'I certainly shan't encourage him to dangle after Lucilla,' she replied coolly. 'But I shall be astonished if he isn't the first of many to do so!'
'I wish to my heart you may not find yourself with the devil to pay over this business!'
'Oh, don't make yourself uneasy, Geoffrey! I promise you I am well able to take care of myself.'
'No female is able to take care of herself,' he said positively. 'As for not making myself uneasy, I must point out to you that it it is you who make me uneasy! But so it has always been! You had always a love of singularity, and how you expect to get a husband when you conduct yourself in such a headstrong, skitterwitted fashion I'm sure I don't know!'
On this bitter speech he took himself off to bed. He was not alone with his sister again until the moment of his departure next morning, and then he contented himself with saying severely that he was far from easy about her, very far from easy. She smiled, and planted a farewell kiss on his cheek, stayed on her doorstep to see him mount the steps into his chaise, and then went back into the house, heaving a thankful sigh to be rid of him.
Her prophecy that Harry Beckenham would prove to be only the first of Lucilla's admirers was soon seen to be correct. She took Lucilla to Mrs Stinchcombe's party that evening, and had the satisfaction of seeing her protégée make a hit. She took Ninian too, knowing that no hostess would cavil at having a young and personable gentleman added to her guests. Both he and Lucilla enjoyed themselves very much, although he was at first a trifle on his dignity, feeling that such a juvenile party was rather beneath his touch. But superiority soon wore off, and before the evening was half over he was joining in all the ridiculous games with which the dancing was interspersed, and earning great applause for the skill he displayed when playing span-counters.
He accepted with obvious pleasure an invitation to join a riding-party to Farley Castle, suggested to him by the elder Miss Stinchcombe. The party was to be composed of some half-a-dozen young persons, and it was proposed that after they had inspected the ancient chapel there they should partake of a nuncheon, and ride back to Bath at their leisure. 'It's a place any visitor to Bath ought to visit, because of the chapel, which is very interesting on – on account of its relics of – of mortality and antiquity!' said Miss Stinchcombe knowledgeably.
The effect of this sudden display of erudition was spoilt by her close friend, Mr Marmaduke Hilperton, who very rudely accused her of having 'got all that stuff ' out of the local guidebook. Since Corisande was known to be far from bookish, this made everyone laugh, and emboldened Ninian to confess that he himself was not much of a dab at antiquities, but would dearly love to ride. He then drew Mr Hilperton aside, to ask him which of Bath's livery stables was the best; but at this point Miss Wychwood, who had strolled over to the group, intervened, saying that she could mount him on her own hack. He coloured up to the roots of his hair, stammering: 'Oh, thank you, ma'am! If you think I'm to be trusted not to lame your horse, or to bring him in with a sore back! I promise you I'll take the greatest care of him! I'm excessively obliged to you! That is – won't you be needing him yourself ?'
'No, I have other fish to fry tomorrow, and if you are joining this expedition I may do so with a quiet mind,' she answered, smiling at him. 'You will see that Lucilla doesn't come to any harm, won't you?'
'Yes, to be sure I will,' he responded promptly. 'But there's no need for you to be anxious about her, ma'am; she's a capital little horsewoman, I promise you!'
When she saw the cavalcade off on the following morning, Miss Wychwood knew at once that she need have no qualms either on Lucilla's behalf or the mare's. Lucilla had a good seat, and light hands, and easily controlled the mare's playful friskiness. It seemed too that there would be no want of solicitous escort for her, judging by the way Mr Hilperton and young Mr Forden jostled one another in the effort to be the first to throw her up into her saddle. Miss Wychwood watched them clatter off, all in the best of spirits, and obviously looking forward to a day of unrestricted pleasure – unless they regarded Seale, and Mrs Stinchcombe's elderly groom, bringing up the rear of the procession, as restrictions, which, indeed, they would be if youthful high spirits prompted their charges to indulge in any dangerous feats of horsemanship. Mrs Stinchcombe had told Annis that Tuckenhay could be trusted to look after Corisande; and Annis knew, from her own youthful experience, that Seale was more than capable of dealing with Lucilla, if excitement should lead her to show off her proficiency in the saddle to her new friends.
She herself spent the morning first writing a long overdue letter to an old friend, and next with her housekeeper. She was inspecting some linen when Limbury came upstairs to inform her that a Mr Carleton had called, and was awaiting her in the drawing-room.
Five
Five minutes later, Miss Wychwood entered the drawingroom, having paused on the way to assure herself, by a swift, critical glance at her reflection in the long looking-glass in her bedchamber, that she was presenting just the right picture of herself to Lucilla's uncle. She was satisfied with what she saw. Her gown of soft dove-gray silk, with its demi-train, and the little lace ruff round her throat, were exactly the thing, she decided, for a lady of consequence and mature age; but what she failed to perceive (for she never gave it a thought) was that her beauty was enhanced by the subdued colour of her gown. She considered gray to be a middle-aged colour, and if it had occurred to her that her luxuriant golden locks hardly belonged to a lady past her prime she would undoubtedly have hunted through her wardrobe for a suitable cap to wear over them. Not that a cap could have dimmed the glow in her eyes, but that did not occur to her either, because familiarity with her own beauty had bred contempt of it. She would have preferred to have been a brunette, and was inclined to think her golden loveliness a trifle flashy.
On entering the drawing-room, she paused for a moment on the threshold, surveying her visitor.
He was standing before the fireplace, a powerfully built man with dark hair, and a swarthy complexion. His brows were straight and rather thick, and under them a pair of hard gray eyes stared at Miss Wychwood, their expression one of mingled surprise and disapproval. To her wrath, he raised his quizzing glass, as though to appraise her more precisely.
Her own brows lifted; she moved forward, saying with chilling hauteur: 'Mr Carleton, I believe?'
He nodded, letting his glass fall, and replied curtly: 'Yes. Are you Miss Wychwood?'
She inclined her head, in a manner calculated to abash him.
'Good God!' he said.
It was so unexpected that it surprised an involuntary laugh out of her. She suppressed it quickly, and made another attempt to put him out of countenance, by extending her hand and saying, in a quelling tone: 'How do you do? You wish to see your niece, of course. I am sorry that she is not at home this morning.'
'No, I don't wish to see her, though I daresay I shall be obliged to,' he replied, briefly shaking her hand. 'I came to see you, Miss Wychwood – if you are Miss Wychwood?'
She looked amused at this. 'Certainly I am Miss Wychwood. You must forgive me if I ask you why you should doubt it?'
And if that doesn't make you apologize for your incivility, nothing will! she thought, waiting expectantly.
'Because you're by far too young, of course!' he replied, disappointing her. 'I came here in the expectation of meeting an elderly woman – or, at least, one of reasonable age!'
'Let me assure you, sir, that although I don't think myself elderly I am of very reasonable age!'
'Nonsense!' he said. 'You're a mere child!'
'No doubt I should be grateful for the compliment – however inelegantly expressed!'
'I wasn't complimenting you.'
'Ah, no! how stupid of me! I recall, now that you have put me so forcibly in mind of it, that my brother told me that you are famed for your incivility!'