‘It would have been, had I been talking to anyone but yourself.’
Fortunately, since she could not think what to say in reply to this, Courtenay came trotting back to them at that moment, to inform them of a slight change of plan. By skirting the cornfield that lay beyond the hedge to their right they could cut a corner, and so be the sooner out of the lane, and on to open ground, he said. The only thing was that there was no gate on the farther side: did Miss Trent feel she could jump the hedge?
‘What, on that collection of bad points? Certainly not!’ said Sir Waldo.
Courtenay grinned but said: ‘I know, but there’s nothing to it, sir! He’ll brush through it easily enough – or she could pull him through it, if she chooses!’
‘Oh, could she?’ said Miss Trent, her eye kindling. ‘Well, she don’t choose! By all means let us escape as soon as we may from this stuffy lane!’
‘I knew you were a right one!’ said Courtenay. ‘There is a gate on this side, where the others are waiting, and I’ll have it open in a trice.’
He wheeled his hack, and trotted off again. Miss Trent turned her fulminating gaze upon the Nonesuch, but he disarmed her by throwing up his hand in the gesture of a fencer acknowledging a hit, saying hastily: ‘No, no, don’t snap my nose off ! I cry craven!’
‘So I should hope, sir!’ she said, moving off in Courtenay’s wake. She said over her shoulder, sudden mischief in her face: ‘I wish that handsome thoroughbred of yours may not make you look no-how by refusing!’
An answering gleam shone in his eyes. ‘You mean you wish he may! But I’m on my guard, and shall wait for you to show me the way!’
The hedge proved, however, to be much as Courtenay had described it, presenting no particular difficulty to even the sorriest steed, but Tiffany, who was leading the procession round the side of the field, approached it at a slapping pace, and soared over it with inches to spare. Miss Colebatch exclaimed: ‘Oh, one would think that lovely mare had wings! I wish I could ride like that!’
‘I’m glad you don’t ride like that!’ said Courtenay. ‘Wings! She’s more like to end with a broken leg!’ He reined his horse aside, saying politely to Sir Waldo: ‘Will you go, sir?’
‘Yes, if you wish – but rather more tamely! Your cousin is an intrepid horsewoman, and might become an accomplished one, but you should teach her not to ride at a hedge as if she had a stretch of water to clear. She’ll take a rattling fall one of these days.’
‘Lord, sir, I’ve told her over and over again to ride fast at water, and slow at timber, but she never pays the least heed to what anyone says! She’s a show-off – though I’ll say this for her!! – she don’t care a rush for a tumble!’
‘And rides with a light hand,’ said Julian, with a challenging look at Sir Waldo.
‘Yes, and such a picture as she presents!’ said Miss Colebatch.
Miss Trent, following Sir Waldo over the hedge, observed, as she reined in beside him, that that at least was true. He shrugged, but did not reply. The rest of the party joined them; and as they were now upon uncultivated ground they rode on in a body for some way, and the opportunity for private conversation was lost.
It was when they had covered perhaps half the distance to Knaresborough that Miss Trent, herself uncomfortably hot, noticed that Miss Colebatch, who had started out in tearing spirits, had become unusually silent. Watching her, she saw her sag in the saddle, and then jerk herself upright again; and she edged her horse alongside her, saying quietly: ‘Are you feeling quite the thing, Miss Colebatch?’
A rather piteous glance was cast at her, but Elizabeth, trying to smile, replied: ‘Oh yes! That is, I – I have the headache a little, but pray don’t regard it! I shall be better directly, and I would not for the world – It is just the excessive heat!’
Miss Trent now perceived that under the sun’s scorch she was looking very sickly. She said: ‘No wonder! I find it insufferably hot myself, and shall be thankful to call a halt to this expedition.’
‘Oh, no, no!’ gasped Elizabeth imploringly. ‘Don’t say anything – pray!’ Her chest heaved suddenly, and her mouth went awry. ‘Oh, Miss Trent, I d-do feel so s-sick!’ she disclosed, tears starting to her eyes.
Miss Trent leaned forward to catch her slack bridle, bringing both their horses to a halt. She had not come unprepared for such an emergency, and, thrusting a hand into her pocket, produced a bottle of smelling-salts. By this time the rest of the party had seen that something was wrong, and had gathered round them. Miss Trent, dropping her own bridle, supported Elizabeth’s wilting frame with one arm while she held the vinaigrette under her nose with her other hand. She said: ‘Miss Colebatch is overcome by the heat. Lift her down, Mr Underhill!’
