Charity Girl Part 7

The housemaid, perceiving that she was about to scramble out of bed, told her that there was no need for her to hurry herself, since my lady never came downstairs to breakfast, and Miss Hetta had given orders that she was not to be disturbed until eight o'clock. She then set a burnished bra.s.s can of hot water down beside the little corner washstand, begged Miss to ring the bell if there was anything else she required, and went away, pausing in the doorway to say that breakfast would be served in the parlour at ten o'clock.

Cherry was left to take stock of her surroundings. She had been too much exhausted when Hetta had put her to bed to pay much heed to them, the only things which had impressed themselves on her having been very soft pillows, and the most comfortable bed in which it had ever been her lot to lie; but now, hugging her knees, she stared about her in awe and wonderment. She thought it the most elegant bedchamber imaginable, and would have been amazed had she known that Lady Silverdale was most dissatisfied with the hangings, which she said had faded so much that they now looked detestably shabby. Her ladys.h.i.+p had also detected a slight stain on the carpet, where some careless guest had spilt some lotion. But Cherry did not notice this, or that the hangings were faded. Miss Fletching's Seminary for Young Ladies had been furnished neatly but austerely; and at Maplewood Cherry had shared a room with Corinna and Dianeme, who were not considered by their mama to be old enough to justify the expenditure of any more money on them than was strictly necessary. Consequently, their room was furnished with a heterogeneous collection of chairs and cupboards which had either been judged too shabby for the rooms where they had originally stood, or bought dog-cheap in a saleroom. And even Aunt Bugle's bed was not hung with curtains of silk damask, thought Cherry, almost fearfully stroking them.

She slid out of bed, and made a discovery: someone had not only unpacked her portmanteau, but had also ironed the creases out of the two dresses she had brought with her. This seemed to her such a dizzy height of luxury that she almost supposed herself to be still asleep and dreaming.

When she entered the breakfast-parlour, conducted to it by Grimshaw at his most stately, she found Henrietta making the tea, and was greeted by her in so kind and friendly a way that she lost the terror with which Grimshaw had inspired her, and said impulsively: "I think I was so stupid last night that I didn't tell you how very, very grateful I am to you, and to Lady Silverdale, for being so excessively kind to me! Indeed, I don't know how to thank you enough!"

"Nonsense!" said Henrietta, smiling at her. "I lost count of the times you thanked me last night! I think it was the last thing you said, when I blew out the candle, but as you were three parts asleep I might be mistaken!"

By the time they came from the table Henrietta had succeeded in charming Cherry out of her nervous shyness, and had won enough of her confidence to make her feel sincerely sorry for her. It was plain that she had not been encouraged to confide in her aunt; and although she spoke affectionately of Miss Fletching Henrietta did not think that their relations.h.i.+p had been closer than that of kind and just mistress, and grateful pupil. Cherry answered her questions with a good deal of reserve, and seemed at first to expect to be snubbed; but when she realized that she stood in no such danger she became very much more natural, and chatted away as easily as she had done on her journey to London. But much persuasion was needed to prevail upon her to accept the length of green cambric, and when she did at last yield, it was on condition that she should be allowed to pay for it-not with money, but with service. "I have been used to being employed," she a.s.sured Henrietta. "So pray, Miss Silverdale, tell me what you would wish me to do!"

"But I don't wish you to do anything!" objected Henrietta. "You are our guest, Cherry, not a hired servant!"

"No," said Cherry, flus.h.i.+ng, and lifting her determined chin. "It is only your kindness which makes you say that, and-and it gives me such a warm feel in my heart that I couldn't be happy if you didn't permit me to make myself useful here. I can see, of course, that you have a great many servants, but there must be hundreds of things I could do for you, and for Lady Silverdale, that perhaps you would not ask the servants to do!

Running errands-fetching things-searching for things you have mislaid-darning holes in your stockings-oh, all the things which I daresay you do for yourselves, and think a dead bore!"

Since Henrietta had yet to discover anything her parent would hesitate to ask her servants to do for her she could not help laughing, but she naturally did not tell Cherry why she laughed. All she said was: "Well, I'll do my best to oblige you, but I think it only right to warn you that if you encourage me to shuffle off every dull task it is my duty to perform you will rapidly turn me into the most indolent, selfish creature imaginable!"

"No. That I know I couldn't do!" said Cherry, mistily smiling at her.

