Sprig Muslin (19 page)

"You're very right!" Sir Gareth said. "Under what disguise does she hope to remain in your house, by the way? Has she offered herself to your wife as a chambermaid?"

"No, sir," grinned Mr. Ninfield. "When last I see her, she was making my Joe teach her how to milk the cows, and just about as happy as a grig."

"Ah, going to be a dairymaid, is she?" said Sir Gareth cheerfully. An idea that had peeped into his mind now began to take hopeful possession of it. He looked at Mr. Ninfield consideringly, and said, after a moment: "Is she a troublesome charge? Do you think Mrs. Ninfield would be prepared to keep her as a boarder for a few days?"

"Keep
her, sir?" repeated Mr. Ninfield, staring at him.

"The case, you see, is this," said Sir Gareth. "Either I must take her back to school, or I must make some other arrangements for her. Well, I have been most earnestly requested
not
to take her back to the school, which puts me in something of a fix, for I can't hire a governess for her at a moment's notice. I must convey her to my sister's house in town, and, frankly, I am very sure she won't want to go with me there. Nor, I must add, am I anxious to saddle my sister with such a charge. It occurs to me that if she is happy in your wife's care it would perhaps be as well to leave her there until I am able to provide for her suitably. I daresay, if she did not know that I was aware of her direction, she would be glad to stay with you, and would no doubt enjoy herself very much, milking cows, and collecting eggs, and in general fancying herself to be very useful."

"I'll be bound she would, the pretty dear!" said Mrs. Sheet approvingly. "A very good notion, I call it, and just what will put dancing-masters and such out of her head."

But Mr. Ninfield dashed Sir Gareth's hopes. "Well, sir," he said apologetically, "I'm sure I'd be pleased to have her, and it goes against the shins with me to act disobliging, but it's Joe, you see. She's got him so as he don't know whether he's on his head or his heels. He don't take his eyes off her, and when he told his ma that Miss was like a princess out of one of them fairy stories, Mrs. Ninfield she said to me, private, that we must find out quick where she comes from before Joe gets ideas into his head which is above his station. Because it wouldn't do, sir."

"No, it wouldn't do," agreed Sir Gareth, relinquishing his scheme with a pang. "If that is how the land lies, of course I must take her away immediately. Where is your farm?"

"It's a matter of three miles from here, sir, but it ain't a very good road. You go up the post-road, about half a mile, and there's a lane turns off to your left. You follow that past Keyston, until you see a rough track, left again. You go down that for a mile and a half, maybe a bit more, like as if you was heading for Catworth, and just afore you come to a sharp bend you'll see Whitethorn. You can't miss it."

"Good gracious, Ned, where have your wits gone begging?" interrupted Mrs. Sheet impatiently. "Just you get back into your gig, and lead the gentleman!"

"Thank you, I wish you will!" Sir Gareth said. "In the direction of Catworth, is it? Tell me, can I, without too much difficulty, reach Kimbolton from Whitethorn?"

"Yes, sir, easy, you can. All you've to do is to go on down the lane till you come to the post-road—the one as runs south of this one, between Wellingborough and Cambridge. Then you swing left-handed into it, and Kimbolton's about five miles on."

"Excellent! I'll rack up there for the night, and carry the child off to London by post-chaise tomorrow—if she doesn't contrive to give me the slip from the posting-house there! But before we set out you must join me in a glass. Ma'am, what may I have the pleasure of desiring your husband to serve you with?"

"Well, I'm sure, sir!" said Mrs. Sheet, slightly overcome. "Well, I don't hardly like to!"

However, succumbing to persuasion, she consented to drink a small glass of port. The landlord then drew three pots of his own home-brewed; and Sir Gareth, basely plotting Amanda's undoing, said thoughtfully: "Now, I wonder what trick that abominable child will play on me next? She'll put up a spirited fight, that's certain! The last time she was in mischief she told a complete stranger that I was abducting her. I only wish I may not be in her black books for months for having disclosed that she's still a schoolgirl. Nothing enrages her more!"

Mrs. Sheet said wisely that girls of her age were always wishing to be thought quite grown-up; and Mr. Ninfield, hugely tickled by the thought of Sir Gareth's figuring as an abductor, confessed that he and his good lady had suspected from the start that Miss was cutting a sham.

