Sir James rubbed the tip of his nose thoughtfully, and exchanged a glance with his wife.
“Well, if that’s so. ... .You have behaved very irresponsibly, but if you wish to marry. . . .The whole matter of the meetings would have to be hushed up of course!”
“Well, they will not be hushed up! I have other plans for my son, and they do not include his marrying Anastasia Derwent!” cried Mrs Carstares.
“You know that I want to marry her of all things, Mama! Surely you would not stand in my way?”
“As to that,” said Lady Derwent haughtily, “We too had other, very advantageous, plans for Anastasia!”
“Aye, damme, there’s another thing!” exclaimed Sir James. “We will have Sir Montagu down on us before the cat can lick its ear, and then we will be for it! He will not marry her if he gets wind of this scandal!”
“It seems to me that no-one will marry her, unless you first find the girl,” pointed out Mrs Carstares derisively. “Do you really have no idea where she is?”
“None, if your son does not, for she was last seen speaking to him in the garden at about midnight last night,” said Lady Maria.
They all looked at Robin, who hastened to say defensively: “Yes, and so she did, but I afterwards saw her return safely to the house. But. . . . well, I do think I know where she has gone!”
He looked rather nervously at Sir James, and continued: “Last night she told me that of all things she disliked Sir Montagu Morley, and dreaded the very thought of meeting him on the morrow when he was to propose for her hand!”
“Rubbish!” interjected Sir James. “Mere nervous fiddle-faddle! It was as good a match as any she could hope for, and all in a fair way to being settled advantageously.”
“I do not believe she had any desire for the match,” continued Robin, “For she had resolved to fly to her maternal Aunt, a Lady Dunford, and to throw herself upon her mercy. To this end she sent for me last night, in order to ask my advice, and to lend her money for the journey.”
“And you helped her? Helped an innocent child to travel alone to London!” exclaimed Lady Derwent.
He drew himself up angrily. “That I did not, Lady Derwent! I endeavoured to show her that things were not as desperate as they might appear, and that she should not do anything hastily. And I declined to lend her any money. My words appeared to persuade her at least to defer her departure, and she promised to consult with me again. And,” he added, a martial light in his eye, “I asked her to marry me!”
“Robin!” said his Mama in trembling tones. “Oh! If only your dear Father were here to make you see sense! The girl is a wild piece, as is plain from her conduct — no fit bride for you.”
She turned virulently on Sir James: “I blame your father for letting her run wild, as though she were a boy. No good ever comes of it, and so I told him!”
“Come, come,” said Lady Derwent pacifically, “This squabbling gets us nowhere. We must decide .....”
The door was thrown open.
“Sir Montagu Morley!” announced the butler sonorously.
There was an absolute silence. Sir Montagu, walking in with words of easy address on his lips, faltered as he felt the atmosphere of dismay that greeted him.
“I hope I do not arrive inopportunely? You did receive my letter?”
Sir James pulled himself together with a visible effort. “Of course, of course! – it is just that we had not. . . . . had not looked for you for some hours yet, that is all.”
“You may put that down to a lover’s impatience!” said Sir Montagu pleasantly.
Sir James’s harried expression deepened. “Ah – yes, yes, indeed! Er ... I believe you met my neighbours on the occasion of your last visit, did you not?”
Any illusions he might have cherished of pulling off the situation peacefully were shattered immediately by Mrs Carstares.
She fixed angry grey eyes on Sir Montagu with a glittering smile. “Oh, so you are the poor man who was to have married that unprincipled girl!”
Sir Montagu was discomposed. “What, Ma’am, do you mean......?” he began.
“Mrs Carstares, I do beg of you...!” interrupted Sir James hastily. She waved him away.
“You can hardly hope to keep it a secret – it will be all over the village that she is missing by now, I’ll wager.”
“Missing?” said Sir Montagu, grasping at this incomprehensible exchange. “Is it Anastasia – Miss Derwent – who is missing?”