She spent most of the morning happily engaged in cutting out the green cambric, and tacking the pieces together. In this she had the expert a.s.sistance of Miss Hephzibah Cardle, my lady's own dresser, whose spinsterish form and acidulated countenance could have led no one to suppose that she combined a rare talent for turning her mistress out complete to the last feather with a jealous adoration of that singularly unappreciative lady. Her services to Miss Steane were proffered with extreme reluctance, and would not have been proffered at all if her ladys.h.i.+p had not commanded her to do what she could to give Miss Steane a new touch. Professional pride overcame less admirable feelings, and even led her (to save my lady the expense of sending for her own hairdresser, she said) to trim Miss Steane's unruly locks into a more manageable, and very much more becoming style, which won for her one of my lady's rare encomiums. But although nothing could have been more prettily expressed than Cherry's grat.i.tude for her kind offices she could not like her. She found only one sympathizer in the household: Mrs Honeybourne, the stout and goodnatured housekeeper, might declare that Miss was a sweet young lady; the maids and the two footmen, and even the cross-grained head-gardener smiled indulgently upon her, but Grimshaw regarded her with dislike and suspicion. He and Miss Cardle were convinced that she was an artful humb.u.g.g.e.r, bent on insinuating herself into my lady's and Miss Hetta's good graces by palavering them, and playing off all manner of cajoleries. "If you was to ask me for my opinion, Miss Cardle," he said portentously, "I should feel myself bound to say that I consider she is cutting a wheedle. And what I think of my Lord Desford's conduct in foisting her on to my lady is something I wouldn't demean myself by divulging."

Happily for Cherry's peace of mind the punctilious civility with which both these ill-wishers treated her precluded her from realizing how bitterly they resented her presence at Inglehurst. Within three days of her arrival she had lost her apprehensive look, and was unfolding shy petals in the warmth of a hitherto unknown approval. To be greeted with a smile, when she entered a room; to be addressed as "dear child" by Lady Silverdale; to be fondly scolded by that lady for running an unnecessary errand; to be encouraged by Miss Silverdale to roam about the grounds at will; and to be treated as though she had been an invited guest, and not the unwanted incubus she felt herself to be, were such hitherto unexperienced circ.u.mstances that she was pa.s.sionately anxious to repay her kind hostesses by every means that lay within her power. It did not take her more than a day to realize that there was little she could do for Henrietta, but much she could do for Lady Silverdale; and since she had never previously encountered Lady Silverdale's like she did not for a moment suspect that that lady's plaintive voice and caressing manner concealed a selfishness and a determination to have her own way far more ruthless than the cruder methods employed by Aunt Bugle.

Where Lady Bugle would have imperiously commanded her to go in search of something she had mislaid, and reward her, when she brought the object to her, by wondering what in the world had taken her so long to find it, Lady Silverdale would initiate the search by saying, at the outset: "Oh dear, how stupid of me! I've lost my embroidery-scissors!

Now, where can I have left them? No, no, dear child! Why should you suffer for my carelessness?" And when Cherry, after an exhaustive search, found the missing scissors, and presented them, Lady Silverdale would say: "Oh, Cherry, you dear child! You shouldn't have troubled yourself!"

It was small wonder that she should blossom under such treatment, and think no task too laborious or too irksome to be performed for so amiable a benefactress. She had never been so happy in her life; and Henrietta, realising this, forebore to intervene. She did, however, drop a gentle hint in Cherry's ear that Lady Silverdale's disposition was a trifle uncertain, and depended largely on how she happened to be feeling, the state of the weather, or the shortcomings of her domestic staff. It was by no means unknown for her to take sudden dislikes to persons whom she had previously, and just as suddenly, taken into the warmest favour; and while such capricious fits seldom lasted for very long they made life extremely uncomfortable for their victim.

Cherry listened to this, and nodded wisely, saying that old Lady Bugle had been subject to just such distempered freaks. "Only her crotchets were worse, because she wasn't at all kind, or amiable, even at her best, which dear Lady Silverdale is! Indeed, I think she and you are the kindest people I have ever met!"

This was said with a glowing look. Henrietta could only hope that her parent's sunny mood would outlast Cherry's visit.

