Charity Girl

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by Джорджетт Хейер


  “Oh, what a horrid creature you are! Trying to frighten me out of my skin, with your talk of bad news! I don’t call that bad news!”

  “You will when you’ve seen him,” said Simon. “He’s a shocking fellow!”

  “Oh, dear, how unfortunate!” she said, quite dismayed.

  “You may well say so! I’ll tell you what passed between us, but not here! Won’t do for any of the servants to overhear us.”

  “No, indeed! Come into the house! You can wait for me in the Green saloon. I won’t be above a couple of minutes, but I must show myself to Mama! I’ve been sitting with poor Mrs Mitcham all the morning, and you know what Mama is! If I venture to go more than five miles from home she is convinced that some dreadful fate will overtake me! Either I shall be robbed by highwaymen, or that there will be some accident to the carriage in which I shall be hideously hurt! It is too absurd, but it’s useless to argue with her. I expect I shall find her in high fidgets, for I’ve been absent for nearly five hours!”

  She hurried up the steps, the folds of the delicate primrose muslin dress she was wearing gathered in one hand; and when she reached the terrace she saw that Grimshaw was waiting to receive her in the open doorway, an expression on his face of portentous gloom. “Thank God you have come home, Miss Hetta!” he said earnestly.

  “Well, of course I’ve come home!” she replied, with a touch of impatience. “I haven’t been to the North Pole! I have been, as you very well know, a distance of no more than twelve miles, and since I had my mother’s coachman to drive me there, and both her footmen to protect me from any eccentric highwaymen who might have chanced to fall upon the carriage, and to rescue me if those showy slugs had bolted, and overturned us, you cannot have been under the smallest apprehension that any disaster had befallen me!”

  “No, miss, I was under no such apprehension. It is her ladyship’s state which makes me thankful to see you back. She has suffered a terrible shock, and, I regret to say, is in great affliction.”

  “Good heavens, is my mother ill? Has there been some accident?” she cried.

  “Not, so to say, an accident, Miss Hetta,” replied Grimshaw, heaving a deep sigh, and casting a reproachful look at her. “But when the terrible news was conveyed to her ladyship she felt a very severe spasm and went into strong hysterics.”

  “But what news?” demanded Henrietta, in considerable alarm.

  “I regret to be obliged to inform you, miss,” said Grimshaw, in a tone of ghoulish satisfaction, “that we have every reason to fear that Sir Charles has eloped with Miss Steane.”

  “Oh, my God!” muttered Simon, at Henrietta’s elbow. “Now we are in the basket!”

  “Fiddle!” she snapped. “How dare you talk such moonshine, Grimshaw? Who had the spiteful impudence to tell such a ridiculous story to her ladyship? Was it you, or was it Cardle? I can believe it of either of you, for you have both tried, from the moment Miss Steane set foot inside this house, to make her ladyship believe that she was an odious schemer! But it is you and Cardle who are the odious schemers! I don’t wish to hear another word from you—though I promise you you will hear a great many words from Sir Charles when I tell him of this piece of wicked mischief-making! I am going to my mother now, but I am expecting a visit from Miss Steane’s father, Mr Wilfred Steane. When he arrives, you will show him into the library, and advise me of it.”

  Before this blaze of wrath, as alarming as it was unprecedented, Grimshaw quailed. “Yes, Miss Hetta!” he said hastily. “Her ladyship is laid down on the sofa in the drawing-room, miss! Being a little restored by some drops of laudanum. It wasn’t me that broke it to her that Sir Charles was gone off with Miss Steane, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have said anything about it until you was come home—”

  “That will do!” said Henrietta superbly.

  “Yes, miss!” said Grimshaw, almost cringing. “I will show Mr Steane into the library, exactly as you say, miss!”

  “Or the Baron Monte Toscano!” interpolated Simon.

  Henrietta had started in the direction of the drawing-room, but she checked at this, and looked over her shoulder, saying quickly: “No, no, Simon! I can’t receive strangers at such a moment!”

  “Same man!” he explained, in an undervoice. “Explain it to you later! But for the lord’s sake, Hetta, don’t see him until you’ve first seen me! Something dashed important to warn you about!”

  She looked bewildered, but promised she would join him in the Green saloon as soon as might be possible.

