‘Yes,’ she agreed. She hesitated, colouring faintly. ‘Which puts me in mind that I should warn you that I shall be obliged to call you Gareth while we remain in this inn. I am afraid you may not quite like it, but –’
‘On the contrary!’ he said, smiling. ‘Are you also related to me?’
‘Well, yes!’ she confessed. ‘We – we thought it best that I should be your sister. You see, I didn’t feel I could be your wife!’
‘That also I remember,’ he said.
Her colour deepened; she looked away, and said in a little confusion: ‘The thing was that when Amanda sent Hildebrand to fetch me, she told the Chicklades that I was her aunt, which, I must say, was most sensible of her. But they supposed from that that I must be your wife, and they told the doctor so. Which nearly led to our undoing, because you know how foolish I am! I blurted out that I was no such thing, and the doctor stared at me in such a way! However, Amanda instantly said that I was not your wife, but your sister, which perfectly satisfied him. I hope you are not vexed! Now I must go and call to Chicklade.’
She went away, and when she returned, a few minutes later, she was accompanied by Chicklade, who bore a small tray into the room, which he set down on the table by the bed. He then said that he was glad to see Sir Gareth looking more stout, speaking in a painstakingly lowered voice.
Sir Gareth roused himself to play the part expected of him. He said: ‘Thank you, I’m as weak as a cat, but you will see how quickly I shall be on my feet again. I am afraid I have been a shocking charge upon you. My sister has been telling me how you have helped to nurse me.’ He held out his hand. ‘Thank you: I am very much obliged to you! You must be heartily sick of such a troublesome guest, but really I am not to be blamed! My young fool of a nephew is the culprit.’
‘Ay, sir, he is that!’ Chicklade said, cautiously taking the hand in his. ‘Properly speaking, he ought to be given a rare dressing, but I don’t doubt it was Miss who set him on, and I’m bound to say he’s had the fright of his life. Nor I don’t grudge the trouble. If there’s aught I can do, your honour has only to mention it.’
‘Then I beg you will shave me!’ said Sir Gareth, passing his hand ruefully over his chin.
‘Tomorrow, perhaps,’ said Hester, waiting to place another pillow behind his head. ‘Will you lift him now, if you please? Don’t try to help yourself, Gareth; Chicklade is very strong, you will find.’
‘What was your fighting weight?’ asked Sir Gareth, as the landlord lowered him tenderly on to the pillows.
A slow smiled spread over the broad face. ‘Ah, I was never reduced beyond thirteen stone eight, sir, and, of course, nowadays – well! If I might make so bold, I’d say your honour displays to advantage.’
‘You will be able to enjoy many delightful talks about prizefighting with Sir Gareth when he is a little stronger,’ said Lady Hester gently.
The landlord, thus recalled to a sense of Sir Gareth’s weakness, cast an apologetic glance at her, and beat a retreat. She sat down by the bed, and offered her patient a spoonful of broth. ‘I hope it is good,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘As soon as your fever began to abate, Chicklade killed one of his cockerels, so that we might have a sustaining broth ready for you. Hildebrand was disgusted, because Amanda saw its neck wrung, but I daresay she was quite right to do so. She seems to think that if she goes to the Peninsula she might be obliged to kill chickens, though I myself should rather suppose that the bâtman would do it for her. Poor Hildebrand is very squeamish, so naturally he was much shocked at Amanda’s wishing to learn how to wring a chicken’s neck. Do you think you could eat a morsel of toast, if I dipped it in the broth?’
‘Thank you, I had liefer eat it undipped. I detest sops! Hester, I wish you will explain to me how you come to be here! Amanda had no business to ask it of you, and how you can have prevailed upon your family to consent to such a thing I can’t conceive.’
‘Oh, I didn’t! They think I have gone to be with my sister Susan, because her children have the measles. Don’t look so dismayed! I never enjoyed anything half as much, I assure you. You cannot think what a relief it is to have shaken off every one of my relations! I don’t feel like myself at all, and that is a relief, too.’
‘But, my dear, it is the craziest thing to have done!’ he expostulated, half-laughing.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ she agreed cordially. ‘That is what makes it so delightful, for I have never done anything crazy before. Just a little more of this broth! How pleased Amanda and Hildebrand will be when they learn that you have drunk it all up! I wonder whether they have been able to purchase any playing-cards in Great Staughton?’
