. ‘I don’t know when Grant will come, or where he’ll stay, but I’d like to know.’

‘Ah! If he’s booked his rooms, I can find out. So if you’ll give me a few hours . . .’

‘Of course.’

Mr. King bowed himself away, as urbane and unruffled as before, and there was no one but his driver to see how thoughtful he looked as he settled into his phaeton. Lord Barford finished his chalybeated saline and went for the prescribed third glass. He took it back to his chair, and he made no move beyond a wave of his hand when he saw Mrs. Masters depart with Sir Michael Murphy. Then he sat on, and it was past three o’clock when he went sauntering down the avenue to the bridge across the Chelt. He was changing his clothes for dinner when the clop of horses at the door told him that Hildersham had returned with Mary.

He met them at dinner, and he did not recount the events of his day. He contented himself with asking after theirs, and it was not until the end of dinner that he seemed to remember something. Then he told Hildersham of the villa that would be ready by the end of the week.

‘You’d better see this man Thompson, I suppose, and get something signed. Oh, and you’ll need some furniture. There’s a place in the Colonnade, I think, but King will know.’

‘I’ll see him. And many thanks.’

‘Not at all. Now what do you think to do tonight?’

‘Well, it’s Wednesday, sir. There’s a card assembly at the Rooms, and Mary’s been lecturing me on my social habits.’

‘Oh?’ Barford did not sound as if he approved. ‘Mary, you don’t take to cards, I hope?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she told him. ‘It’s only whist in the Assembly Rooms. No hazards or staking of money allowed. That’s why he hasn’t wanted to go.’

‘Then by all means take him.’

‘Thank you. I wasn’t thinking even of playing the whist.’

‘Then why go?’

‘It’s a good place for talk.’

‘And for being seen, no doubt. But, if you please, don’t speak lightly of whist if there’s money on the board. I’ve played a deal of it myself, and I know.’

‘So do I.’ She nodded firmly. ‘Very well, sir. We have your leave to go?’

‘You don’t need my leave.’

‘Thank you.’ Her tone eased a little. ‘But how of you? Do you come?’

‘No. I’ve letters to write.’

It sounded like a polite evasion, and perhaps at that moment it was. It became a reality a little later. They went off together to the Rooms a little before eight, Mary looking pleased and Hildersham attentive. Barford sat alone, reading, and perhaps waiting; and at a quarter past eight a letter was brought to him from Mr. King, who regretted that he could not attend on Lord Barford in person; he had to be in the Rooms. But Sir Thomas Luttrell was still the guest of Captain Trehearne, who had also been in the Black Hussars, and Sir Thomas was expected to leave on Saturday. Captain Grant was already paying for a room at the Plough Hotel, and was therefore expected at any time; he had written from Thomas’s Hotel in Berkeley Square. And Mr. King was his lordship’s obliged and devoted servant.

His lordship sat in thought. Then he moved to his bureau took pen and paper, and wrote quickly in his neat and level hand. He set out briefly the state of affairs and then came to it:

You will perceive the embarrassment that could too easily arise if you were at this juncture to add your own company to these others. It would hardly be possible, in so small a place, that you and Luttrell should not meet, however prudent you might be. By Monday he is expected to be gone, and you would surely be wise to delay until then an arrival to which we all look forward. By Monday, also, as it seems, Hildersham may have ceased to be my guest and Mary’s. This circumstance may impress you as fortunate.

Seek us out, pray, as soon as you are here, and believe me to be
your sincere friend,
Barford

He sanded it, read it carefully, and directed it to Captain Grant at Thomas’s Hotel. Then he rang for his footman and gave orders that it should be taken at once to the post office. Its timely arrival, he thought, might save a deal of trouble.

But it was now too late. Captain Grant was already in Cheltenham.

He had, in fact, left Berkeley Square on the Monday, taking a seat in the
Accommodation
coach, which ‘dined and slept’ at Oxford; and at Oxford, liking the look of the place, he had been persuaded to linger, letting the coach go on without him. He had filled two pleasant days with his sightseeing, and at length, on this Wednesday afternoon, he had hired a post-chaise to take him to Cheltenham.