He dismounted quickly, very much concerned, and, with a little assistance from Lindeth, soon had poor Elizabeth out of the saddle. Miss Trent was already on the ground, and after directing them to lay their burden on the turf desired them to retire to a distance.
Elizabeth was not sick, but she retched distressingly for some minutes; and felt so faint and dizzy that she was presently glad to obey Miss Trent’s command to lie still, and to keep her eyes shut. Ancilla remained beside her, shielding her as much as possible from the sun, and fanning her with her own hat. The gentlemen, meanwhile, conferred apart, while Tiffany stood watching her friend, and enquiring from time to time if Ancilla thought she would soon be better.
After a few moments the Nonesuch detached himself from the male group, and came towards Ancilla. He made a sign to her that he wished to speak to her; she nodded, and, leaving Tiffany to take her place, got up, and went to him.
‘Just as you foretold, eh?’ he said. ‘How is she?’
‘Better, but in no cause to go on, poor girl! I have been racking my brains to think what were best to do, and can hit upon nothing. I think, if she could but get out of the sun she would revive, but there are no trees, and not even a bush to afford her some shade!’
‘Do you think, if her horse were led, she could go on for half a mile? Underhill tells us that there’s a village, and an inn: no more than a small alehouse, I collect, but he says the woman who keeps it is respectable, and the immediate need, as you say, is to bring Miss Colebatch out of the sun. What do you think?’
‘An excellent suggestion!’ she replied decidedly. ‘We must at all events make the attempt to get her there, for she can’t remain here, on the open moor. I believe that if she could rest in the cool, and we could get some water for her, she will soon recover – but she must not go any farther, Sir Waldo!’
‘Oh, no! There can be no question of that,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll take her to the inn, and decide then how best to convey her home.’
She nodded, and went back to the sufferer, who had revived sufficiently to think herself well enough to resume the journey. She was encouraged by Tiffany, who greeted Miss Trent with the news that Lizzie was much better, and needed only a rest to make her perfectly ready to ride on. When she learned that they were to go to Courtenay’s inn she said enthusiastically that it was the very thing. ‘We may all of us refresh there, and get cool!’ she said. ‘You will like that, won’t you, Lizzie?’
Miss Colebatch agreed to it, saying valiantly that she knew she would soon feel as well as any of them; but when she was helped to her feet her head swam so sickeningly that she reeled, and would have fallen but for the support of Miss Trent’s arm around her. She was lifted on to her saddle, and was told by Courtenay, in a heartening voice, that she had nothing to do but hold on to the pommel, and sniff the vinaigrette if she felt faint. ‘No, you don’t want the bridle: I’m going to lead White Star,’ he said. ‘And no need to be afraid of falling off, because I shan’t let you!’
‘Thank you – so very sorry – so stupid of me!’ she managed to say.
‘No such thing! Here, Tiffany, you know the way to Moor Cross! Lin
deth is going to ride ahead to warn old Mrs Rowsely, so you’d best go with him!’
She was very willing to do this, announcing gaily that they would form the advance guard, and cantered off with Lindeth. When the rest of the party reached the village, she came dancing out of the little stone inn, crying: ‘Oh, it is the prettiest place imaginable! Do make haste and come into the taproom! Only fancy, I had never been in a taproom before, but there’s no parlour, so I was obliged to! It is so diverting! You’ll be enchanted, Lizzie!’
Miss Colebatch, whose headache had developed into a severe migraine, was only dimly aware of being addressed, and she did not attempt to respond. Courtenay’s hand, which had been grasping her elbow, was removed, and she almost toppled into the arms of the Nonesuch, who was waiting to receive her. He carried her into the inn, where an elderly landlady, over-awed by this unprecedented invasion, dropped a nervous curtsy, and begged him to lay Miss down on the settle. She had placed a folded blanket over its uncompromising wooden seat, and fetched down a flock pillow: two circumstances to which Tiffany proudly drew his attention, saying that it was she who had directed Mrs Rowsely to do so.