  The scene that met her eyes when she entered the drawing-room bore eloquent testimony to Lady Silverdale’s attack of the vapours. Her ladyship lay moaning softly on the sofa; Cardle was waving smelling-salts under her nose with one hand, and with the other dabbing her brow with a handkerchief drenched in vinegar; and on the table beside the sofa was a collection of bottles, ranging from laudanum and tincture of Valerian-root, to Hungary Water and Godfrey’s Cordial.

  “Thank God you are come home at last, Miss Hetta!” cried Cardle dramatically. “See what that wicked creature has done to her ladyship!”

  “Oh, Hetta!” quavered Lady Silverdale, opening her eyes, and holding out a limp hand.

  “Yes, Mama, I’m here,” said Henrietta soothingly. She took the limp hand, and patted it, and said coldly: “You may go, Cardle.”

  “Nothing,” announced Cardle, bridling, “shall induce me to leave my beloved mistress!”

  “Your mistress doesn’t need you while she has me to look after her,” said Henrietta. “This show of devotion would be more affecting if you had not quite deliberately thrown her into such agitation! I’ll speak to you later: for the present, you will please leave me to be private with her ladyship.”

  “That I should have lived to hear such words addressed to me!” uttered Cardle, clasping her hands to her spare bosom, and casting up her eyes to the ceiling. “I that have served her blessed ladyship faithfully all these years!”

  “Yes, yes, but go away now!” said her blessed ladyship, reviving sufficiently to push away the vinegar-soaked handkerchief. “I don’t want this nasty-smelling stuff! You know I don’t like it! Oh, Hetta, thank you, dearest!” she added, receiving from her thoughtful daughter a fresh handkerchief, sprinkled with lavender-water, and sniffing it. “So refreshing! You see, Cardle, that Miss Hetta knows just what to do to make me better, so you needn’t scruple to leave me in her care! And take away the vinegar, and the laudanum, and all those bottles, except the asafoetida drops, in case I should feel another spasm coming upon me! And give me my smelling-salts, please! And perhaps you should leave the cinnamon water, but not Godfrey’s Cordial, which I am persuaded doesn’t suit my constitution. And don’t, I beg of you, Cardle, start sobbing, for my nerves are shattered, and I find myself in a very agitated state, and nothing upsets me more than to have people crying over me!”

  At the end of this speech, which had increased in vigour surprising in a lady who had, at the start of it, presented the appearance of one who was almost beyond human aid, Cardle saw nothing for it but to withdraw, which she did, with the utmost reluctance, and with many shuddering sighs indicative of her wounded sensibilities. When she had gathered up the rejected remedies, she went with bowed shoulders to the door, turning as she reached it to bestow a last pitiful look at her mistress, and one of venomous dislike at Henrietta.

  “Well, now,” said Henrietta cheerfully, “we can be comfortable together, Mama!”

  “I shall never again know a moment’s comfort!” said Lady Silverdale, relapsing slightly. “Oh, Hetta, you don’t know what has happened!”

  “No, I don’t,” agreed Henrietta, sitting down beside her mother, and casting her very becoming hat of satin-straw on to a near-by chair. “Grimshaw told me a ridiculous Banbury story, not one word of which am I such a goose as to believe, so do, pray, Mama, tell me what really happened here today!”

  “Alas, it is no Banbury story! Charlie has run off with that wretched girl Desford persuaded me to house f
or him! I shall never forgive him, never! Heaven knows it was much against my will that I consented to take her, for I didn’t like her. There was always something about her that seemed to me to show a want of conduct. Those inching manners, you know, were beyond the line of being pleasing. You must recall my saying so to you, several times!”

  “No, I don’t recall that,” said Henrietta dryly. “It doesn’t signify, however. What does signify is this nonsensical notion that Charlie has run off with Cherry Steane. It is too absurd, Mama! Cherry doesn’t like him any better than she likes any young man!”

  “That was just her artfulness! Exactly what one might have expected of Wilfred Steane’s daughter! I see now that she was all the time determined to get a husband. There can be no doubt that she first set her cap at Desford, only he, being up to snuff (more shame to him!), no sooner saw what her game was than he got rid of her—at my expense! Hetta, when you refused to marry Desford you had a fortunate escape! I own, I was disappointed at the time, however little you may have guessed it, but I have lived to be thankful that you are not today the wife of such an unprincipled rake! You would have been miserable, dearest! And if ever I reproached you for refusing his offer I tell you now that nothing would prevail upon me to consent to your union with him!”