He did not turn out again that evening. He was too tired, and was not tempted by what he heard of a Card Assembly. He preferred, after dinner, the lazy comfort of the Plough, and he decided he would walk to the Well next morning to see what it was like and who was there. That, of course, was what mattered, for he did not know who was in Cheltenham. He had heard nothing from Mary, nothing from Anice, and after a lonely winter he was in a dissatisfied mood; though that, he thought, might change if only the wind would change. It had been blowing foul for him almost since he had paid off
Amphion.

He felt more cheerful when he emerged from the Plough next morning to find the early sun lighting the length of a High Street that was already becoming busy. It was all new to him, and he had to find his way by the porter’s directions and a sharp eye to what others were doing. He passed the Royal Crescent, without knowing of Mary there, and then he climbed the walk, delighting in the green of the trees and the morning song of birds. It was sixteen years since he had been ashore in the spring.

He stopped by the pump, turning back to savour the sky and the prospect again, and then he proceeded with an assurance that had come to him during the winter. He had been at Bath, as Mr. King had said, and he had learned something of what was done at a spa. He had his shilling ready as he exchanged a word with Mrs. Forty, and he sipped at the water with a caution that had also come from Bath. He glanced at the sale-room windows, and then sauntered across to the open door of the Long Room. He stopped just inside it, looking round with interest, and seeing how small and rustic it was after the great Room at Bath. Then he caught his breath, and for a moment he stood rigid. Even across the room, and with her back to him, he had recognized Mary. He had half expected her; but the man at her side was Hildersham.

Then Hildersham saw him, and at once took charge in his own confident way. He waved a hand, whispered quickly to Mary, and then came forward with his lazy long-legged stride.

‘Welcome!’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m glad to see you, and so is Mary. She said she was expecting you.’

‘Thank you.’ He shook Hildersham’s proffered hand. ‘I’d not expected you here.’

‘You can expect anyone here just now. I’ve even heard my wife’s coming. But here’s Mary.’

‘I’m glad you’ve come.’

She spoke clearly, but there was something more in her tone, a note of challenge that set him standing a little more stiffly as he answered.

‘I said I should be here.’

‘But it was natural I should wonder. I never heard from you.’

‘Nor I from you.’

‘I’d no address to write to, and I thought I’d hear from
you’

‘I was a little doubtful.’ He answered promptly, and his voice was as firm as hers. ‘I wasn’t allowed to see you when I had to leave London.’

‘After a little trouble?’ She nodded. ‘I heard of it. I even know who it was about.’

‘Is that the---‘

‘Now stop it--please.’ Hildersham intervened suddenly, and he sounded authoritative. ‘You say you’re pleased to see each other, and straight away you start bickering. It will be a quarrel soon, by the way you’re working it up. Can’t you stop it--and
be
pleased to see each other?’

‘Sorry, Jack!’ She spoke with a rueful smile, which quickly faded as she glanced round the room and saw the attentive company. ‘I think we should certainly forget it.’

‘So do I.’

‘Well. . .’ The smile appeared again. ‘What’s your news? Where have you been this winter?’

‘I was abroad for a while, and at Bath. And looking round England.’

‘Have you seen John lately?’

‘I was with him last week. You know he’s selling out?’

‘We heard something--very briefly. What’s he doing? Where is he?’

‘He’s with his regiment. They’re at Shorncliffe, making ready for the West Indies. That’s why he’s selling, really. He says he’s had enough of service abroad, and I don’t think I blame him.’

‘
I
certainly don’t. He’s been away too long. But when shall we see him?’

‘Quite soon, I believe. He thinks he’s found a purchaser.’

‘Well, that’s a relief. Though I think he might have written.’

‘He’s pretty busy. He said---‘

‘Here she is,’ said Hildersham, intervening for a second time. ‘Our reigning beauty. Do you know her?’

It was almost a party that had entered the Long Room--a radiant Marion, with Curry and Murphy and two more gentlemen she had acquired from somewhere. Richard found himself staring.

‘Mrs. Masters,’ said Hildersham with a chuckle.

‘Who?’

‘Mrs. Masters,’ said Mary. ‘The reigning something, as Jack might have put it. Her first name’s Marion.’