It was three days before Sir Charles Silverdale was allowed to leave his bedchamber, and it was plain to his mother and his sister that he was much more shaken by his accident than he would admit. He insisted on coming downstairs but when, leaning heavily on his valet, he reached the library he was only too glad to stretch himself out on the sofa, and even to drink the cordial his mama pressed upon him. He was a handsome youth, but his features were too often marred by his expression, which was inclined to be petulant, and even, when he could not have his own way, or anything went amiss, sullen. In temperament, as in looks, he was very like his mother; but owing to the circ.u.mstance of his having been bereft of a father at an early age, and grossly indulged by his doting mama, all the faults which he had inherited from her were exaggerated. He had a good deal of charm; an ease of manner which made him generally an acceptable guest; and a reckless daring which won him the admiration of a number of like-minded young gentlemen.

His servants liked him, for although he was quite as exacting as his mother, and very much more selfish, he had inherited her genius for making his most outrageous demands appear to be the merest requests; and because he always thanked them, with the sweetest of smiles, expressed contrition for any outburst of temper, and gave them leave of absence whenever he foresaw no need of their services, he was thought to be very goodnatured. His harebrained exploits were regarded by them with indulgence, as being the natural conduct to be expected of any high-spirited young gentleman; and his carelessness was excused on the score of his youth. Only his sister, whose natural fondness for him did not prevent her from recognizing his faults, had said once, when exasperated by some example of churlishness, that since he seemed to have a number of friends it was to be supposed that he reserved his bad temper for his family, conducting himself with propriety everywhere that lay beyond the bounds of his home; and since this caustic comment had drawn down upon her the instant wrath and long-lasting reproaches of her mother, she had never repeated the offence.

She had looked forward to her brother's emergence from his sickroom with misgiving, knowing his susceptibility, and well-aware that the smallest tendency on his part to flirt with Cherry would transform Lady Silverdale, in the twinkling of a bedpost, from a benevolent protectress into an inveterate enemy. But she discovered that Desford had been right: the das.h.i.+ng Mrs c.u.mbertrees might be a thing of the past, but Sir Charles's taste still ran to ladies of opulent charms and vast experience. He had no interest in ingenues, and his only comment, on meeting Cherry, must have allayed any alarm felt by his anxious parent.

In fact, she felt none, and quite agreed with him when he said: "What a snippety thing she is, Mama! A regular go-by-the-ground! I wonder Des should have troubled himself with her."

Mr Cary Nethercott wondered too, but, being a simple, straightforward man, he accepted what was indeed the true explanation without question, and without difficulty. "One can only honour his lords.h.i.+p for his conduct in such a difficult situation," he said, adding with a faint smile: "And hope that one would have had the strength of mind to have behaved in the same way, had one been in his place!"

"I expect you would have!" Henrietta returned, smiling. "It was a very sad case, you know-sadder than the poor child revealed to Desford, I am afraid. Only a monster could have left her to her fate!"

He agreed, but said gravely: "But what is to become of her? So young, and so friendless-for you cannot continue to be responsible for her- or, I don't doubt, Lord Desford expect it of you."

"No, of course he doesn't. He has merely left her at Inglehurst while he discovers her grandfather's whereabouts. Though whether Lord Nettlecombe will be willing to receive her into his household I can't but think extremely doubtful."

"I am not acquainted with his lords.h.i.+p-except by reputation."

"Nor am I, but if only half the tales told of him are true he must be the most disagreeable, clutchfisted old man imaginable! I can but hope that he may be moved by Cherry's plight-even take a fancy to her, which wouldn't be wonderful, for there is something very attaching about her, and she has the sweetest of dispositions."

"She is certainly a very taking little thing," he concurred. "One doesn't like to think of her becoming a slave to such a purse-leech as Lord Nettlecombe is said to be." He paused, frowning, and tapping his finger on the table. "What does she mean to do if Nettlecombe doesn't acknowledge her?" he asked abruptly. "Has she considered that possibility?"

"Oh, yes I She has the intention-the very firm intention!-of seeking a post in some genteel household."

His frown deepened. "What kind of a post? As governess? She must be too young to fill such a position!"

"Not only too young, but quite unqualified for it," said Henrietta. "She thinks she could instruct children just out of the nursery, but I hope I may have convinced her that such a situation would be no improvement on the conditions she endured in her aunt's establishment. The other notion she has is to seek employment with an elderly invalid. She says- and I believe her!-that although she is not bookish she does know how to deal with what she calls cantankersome old ladies. Well, my own mama may not be old, and G.o.d forbid I should call her cantankersome, but it must be owned that-that she has odd humours! I daresay you know what I mean?" He bowed, looking gravely at her. "Yes. Well, I can only say that I have never known anyone who knew better how to keep her pleased and happy!"