  “As the question doesn’t arise,” said Henrietta calmly, “must we waste time in discussing Desford’s morals?”

  “Certainly not!” said Lady Silverdale. “I have no wish to discuss them! I don’t wish ever to see him again, or even to waste a thought on him! In fact, if he has the effrontery to show his face here, Grimshaw will have instructions to refuse him admittance! Foisting that wretched girl on to me—throwing her in poor Charlie’s way—coaxing you into believing his glib tale—!”

  Knowing that no purpose would be served by entering into argument with her fuming parent, Henrietta sat in unresponsive silence until Lady Silverdale had talked herself out of breath. She then said: “What makes you suppose, ma’am, that Charlie has eloped with Cherry?”

  “He did it in a tantrum, of course!”

  Henrietta looked amused. “I shouldn’t have thought that even such a skip-brain as Charlie would elope because he was in a tantrum—and with a girl for whom he has never shown a sign of partiality, too!”

  “He’s not a skip-brain!” said Lady Silverdale, firing up. “And as for not showing partiality, with my own eyes I saw him, not an hour after you left the house, Hetta, hugging and kissing her!”

  “Hugging her? Pray, how did he contrive to do that, with one arm in a sling, and two broken ribs?” asked Henrietta sceptically.

  “He had his left arm round her, of course, and he did kiss her, for I came into the room just as he was doing it! And, what is more, Hetta, she made no effort to push him away from her!”

  “You should be grateful to her for that, ma’am! Considering it was only yesterday that Dr Foston. was shaking his head, and warning us that Charlie must take the greatest care, because though one of the broken ribs is mending the other is causing him to feel anxious, I think Cherry showed remarkable restraint not to struggle with him! I don’t doubt that she was terrified of what might be the result of pushing him away.”

  “How can you be so blind, Henrietta, as to let yourself be taken-in in this foolish way?” demanded Lady Silverdale. “I noticed many days ago that she was a flirt—indeed, I felt obliged to warn her not to encourage gentlemen to make up to her!—and Cardle tells me—”

  “I wish to hear nothing of what Cardle tells you, ma’am!” Henrietta said, rather hotly. “It is of no consequence whatsoever! She resented Cherry from the start, and hasn’t ceased to try to set you against the poor child!”

  “Cardle is devoted to me,” said Lady Silverdale. “She at least has my interests at heart!”

  Henrietta started to speak, checked herself, and, after a momentary pause, said: “What happened when you suprised Charlie kissing Cherry?”

  “He released her immediately, and if ever guilt was plain to be seen in anyone’s face it was in Cherry’s! She was in too much confusion to be able to speak. She stammered something, turning as red as fire, and ran out of the room. And you are not to suppose, Hetta, that I didn’t give Charlie a scold! I scolded him extremely severely, for whatever you may say, I do not ignore his faults. Not that I think it was his fault, but he should not have allowed himself to be led into impropriety.”

  “So then he flew into one of his stupid rages, and was probably very rude to you,” nodded Henrietta.

  “Yes, he was!” said Lady Silverdale, with feeling. “He actually told me—shouted at me!—to ‘stubble it!’ And when I asked him if he wanted to break my heart, he walked out of the room, and slammed the door in a way he must know is excessively bad for my nerves!”

  “Well, I think that was more improper than to have kissed Cherry,” said Henrietta, her mouth suitably grave, but an irrepressible twinkle in her eyes. “I expect he will be sorry now, and be ready to beg your pardon, so don’t be distressed about it, Mama!”

  “He has gone!”said Lady Silverdale tragically.

  “Nonsense! I daresay he flung himself out of the house in a miff, but he will be back as soon as he has recovered his temper, depend upon it!”

  “Alas, you do not know all! Cherry has gone too!” disclosed Lady Silverdale, recruiting her forces with the vinaigrette. “And if you imagine, Hetta, that I said anything to drive her out of the house in that highty-tighty fashion, you are much mistaken! Naturally I was obliged to read her a lecture, exactly as I should to you, if you ever conducted yourself with such a want of delicacy, which, thank God, you never would do!”

