Mrs. Tarrant made soothing noises. "It's very inconsiderate of him, to be sure. Come in with me, Drusilla, and I'll see if I can persuade your brother to give you a good scolding later." She bustled the girl into the house.
Jane and Thorpe exchanged glances. She could've sworn Thorpe winked.
"If that don't beat the Dutch," Vincent said wrathfully. "I'll give her a scolding she won't forget. Dash it, she's my sister as much as Julian's."
Jane sat on the step and laughed so hard she disgraced herself.
* * * *
Julian spent some time dispensing largesse and gratitude to the searchers. When he reached Whitethorn, it was nearly two. He had got beyond tiredness and floated, or seemed to float, into the house and down to the kitchen, where he hoped to find Mrs. Bradford and something to eat. He found her, and Thorpe also, deep in speech by the great kitchen table. They heard his step and leapt apart like guilty things surprized.
He was a trifle surprized himself but said merely, "Did I thank you, Thorpe? I'm in your debt. Again."
Thorpe flushed and mumbled, which was not his style. Puzzled, Julian looked from his groom to his housekeeper.
"Something to eat, me lord?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Bradford. Don't trouble with a meal. I'm too tired. Is that bread and cheese?"
He helped himself to a chunk of bread and leant against the wall, chewing.
Thorpe cleared his throat. "Me lord..."
"What is it?"
"Me and Ellen Bradford, sir, is wishful to marry. With your permission, sir."
Julian stared. Thorpe, the married man. From Thorpe's highly unnatural diction he could only assume the speech was premeditated.
"Not if you dislike it, me lord," said Mrs. Bradford firmly, revealing the source of Thorpe's language. "I'm sensible Thorpe has been serving of you many years now, and if you're bent on keeping him in foreign parts I'll not interfere."
Julian recovered his wits. "Good God, what a pair of idiots you are. Of course you must wed if you wish it." He frowned. "Had you thought of this before I dragged you off to Dorset, Thorpe?"
"It was on me mind," Thorpe admitted.
"Well, damn your eyes for not telling me. I'd not have taken you away."
"Nay, then, I know it," Thorpe said comfortably. "Tha needed one of thy own by thee, lad. Sneck oop."
Julian was silent, chagrined at his own obtuseness and selfishness, and more touched than he could have said by Thorpe's loyalty. "Jem--"
"Never tha mind."
Julian shook his head hard. "Mrs. Bradford?"
"Sir."
"Is there a bottle of champagne in the cellar?"
"There's the one Mr. Tarrant brought over last Boxing Day," she said doubtfully.
"Fetch it, if you please."
When she returned, he shot the cork and poured three prodigious portions, for she had brought mugs and he didn't wish to send her scuttling off again after glasses. He proposed a toast to their happiness.
Presently they were all very merry, and Julian, owing partly to exhaustion and partly to bemusement, was as drunk as a wheelbarrow.
"Drunk as a lord," Thorpe said benignly.
Mrs. Bradford startled the two men and herself by laughing heartily, and Thorpe helped Julian stumble up to bed.
* * * *
Mrs. Tarrant--whom Jane now thought of as Peggy--chased Vincent off to Whitethorn to catch up on his sleep and, if possible, tie his brother to the bed.
"For Julian will certainly have lamed himself," she said with resignation," and we don't need another invalid here. Mrs. Bradford can minister to him. More bread and butter, Drusilla? My dear, what is it?"
Drusilla was heard to mutter guilt-stricken mea culpas for having crippled her brother.
"Nonsense. You didn't mean to lose yourself, did you? "
"N-no."
"Surely you're used to Julian by now. It's his own fault. He could have left the search to Thorpe and Earnshaw, at least long enough to rest his leg, but he can never bear to sit and wait."
"I thought he was a good patient," Jane interposed somewhat indignantly.
"Very civil. At what cost I don't care to contemplate, for he was repressing all his natural inclinations. Julian has a short fuse."
Jane bridled. "His lordship has been very patient with his family."
Drusilla burst into tears.
Jane and Peggy exchanged chagrined looks.
"She must go to bed at once," Jane said remorsefully. "What a dim thing for me to say. And not true, either, for Meriden bit Vincent's head off...Dru, darling, don't cry. Oh, dear, I wish Meriden were here. He would know how to make you laugh at this, love."
