“Of course you may come in,” she said, picking up Phoebe work, and folding it neatly. “Have you dined, or would you like some supper?”
“Oh, no, thank you! We dined early in Hatfield, and I had supper with Max, at his house, just now. It was touch and go once or twice—only fancy our falling in behind an Accommodation coach on the narrow part of the road this side of Potter’s Bar! I thought all was over with us, for you must know that Filey led for the first part of the way, and was ahead of the coach. But there was never anyone like Max! You know when the road divides, at the Hadley Highstone, the Holyhead road going off to the left? Oh, I dare say you might not! But I can tell you it is as tricky a place as you may wish for, and a number of coaches and wagons on the road! Well, before I knew what he would be about, Max had dropped his hands, and let the greys shoot! It was our only chance, but there was a gig coming in from the Holyhead road, and I give you my word we cleared the Accommodation coach, with no more than a couple of inches to spare between it and the gig! I own, I shut my eyes, and said my prayers!”
“You might have been killed!” breathed Phoebe.
“So I might, with any other man holding the reins, but Max knows what his greys will do to a nicety.”
“I collect that Sir James’s pair was inferior?” said Deborah, despising herself for betraying any interest in the race.
He turned his glowing face towards her. “Oh, as to that, I would not say so by any means! It was all in the handling. When we came to Islington we found him with as bang-up a set-out of blood and bone as you could wish for: small heads, good necks, broad chests and thighs, pure Welsh bred! Beautifully matched too! But the instant Max laid eyes on them, he said to me that they were poled up too tight, and so they were. I could see Filey’s groom thought so too, but that’s Filey all over! He must always know best, and he is so cursed obstinate there’s no telling him anything! Well, there was quite a crowd gathered at the start, as you may suppose, and a good deal of betting going on. Some of the green “uns were plunging pretty heavily on Filey, because there’s no denying the bays are the showiest pair you’ll see in a twelvemonth; but the knowing ones put their money on Max, and, by Jupiter, they were right! Well, we were off to a good start, and Filey went ahead, just as Max thought he would. Max held the greys in all the way to Barnet, no more than keeping Filey in sight. I wish you might have seen Filey driving his cattle up Highgate Hill, as though it had been the last lap of the race, instead of the first! We went up behind him, just larking, you know: keeping her alive, at a gentle trot. Of course Filey did not take the hill in time, driving up it at that pace, and his near horse precious nearly stumbled as they went over the crest. When Max saw it, he said the race was our own. But that was before we got held up by that Accommodation coach! But I told you of that! We had a splendid run across Finchley Common, going good, very little traffic on the road. I would have passed Filey then, but Max said no; he would pass him in Barnet.” His lordship laughed at the memory. “In Barnet, of all places! But that is just like Max! I thought we should never be able to do it, for Barnet is always crowded. Filey can’t manage well in a street full of carts and chaises, and you could see he was fretting his cattle. They were sweating freely, and only half the course run! There was a chaise on one side of the road, and the Mail pulling out from the Red Lion, and a phaeton draw up outside some shop or other. Not enough room to allowed a cat to squeeze through, you’d have said! At all events, that what Filey must have thought, for he made no attempt to clear the chaise. Max saw his chance, and we went through, neatly as you please, at a spanking trot, threading our way. I wondered if we were going to take the phaeton’s off—wheel but we never so much as grazed it. Max has the lightest hand He says the only thing is, Filey may have ruined the bay mouths—oh, I did not tell you!—Max told Filey to name his price for his pair at the end, and has bought them. Filey was mad as fire, because of course Max’s offering to buy them showed that he thought it was Filey and not they who had lost the race. But he was so angry with them for losing that I would have sold them to the first man who offered for them. They were hanging on his hands when he brought them in Hatfield, but that was his fault. Berkeley says he always drived his worst against Max, because he is so devilish anxious to win and knows, though he won’t admit it, that Max is the better whip. We never lost the lead after Potter’s Bar.”
“You seem to have lost it after Barnet,” observed Miss Grantham dryly. “How was that?”