Lady Derwent intervened smoothly. “You must not be too worried, Sir Montagu. The silly child took some stupid notion or other into her head, and has run off to her Aunt, that is all.”
“Gone off to London alone, and with no money to help her, from what I can gather!” snorted Mrs Carstares. “Fine goings on!”
Mrs Carstares was irrepressible.
“Aye, and I suppose you do not mean to inform this poor, deluded man that his intended wife has been meeting other men on the sly?”
“Your own son!” struck in Lady Derwent, the light of battle in her eyes. “It is your own son who has been deceiving you and leading my poor, innocent sister-in-law astray!”
“Led on by her unprincipled behaviour!”
“Unprincipled behaviour?” said Sir Montagu sharply. “Will someone please inform me of what is going on!”
“I must inform you, Sir,” said Carstares with rigid politeness, “That I have been meeting Miss Anastasia Derwent clandestinely, and that I mean to marry her!”
Sir Montagu’s face went livid, and for a moment it seemed as if he meant to strike him.
Robin held his ground and clenched his fists pugnaciously. “We meant no harm by our meetings – but she did not want to marry you, and so she has run away! I intend to marry her as soon as I can.”
His Mama was distracted by this from her quarrel with Lady Derwent long enough to interject: “You cannot marry her. You are a minor, and I forbid it!”
“Only for a few more months, and then I may do as I please!”
“Are we to take it, then, that Miss Derwent desires to marry you?” enquired Sir Montagu in silky tones.
He coloured angrily, but had to admit that she had so far refused him.
“But now she must agree, for it will be all about shortly that she has run away, and I don’t suppose you will still want to marry her when she has made it plain enough that she does not wish to marry you!”
Sir Montagu remained blandly unimpressed. “Miss Derwent is betrothed to me, though I do not doubt that you have been filling her head with all kinds of notions! I suggest,” he said, turning to Sir James, “that we follow her to London, and that our betrothal be announced as soon as possible in order to stop any rumours that may circulate to her detriment.”
Sir James looked relieved. “Well, that is very magnanimous of you! And Anastasia is a good girl, you know – it was her innocence that blinded her to the wrongfulness of these meetings. She did not come to any harm, I am certain.”
“She did not come to any harm from me!” said Robin, standing angrily by listening to these plans. “But have you considered whether she may not come to harm travelling alone to London? She told me that she did not have much money, so how then is she faring?”
The two ladies ceased their brangling and stared at him, as did Sir Montagu and Sir James.
Louisa, a forgotten but avid listener, said: “Yes, she cannot have had much money, I know, and she took so few things with her — no bonnet or pelisse! Perhaps she has been kidnapped after all!”
“No bonnet?” said Mrs Carstares. “Surely you are mistaken! Even Anastasia . .. .”
She broke off as the sound of booted feet approached the room, and the door was flung open with a careless hand.
“In the library, are they?” said a deep, familiar voice. “Do not trouble to announce me – I will go in!”
It was Lord Silverfield.
Chapter Nine
Lord Silverfield had been breakfasting preparatory to his return to L
ondon when he had overheard a low-voiced conversation between two servants outside his door.
At the mention of a certain name he had reached the door in one stride, and wrenched it open to disclose the two servants, open-mouthed in surprise.
“You!” he beckoned the tap-boy, “Come in here!”
The maidservant fled down the passage, and the boy entered shuffling his feet and looking askance at the large, angry young man towering over him.
“I be mortal sorry if our talking disturbed your Honour,” he offered nervously.
“Never mind that! Repeat to me what you were saying just now.”
“I ... it weren’t nothing much. . .Just passing the time of day, like!” He twisted his large red hands into the coarse sacking apron he wore.
Lord Silverfield grasped him ungently by the arm and glared at him. “You will tell me, you miserable little worm,” he said between his teeth, “Or I will break every bone in your body!”
The tap-boy shook with fright and blurted: “I will! I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Sir!”
Lord Silverfield let him go. “You mentioned Miss Derwent?”