"Other than yourself?" he suggested.

"Oh, good G.o.d, no!" she said, laughing. "I'm no hand at it, I promise you! I haven't enough patience! But Cherry has. And she has more sympathy than I fear I shall ever have with hypochondriacs! Does that shock you? Forget I said it!"

He shook his head. "Nothing you did me the honour to confide to me could shock me," he said simply. "What shocks me is knowing that you are aware of the imaginary nature of Lady Silverdale's aches and ills.

Forgive me if I am expressing myself badly! I'm not ready of tongue, and find it hard to put my thoughts into words! But it has always seemed to me that you believed her to be in failing health, in which case your devotion to her was a natural thing, making it an impertinence for anyone to pity you, or-or to presume to think of rescuing you!"

He stopped, reddening, as he perceived in her expressive eyes as much amus.e.m.e.nt as surprise. When she spoke, her words acted on him like a douche of cold water, for she said, on a quiver of laughter: "Well, so I would suppose, sir! Good G.o.d, is it possible that you think me an object for pity, or that I need to be rescued? What a very odd notion you must have of me-and, indeed, of my poor mama! She may sometimes be tiresome, but I a.s.sure you she is as much attached to me as I am to her. I am perfectly happy, you know!"

"Forgive me!" he muttered. "I said too much!"

"Why, of course!" she said, smiling at him. "The truth is that you are too romantical, my friend, and should have lived when gentlemen of your cut used to ride out to rescue some damsel in distress. What a vast number of them there seem to have been, by the way! While as for the dragons and giants and ogres who held the damsels in thrall, when you consider how many of them were slain by the rescuing knights, you must be forced to the conclusion that the country was positively infested with them!"

He could not help laughing, but he shook his head, saying: "You are always so humoursome, Miss Hetta, that one can't but be diverted by your jokes. Are you never serious?"

"Well, not for very long at a time!" she replied. "I fear I am like Beatrice, and was born to speak all mirth and no matter! But come, we were discussing little Cherry's situation, not mine! She really is a damsel in distress!"

"Hers is indeed a hard case," he said heavily.

"Yes, but I have every hope that it won't be long before she receives an offer!"

"From Lord Desford?" he interrupted, watching her face closely.

''From Desford?" she exclaimed involuntarily. "Good G.o.d, no! At least, I most sincerely hope not! It would never do!"

"Why do you say that? If he has fallen in love with her-"

"My dear sir, I daresay Desford must be the last man to forget what he owes to his name, and his family! What in the world do you imagine Lord Wroxton would say to such a match?"

"Do you mean to say that Lord Desford will marry to oblige his father?" he demanded.

"No, but I am very sure he won't marry to disoblige him!" she said.

"When I said that I hoped it wouldn't be long before she received an offer I meant that if we can but introduce her into some household where she will be expected to help to entertain the visitors I have little doubt that she will receive an offer-perhaps several offers!-from perfectly respectable suitors, to whom her father's reputation won't signify a b.u.t.ton."

"You must permit me to say, Miss Hetta, that her father's reputation ought not to signify to any man who loved her!"

"Yes, that is all very well," she said impatiently, "but you cannot expect a Carrington to ally himself to a Steane! It isn't even as if they were of the true n.o.bility! Lord Nettlecombe is only the second baron, you know, and his father, from all I have heard, was a very rough diamond."

"A man need not be contemptible because he was a rough diamond."

"Very true!" she retorted. "He might be an admirable person! But unless I have been quite misinformed he was certainly not that! There is bad blood in the Steanes, Mr Nethercott, and although it hasn't come out in Cherry, who knows but what it might show itself in her children?"

"If these are your sentiments, Miss Hetta, I must wonder at it that you dared to expose your brother to the risk of falling in love with her!" he said, in a quizzing tone, but with a grave look.

She responded lightly: "Yes, and I must own that I had the strongest misgivings! But Desford said that there was no need for me to tease myself over that, because it wouldn't happen. He says that boys of Charlie's age seldom fall in love with girls no older than they are themselves, but languish at the feet of das.h.i.+ng mantraps. And he was perfectly right, as he by far too often is!- Charlie thinks poor Cherry a very mean bit! Which is a good thing, of course, but I do trust that by the time he is old enough to think of settling down he will have outgrown his taste for das.h.i.+ng man-traps!"

