‘But I care, Sir Anthony. If he is Barham indeed, and I am thus a woman of birth noble enough –’ She found it was impossible to continue.
‘Then you would marry me?’ Sir Anthony prompted. ‘Is that it?’
She nodded. It was not in her nature to deny she cared for him.
‘And do you know what you will do if he is not Tremaine of Barham?’ inquired Sir Anthony conversationally.
She made a gesture of fatalism. ‘I shall be off on my adventuring again, sir.’
‘You may call it adventuring if you please, but I believe I’m a s
taid creature. You will marry me just the same, you see.’
She smiled a little. ‘This is madness, sir. You will be glad one day that I said you nay.’
‘And will you be glad, Prue?’ he asked gravely.
‘I shall be glad for your sake, sir.’
‘My dear, I want to take you out of this masquerade of yours at once. There’s danger on all sides, and – I love you.’
‘Ah, do not!’ she made swift outcry. ‘It’s not possible, sir. More depends on the masquerade than you know.’
‘I believe I may guess. You’ve a brother took part in the late Rebellion, dressed now in woman’s clothes. His name is, I think, Robin.’
She looked wonderingly up at him. ‘Do you know everything, sir?’
‘No,’ he answered, smiling. ‘Not quite. Marry me, and put both your fortunes into my hands. I can help this Robin, maybe.’
‘Not even for that. I could not, sir. Grant me a little pride! You would be King Cophetua, but I’ve no mind to play the beggar-maid.’
He made no reply for a moment, but stood looking down at her. ‘I cannot force you to marry me,’ he said at last.
‘Sir Anthony – I would have you marry a woman of whom you can be proud.’
‘I have nothing but pride in you. In your courage, and in the quick wits of you. I have never known so wonderful a woman.’
‘You can have no pride in my birth, sir. I do not know what my father is; we have never known, for he loves to be a mystery. If this claim is true – if he is indeed Tremaine of Barham – ask me once more!’ Her eyes were wet, but her mouth smiled resolutely.
‘I am to wait, then! You deny me the right to protect you now?’
‘You have me at your feet, sir,’ she said unsteadily, ‘but I do deny you. I must.’
‘You at my feet!’ he said. ‘That is a jest indeed!’ He let go her hand, and took a turn about the room. She watched him wistfully, and at last he spoke again. ‘Ay, you’ve pride,’ he said. ‘Did that spring of low birth? You must needs cleave your own path, and take no help even from the man who loves you. You ask me to wait. I will wait, until this father of yours has settled his affairs. But when that day comes, and whatever the issue – believe me I shall take you then, by force if need be, and carry you off to Church. Is it understood?’
She smiled mistily, and tried to shake her head. He laughed and there was no laziness either in his face or in his voice. ‘Better come to me willingly then,’ he said, ‘for, by God, I shall have no mercy!’
Nineteen
Meeting in Arlington Street
Prudence showed an impassive face to John who was waiting to let her into the house, but she slipped past the door of Robin’s chamber on tiptoe, and was gone into her own without the usual visit to him. She preferred to meet her sharp-eyed brother in the morning, when she might have acquired some command over herself.
Sure the world was upside down. And who would have thought it of the large gentleman? She had come to think she could no longer be surprised, but this strange proposal of his came to dispel such fancies. He meant it, too: not a doubt of that. As she prepared for bed she thought over it long, and with some agitation. The gentleman’s last words lingered; they had been forcefully uttered; she believed he was not the man to promise what he would not perform.
Well, she had said him nay: that had been of instinct, because she loved him, and it was not in a lover’s part to take the selfish course. But the devil was in it the gentleman refused to take her nay. There seemed to be no counter for that; she perceived that she was doomed to become Lady Fanshawe. A slow smile played around the corners of her mouth. No use pretending it was not a role she had an ambition to play; not much use either to pretend she would escape from Sir Anthony, and hide herself abroad. It might be a difficult matter, she reflected, but honesty forced her to admit it was not the difficulty of it deterred her. If when the time came the sleepy gentleman still claimed her she would be his for the taking: there was, faith, a limit to altruism. But he should be granted a respite; he must have time to think it over carefully. Maybe he had fallen under a spell of her unconscious weaving, and might later achieve sanity again. Egad, he had a position to maintain in the world, and an old name to consider. He would thank her perhaps for her nay. A gloomy thought to take to bed with one.
She slept but fitfully; the evening’s work haunted her dreams, and in the waking moments a vision of security, and the love of a large gentleman came to tantalize her. The night hours passed in wakeful contemplation; she fell asleep with the grey dawn, and was sleeping still when Robin peeped in on her in broad daylight.