"Ah, well, of course she didn't ought to tell such faradiddles," said Mrs. Sheet, "but it's only play-acting, like children do, when they start in to be Dick Turpin, or Robin Hood."

"Exactly so," nodded Sir Gareth. "But it is really time she grew out of it. Unfortunately, she is still at the stage when she pines for adventure. As far as I can discover, she thinks it a dead bore to be a schoolgirl, and so is for ever pretending that she is someone else. I could wish that some of her stories were less outrageous."

Everyone agreed that it was very embarrassing for him, and the symposium presently ended on a note of great cordiality. Sir Gareth had acquired three firm friends and supporters who were as one in thinking him the finest gentleman of their acquaintance, not high in the instep, but, as Mr. Sheet later expressed it, a real-top-of-the-trees, slap up to the echo.

Trotton, upon hearing that the end of the hunt was in sight, was extremely thankful. It had appeared to him that his besotted master was prepared to continue driving throughout the night, and he, for one, had had enough of it. Moreover, he had been even more reluctant than Sir Gareth to leave the bays in a strange stable, having taken a dislike to the head ostler, an unfortunate circumstance which led to his becoming more and more convinced that those peerless horses would be subjected to the worst of bad treatment. He now learned that it would be his task to drive them back to London by easy stages, and grew instantly more cheerful.

"You will have to come with me to Kimbolton," Sir Gareth said, drawing on his gloves. "I shall be escorting the young lady to my sister's house tomorrow, and shall hire a chaise for the purpose. You may then drive the curricle back to Thrapston, settle my account there for the hire of these tits, and bring the bays up to London after me. I shan't look for you to arrive for at least two days, so take care you don't press 'em!"

"No, sir," said Trotton, in a carefully expressionless voice. "I wouldn't be wishful to do so—not in this hot weather!"

"Because," said Sir Gareth, as though he had not heard, but with the glimmer of an appreciative smile in his eyes, "I have already worked 'em far harder than I ought."

"Just so, sir!" said his henchman, grinning at him.

It did not take long to accomplish the journey to Whitethorn Farm. Leaving Trotton with the curricle, Sir Gareth was ushered by Mr. Ninfield into the rambling old house. Dusk was beginning by this time to shadow the landscape, and in the large, flagged kitchen the lamp had been kindled. Its mellow light fell on Amanda, on the floor, and playing with a litter of kittens. Seated in a window chair, with his hands clasped between his knees, was a stalwart youth, watching her with a rapt and slightly idiotic expression on his sunburnt countenance; and keeping a wary eye on both, while she vigorously ironed one of her husband's shirts, was a matron of formidable aspect.

Amanda glanced up casually, as the door opened, but when she saw who had entered the kitchen she stiffened, and exclaimed:
"You!
No! No!"

Young Mr. Ninfield, although not quick-witted, took only a very few seconds to realise that here in the person of this bang-up nonesuch, was Amanda's persecutor. He got up, clenching his fists, and glaring at Sir Gareth.

He was perfectly ready, and even anxious, to do battle, but Sir Gareth took the wind out of his sails, by first nodding at Amanda, and saying amiably: "Good-evening, Amanda!" and then coming towards him, with his hand held out. "You must be Joe Ninfield," he said. "I have to thank you for taking such excellent care of my ward. You are a very good fellow!"

"It's the young lady's guardian, Jane," Mr. Ninfield informed his wife, in a penetrating aside.

"It is
not!"
Amanda declared passionately. "He is trying to abduct me!"

Joe, who had numbly allowed Sir Gareth to grasp his hand, turned his bemused gaze upon her, seeking guidance. "Throw him out!" ordered Amanda, a sandy kitten clasped to her breast in a very touching way.

"You'll do no such thing, Joe!" said his mother sharply. "Now, sir! P'raps you'll be so good as to explain what this means!"

"All's right, Jane," Mr. Ninfield said, chuckling. "It's like you thought, only that it was school Miss ran off from."

"I didn't!" cried Amanda, her face scarlet with rage. "And he's not my guardian! I don't even
know
him! He is an abominable person!"