‘And while Lizzie rests we are going to sit on the benches outside, just as if we were rustics!’ she said, laughing. ‘Lindeth has ordered home-brewed for you, but I am going to drink a glass of milk, because Mrs Rowsely has no lemons. It seems very odd to me, and I detest milk, but I don’t mean to complain! Do come out! Ancilla will look after poor Lizzie.’
She flitted away again, but he lingered for a few moments, while Miss Trent desired the landlady to bring a bowl of water, and some vinegar. The door of the inn opened directly into the taproom, but there was no other ventilation, the tiny latticed windows resisting Sir Waldo’s efforts to force them open. The room was low-pitched and stuffy, and a strong aroma of spirituous liquors pervaded the air. Sir Waldo said abruptly: ‘This won’t do. I collect there’s no other room than the kitchen on this floor, but there must be a bedchamber abovestairs. Shall I arrange to have her moved to it?’
‘If I could be sure that no one will come in, I believe it would be better to remain here,’ she replied, in a low tone. ‘It would be far hotter, immediately under the roof, you know.’
‘Very well; I’ll attend to it,’ he said.
Half-an-hour later she emerged from the inn. Three empty tankards and a milkstained glass stood on one of the benches against the wall of the house; of Tiffany and Sir Waldo there was no sign, but she saw Lindeth and Courtenay walking down the street. They hastened their steps when they caught sight of her, and came up, anxiously asking how Elizabeth did.
‘Asleep,’ she answered. ‘Where is Tiffany?’
‘Oh, she has gone off to look at the Church with Sir Waldo!’ said Courtenay. ‘Lindeth and I have been enquiring all over for some sort of a carriage, but there’s nothing to be had, so we’ve decided – that is, if you agree! – that I’d best ride to Bardsey, and see what I can come by there. Do you think Lizzie will be well enough to be driven home when she wakes, ma’am?’
‘I hope so. I expect she will pluck up when she has had some tea.’ She smiled at Julian. ‘Poor girl, she is so much distressed at having spoilt your party! She made me promise to beg your pardon, and even suggested that we should continue without her!’
‘What, abandon her in a common alehouse? I should rather think not!’ exclaimed Courtenay.
‘There’s no question of that, of course,’ Julian said. ‘I am only sorry she should be feeling so poorly. I wish we might bring a doctor to her!’
Miss Trent assured him that matters were not very serious, and recommended Courtenay to saddle up. He went off to the small stable yard to do this, just as Tiffany and the Nonesuch came strolling down the street. Tiffany had caught the sweeping skirt of her velvet habit over her arm, and from the sparkling countenance she had upturned to Sir Waldo’s Miss Trent judged that he had been entertaining her very agreeably.
‘Oh, is Lizzie better now?’ she demanded, running up to Miss Trent. ‘Is she ready to go on?’
‘Well, she’s asleep at the moment, but I am afraid she won’t be stout enough to ride any farther.’
‘Then what’s to be done?’ asked Tiffany blankly. ‘How can you say she won’t be stout enough? I’m persuaded she would wish to do so!’
‘Even if she did wish it, it would be very imprudent,’ Ancilla said. ‘Indeed, Tiffany, I couldn’t permit it! You wouldn’t wish her to run the risk of making herself really ill!’
‘No, of course I shouldn’t!’ Tiffany said impatiently. ‘But what a fuss for nothing more than a headache! I should have thought she would have tried to be better!’
‘My dear, she is quite determined to be better, not because she wishes to ride any more, but because she is so much distressed at the thought of spoiling the expedition. I have assured her that we are all agreed that it is a great deal too sultry –’
‘You can’t mean that it must be given up!’ cried Tiffany, looking in dismay from Ancilla to Lindeth.
It was he who answered her, saying gently: ‘You wouldn’t care to go without her. None of us would! Another day, when it isn’t so hot –’
‘Oh, no !’ Tiffany interrupted imploringly. ‘I hate put-offs! I know what it would be – we should never go to the Dripping Well, and I want to!’
‘Yes, we will go, I promise you,’ he said. ‘It is very disappointing that we can’t go today, but –’
‘We can go today!’ she insisted. ‘Not Lizzie, if she doesn’t care for it, but the rest of us!’
