The Nonesuch

by Джорджетт Хейер

  Miss Trent had no great faith in his ability to overtake a truant who had had three hours’ start; but since she felt quite as strongly as he did that every effort must be made to do it, and realized that to persist in urging that Sir Waldo should be consulted would be a waste of breath and time, she resigned herself to the prospect of an uncomfortable, and possibly nerve-racking drive. He was relieved to learn that she meant to accompany him, but he warned her that he was going to put ’em along.That he would do better to be content with putting his horses well together was an opinion which she kept to herself.

  When she found that he had had a team harnessed to the phaeton her heart sank. His leaders were new acquisitions, and he was not yet very expert in pointing them, or indeed of sticking to them, as she very soon discovered. Observing that there was not a moment to be lost, Courtenay sprang his horses down the avenue to the lodge-gates. Since it was not only rather narrow, but had several bends in it as well, Miss Trent was forced to hold on for dear life. The sharp turn out of the gates was negotiated safely, though not, perhaps, in style, and they were soon bowling along the lane that led to the village. Courtenay, exhilarated by his success in negotiating the difficult turn out of the gate, confided to Miss, Trent that he had been practising the use of the whip, and rather thought he could back himself to take a fly off the leader’s ear.

  “I beg you won’t do any such thing!” she replied. “I have no wish to be thrown out into the ditch!”

  Nettled, he determined to show her that he was at home to a peg, and it was not long before her worst fears were realized. Within less than a quarter of a mile from Oversett, feather-edging a bend in the lane, his front-wheel came into sharp collision with a milestone, partially hidden by rank grass, and the inevitable happened. Miss Trent, picking her self up, more angry than hurt, found that one wheel of the phaeton was lying, a dismal wreck, at some distance from the carriage, that one of the wheelers was down, a trace broken, and both the leaders plunging wildly in a concerted effort to bolt. Blistering words were on the tip of her tongue, but she was a sensible woman, and she realized that there were more urgent things to do than to favour Courtenay with an exact and pithy opinion of his driving-skill. She hurried to his assistance. Between them, they managed to quieten the frightened leaders, backing them gently to relieve the drag on the crippled phaeton from the remaining trace. “Cut it!” she commanded. “I can hold this pair now. Do you get that wheeler on his feet!”

  Speechless with rage and chagrin, he had just freed the leaders when, sweeping round the bend towards them, came the Nonesuch, his team of chestnuts well in hand, and his groom seated beside him. The team was pulled up swiftly, every rein holding as true as if it had been single; the groom jumped down, and ran to the wheelers’ heads; and the Nonesuch, his amused gaze travelling from Courtenay, beside his struggling wheeler, to Miss Trent, who had led the two sweating leaders to the side of the lane, said: “Dear me! Do what you can, Blyth!”

  The groom touched his hat and went to Courtenay, who was suffering such agonies of mortification at being found in such a situation that he would have been hard put to it to decide whether he wished himself dead or the Nonesuch. He blurted out, scarlet-faced: “It was that curst milestone! I never saw it!”

  “Very understandable,” agreed Sir Waldo. “But if I were you I would attend to my horses! You really need not explain the circumstances to me.” He looked smilingly at Miss Trent. “How do you do, ma’am? Quite a fortunate encounter! I was on my way to visit you—to invite you to go with me to Leeds.”

  “To Leeds!” The exclamation was surprised out of her; she stood staring up at him, her embarrassment forgotten.

  “Yes: on an errand of mercy!” He glanced towards the phaeton, and saw that the fallen wheeler was up. “Very good, Blyth! Now take those leaders in hand!”

  The groom, who had been running a hand down one of the unfortunate wheeler’s legs, straightened himself, saying: “Yes, sir. Badly strained hock here.”

  “So I should imagine. Render Mr Underhill all the assistance you can!”

  “Sir!” uttered Courtenay, between gritted teeth. “I—we—were on our way to Leeds too! That was how it came about that I—I mean, it is a matter of—of great urgency! I must get there! I can’t tell you why, but if you are going there yourself, would you be so very obliging as to take me with you?”