  “And what did she say, ma’am, in answer to this gentle scold?”

  “Oh, she said it hadn’t been her fault, and that Charlie had taken her by surprise, and a great deal more to that wheedling tune! So I told her—perfectly kindly—that no gentleman kisses a girl unless he has received encouragement to do so; and I warned her of what might well befall her if she didn’t learn to behave with more propriety. Then I said (because she began to cry) that I wasn’t angry with her, and should do my best to forget the incident, and I told her to go up to her bedchamber until she was more composed.”

  “Unfortunate girl!” ejaculated Henrietta. “How could you, Mama? When she has been so grateful to you, and so good to you! Telling her such a—such a plumper, too! And she’s such a goose that I expect she believed no gentleman kisses a girl unless she encourages him, and had run off to cry her eyes out! Now I shall have to go in search of her!”

  Lady Silverdale was so much incensed that she bounced up from her moribund position, and sat bolt upright. “You are as unnatural as your brother!” she declared, in a trembling voice. “Is it nothing to you that your mother should have spent the day in an agony of anxiety? Oh, no! All you care for is that miserable little wretch you’ve made into a bosom-piece! As for going in search of her, she has already been searched for, and neither she nor Charlie is on the premises! And, what is more, Cardle saw her running down the backstairs not twenty minutes after I sent her to her room, and she was wearing her bonnet and shawl, and the nankeen boots I procured for her! And you call that gratitude!”

  Henrietta was frowning slightly. “She must have gone for a walk beyond our grounds, then. Foolish of her, but if she was as upset as I collect she was, she was probably bent on finding a retreat where she wouldn’t be looked for. Or perhaps of seeking relief from her feelings in exercise: it’s what I should do in like circumstances!”

  “Wait!” commanded Lady Silverdale. “A little later, a closed vehicle was seen to be drawn up a few yards beyond the farm-gate, and one of the undergardeners saw Charlie come out into the lane, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, so that he shouldn’t be recognized, of course, but James did recognize him, because he was wearing that olive-green coat, which I cannot like, and it is perfectly true, Hetta: he was wearing it today! And he looked round to be sure no one was following him, and then climbed up
into the carriage. So James was in a puzzle to know what to do, because all the servants know that Dr Foston has expressly forbidden Charlie to ride, or to drive, for at least another week, and he was afraid Charlie would do himself an injury. So he made up his mind to come up to the house, and try whether he could get a word in Pyworthy’s ear—not that that would have been of any use, because Charlie has Pyworthy in a string! I’m sure I am glad to think Charlie’s valet is so devoted to him, but there’s reason in all things, and when it comes to pretending to me that he doesn’t know where Charlie is, or what he’s doing, as he does, over and over again—well, I think it the outside of enough!”

  “Mama,” said Henrietta, with determined patience, “Simon Carrington is waiting for me, with an urgent message, in the Green saloon, so do, pray, tell me—”.

  “I am telling you, but if you keep interrupting me I may as well hold my peace,” replied Lady Silverdale, in an offended voice. “And as for Simon Carrington, I forbid you to invite him to dine here, Hetta! I don’t accuse him of aiding and abetting Desford, though it wouldn’t suprise me if he is, but I don’t wish to set eyes on any Carrington!”

  “Very well, ma’am. Did James tell Pyworthy that Cherry was in that carriage?”

  “He didn’t see Pyworthy,” said Lady Silverdale stiffly. “He saw Grimshaw!”

  “And told him that?”

  “No, but he knew there was someone in the carriage, for the door was opened from inside it, and he saw Charlie laughing, and saying something, and who else could it have been than—”

  “And on this you, and Cardle, and Grimshaw have fabricated the most fantastic Canterbury tale I ever heard! The romances you are so fond of reading, ma’am, are nothing to it!”

  “But, Hetta, it is not a Canterbury tale! Where could Charlie have been going to, in that secret way, except to—”

  “For heaven’s sake, Mama, don’t say Gretna Green!” begged Henrietta, torn between exasperation and amusement. “Without as much as one cloak-bag between the pair of them! My guess is that Charlie has gone off on some expedition he knows you’d disapprove of; and if he does himself an injury he will be well-served! What is more important is to discover what has become of Cherry! For how long has she been missing?”

 

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