Her inconsequence made him smile. ‘Do you wish for some?’
‘Oh, no! Only that it is very dull for those children, and I thought if only they had some cards they could play games together in the evening, instead of quarrelling. Hildebrand was much inclined to think that it would be very wrong to buy cards, but I assured him you would have not the least objection.’
‘I?’ he said. ‘What made the boy think me so strait-laced?’
‘Oh, he didn’t! The thing is that although he owns that we may purchase what you need with perfect propriety, he says that anything else is most improper: in fact, quite dishonest. We were obliged to steal your money, you see.’
‘How very dreadful!’ he murmured. ‘Am I left destitute?’
‘No, indeed! And Hildebrand is keeping strict account of every penny we spend. What a huge sum of money you carry on your person, Gareth! When we found that roll of bills in your pocket I thought we need have no scruples. You see, we were at a stand, because what with paying for the post-chaises, and stabling his horse, and buying the drugs we needed for you, Hildebrand was soon ruined. Amanda had a little money, but not nearly enough to pay our shot here, or the doctor; and I had nothing but what was in my purse. I do wish I were not so shatterbrained! I ought to have broken open Widmore’s strongbox, of course, but in the agitation of the moment I never thought of it.’
The tone of self-censure which she used proved too much for Sir Gareth’s gravity. He began to laugh, which caused him to feel a twinge in his shoulder sharp enough to make him wince. Lady Hester apologized, but said that she thought it did people no harm to laugh, even if it did hurt them a trifle.
It certainly seemed to do Sir Gareth no harm. The doctor, visiting him that evening, called upon Lady Hester to observe how famously he had responded to his treatment, and said that in less than no time he would be as right as a trivet; and although it was evident that it would, in fact, be some considerable while before he regained his strength, he began to improve so rapidly that on the following day Lady Hester permitted Amanda to visit him. She could only hope that he would not find her, in his present state, rather overpowering: perhaps, even, a little agitating. How great his interest in this turbulent beauty might be, she could not decide. Such intelligible utterances as he had made during his delirium had all concerned Amanda; she had been vaguely surprised that never once had she caught Clarissa’s name in his incoherent mutterings. That seemed to indicate that his mind, if not his heart, was obsessed by Amanda. The fever past, the only sign he had given of any extraordinary interest in her had been his immediate anxiety to know where she was. But Lady Hester knew that he was not the man to betray himself; and she feared that he was going to be hurt. Amazing though it might be (and to Hester it appeared incomprehensible), he had not made the smallest impression on Amanda’s heart. She liked him very well; she said he resembled all her favourite heroes of romance; and she remained unshaken in her devotion to her Brigade-Major. If Sir Gareth cherished hopes of winning her, he was doomed to disappointment; and although this would not be the tragedy that Clarissa’s death had been, it would be a hurt, and Hester would have happily immolated herself to have averted it. But there was nothing she could do. She allowed Amanda twenty minutes, and then, since Amanda had not emerged, she went up to the sickroom, to bring the session to an end.
The sight which met her eyes held her frozen on the threshold, and the thought flashed across her mind that she knew now how it felt to die. If it had laid within her power to have given Sir Gareth his heart’s desire, she would have done it; but she had not known how sharp a pain she would suffer when she saw Amanda’s face buried in his sound shoulder, and his arm about her.
He looked up, and the short agony was at an end. Never did a man more clearly signal an appeal for help than Sir Gareth at that moment. He did not look at all like a man in love; he looked extremely harassed. Then Hester perceived that Amanda was indulging in a hearty burst of tears, and the smile which held so much unexpected mischief suddenly danced in her eyes. ‘Good heavens, what is the matter?’ she said, advancing into the room, and gently removing Amanda’s hand from about Sir Gareth’s neck. ‘Dear child, this is not at all the way to behave! Do, pray, stop crying!’
She raised her brows at Sir Gareth, in mute enquiry, and he said ruefully: ‘She is enjoying an orgy of remorse. I never dreamed that there could be anything more exhausting than Amanda in high gig, but I have discovered my error. Now, do cheer up, you little goose! It served me right for not heeding your warning that you would make me sorry.’