The lad gulped and nodded. “Aye – Miss Anastasia, that is. And I didn’t mean no harm. Why, Miss Anastasia’s well liked about here – aye, a regular devil to go, she is! Ride anything in the stables, she can!” he added enthusiastically.
“Never mind that. Tell me what you were saying about her.”
“Only that a groom from the Derwents’ place passed here not so long since taking a message over to Mrs Carstares, and he said as how Miss Anastasia was missing, and not hide nor hair of her to be found anywheres!”
“Missing? Run off, do you mean?”
“I dunno,” said the boy, giving the matter his earnest consideration. “Why-for should she do a thing like that? Everyone hereabouts likes Miss Anastasia. No nonsense about her. Why ......”
“Yes, I know the rest!” cut in Lord Silverfield, seeing that he had gleaned all that the boy knew. “You can take yourself off. Here – “he thrust a coin into the tap-boy’s ready hand. “And don’t let me hear you gossiping about this!” he added.
The boy looked aggrieved. “But you made me gossip about it. . . .” he began. A look from the hard, dark eyes made him think better of finishing this, and sent him scurrying from the room.
Lord Silverfield stayed a moment frowning over this surprising information, and then went out, calling for the landlord.
He must be packed and gone as soon as possible. And on his way he would call on the Derwents; ostensibly to bid them farewell, but in reality to determine the truth of this tale.
He thought it possible that Anastasia might have eloped with the man she had been meeting last night, and although he had determined to put all thought of her out of his mind he could not go back to Town without finding out what had happened.
He was in the act of turning through the gates of Derwent Place when he was hailed by a young man, little more than a boy, who rode up to him leading a hack.
“Excuse me, Sir, but might this be Derwent Place?” he enquired.
“Yes,” he agreed, “This is Derwent Place.” He placed the youth correctly as an ostler, and his eyes turned to the horse the boy was leading, a much more quality beast than the one he was riding, although it appeared somewhat long in the tooth.
The boy saw the direction of his eyes and explained: “I have a horse here to return to him. At least,” he added anxiously, “I hope I have!”
Lord Silverfield’s attention quickened. “Where have you come from?”
“Norman’s Cross, Sir, about ten-twelve miles away on the London road. I’m ostler there, and I’m to deliver this here horse back to Sir James, so the young gentleman said, and I’ll be paid for my trouble.”
“The ‘young gentleman’?”
“The young gentleman as was about to board the London Stage, Sir,” explained the youth. “In a mortal hurry he was, for fear the stage might to without him! Stage don’t wait for no-one.”
“Ah! – a slim young gentleman, perhaps, with reddish hair and green eyes?”
The boy considered. “Well, as to his hair I’m sure I couldn’t say, Sir, for he had a hat well pulled down over his face. But he was a pale, delicate-seeming young gentleman, small and slight. Do you know him, Sir?”
“Yes. Yes, I believe I do!” His eyes gleamed. “Here!” he threw the man a coin sufficient to make him grin with mingled relief and surprise. “Take the horse round to the stables. I am about to call on Sir James, and will inform him of its return myself.”
The youth touched his hat, and in a moment the curricle was past him and driving up to the house.
When Lord Silverfield entered the drawing-room so precipitately a moment later he found it rather fuller than he had expected.
“Ah, Sir James! Lady Derwent, your servant.” He bowed elegantly. “I have come to bid you farewell, for I’m on my way back to Town.”
He looked about him, as though just noticing the crowded room. “But I disturb you!”
Sir James looked as though his cravat were strangling him, but attempted to master the situation. “Not at all! It is very kind of you to give us a look-in... .”
Lord Silverfield turned from greeting Louisa and nodded carelessly to Sir Montagu. “What, you here? I wouldn’t have thought rural retreats were in your line, Morley!”
Sir Montagu stiffened, but Sir James intervened quickly: “I do not think you have met our good neighbour, Mrs Carstares, have you, Silverfield? – ah, and her son, too, is unknown to you, I think.”