His lordship chuckled. “Oh, short of Hadley Green! I to Max that Filey was going to try to pass, and he said he might do so with his goodwill, for he would not spring the greys that stage. He only passed him at Barnet to fret him a trifle. There never was such a fool! Max says—”
“My dear Adrian, Max seems to have said a great deal, but wish you will try not to introduce those two words so often into your story!” said Miss Grantham blightingly.
His lordship flushed, and looked so hurt that Miss Grantham was sorry, and might have unsaid her words had she not recollected in time that it was no part of her policy to appear in an amiable light to him. She got up, saying in a cool voice: must go down to speak to Silas for a minute. Do you tell the rest of the tale to Phoebe! I am afraid I am very stupid, as I care nothing for driving, or curricle-racing, or horses. I shall come back presently, when you will be able to talk of something else, I hope!”
Lord Mablethorpe rose, and opened the door for her. When she had passed out of the-room, Phoebe said shyly: “Don’t be offended! I think she is a little worried over something. I am sure she did not mean it! She is so kind, and good!”
“I am afraid I have been very tedious,” he said. “The thing is, I found it so exciting—But it is different for you, naturally!”
“Oh no!” she said involuntarily. “I think it is the most exciting thing I ever heard! Indeed, I do! Please, please tell me the rest!”
Almost without knowing what she did, she stretched out her hand to him as she spoke. He came across the room towards her, and took her hand, and held it, looking at her with such a warm, loving expression in his eyes that her heart stood still. “Oh, Phoebe, you are so very sweet,” he said. “I do love you so dearly!”
Chapter 14
Two large tears welled up in Miss Laxton’s eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Adrian,” she said brokenly.
The next instant she was in his arms, and his lordship had forgotten both the race and his betrothal to Miss Grantham, but was wholly occupied in kissing Phoebe, drying her wet cheeks, and assuring her that she should never be unhappy or frightened again. It was she who came to earth first, raising her head from his shoulder, relinquishing her clutch on the cape of his coat, and saying in a drowned voice: “We must not! Deborah!”
His lordship let her go. She sat up, swallowing a sob, and they looked at one another, two troubled young people caught up by fate and unable to see the way to free themselves. His lordship gave a groan, and dropped his head between his clenched fists. “I must have been mad!”
“Oh no!” Phoebe said, dabbing at her eyes with a small handkerchief. “She is so very lovely, and kind, and—and—oh dear!”
“I thought I loved her. But I don’t. I love you, Phoebe! What are we to do?”
Miss Laxton’s eyes brimmed over again. “You will marry her, and I shall g-go into a nunnery, or s-something. You will soon f-forget me,” she said bravely.
This frightful picture of the future made Adrian raise his head, and say forcefully: “No!”
“But what can we do?” asked Phoebe. “I cannot marry Deb.”
Miss Laxton turned pale. “Oh, you can never tell her so!” An appalled silence fell. His lordship got up, and began to pace about the room. “If I don’t tell her, we shall all three of us be made unhappy.”
“No, no! She will never know, and you will forget this!”
“I shall never forget!” said Adrian fiercely. “And I could not pretend to Deb. She would guess the truth.”
“Bu
t it would be such a dreadful thing for you to do!” whispered Phoebe.
His lordship was almost as pale as she. “Yes. I know,” he said. “But she has not said yet that she will marry me. Perhaps—perhaps she does not mean to.”
She looked astonished. “But I thought—you told me—”
“Yes, yes, but it was never said in so many words! She used to laugh at me when I asked her to marry me. Then—then it did seem to me that she had changed towards me, and I thought too—But it is true that she has never yet said it. Phoebe, do you think that she cares for me?”
“Oh, how can she not?” Phoebe exclaimed.
“Well, I do not think that she does. Lately she has been—oh, not cross, but—but different!”
A shocking thought presented itself to Miss Laxton.
“Adrian, can it be that she suspects, and is jealous, or—or hurt?”
Their eyes met; his lordship’s chin seemed to harden. “We must tell her the truth.”