Peggy said nothing, but took charge of the weeping girl and soon had her settled into a truckle bed in Jane's room. They both sat with her until she had gone off into exhausted sleep.
Peggy raised a finger to her lips and led Jane into the hall.
"Now, do be sensible, Jane, and have a rest too. I'll see to Will. Miss Goodnight--"
"Goody! I had forgot her!"
"She was very much relieved to know of Drusilla's safe return, and I have ordered her to remain in bed until dinner." She smiled ruefully. "Indeed it would be very much better if everyone would sleep for several days."
"Oh, dear, we have put you to so much trouble..."
"Hush. It will do Will a world of good once things have settled down. So diverting. He slept like an infant last night."
"You're very kind, Peggy."
Peggy smiled. "I am an excellent creature and full of benevolence. Off to bed with you."
Jane complied and surprized herself by falling asleep. She roused herself for dinner, however, and tiptoed out so as not to disturb her lustily snoring cousin.
Neither of the Stretton brothers appeared. Peggy, Miss Goodnight, and Jane ate a quiet dinner and spent several hours delighting Will Tarrant by losing to him at whist. Drusilla still slept.
She did not waken until the next morning when the sprightly maid brought in their tea. When Drusilla woke, Jane must perforce wake also, for her cousin at once began to chatter and question her and describe what, after a hearty sleep, now seemed a splendid adventure.
"And I'm dreadfully hungry," Drusilla announced in piercing tones just as Mrs. Tarrant and Annie entered with two laden trays.
"I thought you might be." Peggy smiled at her and left the cousins to eat and dress. It was clear she had been bustling about for hours.
Drusilla fell on the food like a locust--or do I mean plague of locusts, Jane thought, eyeing her cousin in sleepy revulsion. It was wonderful how revived Drusilla was--full of enthusiasm and vitality, ready, no doubt, to think up yet another devastating escapade and, so far this morning at least, utterly wanting in contrition.
"I don't know why you should be jawing at me, Jane," she said simply when Jane ventured to bring up the subject of her adventure. "Julian did not, and he is my guardian."
"Probably he had not the energy," Jane said drily. "You must allow Lady Georgy would have every right to censure you, Dru, and I am here in her stead."
Drusilla looked mulish.
"What if you had taken some injury?"
"But I didn't."
Jane gave it up.
The cousins had dressed and visited Miss Goodnight, and been shewn Peggy's babies by the time Vincent and Meriden arrived--in Vincent's phaeton--with a visibly mellow Thorpe following on horseback. Vincent was dressed for riding. His brother was not.
They stood outside for some moments in conference. Then Vincent tooled off toward the stables with Thorpe trotting along behind. Meriden came slowly toward the house.
"I was right," Peggy said glumly. "He's using the stick again. I hope he may not have torn something."
Jane didn't reply. She was so shaken with rage at Drusilla that she could not have spoken.
Peggy went out to greet Meriden and left Jane and Drusilla together.
Drusilla said timidly, "I didn't mean to get lost, Jane."
Jane gritted her teeth.
"At least you're here," Drusilla ventured.
"I had no wish to be here," Jane said coldly.
"I thought if I went off alone, the odds were you would be the one to follow," Drusilla said in a small voice.
A horrible suspicion crossed Jane's mind. Her cheeks flamed. "What are you saying, miss?"
"Nothing." Drusilla's eyes dropped. "We...that is, I missed you, Jane."
Jane was not moved by this exercise of pathos and set herself to pursue the matter further, but she forgot it altogether when Peggy and Meriden came into the withdrawing room.
Drusilla flung herself at her brother, who fended her off good-naturedly enough, as if she had been a rather large puppy.
"Yes, yes. You're thrown into transports at the sight of me. Sit down, Dru, and stop making a cake of yourself."
Abashed, his sister sat.
Meriden turned to Miss Goodnight and Jane with a half-smile. "How do you do? Miss Goodnight, I hope you have recovered. I understand you were a little overset by this business."
Miss Goodnight flushed. "A trifle. I do no regard it."
