Abby’s patience deserted her, and she exclaimed: “For heaven’s sake Selina, don’t start again! As though it wasn’t bad enough to have Fanny saying: ‘ If only it would stop raining!’ a dozen times a day! If you don’t wish to drive me into hysterics, stop talking about Mrs Ruscombe! What she said to you I have by heart, and as for what you might have said to her, you know very well you would never say any such things.”
She repented immediately, of course: indeed, she was horrified by her loss of temper. Begging Selina’s pardon, she said that she thought she was perhaps overtired.
“Yes, dear, no doubt you must be,” said Selina, “It is a pity you wouldn’t rest, as I repeatedly recommended you to do.”
Selina was not offended, oh, dear me, no! Just a little hurt, but she did not intend to say any more about that. She was sure Abby had not meant to wound her: it was merely that she was a trifle lacking in sensibility, but she did not intend to say any more about that either.
Nor did she, but her silence on that and every other topic was eloquent enough, and soon provided Abby with all that was needed to make her long passionately for Miles Calverleigh to come back, and to snatch her out of the stricken household without any more ado.
But it was not Miles Calverleigh who made an unexpected appearance in Sydney Place shortly before noon one morning. It was Mr James Wendover, carrying a small cloak-bag, and wearing the resentful expression of one forced, by the inconsiderate behaviour of his relations, to endure the discomforts of a night-journey to Bath on the Mail Coach.
It was Fanny, seated disconsolately by the window in the drawing-room, who saw him first. When the hack drew up, the hope that it had brought Stacy Calverleigh to her at last soared in her breast for one ecstatic moment, before it sank like a plummet at the sight of Mr Wendover’s spare, soberly clad figure. She exclaimed, startling Abby: “It is my uncle! No, no, I won’t—I can’t! Don’t let him come near me!”
With these distraught words, she rushed from the room, leaving Abby to make her excuses as best she might.
Forewarned, Abby betrayed neither perturbation nor astonishment when Mr Wendover presently entered the room, though she did say, as she got up from her chair: “Well, this is a surprise, “! What brings you to Bath, I wonder?”
Bestowing a perfunctory salute upon her cheek, he replied, in acrid accents: “ I must suppose that you know very well what has brought me, Abby! I may add that it has been most inconvenient—most inconvenient!—but since you have apparently run mad I felt myself compelled to undertake the journey! Where is Selina?”
“Probably drinking the waters, in the Pump Room,” replied Abby calmly. “She will be here directly, I daresay. Did you come by the Mail? What made it so late?”
“It was not late. I arrived in Bath punctually at ten o’clock and have already accomplished part of my mission. Why it should have been necessary for me to do so I shall leave it to your conscience to answer, Abby! If,” he added bitterly, “you have a conscience, which sometimes I am compelled to doubt!”
“It certainly seems as though I can’t have. However, I console myself with the reflection that at least I’m not as buffle-headed as the rest of my family!” said Abby brightly. “I collect that you came to try whether you could put an end to Fanny’s rather unfortunate flirtation with young Calverleigh. Now, if only you had warned me of your intention you would have been spared the journey! You have wasted your time, my dear James!”
His eyes snapped; he said, with a dry, triumphant laugh: “Have I? Have I indeed? I have already seen the young coxcomb, and I made it very plain to him that if he attempted to persuade my foolish niece into a clandestine marriage he would find himself taken very much at fault—very much at fault! I informed him that I should have no hesitation—none whatsoever!—in taking steps to have such a marriage annulled, and that under no circumstances should I disburse one penny of her fortune if she contracted an alliance without my sanction! I further informed him that he would have eight years to wait before deriving any benefit from that fortune!”
“I said you had wasted your time,” observed Abby, “I, too, informed him of these circumstances. I don’t think he believed me, and I am very sure he didn’t set much store by all thisbluster of yours. I have no great opinion of his intelligence but I fancy he is sufficiently shrewd to have taken your measure before ever he decided to make a push to captivate Fanny. Good God, if he had succeeded in eloping with Fanny you would have gone to any lengths to hush up the scandal, and so, depend upon it, he very well knows!”
An angry flush mounted into Mr Wendover’s thin cheeks “Indeed? In-deed! You are very much mistaken, my dear sister!I am aware that you fancy yourself to be awake upon every suit, but in my humble opinion you are as big a wet-goose as Selina! I don’t doubt for a moment that he paid little heed to anything you may have said to him: only a gudgeon could have failed to take your measure! When, however, he was confronted by me, the case was altered! I am happy to be able to inform you that this lamentable affair is now at an end!”
“Yes, it came to an end when Fanny took ill. You had really nothing to do with it, you know. According to all accounts, Stacy Calverleigh, for the past fortnight, has being laying determined siege to a rich widow—a far more desirable conquest than Fanny, I assure you! I have not myself had the felicity of meeting the lady, but I understand that she is much inclined to succumb to his attractions.”
He was so much surprised that his anger was instantly quenched. He exclaimed: “You don’t mean it! Is it indeed so? Well, upon my word! Nothing could be better! A widow, you say? Well! They say he is all to pieces, you know—quite gutted! And Danescourt falling to ruin! I was never more shocked in my life! Fanny is to be congratulated!”
“Very true, but I fear you won’t be able to do so. She is still far from well. In fact, I think it would be wiser if she doesn’t come downstairs today—in case she should still be infectious.”
Since James, as she knew well, shared Selina’s dread of contracting any infectious complaint, he agreed hastily that it would be wisest for Fanny to remain in her room. He said that there was now no need for him to see her: a remark hardly calculated to endear him to his sister. He continued for several minutes to animadvert on Stacy Calverleigh’s character; but suddenly he fell silent, and the pleased expression vanished from his face. He began to fidget about the room, twice began to say something, an apparently thought better of it, and finally came to a halt in front of Abby’s chair, and said portentously; “Abby! There is something I must say to you!”
She could guess what was coming, but she merely raised her brows enquiringly.
“Something or more importance than Fanny’s frippery affair—of far graver importance! It has upset me very much. It made me bilious for two days. You must know that I have always been subject to stomach disorders, and nothing brings on one of my attacks more surely than shock! I suffered a severe shock, sister, when it came to my knowledge that not only was young Calverleigh in Bath, but also his uncle! I had not thought it to have been possible!”
“Why not?” asked Abby.
He seemed to find it difficult to answer this, for after glaring down at her for a moment, he ejaculated, somewhat lamely: “Here! In Bath! I had supposed him to be in India!”