Phoebe sprang up in some agitation. “No, no, I implore you! Only consider how frightful it must appear! She invited me to her house, and has been everything that is kind! How could I possibly steal you from her? I would rather die!”
His lordship quite saw the force of this argument, but he was not satisfied with it. “Yes, but you did not steal me,” he said. “We did not mean to fall in love! We could not help ourselves, and that she will surely understand! You are blameless at least! It is I who deserve to be horse-whipped!”
It was not to be expected that Miss Laxton could agree with this judgement. She began to argue the point, laying the blame at her own door, and finding all manner of excuses, for his lordship. He would not allow it, and the next few minutes were spent in a singularly profitless discussion, which might, indeed, have lasted for hours, had not his lordship perceived the uselessness of it, and silenced Miss Laxton by kissing her.
“Oh!” said Miss Laxton, burying her face in his coat. “If you do that, how can I behave as I ought? You must not, Adrian! Oh, please, you must not!”
“My conduct has been everything of the most damnable!” said his lordship, determined not to understate the case. “But it would be worse if I were to marry Deb. I have no doubts on that score. I must confess the whole to her, and throw myself on her generosity. If there had been an acknowledged engagement, the case would be hopeless indeed, for as a man of honour I could not draw back, exposing her to the world as a female who had been jilted. But it is not so! No one knows of the engagement but my mother and cousin. I cannot deceive Deb. I will not, indeed! She must be told the truth, and at once.”
“I am ready to sink!” declared Miss Laxton, grasping a chairback for support. “What will she think of me?”
“What will she think of me?” asked his lordship.
Happily for them both, Miss Grantham chose that moment to come back into the room. “Well, and is the race over?” she asked. “Have you come to the end of all your hairbreadth escapes, or am I too soon?”
Miss Laxton turned away to stare into the fire. Lord Mablethorpe braced himself, and said resolutely: “We have not been talking about the race, Deb. There is something I must say to you.”
“No!” whispered Miss Laxton faintly, as one in honour bound.
His lordship ignored this small protest. “I do not know what you will think of me, Deb. There can be no words bad enough to describe my conduct!”
“No, no! Mine!” gasped Miss Laxton.
“Phoebe is blameless,” said his lordship manfully. “You will realize that, I know, however hardly you may think of me! She would have had you remain in ignorance of the whole! But I cannot! I am determined to tell you the truth, for I am persuaded that nothing but misery could come of keeping it from you!”
Miss Grantham’s sense of humour got the better of her at this point, and, tottering towards a chair, she sank into it, exclaiming in tragic accents: “Oh heavens! I am betrayed!”
His lordship blenched; both he and Miss Laxton regarded her with guilty dismay.
Miss Grantham buried her face in her handkerchief, and uttered one shattering word: “Wretch!”
His lordship swallowed, and squared his shoulders. “I am aware in what an odious light my conduct must appear to you, and I cannot attempt to excuse it,” he said. “Only, I did not mean to do it: it was something I could not help, Deb, indeed, it was! And I thought you had rather I told you than—than—”
Miss Grantham gave a shriek. “You have trifled with me!” she said, into the folds of her handkerchief. “You promised me marriage, and now you mean to cast me off for Another!”
Lord Mablethorpe and Miss Laxton exchanged stricken glances.
“I never thought I should live to be slighted!” pursued Miss Grantham. “Oh, was ever any defenceless female so deceived?”
Lord Mablethorpe and Miss Laxton instinctively held hands for mutual support. “Oh no, do not say so!” implored Phoebe. “He will soon forget me!”
“Do not let him deceive you, my unhappy child!” said Miss Grantham. “He will cast you aside as he has cast me! Oh, to think that I should have given my poor heart to a rake!”
“Deb!” exclaimed his lordship, horrified. “I’m not! Indeed, I’m not! And you never said you would marry me! It is not as though—”
“My whole life is blighted!” said Miss Grantham, in a hollow voice. “I shall very likely go into a decline!”