He greeted them with careless grace, then his eyes widened as they fell on the pale-blond hair of the handsome young man. Surely this must be Anastasia’s swain of the previous night? But if so, she could not have run off with him after all! His heart felt suddenly lighter. But where, if she was not eloping, could she have gone?
Conversation seemed to have been suspended by his arrival. Elegantly flicking open the lid of his snuff box he said, offhandedly: “I hear that Miss Anastasia has run off.”
“How came you to hear that?” demanded Sir James, astounded. “The matter is a private affair!”
“Oh, the rumour has reached the village! I presume the arrival of Sir Montagu was too much for her nerves to take?”
“Sir, you are insolent!” snarled Sir Montagu, starting forward angrily. “And I warn you that if any gossip concerning my betrothed is bandied about Town I will know where to lay the blame!”
“Oh, are you betrothed? I wouldn’t have thought there would have been time before she left so hurriedly...”
“He is not betrothed to her!” announced Mr Carstares, glaring with impartial belligerence at both men, “But I hope soon to be! I mean to go directly to London myself, and find her.”
“Robin!” cried his Mama. “I forbid it!”
“Forbid it or not, I am going! No one else seems to be in the least concerned to discover if Anastasia is safe or not!”
“As to that,” drawled his Lordship, “I feel I might have some information on that head.” He turned to Lady Derwent enquiringly: “Tell me, you have a son, have you not?”
“Yes, Endymion,” said Lady Derwent, baffled. “But he is away at Eton, and can have had nothing to do with this.”
“And have you checked his room to see if any of his clothes are missing?”
She stared at him with her mouth half-open for a moment, then turned and walked purposefully out of the room.
“Oh!” cried Louisa, “Of course! That is why there was hair in the grate, and she took no bonnet or pelisse!”
“Hair in the grate. . .?” muttered Sir Montagu. “Good God, am I to understand that Miss Derwent has gone to London dressed as a boy?”
“Yes, I think you will discover that she has,” said Lord Silverfield nonchalantly. “I came across a youth leading a hack at your gates, which was entrusted to him by a slim young man about to board the London stage at Norman’s Cross.”
He seemed merely amused by this enterprise, but the other occupants of the room looked shocked; Sir James, indeed, looked as if he were in imminent danger of suffering an apoplexy.
Lady Derwent came back looking scandalised. “It is true – she has taken Endymion’s clothes! The wicked, wicked girl!”
“That any sister of mine should behave so!” moaned Sir James, sinking down and putting his head into his hands. “To run away – and on the common stage – is bad enough! But to do so dressed in boy’s clothing!”
“It is precisely the sort of thing of which I have always believed her capable!” declared Mrs Carstares.
“I blame your father,” said Lady Derwent to her husband. “Her upbringing was sadly at fault. Such things do not happen in well-regulated families!”
Even Robin looked shocked by the added impropriety of this last discovery, but rallied loyally to Anastasia’s defence. “It is not so very bad – she is little more than a child after all!”
“Seventeen,” said Louisa waspishly. “Old enough to know better! I should have blushed at the mere idea when I was seventeen.”
She looked under her lashes at Lord Silverfield, but he did not appear to be listening — indeed, he was gazing out of the window with a bored expression on his handsome face.
“I do not know what to do for the best!” moaned Sir James. “Sir Montagu......”
“I will go to the nearest inn,” he said stiffly, “And return to Town tomorrow. May I also suggest that you also leave for London tomorrow, in order to lend some semblance of propriety to Miss Derwent!”
Lady Derwent nodded unwilling acquiescence to this plan. “Yes, if we make it appear that she travelled to London with us, and has gone on by invitation to stay with Lady Dunford, all might not be lost. . . . but we must all agree not to speak of the real circumstances beyond these walls!”
“I shall not speak of them,” said Mrs Carstares, who had been deep in thought, “And neither will my son.”
Robin looked sulky. “I still mean to go to London tomorrow, Mama!”
She looked blandly at him. “Certainly! And you may see what lodging you may find for me, so that I may join you there.”
The Other Miss Derwent Page 6