  “Well, no!” said the Nonesuch apologetically. “Phaetons, you know, were not built to carry three persons, and I have been particularly requested to bring Miss Trent with me. Oh, don’t look so distressed! Believe me, the matter is not of such great urgency as you think! You may also believe that Miss Trent is far more necessary to the success of my mission than you could hope to be.”

  Miss Trent, having relinquished the reins she had been holding into Blyth’s hands, stepped quickly up to the phaeton, and said, in an undervoice: “You know, then? But how? Where are they?”

  “In Leeds, at the King’s Head.” He leaned across the empty seat beside him, and held down his hand to her. “Come!”

  She looked at it, thinking how strong and shapely it was, and then up, meeting his eyes, smiling into hers. She felt helpless, knowing it was her duty to go to Tiffany, longing to be with Sir Waldo, dreading to be with him, afraid, not of his strength but of her own weakness. Before she had made up her mind what to do, Courtenay, whose worshipful regard for the Nonesuch was rapidly diminishing, broke in, saying in a furious voice: “Your pardon, sir! But Miss Trent can’t discharge my errand, which is of immediate urgency, I promise you! I don’t care if he is your cousin—I—I have a very ardent desire to meet Mr Calver!”

  “Yes, yes!” said the Nonesuch soothingly. “But you can express your gratitude to him at a more convenient time. Your immediate duty is to your horses.”

  “My gratitude?” ejaculated Courtenay, so far forgetful of his immediate duty as to abandon his wheelers, and to stride up to Sir Waldo’s phaeton. “That—that damned rip makes off with my cousin, and you expect me to be grateful? Well, let me tell you, Sir Waldo,—”

  “My amiable young cawker,” interrupted Sir Waldo, looking down at him in considerable amusement, “you are fair and far off! To whom, do you suppose, do I owe my information?”

  Nonplussed, Courtenay glared up at him. “I don’t know! I—”

  “Well, think!” Sir Waldo advised him. He looked again at Miss Trent, his brows lifting enquiringly.

  “Is Tiffany with Mr Calver?” she demanded.

  “Well, I trust she may be. She was with him when he sent off his impassioned plea for help, but he seemed to entertain some doubt of his ability to hold her in—er—check for any considerable period. I don’t wish to be importunate, ma’am, but are you coming with me, or are you not?”

  “I must come!” she said, gathering up her skirt in one hand, and holding the other up to him.

  He grasped it, drawing her up into the phaeton, and saying softly: “Good girl! Pluck to the backbone! Were you tumbled into the ditch?”

  “I collect you’ve guessed as much from my appearance!” she said, with asperity, and putting up her hands to straighten her bonnet.

  “Not a bit of it! A mere knowledge of cause and effect: you are, as ever, precise to a pin—and an enduring delight to me!” He turned his head to address Courtenay once more. “I’ll leave Blyth to assist you, Underhill. Indulge no apprehensions! just look to your horses! Miss Wield will very soon be restored to you.”

  As he spoke, he drew his leaders back gently, and gave the would-be top-sawyer an effortless demonstration of how to turn to the right about in a constricted space a sporting vehicle drawn by four high-bred lively ones.

  Miss Trent, deeply appreciative of his skill, was moved to say: “You do drive to an inch! I wish I could turn a one-horse carriage as easily!”

  “You will: I’ll teach you,” he said. “You shall take the shine out of all our fair whips!”

  She had no particular desire to take the shine out of anyone, but
the implication of these words conjured up a vision of the future so agreeable that it was with great difficulty that she wrenched her mind away from it. Rigidly confining it to the matter in hand, she said: “I hope you mean to explain to me, sir, how it comes about that you are so exactly informed of Tiffany’s whereabouts.I could only guess what must be her intention, for I have been away from Staples for the better part of the day, and she left no message for me.”