"Is that Lord Desford's opinion?" asked Mr Nethercott, unable to keep a sardonic note out of his voice.

It pa.s.sed her by. She said, wrinkling her brow: "I don't think I ever asked him, but I'm very sure it would be, because, now you put me in mind of it, I recall that the first females he ever dangled after were years older than he was himself, and not at all the sort of women anyone but a confirmed noddic.o.c.k would have dreamt of asking to marry him. And that, you know, Desford never was, even in his most ramshackle days!"

Her eyes lit with reminiscent amus.e.m.e.nt as she spoke, but a glance at Mr Nethercott's face informed her that he did not share her amus.e.m.e.nt, so she very wisely brought their tete-a-tete to an end, by getting up from her chair, and inviting him to go with her to the library, where Charlie, still confined largely to the sofa, would be delighted to enjoy a comfortable cose with him.

CHAPTER 8.

In the meantime the Viscount was being afforded ample opportunity to regret his chivalry. He spent the day following his return to Arlington Street in a number of abortive attempts to discover Lord Nettlecombe's whereabouts, even (though with extreme reluctance) going to the length of overcoming his strong dislike of Mr Jonas Steane, and calling at his house in Upper Grosvenor Street. But Mr Steane, like his father, had gone out of town; and although he had not left his house entirely empty the ancient caretaker who was at last induced to respond to the summons of a bell pulled with enough vigour to have broken the wires, and to a crescendo of knocks, was unable to give Desford any more precise information than that Mr Steane had taken his family to Scarborough.

No, he disremembered that he had ever been told the exact direction of his lodgings: all he knew was that the servants had been given a fortnight's holiday, but would be back again at the end of the following week, with orders to give the house a proper cleanup before the family returned to it. No, he hadn't never heard that Lord Nettlecombe had gone off to Scarborough too, but if anyone was to ask him he'd be bound to say he didn't think he had, being as he was at outs with Mr Steane.

Finally, with the praiseworthy intention of a.s.sisting the Viscount, he said that he wouldn't wonder at it if Mr Steane's lawyer knew where he was to be found; but as he was unable to furnish Desford with the lawyer's name, mis...o...b..ing that no one had ever told him what it was, being that it wasn't no concern of his, the suggestion that Desford should seek him out was not as helpful as he plainly believed it to be.

It was at the end of a singularly unrewarding day, when the Viscount sat down to dine in solitary state in his own house, that his deeply sympathetic butler, distressed by his master's sad lack of appet.i.te, and extremely hara.s.sed expression, racked his own' brains, and was suddenly inspired to present him with the most promising advice of any that had yet been proffered. He said, as he refilled the Viscount's gla.s.s: "Has it occurred to your lords.h.i.+p that Lord Nettlecombe may have retired to his country seat for the summer months?"

The Viscount, who had been lost in gloomy consideration of the difficulties which confronted him, looked up quickly, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed: "Good G.o.d, what a fool I am! I'd forgotten he had one!"

"Yes, my lord," said Aldham, placing a cheesecake before him. "I have only a few minutes ago remembered it myself. So while you were partaking of your first course I took the liberty of consulting the Index to the House of Lords, which I recalled having seen on your lords.h.i.+p's bookshelves, and although this volume is ten years old I fancy the information it contains may still be relied upon. It states that Lord Nettlecombe's country seat is situated in the County of Kent, not far from Staplehurst. One cannot suppose that it will be difficult to find, for it is known as Nettlecombe Manor."

"Thank you!" said the Viscount warmly. "I am very much obliged to you! Indeed, I don't know where I should be without you! I'll post off to Staplehurst tomorrow morning!"

He did so, demanding his breakfast at an unfas.h.i.+onably early hour, so that his chaise had gone beyond the stones before such members of the ton who still remained in London had emerged from their bedchambers. His postilions had no difficulty at all in locating Nettlecombe Manor, for a few miles before Staplehurst was reached a signpost pointed the way to the house. It was approached by a narrow lane, bordered by high, straggling hedges, and with gra.s.s growing between the wheel-ruts. This did not hold out much promise that my Lord Nettlecombe's house would justify the description of it as a "country seat", but it was found to be, if not a mansion, quite a large house, set in a small park, and approached by a short carriage-drive, which led from a pretty little lodge, and showed signs of having undergone extensive weeding operations. When the chaise drew up before the main entrance, and the Viscount jumped lightly down from it, he saw that the house was being repaired, a circ.u.mstance which, as he later said acidly, should have been enough to inform him that whoever was residing in the house he was not Lord Nettlecombe.

