The Quiet Gentleman (5 page)

‘No, oh, no! But to be walking through the village in my muddied habit, advertising my folly to the countryside – ! You will allow it to be unthinkable, my lord!’

‘You know me, then, ma’am? But we have not previously met, I think – I am sure! I
could
not have forgotten!’

‘Oh, no! But a stranger in this desert: one dressed, moreover, in the first style of elegance! I could be in no doubt. You are – you must be – Lord St Erth!’

‘I am St Erth. And you, ma’am? How comes it about that this is our first encounter?’

She replied, with the most enchanting primming of her face, wholly belied by the mischievous look in her eyes: ‘Why, you must understand that one would not wish to appear
pushing
, by too early a visit, nor
uncivil
, by too late a one! Mama has formed the intention that Papa shall pay a morning-call at Stanyon next week!’

He was very much amused, and said: ‘I could not receive
that
morning-call too early, I assure you! It will be quite unnecessary, however, for Papa to be put to the trouble of a formal visit, for I shall forestall him. If I were to lift you on to Cloud’s back, ma’am, will you permit me to lead him to your home?’

She jumped down from the bank, catching up the skirt of her voluminous habit, and casting it over her arm. ‘Oh, yes! Will you do that? I shall be so very much obliged to you!’

On her feet, she was seen to be a slim creature, not above the average height, but exquisitely proportioned. Her movements, though impetuous, were graceful, and the Earl was permitted a glimpse of a neatly-turned ankle. She tucked her primroses into the buttonhole of her coat, where, mingling with her curls, they seemed almost exactly to blend with them. The Earl lifted her on to the saddle; she contrived to arrange one leg over the pommel, and declared herself to be perfectly safely established.

‘Now, where am I to take you?’ asked Gervase, smiling up at her.

‘To Whissenhurst Grange, if you please! It is only a mile from where we stand, so you will not be obliged to trudge so
very
far!’

‘I should be glad if it were twice as far. But did you mean to sit upon that bank for ever, ma’am?’

‘Oh, they would have found me in a little while!’ she said airily. ‘When Fairy reached the stables, you know, they would be thrown into such a pucker! I daresay everyone may already be searching the countryside for me.’

She spoke with all the unconcern of a spoiled child; and it was easy for him to guess that she must be the pet of her father’s establishment. With some shrewdness he asked her if her parents were aware of her riding out without a groom, and glanced quizzically up in time to see her pouting prettily.

‘Oh, well, there can be no objection, after all, in the country! In town, of course, I could not do so. If only I had not jumped that wretched little hedge! Nothing was ever so mortifying! Indeed, I am not in the habit of tumbling off my horse, Lord St Erth!’

‘Why, the best of riders must take a toss or two!’ he reassured her. ‘It was used to be said of the Master of the Quorn, when I was living at Stanyon previously, that he would have as many as fifty falls in a season!’

‘Ah, you are talking of Mr Assheton Smith, I collect! His name, you must know, is for ever on the tongues of the Melton men! You must have heard your brother deplore his leaving Quorndon Hall, I daresay! This has been his last season with the Quorn: he is coming into Lincolnshire, to hunt the Burton, and that will put him many miles beyond poor Martin’s reach!’

‘I have indeed heard of it from Martin,’ said Gervase, with a droll look. ‘Not all his calculations and his measurements will bring Reepham closer to Stanyon than fifty miles. He sees nothing for it but to put up at Market Rasen, if he should wish for a day with the Burton.’

‘Martin is one of Mr Smith’s upholders. A great many of the sporting gentlemen, however, complain that he draws his coverts too quickly, and will not lift as often as he should in Leicestershire.’

‘You hunt yourself, ma’am?’

She threw him one of her roguish looks. ‘Yes, when hounds meet in the vicinity, and I will faithfully promise to do just as Papa bids me!’

‘I hope you keep your promises!’

‘Yes, yes, in general I am very good!’

‘You will think me abominably stupid, I fear, but I think I can never have met your Papa, and thus do not know what I shall call him when we meet.’

‘Papa is Sir Thomas Bolderwood,’ she replied at once. ‘Very likely you might not have encountered him, for we came to live at Whissenhurst only a few years ago, and you have all the time been abroad.’

‘I must be grateful to whatever lucky chance it was that brought Sir Thomas into Lincolnshire,’ said Gervase.