  “What an abominable girl she is!” he remarked. “My information came, as I told you, from Laurie. He sent off one of the post-boys with a note for me, from the King’s Head. As far as I understand the matter—but he wrote in haste, and, to judge from the manner of it, in an extremely harassed state of mind!—Tiffany induced him to drive her to Leeds, by some fetch or wheedle, and only on arrival there divulged her intention of traveling to London. I can’t tell you why she should have suddenly taken this notion into her head. All I know is that Laurie has hoaxed her into believing that there is not a place to be had in any of the stage-coaches, and that the Mail doesn’t reach Leeds until four o’clock. I should have thought that rather too improbable an hour to have chosen, but Tiffany seems to have accepted it without question.”

  “Of course it’s perfectly ridiculous! But Tiffany knows nothing about Mails or stages. Well! it’s some comfort to know that I was right. Mr Underhill would have it that she and your cousin had gone off in a post-chaise-and-four, but I couldn’t suppose that Mr Calver would be carrying a large enough sum of money on his person.”

  “Very unlikely,” he agreed. “Still more unlikely that he would have disgorged a penny of it for Tiffany’s benefit. I’ll say this for Laurie: he had her measure from the outset.”

  “Indeed? It would be interesting to know, then, why he has been so assiduous in his attentions to her!”

  He smiled. “Oh, that was to detach her from Julian! He came after the fair, but it was quite a good notion.”

  “Your own, in fact!” she said, somewhat tartly. “I find it very hard to believe that Mr Calver takes the smallest interest in Lord Lindeth’s happiness.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t! He knows, however, that I do, and unless I’m much mistaken his scheme was to win my gratitude. Poor Laurie! It was some time before he realized that his labour was thrown away. Still, it kept him occupied, and did neither of them any harm.”

  “I think it utterly unscrupulous!” said Miss Trent indignantly. “It would have done a great deal of harm if Tiffany had fallen in love with him!”

  “On the contrary, it might have done a great deal of good. It’s high time that young woman suffered a shake-up. To own the truth, I rather hoped she might develop just enough tendre for him to enable her to bear more easily the shock of finding that Lindeth had offered for Miss Chartley. Not for her sake, but for yours. I can readily imagine what you will be made to suffer, my poor girl!”

  She disregarded this, but asked eagerly: “Has he done so? Oh, I am so glad! I hope you don’t dislike it, Sir Waldo?”

  “Not at all. An unexceptionable girl, and will make him an admirable wife, I daresay.”

  “I think that too. She has as little worldly ambition as he, and quite as sweet a disposition. But his mother? Will she like it?”

  “No, not immediately, but she’ll come round to it. She has all the worldly ambition Julian lacks, and has lately been doing her utmost to interest him in various diamonds of the first water. However, I fancy she has begun to realize that it’s useless to try to bring him into fashion. In any event, she is by far too fond a parent to cast the least rub in the way of his happiness. Julian informs me, moreover, that Mrs Chartley is related to one of my aunt’s oldest friends. His description of this lady—unknown to me, I’m thankful to say!—wouldn’t lead one to suppose that my aunt would regard the relationship as an advantage, but he seems to think it will. As far as I remember, he said she was a regular fusty mug—but I daresay he exaggerated!”

  A ripple of laughter broke from her. “What a boy he is! Tell me, if you please: when did this event take place, sir?”

  “This morning. I had the news from him barely half-an-hour before I received Laurie’s message.”

  “Then I know why Tiffany ran away,” said Miss Trent, with a despairing sigh. “She was at the Rectory this morning, and they must have told her. You may say she’s abominable—and, of course, very often she is!—but one can’t but pity her, poor child! So spoiled as she has been all her life, so pretty, and so much petted and admired—! Can’t you understand what it must have meant to her, coming, as it did, after the ball last night?”

  He glanced down at her. “The ball last night? What happened to overset her then?”

  “Good God, surely you must have noticed?” she exclaimed. “All those foolish boys who have been dangling after her ever since I brought her to Staples clustered round Miss Chartley—almost showed Tiffany the cold shoulder!”

  “No, I didn’t notice,” he answered. “I was in the card-room, you know. But I can readily understand her feelings upon being shown a cold shoulder: I was shown one myself, and I assure you I am filled with compassion.” Again he glanced down at her, his smile a little wry. “That, Miss Trent, is why I sought refuge in the card-room.”

