She curtsied with pretty dignity. ‘Thank you, sir. All I require is a lodging for the night, but I believe I must not trouble you.’
‘It does not seem to be an out-of-the-way demand,’ said the gentleman, raising his brows. ‘You will no doubt inform me where the hitch lies.’
His air of calm authority brought a smile quivering to Miss Challoner’s lips. ‘I repeat, sir, you are very kind, but I beg you will not concern yourself with my stupid affairs.’
His cold glance rested on her with a kind of bored indifference that she found disconcerting, and oddly familiar. ‘My good child,’ he said, with a touch of disdain in his voice, ‘your scruples, though most affecting, are quite needless. I imagine I might well be your grandfather.’
She coloured a little, and replied, with a frank look: ‘I beg your pardon, sir. Indeed, my scruples are only lest I should be thought to importune a stranger.’
‘You edify me extremely,’ he said. ‘Will you now have the goodness to inform me why this woman finds herself unable to supply you with a bed-chamber?’
‘I can scarcely blame her, sir,’ said Miss Challoner honestly. ‘I have no maid, and no baggage, and I arrived by the stage coach. My situation is excessively awkward, and I was very foolish not to have realised sooner what an odd appearance I must present.’
‘The loss of your baggage is, I fear, beyond my power to remedy, but a bed-chamber I can procure for you at once.’
‘I should be very grateful to you, sir, if you would.’
The Englishman turned to the landlord, who was humbly awaiting his pleasure. ‘Your stupidity, my good Boisson, is lamentable,’ he remarked. ‘You will escort this lady to a suitable chamber.’
‘Yes, monseigneur, yes indeed. It shall be as monseigneur wishes. But –’
‘I do not think,’ said the Englishman sweetly, ‘that I evinced any desire to converse with you.’
‘No, monseigneur,’ said the landlord. ‘If – if mademoiselle would follow my wife upstairs? The large front room, Célestine!’
Madame said resentfully: ‘What, the large room?’
The landlord gave her a push towards the stairs. ‘Certainly the large one. Go quickly!’
The Englishman turned to Miss Challoner. ‘You bespoke supper, I believe. I shall be honoured by your presence at my own table. Boisson will show you the way to my private salle.’
Miss Challoner hesitated. ‘A bowl of soup in my chamber, sir –’
‘You will find it more entertaining to sup with me,’ he said. ‘Let me allay your qualms by informing you that I have the pleasure of your grandfather’s acquaintance.’
Miss Challoner grew rather pale. ‘My grandfather?’ she said quickly.
‘Certainly. You said, I think, that your name is Challoner. I have known Sir Giles any time these forty years. Permit me to tell you that you have a great look of him.’
In face of this piece of information Miss Challoner abandoned her first impulse to disclaim all relationship with Sir Giles. She stood feeling remarkably foolish, and looking rather worried.
The gentleman smiled faintly. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, with uncanny perspicacity. ‘I should never believe that you were not his granddaughter. May I suggest that you follow this worthy female upstairs? You will join me at your convenience.’
Miss Challoner had to laugh. ‘Very well, sir,’ she said, and curtsied, and went off in the wake of the landlady.
She was allotted what she guessed to be one of the best chambers, and a serving-maid brought her water in a brass can. She emptied her reticule on to the dressing-table, and somewhat ruefully inspected the collection thus displayed. Luckily she had slipped a clean tucker into it, and when carefully arranged round her shoulders this concealed the tear in her gown. She combed out her hair, and dressed it again, washed her face and hands, and went downstairs to the hall.
The presence of a countryman had been providential, but that he should be acquainted with her grandfather, and knew her identity, was a calamity. Miss Challoner had no idea what she was going to say to him, but some explanati
on was clearly called for.
The landlord was awaiting her at the foot of the staircase, and he met her with a respect as marked as his late contempt. He led the way to one of the doors leading from the hall, and ushered her into a large parlour.
Covers were laid on the table in the centre of the room, and the apartment was lit by clusters of wax candles in solid chandeliers. Miss Challoner’s new friend was standing by the fireplace. He came forward to meet her, and taking her hand at once remarked on its coldness. She confessed that she was still feeling chilly, and told him that the stage had been full of draughts. She went to the fire, and spread out her hands to the blaze. ‘I find this very welcome, sir,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘You are indeed kind to invite me to sup with you.’
He surveyed her somewhat enigmatically. ‘You shall let me know later how I may serve you further,’ he said. ‘Will you not be seated?’
She walked to the table, and sat down at his right hand. A liveried servant came in noiselessly, and set soup before them. He would have stayed behind his master’s chair, but a slight sign dismissed him.