She received this with a laugh, and a little shake of her head. She was young enough to feel embarrassment at broad compliments, but she betrayed none: plainly, she was accustomed to being very much admired, although the coming London Season, as she presently confided to the Earl, was to be her first. ‘For one does not count
private
parties, and although I was
almost
seventeen last spring, Mama could not be prevailed upon to present me, though even my Aunt Caroline, who is so strict and stuffy, counselled her most strongly to do so. However, this year I am to be presented, and I shall go to Almack’s, and the Opera, and
everywhere
!’

The Earl, concluding from this artless prattle that Miss Bolderwood moved in unexceptionable circles, began to wonder why no mention of her family had been made to him by his stepmother. In all her consequential enumerations of the persons likely to leave their cards at Stanyon he could not recall ever to have heard her utter the name of Bolderwood. But as he led Cloud into the village through which they were obliged to pass on their way to Whissenhurst Grange, an inkling of the cause of this omission was conveyed to him by an unexpected encounter with his half-brother.

Martin, who was hacking towards them in the company of a young gentleman who sported a striped waistcoat, and a Belcher tie, no sooner perceived who was the fair burden upon Cloud’s back than he spurred up, an expression on his brow both of astonishment and anger. ‘Marianne!’ he exclaimed. ‘What’s this? How comes this about? What in thunder are you doing on St Erth’s horse?’

‘Why, that odious Fairy of mine, having thrown me into the mire, would not allow me to catch her!’ responded Marianne merrily. ‘Had it not been for Lord St Erth’s chivalry I must still be seated miserably by the wayside, or perhaps plodding along this very dirty road!’

‘I wish I had been there!’ Martin said.

‘I wish
I
had been there!’ gallantly echoed his companion.

‘I am very glad you were not, for to be seen tumbling off my horse could not at all add to my consequence! Oh, Lord St Erth, are you acquainted with Mr Warboys?’

Martin, interrupting the exchange of civilities between his friend and his brother, said: ‘You might have been killed! I do not know what Lady Bolderwood will say! You must let me escort you home!’ He seemed to become aware of the fatuity of this utterance, and added awkwardly, and with a rising colour: ‘You will wish to be going on your way, St Erth!’

‘I
am
going on my way,’ replied the Earl, who was looking amused. ‘I must tell you, Martin, that I find you very much
de trop
!’

‘By Jove, yes!’ agreed Mr Warboys, with even more gallant intention. ‘Anyone would! Would myself!’ He encountered a fiery glance from Martin, which flustered him, and added hastily: ‘That is to say – what I meant was, that’s a devilish good-looking hunter you have there, St Erth! Great rump and hocks! Splendid shoulders! Not an inch above fifteen-three, I’ll swear! The very thing for this country!’

‘Oh, he is the loveliest creature!’ Marianne said, patting Cloud’s neck. ‘He makes no objection to carrying me in this absurd fashion: I am sure he must be the best-mannered horse in the world!’

‘My Troubadour would carry you as well!’ Martin muttered.

Mr Warboys was moved to contradict this statement. ‘No, he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t carry her as well as my Old Soldier! Got a tricky temper, that tit of yours.’

‘He is better-paced than that screw of
yours
!’ retorted Martin, firing up in defence of his horse.

‘Old Soldier,’ said Mr Warboys obstinately, ‘would give her a comfortable ride.’

‘You must be besotted to think so!’

‘No, I ain’t. Old Soldier has often carried m’sister. Your Troubadour has never had a female on his back.’

‘That can soon be mended!’

‘I wonder,’ said the Earl diffidently, ‘if you would think it rude in us to be proceeding on our way while you thrash the matter out between you? Miss Bolderwood will be in danger of contracting a chill, I fear.’

Martin cast him a smouldering look, but Mr Warboys at once responded: ‘By Jupiter, so she will! Nasty wind blowing! No sense in standing about – silly thing to do!’

‘I’ll accompany you!’ Martin said, wheeling his horse about.

‘Yes, pray do!’ said Marianne, thoroughly enjoying this rivalry for her favours. ‘Papa and Mama will be so glad to see you! And you too, Mr Warboys!’

‘If I and not St Erth had found you,’ said Martin, ‘we would soon have seen whether Troubadour would have carried you or not!’