“Deb!” said his lordship, in quite a different voice. “Well, upon my word! Deb, if you don’t stop this instant, I’ll—I’ll shake you!”
Miss Grantham raised her head, and mopped her streaming eyes. “Oh Adrian, you foolish boy!” she said. “What in the world did you think I threw you together for, if not for this? I never had the least intention of marrying you!”
This disclosure astonished Miss Laxton so much that she was quite unable to do more than gaze at her hostess. Lord Mablethorpe, however, drew a sigh of heartfelt relief, and grinned. “It’s just like you to roast me! Somehow, I could not help thinking that you did not care for me. But I have behaved very badly to you, and I know it.”
“My poor boy, I fear that it is you who have been the victim. Don’t give it another thought! I wish you both very happy, and I am sure you were made for one another. Indeed, I feel that I have made up an unexceptionable match between you! We have now only to consider what is to be done next.”
Miss Laxton, recovering from her stupor, cast herself upon Deborah’s bosom, crying: “Oh, you are so good to me! I feel so dreadfully at having done such a thing! How can you not wish to marry him?”
“It is very bad taste on my part, indeed,” admitted Miss Grantham. “Perhaps I was born to be a spinster. But do not let us talk about me, for I shall do very well, I assure you. We must decide what is best to be done with you. Your parents can have no objection, I imagine, to your marriage with Adrian.”
“I am not as rich as Filey. I have not the half of his wealth,” said his lordship, looking anxious.
“You are not precisely a pauper, however. I call it a very good match, and so, I am persuaded, will Lord Laxton.”
“My brother Arnold told me that Sir James would do something very handsome for the family,” faltered Phoebe. “I do not know what it is, but I fancy Papa has sustained severe losses lately, besides what my brothers owe.”
“Well, so will I do something handsome,” said his lordship stoutly. A shade of uneasiness crept across his face. “When I am of age,” he added, in a rather flattened voice.
“Nonsense!” said Miss Grantham. “I do not wish to offend you, Phoebe, but I am not at all in favour of anything’s being done for your family. I see no reason why Adrian should be made to pay for the follies of your Papa and your brothers.”
This aspect of the case had not previously occurred to Miss Laxton, but upon reflection she found herself to be in complete agreement with it. “No, indeed! It would be very bad! I could not consent to such a thing. But what is to be done? My Papa will not care a fig
for anything but the money!”
Lord Mablethorpe felt at this point that the discussion could better be continued in Miss Laxton’s absence. He said that it was too late to think of ways and means that evening, but that he should call in St James’s Square next day, and talk the matter over thoroughly. Miss Grantham, catching a significant glance thrown in her direction, rose instantly to the occasion, and said that this was a wise decision, and that she thought it was high time Phoebe was in bed. She then left the young couple to bid one another a fond good night, only returning to the saloon when she had seen Phoebe to her room, and put her into the hands of the abigail.
She found Lord Mablethorpe walking about the room, his brow clouded with thought. She shut the door, and came to the fire, seating herself by it, and saying in her sensible way: “Well; now, let us contrive a little! Do you fancy the engagement will not be received with pleasure by the Laxtons? I cannot credit it!”
He looked a little rueful. “I fear it, Deb. I have been setting a few inquiries afoot, and there seems to be no doubt that Laxton is pretty well done-up.”
“Very true. Those brothers, too, are as expensive a pair as you may meet! I was talking to Horley about them, and received a very ill account of them. Tell me, my dear boy: dc you feel yourself in honour bound to support Phoebe’s family?”
“No, I do not,” said his lordship bluntly. “They have all of them behaved damnably to her, and it is my intention to have nothing more to do with them, after we are married, than we must. I might do something for the younger girls, if Phoebe liked,” he added magniloquently.
“Famous! I was beginning to fear that I had served you an ill turn by casting you into Phoebe’s arms. But this is excellent!”
“Yes, but the thing is, Deb, that the Laxtons are not likely to consider my offer beside Filey’s. I could not, if I would, do what he might for the family. It means nothing to him: he has almost as much money as Max!”
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