This was soon proved to be the case. My lord had hired the house to a retired merchant, whose wife, he informed Desford, had been mad after what he called a grand Country Place for years. "Mind you, my lord," he said, with a fat chuckle, "what she set her heart on was a swapping big house, like Chatsworth, or some such, but I told her to her head that ducal mansions was above my touch, even if his grace was wishful to hire it, which, so far as I am aware of, he ain't. All to one, it took pretty nigh on two years before we found this place, and I was so sick and tired of jumbling and jolting all over the country to look at houses that wasn't one of them what we wanted, nor what they was puffed off to be by the agents, that when I saw this place I'd have hired it, even if I hadn't taken a fancy to it, which I own I did. Of course I saw in no more than a pig's whisper that there was a lot wanted doing to it, but, lord, I said to myself, it'll give me something to do when I retire from my business, and if I don't have anything to do it's likely I'll get to be as blue as megrim.

What's more, I was able to drive a bargain with his lords.h.i.+p's man of business, though not," he added, with a darkling look, "as good a one as I'd have driven if I'd known what I know now about the house! Well, if you're one of his lords.h.i.+p's friends, sir, I wouldn't wish to say anything unbecoming, but you wouldn't credit the way everything's been let go to rack and ruin!"

"I'm not one of his friends, and I do credit it!" Desford said promptly, before Mr Tugsley could continue his discourse. "I have a-a matter of business to discuss with him, and hoped I might find him here when I called at his London house, and discovered that he had gone out of town. If you know where he is to be found I should be very much obliged to you if you would furnish me with his direction."

"Well, that I can't do, but I can tell you his lawyer's name, and his direction, so if you'll do us the honour to step into the next room, which Mrs T. calls the Green Saloon, but which to my way of thinking is just a parlour, and partake of a morsel of refreshment, I'll go and see if I can't find it for you."

The Viscount thanked him, but would have declined the offer of hospitality had he not perceived that Mr Tugsley's feelings would be hurt by a refusal. He never willingly wounded the susceptibilities of his social inferiors, so he accompanied his host into the adjoining room, bowed to Mrs Tugsley just as though (as she later informed her husband) she had been a d.u.c.h.ess, and even endured, with an air of courteous interest, twenty minutes of her somewhat overpowering conversation, during which time he drank a gla.s.s of wine, and ate a peach. The table was loaded with dishes, but he contrived to refuse them all without giving offence, saying (with perfect truth) that although he couldn't resist the peach, he never ate a nuncheon.

It was plain that Mrs Tugsley had social ambitions, and her efforts to impress him led her to ape what she supposed to be the manners of the haut ton, and to interlard her conversation with the names of a number of t.i.tled persons, generally describing them as "such a sweet creature!"

or "a perfect gentleman", and trying to convey the impression that she was well-acquainted with them. The Viscount responded with easy civility, and allowed no trace either of disgust or boredom to appear in his demeanour, but he was thankful when Mr Tugsley returned, bearing a slip of paper on which he had transcribed the name and direction of Lord Nettlecombe's lawyer. This he handed to Desford, recommending him not to let the old huckster burn him. Mrs Tugsley begged him not to talk in such a vulgar way, and wondered (with a minatory frown at him) whatever his lords.h.i.+p must be thinking of him. But Desford laughed, and said that he was much obliged to Mr Tugsley for the warning, adding that if Lord Nettlecombe's man of business was as hardfisted as he was himself he must be a very neat article indeed.

He parted from the Tugsleys at long last on the best of good terms, and neither of them suspected that he had been chafing to get away from Nettlecombe Manor for the greater part of an hour. There could be little hope of his reaching London before Mr Crick had shut up his office, and, since the following day would be Sunday, none at all of his being able to consult Mr Crick until Monday.