‘Well, since the matter appears to trouble you, why should you not at once put it to the test?’ suggested Gervase. ‘You will not object to changing horses, Miss Bolderwood? I very much fear that nothing less will satisfy poor Martin.’

Martin looked to be at once surprised and scornful. He had no great opinion of his brother’s mettle, but he had not expected him to relinquish his advantage so very tamely. He smiled triumphantly, and dismounted, but not in time to forestall Gervase in lifting Marianne down from Cloud’s back. She was installed on Troubadour’s saddle; the Earl swung himself on to Cloud again; and Martin, preparing to lead his horse along the street, realized too late that between the horseman and the pedestrian the advantage lay with the former. The Earl, riding easily beside the lady, was able to engage her in conversation, while his brother, plodding along at Troubadour’s head, was obliged, whenever he wished to claim her attention, to turn his head to look up at her, and to repeat his remark several times. The playful nature of her exchanges with Gervase considerably exacerbated his temper; nor was he mollified to observe that the Earl’s gallantry seemed to be very much to Marianne’s taste. After one or two unsuccessful attempts to draw her into conversation with himself, he relapsed into sulky silence; and was very nearly provoked, at journey’s end, into giving his friend, Mr Warboys, a leveller. Mr Warboys, a mournful witness of his discomfiture, was ill-advised enough to say to him, as Marianne led the Earl up the steps to the door of Whissenhurst Grange: ‘Rolled-up, dear boy! Very shabby stratagem! Fellow must have been on the Staff, I should think!’

Marianne’s safe arrival was greeted by her mother, her father, the butler, the housekeeper, and her old nurse with the most profound thanksgiving. The news of Fairy’s riderless return to the stables had only just been brought up to the house, so that there was time yet to send one of the footmen running to stop the grooms and the stableboys setting forth to scour the countryside in search of her. Sir Thomas, who had been shouting for his horse, pulling on his boots, and issuing instructions, all in one breath, was only induced to cease shaking and hugging his daughter by the necessity of thanking her preserver. His wife, though very much more restrained in her expressions, was equally obliged to the Earl; and it was hard to imagine how either of them could have been more grateful to him had he rescued Marianne from some deadly peril. As for Marianne, she laughed, and coaxed, and begged pardon, and was very soon forgiven her imprudence. Her Mama bore her upstairs to put off her muddied habit; Sir Thomas shouted for refreshment to be brought to the saloon, whither he led the Earl; and Martin, fairly gnashing his teeth, said stiffly that he would take his leave, now that he had seen Marianne restored to her parents.

‘Yes, yes, there is no occasion for you to kick your heels, my boy!’ said Sir Thomas genially. ‘To be sure, we are always glad to see you at Whissenhurst, and you too, Barny, but you will be wanting to go about your business now! This way, my lord! To think I had been meaning to wait on you next week, and here you are, making it quite unnecessary for me to do so! I am glad of it: I am no hand at doing the punctilio, you know!’

Thus dismissed, Martin bowed grandly, and left the house, closely followed by Mr Warboys, who said helpfully, as they mounted their hacks: ‘No sense in getting into a miff, dear boy! Come about again presently, I daresay! Very unlucky chance your brother should have been riding in this direction, but not a bit of good staying there to outface him! Corkbrained thing to do! The devil of it is he’s a dashed handsome fellow. Good address too, besides the title.’

‘If he thinks I will permit him to trifle with Marianne – !’ said Martin, between his teeth.

‘No reason to think he means to do so,’ said Mr Warboys soothingly. ‘Seemed very taken with her!’

Martin turned his head sharply to look at him, so menacing an expression in his dark eyes that he was thrown into disorder. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, now you come to ask me,’ said Mr Warboys, with the air of one making a discovery, ‘I don’t know what I mean! Spoke without thinking! Often do! Runs in the family: uncle of mine was just the same. Found himself married to a female with a squint all through speaking without thinking.’

‘Oh, to hell with your uncle!’ Martin said angrily.

‘No use saying that, dear boy. The old gentleman took a pious turn years back. Won’t go to hell – not a chance of it! Aunt might – never met such a queer-tempered woman in my life!’

‘
Will
you stop boring on and on about your relatives?’ said Martin savagely.

‘Don’t mind doing that: no pleasure to me to talk about them! But if you think you’re going to have a turn-up with me, old fellow, you’re devilish mistaken!’