‘But surely it’s. . . .’

‘Precisely. But how did John get rid of her?’

‘Dammit, she was a lady’s maid.’

‘Who? Mary Ann? Parlour-maid, you mean.’

‘She was a lady’s maid last October. That’s how she left John. She went to Anice.’

‘Who?’ put in Hildersham. ‘What’s
this
tale, please?’

‘You mean Miss Anstey?’ said Mary.

‘Yes, I---‘

‘So you’ve been with
her
this winter?’

‘I have
not.’
He turned on her with a snap, irritated both by his own blunder and by the speed at which she had taken it up. ‘I have not so much as heard from her this winter.’

‘It seems to be a sore point.’

‘Stop it,’ said Hildersham. ‘Do you think, Mary, that Miss Anstey is worth quarrelling for?’

‘I certainly don’t.’

‘Then please don’t do it. Grant, do you remember that in our grandfathers’ day it was a rule that they did not wear swords at Bath?’

‘I’ve heard of it.’

‘It meant, of course, that there must be no quarrels at a spa. We are supposed to be at ease, and quarrels are left at home. Now . . .’ The chuckle came again, perhaps deliberately. ‘What’s this tale of a lady’s maid? It’s one she
didn’t
tell me.’

‘I didn’t know you knew her. But as to the maid . . .’ He was trying to talk as easily as Hildersham. ‘She went to Anice--last October, I think it was--and asked for some help.’

‘To become--er . . .’

‘What she is. And Anice, I gather, took her on as a maid. Said it was the way to train her.’

‘Seems odd to me.’

‘It seems to have worked.’

‘Excellently. I’ll vouch for that. But I think, from the way Marion’s making eyes at you, that she’d like a word.’

‘She can come here if she wants me.’

‘But she won’t,’ said Mary calmly.

‘Why not?’

‘She’s avoiding
me,
and she’ll pick you up when I’ve gone.’ She glanced round the room again, and then came a change of tone. ‘You’ll wish to call on my Uncle Barford, no doubt?’

‘I wish to call
on you.
It’s why I’m here.’

‘Really?’ She viewed him appraisingly for a moment and then nodded. ‘Well, that sounds better. We’ve a house in Royal Crescent, and Jack’s our guest just now.’

‘Lucky man!’

‘Or is it lucky me? But--Jack, what’s planned for today?’

‘Well, if you’ll forgive me . . .’ Hildersham laughed softly. ‘After the message I had last night about a villa I think I should call on this man Thompson and get it signed.’

‘Tactful, aren’t you?’

‘No, it’s genuine.’

‘Let’s say it’s both. All right, then--I expect Barford will be at home after breakfast, and perhaps I shall also. Will that do?’

‘Perfectly.’

‘Good. But I think Jack wants
his
breakfast, so perhaps ...’

‘May I walk down with you?’

‘You’re wanted here, I think--for a talk with Mary Ann. I won’t ask what she wants, but please be sensible.’

A soft laugh came with it, and a smile he found inscrutable, and then she was away with Hildersham, very friendly to him, her arm linked easily in his as they strode down the Walk between the fringing trees. He stood watching them go, and again he felt lonely; and then eager, as he remembered her stance and her smile and the clear tone of her voice. She was still the one from his own world.

He turned, aware of someone near him, and it was Mary Ann who had come close, with Curry at her side; Mary Ann as he remembered her, and Marion who was different. He looked at her with interest, glad now of those weeks at Bath. He was not so new from the sea, and he knew how to deal with her, and with Curry too.

‘ ‘Morning, Curry.’ He was easy and confident about it. ‘Glad to see you again. Enjoying the place, I hope?’

‘Good place. Drink wine, though--not this tipple. D’you know Marion?’

‘I used to. How are you--Marion? You’ve grown up a little?’

‘Thank you.’ She produced her radiant smile for him, and something told him that she meant it. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

‘I’ve just arrived. I thought you were with . . .’

‘Yes.’ She spoke hurriedly, and turned quickly to Curry. ‘George, be an angel. I must talk to Captain Grant for a minute. Now don’t be jealous. It’s not like that, but go and drink the water or something. Just for a minute.’