"I do," he said ruefully. "I'm very much obliged to you both. If you had not set off with such despatch, I fear Drusilla would not have escaped harm. She strayed very far afield and would have fetched up in Tanner's Bog."
"Should I?" Drusilla appeared taken with the notion.
"Yes, and you'd not have liked it. How came you to be such a greenhorn?"
Drusilla looked blank.
"You aspire to become an explorer. If so, why did you wander off without taking your bearings? The merest Johnny Raw would know better than to set off across open country without a guide. You had only to follow that stone wall to come in sight of Whitethorn." Having withered Drusilla, he turned back to Jane and Miss Goodnight. "I take it Georgy sent you, since you have her carriage."
"Oh, yes. So obliging of her and such a comfortable ride...that is, not comfortable, precisely...the road..." Miss Goodnight dwindled into incoherence.
A smile flickered in Meriden's eyes, but he forbore to teaze. "Miss Ash, what did Georgy propose you should do with my sister when you came upon her?"
"Bring her back, sir." Jane collected her wits. Yesterday she had been Jane; now she was Miss Ash. Although his manner was not unfriendly she felt as if she had been struck.
"Why did she not come herself?"
"There was Maria..."
"Lady Herrington had engaged to be present at a levée in honour of the Prince of Orange," Miss Goodnight interposed. "She was at some pains to avoid unnecessary gossip. Her absence--"
"She bullied you and Miss Ash into taking on her duty. I see." Meriden's mouth set in hard lines. "What very obliging relations I have."
Jane said quietly, "She did not coerce us, sir. Her wish was to silence the tattlemongers. Drusilla is my cousin, too, and we agreed that it made a more credible story for me to absent myself from Town at this season than for her ladyship to do so."
"Georgy is entirely too puffed up in her own conceit," Meriden snarled. "Slender Billy wouldn't know her from Miss Brown of Bristol."
The picture of the elegant Georgy in the character of a provincial nobody tickled a grin from Jane. Meriden did not smile.
"You are unreasonable, sir," Jane said after a moment.
"Am I? I placed Drusilla in Georgy's charge."
Jane raised her brows. "And not in mine? I believe my consequence is sufficient to lend Drusilla credibility."
"Touche--"
"I did not have pressing engagements, and even my Aunt Hervey saw at once that my cousin's need for me was superior to her own claims." Even Aunt Hervey, she thought wryly. Aunt Pandarus.
"You are very good-natured to allow yourself to be imposed upon, Miss Ash. Your father will view the matter with less complaisance."
"He'll never know of it if some busybody doesn't tell him."
"I shall tell him."
Jane stared. "You take too much upon yourself, sir. I am not your sister or your ward or even your c-cousin. What I choose to do is my own affair." She bit her lip and gave an unwilling chuckle. "What a harebrained thing to say. If he finds out from someone else, he will blame you. I beg your pardon. I shall write him myself. At once."
Meriden was silent, and she could not read his expression.
After a moment Peggy said drily, "Perhaps you should neither of you write Mr. Ash. Cause Drusilla to do so. Julian, I wish you will either sit down or leave. It is most uncomfortable to be cricking one's neck at a looming man. Drusilla, pull out the wing-backed chair for your brother."
"I'm capable of pulling out my own chair." He frowned. "Peggy, what do you say?"
"To what?" She relented. "Well, I wish you will go in to Will, and allow Miss Goodnight and Miss Ash and me to come up with a plan. I daresay we shall contrive something, and you are just now a great nuisance." She smiled. "Beat Will at chess. He needs a set-down."
"Peggy..."
"It's all right, idiot."
Meriden took his leave with wooden civility and clumped off looking grim.
"Patriarchy does not become Julian," Peggy remarked in considered tones. She did not allow anyone the chance to reply but went on briskly, "Now we shall sort the matter out in peace. Drusilla is here. What do we do with her?"
"Take her back to London at once," Jane said in tones as glum as her feelings.
Drusilla's speedwell blue eyes brimmed tears, but she said nothing to defend herself.
Peggy gave her a measuring glance. "That would defeat your purpose, Jane. Would it not?"
Jane gathered her wits. "How should it?"
"Lady Herrington will put it about that Drusilla has gone to Yorkshire for a visit. If you return with her directly, everyone will know at once that is not the case and suspect the worst."