He looked slightly taken aback for an instant, but a moment later smiled, and said: ‘You don’t mean that, I know. In any event, we can’t go, because we’ve settled that your cousin is to ride to Bardsey, to see if he can come by a carriage there.’
Her face cleared at that; she said eagerly: ‘So that Lizzie can drive the rest of the way? Oh, that’s a capital scheme!’
‘So that she can be driven home,’ he corrected.
‘Oh! Yes, well, perhaps that would be best. I daresay he would much prefer to drive Lizzie home, too, and it will make Lizzie feel much more comfortable to know she hasn’t spoilt the day for us after all. Only consider! She will be perfectly safe with Courtenay, and so we may be easy! Do say you will go, Lindeth! Ancilla? Sir Waldo?’
Ancilla shook her head, trying to frown her down; but Sir Waldo, apparently divorced from the scene, was pensively observing through his quizzing-glass the gyrations of a large white butterfly, and evinced no sign of having heard the appeal. But Courtenay, leading his horse out of the yard, did hear it, and it was he who answered.
‘Go where? To Knaresborough? Of course not! We are none of us going there. I wonder you should think of such a thing!’
‘Why shouldn’t I? I don’t mean you, either: you are to drive Lizzie home! We need not all go with her!’
‘Miss Trent must! Ma’am, you surely won’t leave Lizzie?’
‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘Don’t say any more, Tiffany! You must know you cannot go without me, and that I cannot under any circumstances leave Miss Colebatch.’
‘I could go if Courtenay went,’ Tiffany argued.
‘Well, I’m not going,’ said Courtenay. ‘I’m going to Bardsey, to try if I can find some sort of a vehicle there. But it ain’t on a pike-road, so the odds are I shan’t be able to get anything better than a gig. Would a gig serve, ma’am?’
‘No, no, of course it wouldn’t!’ interposed Tiffany. ‘She would have the sun beating down upon her head, and that would never do! I don’t think she should attempt the journey until it is cooler, do you, Ancilla? Poor Lizzie, I daresay she would liefer stay in this delightful inn! Then we can all ride home together, when the rest of us come back from Knaresborough! She will be quite well by that time, and Ancilla won’t object to staying with her, will you, Ancilla?’
Lindeth, who was beginning to look extremely troubled, said: ‘I don’t think you can have considered. It would be quite improper for two ladies to spend the day in a taproom!’
‘Oh, fudge! I shouldn’t care a rush, so why should Lizzie? She will have Ancilla to bear her company!’
‘But you could not enjoy the expedition, knowing that they were so uncomfortably situated!’ he suggested.
‘Oh, couldn’t she?’ said Courtenay, with a crack of rude laughter. ‘You don’t know her! I can tell you this, Tiffany! you may as well stop scheming, because you won’t cozen me into going to Knaresborough, and that’s my last word!’
A flush rose to her cheeks; her eyes blazed. ‘I think you are the horridest, most disobliging toad !’ she said passionately. ‘I want to go to Knaresborough, I will go!
‘Tiffany!’ uttered Miss Trent, in despairing accents. ‘For heaven’s sake – !’
Tiffany rounded on her. ‘Yes, and I think you’re as disagree-able and unkind as he is, Ancilla! You ought to do what I want, not what Lizzie wants! She shouldn’t have come with us if she meant to be ill!’
‘Take a damper!’ said Courtenay sharply, looking towards the door of the inn. ‘Hallo, Lizzie! Are you feeling more the thing now?’
Miss Colebatch, steadying herself with a hand on the door-frame smiled waveringly, and said: ‘Yes, thank you. I’m much better – quite well! Only so very sorry to have been such a bother!’
Tiffany ran to her. ‘Oh, you are better! I can see you are! I knew you would be! You don’t wish to go home, do you? Only think how flat it would be!’
‘Miss Colebatch, don’t come out into the sun!’ interposed Miss Trent, taking her hand. ‘I am going to ask the landlady to make some tea for us, so come and sit down again!’
‘Yes, some tea will refresh you,’ agreed Tiffany. ‘You’ll be as right as a trivet then!’
‘Oh, yes! Only I don’t think – I’m afraid if I tried to ride –’
‘But you’re not going to ride, Miss Colebatch,’ said Julian. ‘Underhill is to fetch a carriage for you, and we are none of us going to Knaresborough. It’s far too hot!’
The Nonesuch Page 12