  Chapter 18

  She turned away her face, aware of her rising colour. He said reflectively: “I can’t recall that I was ever so blue deviled before.”

  She knew that it was unwise to answer him, but she was stung into saying: “That, Sir Waldo, is—as you would say yourself—doing it rather too brown! You do not appear to me to be suffering from any want of spirits!”

  He laughed. “Oh, no! Not since it occurred to me that you were blue deviled too!”

  “To be thrown into a ditch is enough to blue devil anyone!” she retorted.

  “What, twice?” he exclaimed. “I had no notion that such an accident had befallen you on the way to the ball!”

  “It didn’t. Last night,” she said carefully, “I was not feeling at all the thing. I had the headache.”

  “Again?” he said, in a voice of deep concern. “My dear Miss Trent, I’m persuaded you should consult a physician about these recurrent headaches of yours!”

  She did her best to stifle it, but he caught the sound of the tiny choke of laughter in her throat, and said appreciatively:

  “Do you know, I think that of all your idiosyncrasies that choke you give, when you are determined not to laugh, is the one that most enchants me. I wish you will do it again!”

  Only the recollection that he must of necessity be expert in the art of seduction prevented her from complying with this request. Appalled to discover that in despite of upbringing and principles her every fibre was responsive to the Nonesuch’s wicked charm, she said, apparently addressing the ears of his leaders: “Sir Waldo, circumstance compelled me to accept a seat in your carriage. When I consented to go with you to Leeds, I trusted that chivalry—a sense of propriety—would prohibit you from entering again upon this subject.”

  “Did you?” he said sympathetically. “Only to find your trust misplaced! Well, that is a great deal too bad, and one must naturally shrink from shattering illusions. At the same time—where did you pick up such a ridiculous notion?”

  The Reverend William Trent, whose mind was of a serious order, had several times warned his elder sister that too lively a sense of humour frequently led to laxity of principle. She now perceived how right he was; and wondered, in dismay, whether it was because he invariably made her laugh that instead of regarding the Nonesuch with revulsion she was obliged to struggle against the impulse to cast every scruple to the winds, and to give her life into his keeping.

  “What is it that troubles you, my heart?” he asked gently, after a short pause.

  The change of tone almost overset her, but she managed to say, though faintly: “Nothing!”

  “No, don’t say that. What did I do to bring about this alteration in your sentiments? I’ve racked my brain to discover the answer—se
arched my memory too, but quite in vain. God knows I’m no saint, but I don’t think I’m more of a sinner than any other man. Tell me!”

  She realized from these words that they must be poles apart. She thought it would be useless to enter upon any discussion, even if she could have brought herself to broach a subject of such delicacy. She said, with as much composure as she could command: “Sir Waldo, pray leave this! I don’t wish to be married.”

  “Why not?”

  She ought to have guessed, of course, that he would disconcert her. Casting wildly in her mind for an excuse, she produced, after a betraying pause: “I am an educationist. No doubt it seems strange to you that I should prefer to pursue that profession, but—but so it is!”

  “My dear girl, so you might, with my goodwill!”

  “You would hardly wish your wife to be employed as a teacher in a school!”

  “No, certainly not, but if superintending the education of the young is your ambition I can provide you with plenty of material on which to exercise your talents,” he said cheerfully.

  For a moment she could hardly believe her ears. She turned her head to stare at him; and then, as she saw the familiar glint in his eyes, wrath at his audacity surged up in her, and she gasped; “How dare you?”

  The words were no sooner uttered than she regretted them; but she had at least the satisfaction of seeing the glint vanish from his eyes. It was succeeded by a look of astonishment. Sir Waldo pulled up his team. “I beg your pardon?” he said blankly.

  Furiously blushing, she said: “I should not have said it. I didn’t intend—Pray forget it, sir!”

  “Forget it! How could I possibly do so? What the devil did I say to make you rip up at me? You don’t even know what I was talking about, for I haven’t yet told you my dark secret! Do you remember that I promised I would do so?”

  “I do remember,” she replied, in a stifled voice. “You said that you would make a clean breast of it, but it is unnecessary. I know what your—your dark secret is, Sir Waldo.”