In the event it was not until Monday afternoon that he interviewed Mr Crick, for when he drove to that pract.i.tioner's office early in the morning it was to be met by the intelligence that Mr Crick had been summoned to attend another of his clients. The apologetic clerk who informed Desford of this circ.u.mstance was unable to say when he would return to his office, but he did not think it would be before noon. He asked, with another of his deprecatory bows, if my lord would wish him to desire Mr Crick to call in Arlington Street, to learn his pleasure; but the Viscount, to whom it would not have occurred to visit his own, and his father's, man of business, unhesitatingly refused this offer, saying that the matter on which he wished to see Mr Crick was merely to discover from him the present whereabouts of Lord Nettlecombe. "And that," he added, with his pleasant smile, "I daresay you may be able to tell me!"

But it was immediately apparent that this information the clerk was either unable or unwilling to disclose, so there was nothing for it but to withdraw, leaving his card, and saying that he would return later in the day.

"Which," said Stebbing, as he resumed his place beside the Viscount in the tilbury, "will give this Crick plenty of time to play least-in-sight."

"I wish to G.o.d you'd come out of the sullens!" retorted Desford, in some exasperation. "You've been glumping ever since we left Hazelfield, and I'm sick of it! Why the devil-should he want to play least-in-sight?"

"That's more than I can tell, my lord, but what the both of us knows is that he's my Lord Nettlecombe's man of business, and if my lord ain't cut his stick I'm a bag-pudding! Which I ain't!"

"You may not be a bag-pudding, but you're one of the worst surly-boots it has ever been my ill-fortune to encounter!" said Desford roundly. "I know very well what made you turn knaggy, but what I do not know is what business it is of yours if I choose to lend my aid to Miss Steane, or to any one else!"

Chastened by the Viscount's most unusual severity, Stebbing muttered an apology, but since the Viscount cut short his subsequent stumbling attempt to excuse himself by saying curtly: "Very well, but don't let it happen again!" he did not venture to speak again until Arlington Street was reached, when, as he received the reins from his master, he asked with unprecedented humility at what hour my lord wished his tilbury to be brought to the door for his second visit to the City.

"I shan't need it again: I'll take a hack," replied Desford.

"Very good, my lord," said Stebbing woodenly. "It is just as your lords.h.i.+p pleases, of course. Though if you prefer to drive yourself, you could take young Upton with you, in my place."

Neither this speech, nor his expression, could have led any uninitiated person to suppose that he pa.s.sionately desired to be reconciled with his master, but the Viscount was not uninitiated, and he relented, well-aware that Stebbing's gruffness and frequent attempts to scold and bully him sprang from a very real regard for him; and that to take the under-groom in his place would be to wound him to the heart.

So, after eyeing him sternly for a moment, he laughed, and said: "Don't try to play off your tricks on me, you old humb.u.g.g.e.r! Think I don't know you? Bring it round at two o'clock!"

Stebbing was so much relieved by this sure sign that the Viscount was no longer angry with him that when he again took his place beside him in the tilbury he comported himself with such anxious civility that the Viscount, if he had not known that such unnatural subservience was unlikely to last for long, would have adjured him to abandon it. In fact, it showed signs of deserting him when the Viscount handed the reins to him outside the grimy building in which Mr Crick had his office, saying that he expected to be with him again in a very few minutes. He then said that he was sure he hoped his lords.h.i.+p would find Mr Crick, and demanded to know what his lords.h.i.+p was meaning to do if he didn't find him. But the Viscount only laughed, and walked into the building.

The clerk bowed him into Mr Crick's room, where he was received by that pract.i.tioner with the greatest civility. Mr Crick begged him to be seated; he apologized for having been absent from his office that morning; but he did not furnish him with Lord Nettlecombe's direction.

He said that he was fully conversant with my lord's affairs, and did not doubt that if my Lord Desford would condescend to divulge the nature of the business he wished to discuss with my lord he would be able to deal with it.

"What I wish to discuss with him is not a business matter," said the Viscount. "It is private, and personal, and can only be answered by himself."

He spoke perfectly pleasantly, but there was an underlying note of determination in his voice which did not escape Mr Crick, and appeared to discompose him. He coughed genteelly, and murmured: "Quite!

Exactly so! Naturally I understand. . . . But I a.s.sure your lords.h.i.+p that you need have no hesitation in disclosing it to me. A delicate matter, I apprehend? You might not be aware.-perhaps I should tell you that my client honours me with his entire confidence."

"Yes?" said the Viscount politely.

Mr Crick fidgeted with the pounce-box, straightened a sheet of paper, and finally said: "He is-er-quite a character, my lord, if I may so put it!"