Jane frowned. "True."
"You cannot put up at Whitethorn. That is out of the question."
"Meriden is Drusilla's brother..."
"But, as you pointed out, not yours." She smiled. "Besides, Whitethorn is largely under holland covers and not, in my estimation, very comfortably furnished, even if Julian were to cause Mrs. Bradford to open the house. No. I propose that the three of you stay here for several weeks and go south again when Drusilla had meant to leave originally."
"That is very kind in you, Peggy, but you already have a deal of trouble on your hands."
Peggy smiled. "You mean I have Will on my hands. Very true, and I shall not be able to entertain Drusilla as I planned. What I mean to do is use the three of you to my own ends. Jane, you and Miss Goodnight may take over the cossetting of my beloved spouse. I shall put Drusilla to work in the nursery. For myself, I intend to become a leisured lady and shall expect to be regaled with all the latest on dits and crim. cons. And. Jane, you will please allow me to copy the gown you wore to dinner last evening, for it would become me excessively."
Jane could not help smiling, but she felt Peggy was making the best of a bad bargain and said so. Peggy, however, would not be moved, and in the end, Jane consented.
"Splendid!" Peggy beamed.
"But Lord Meriden..."
"Julian will not come the lord with me," Peggy said firmly.
* * * *
Peggy was not altogether displeased with the company that had thrust itself upon her so melodramatically.
Will's temper improved as if by magic. The vital work of overseeing the estate, which she must have done in her husband's stead, fell to Julian and Vincent, and her dinner table had seldom seen livelier company. She could have used more servants, but Jane and Miss Goodnight did not require to be waited on hand and foot and, indeed, insisted upon helping her with such tasks as mending linen and marketing. Miss Goodnight knit young Margot a cap. Drusilla sang for them and was very good with the children. Even Nurse, inclined to resent intruders, took to her.
At first Peggy was a little in awe of Jane, for Jane was used, clearly, to move in high circles, bu
t she also shewed herself to be fully aware of the intricacies of running a household and not at all contemptuous of the plain style of life at Tarrant Manor. They soon became friends.
In one thing, however, Jane would not be drawn out. Peggy judged her to be some four- or five-and-twenty years old, and she was unwed. She had means, wit, taste, a pleasing appearance, good health, excellent manners, and yet she was not married. Madness.
Peggy was too wise to teaze when her first tentative attempts to pry received a playful but definite rebuff. She watched Jane, however, very curiously. Julian she watched less closely or she would have perceived the connexion between what was troubling him and what occasionally seemed to sink Jane into abstracted reverie.
It took Drusilla to enlighten her.
Chapter XVIII
Peggy drove with Drusilla into Yeading on market day, for the girl had been oppressively well-conducted, and it seemed to Peggy that she needed a small treat. They had a jolly time, and presently, as they drove homeward, Drusilla grew confiding. She described life in Bath with Lady Meriden with such candour that Peggy wondered why Julian's sister had not run away sooner, and was so incautious as to say so.
"Oh, Julian asked me not to," Drusilla said in matter-of-fact tones. "So, of course, I didn't."
That baffled Peggy and amused her. She said lightly, "I collect he forgot to tell you not to run away from London."
Drusilla flushed. "I wasn't really running away. I asked Jane to come with me to Yorkshire, but she would not, so, of course, I had to pretend to run off. I knew she must follow, for Cousin Georgy never leaves London in the Season, and who else would?"
"Miss Goodnight?" Peggy ventured.
"Goody can't travel alone. Casts up her accounts."
Peggy shook her head to clear it.
"I planned it all so exactly," Drusilla mourned. "And then I had to lose myself on that stupid moor. It spoilt everything."
Peggy stared into the ambient air. "My dear, if you weren't really running away, what were you doing?"
"Bringing Jane to Julian, of course."
Peggy digested that. "Why?"
Drusilla cast her a sidelong look. "It was Jane's Aunt Hervey who gave me the idea. She said Julian must marry, for then his wife could present Maria, and none of us need stay with Mama in Bath--except Thomas. One sees that it wouldn't do to deprive Mama of her baby, and I daresay he's too young to mind. Why are you laughing?"
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