"Of course I am!" said Sir Gareth soothingly. "Though how you know that, when you are not even acquainted with me, I can't imagine!" He smiled at Mrs. Ninfield, and said in his charming way: "I do hope, ma'am, that she has not been troublesome to you? I can't thank you enough for your kindness to her!"

Under Amanda's baffled and infuriated gaze, Mrs. Ninfield dropped a curtsy, stammering: "No, no! Oh, no, indeed sir!

Sir Gareth glanced down at Amanda. "Come, my child, get up from the floor!" he said, in a voice of kindly authority. "Where is your hat? I never abduct ladies without their hats, so put it on, and your cloak too!"

Amanda obeyed the first of these commands, largely because she found herself at a disadvantage when sitting at his feet. She could see that the tone he had chosen to adopt had had its inevitable effect, even upon her moonstruck admirer, but she made a desperate bid for freedom. Staring up into his amused eyes, she said: "Very well! If you are my guardian,
who am I?"

"An orphan, cast upon the world without a penny," he replied promptly. "You have lately been employed by a young lady, whose widowed father—a most reprehensible person, I fear—made such improper advances to you, that—"

"Oh, how I much hate you!" she cried, flushing with mortification, and stamping her foot. "How dare you stand there telling such lies?"

"Well, but, missie, it's what you told us yourself!" said Mr. Ninfield, hugely entertained.

"Yes, but that was because—well, that was just make-believe
He
knows it isn't true! And it isn't true that he is my guardian, or that I ran away from school, or
anything!"

Mrs. Ninfield drew a long breath. "Sir,
are
you her guardian, or are you not?" she demanded.

"No," he replied, his voice grave, but his eyes dancing. "I am an abductor. I met her only yesterday, and that by chance, snatched her up into my curricle, and bore her off in spite of all her protests to a gloomy mansion in the heart of the country. I need scarcely tell you that she contrived to make her escape from the mansion while I slept. However, it takes a good deal to daunt a thoroughgoing villain, so you won't be surprised that here I am, having hunted her down remorselessly. I am now about to carry her off to my castle. This, by the way, is perched on a precipitous rock, and, besides being in an uncomfortable stage of neglect and decay, is inhabited only by ghosts and sinister retainers of mine. From this fortress, after undergoing a number of extremely alarming adventures, she will I have little doubt, be rescued by a noble youth of handsome though poverty-stricken aspect. I expect he will kill me, after which it will be found that he is the wronged heir to a vast property—probably mine—and all will end happily."

"Now, sir—!" protested Mrs. Ninfield, trying not to laugh. "Give over your nonsense, do!"

Joe, having listened with painstaking concentration to the programme laid down for Amanda's future entertainment, once more clenched his large fists, and uttered, slowly, but with determination: "I won't have her put in no castle."

"Don't be a gaby!" said his mother. "Can't you see the gentleman's only making game of her?"

"I won't have him make game of her neither," said Joe stubbornly.

"Please to pay no heed, sir!" begged Mrs. Ninfield. "Now, that's enough, Joseph! Do you want the gentleman to think you're no better than a knock-in-the-cradle, which I'll be bound he does?"

"Not at all! I think he's a splendid fellow," said Sir Gareth. "Don't worry, Joe! I was only funning."

"I don't want you to take her anywhere," Joe muttered. "I'd like her to stay here, fine I would!"

"Yes, and
so
would I have liked to stay here!" said Amanda warmly. "I never enjoyed anything half as much, particularly feeding all those droll little pigs, and these lovely kittens, but everything is spoilt now that Sir Gareth knows where I am, and it would be of no use staying here any more." Her voice trembled, and a tear sparkled on the end of her long lashes. She kissed the sandy kitten, and reluctantly set it down on the floor, giving such a pathetic sniff that Mr. Ninfield, a tenderhearted man, said uncomfortably: "Don't you take on, missie! P'raps, if my missis is agreeable—" He stopped, as he caught his wife's eye, and coughed in some embarrassment.

"Cheer up, my child!" Sir Gareth said. "This is no time for tears! You must instantly set about the task of thinking how best to revenge yourself on me."