“Yes, isn’t she odious?” agreed Lady Denville. “But a positive genius! What is it you want, dearest? Don’t tell me something dreadful has happened!”
“Not a bit of it!” he replied, quizzing her. “Can’t you guess?”
“No, wicked one! How should I—Kit! You don’t mean—Oh, is it Evelyn?” She flew up out of her chair, as he nodded. “Oh, thank God! Where is he? When did he arrive?”
“Last night, after we had all gone to bed. He let himself in with Pinny’s key. He wanted to come and wake you, but I wouldn’t allow him to do so.”
“Oh, Kit, how could you? You must have known I should have been only too glad to have been awakened!”
“Yes, love, I did, but I also knew that if he did wake you it would be hours before I could drag him off to bed! Which I was determined to do, because he’s not in very plump currant yet. Nothing to alarm you!—He overturned his phaeton, broke his shoulder and a couple of ribs, and seems to have suffered a pretty severe concussion.”
“Oh, my poor, poor darling!” she cried. “Where is he? Tell me instantly, Kit!”
“He’s with Pinny. I went back with him there in the small hours, to help him to undress, and I promise you she’s taking good care of him!”
“Yes, yes, of course she is, but I must go to him at once! Ring the bell for Rimpton, dearest! You must make my excuses to your aunt—say I have the headache, and am still in bed! Yes, and the quails! Dawlish procured them from Brighton, because Bonamy particularly likes them, but so does Evelyn, and perhaps he might be tempted to eat them, even if he fancies nothing else. So tell Dawlish to put two of them in a basket, with some asparagus, and—”
But at this point Kit intervened, representing to her very kindly, but with considerable firmness, firstly, that Evelyn’s presence must remain a secret; secondly, that any such order would inevitably lead to his discovery; thirdly, that this difficulty would not be overcome by telling Dawlish that the quails and the asparagus were for Nurse Pinner’s consumption; and fourthly, that he had been strictly enjoined by Nurse not to let anyone disturb Evelyn until he had had his sleep out. “So sit down again, Mama, and let me tell you what happened to Evelyn!” he said. “You will be able to stay with him much longer, if you go down after breakfast, for you can tell my aunt that you are obliged to visit Pinny, because she’s out of sorts, and no one will think it in the least odd of you. Besides, if I know Evelyn, he’ll want to be shaved before he receives visitors! I sent Fimber down to the cottage, with some of his gear, an hour ago, so with both Pinny and Fimber to cosset and scold him you may be very sure he won’t be neglected!”
“He will need me to protect him!” she said, laughing.
However, she did sit down again; and Kit embarked on the task of recounting a slightly expurgated version of his twin’s adventures. “For you’ll do it much better than I could, Kester!” had said Evelyn coaxingly.
This confidence was not misplaced. Mr Fancot, bred to diplomacy, omitted all reference to Tunbridge Wells; slid gracefully over the peculiar behaviour of his twin in having shaken off his devoted groom; and managed to make Lady Denville so impatient to learn the exact circumstances of the accident that it never occurred to her to wonder what could have induced Evelyn to have chosen so roundabout a way to London in preference to the direct pike-road which he could have rejoined, after his visit to John-Coachman, merely by retracing his route for a couple of miles to Nutley. Long before Kit ventured to introduce Miss Patience into his recital, her ladyship was so brimful of gratitude to Mrs Askham for the tender care she had lavished upon Evelyn that it seemed doubtful whether she would be able to restrain her impulsive desire to have herself driven to Woodland House before she had even set eyes on Evelyn. “How can I wait to thank her?” she demanded, tears sparkling in her eyes. “How can I ever repay her? Oh, she must be the noblest creature alive! But for her he might have died, Kit!”
While he did not share this extreme view of the case, Kit was very ready to encourage it, and to slip in a word or two designed to imbue Lady Denville with the conviction that in Mr Askham she would discover a gentleman of culture, and respectable ancestry. She said she had no doubt at all that he and his wife were excellent persons.
She was not in the least surprised to learn that Evelyn had forgotten to assure himself that his card-case did, in fact, contain some cards: it was just the sort of mischance, she said, that might be depended upon to overtake one at precisely the wrong moment; and she found nothing to wonder at in Evelyn’s having asserted that his name was Evelyn, rather than Denville. “For, you know, dearest, a great many people do call him Evelyn! I think, perhaps, it is because he is that kind of man, and so very unlike your father, whom no one ever addressed as William! Do you recall that before Papa died it was only the merest acquaintances who called Evelyn Martinhoe? But, oh, Kit, if only the Askhams had known that he was Denville! They must have sent a message instantly, and you need never have pretended you were Denville, for no one could have expected Evelyn to attend a dinner-party when he was out of his senses! Oh, dear, Kit, I meant it for the best, but only think what has come of it! Try as I will, I cannot feel the least degree of certainty that Cressy won’t recognize the difference between you! Even if I could hit upon a way of accounting for his suddenly being obliged to keep his arm in a sling! So, instead of rescuing him, I have very likely ruined him!”
Courageously facing the worst of his task, Mr Fancot said: “No, Mama, you haven’t. I was about to tell you that he no longer wishes to marry Cressy. The fact is—”
She interrupted him, demanding in a voice of deep foreboding: “Who is it?”
“It’s Miss Askham, Mama. Evelyn has fallen tail over top in love with her, and it’s she he means to marry, I shall leave it to him to tell you about her, but she seems to be a—a most unexceptionable girl!”
“Oh, no, Kit!” she uttered imploringly. “When he has already offered for Cressy! Dear one, don’t, I beg of you, imagine that I mean to pinch at him, for no one knows better than I do that it is impossible to find a fault in either of you—indeed, I have always been so very sorry for other parents whose sons are so sadly inferior to mine!—but I cannot but think it a pity that Evelyn should fall in love quite so often, and nearly always with such ineligible girls!”
“Yes, Mama,” he agreed, regarding her in affectionate amusement. “But consider how impossible it would be to find a girl in any way worthy of either of us!”
“Now you are being absurd!” said her ladyship, with great dignity.
He laughed. “No, how can you say so? In all seriousness, love, I have a strong notion that this is a very different affair from all Evelyn’s former fits of gallantry. I do believe that he has formed a lasting attachment, and so, I think, will you, when you have talked to him. From what he told me, Miss Askham is wholly unlike any other of his flirts—and, I should have supposed, lacking in the qualities which he has hitherto found so captivating. He told me that she was neither dashing nor full of wit, but that the mere thought that he might grow bored with her seemed to him fantastic! Well, Mama, my own taste is—is for a girl of a different cut, but it flashed across my mind, as I listened to Evelyn, that perhaps Miss Askham may be the very thing for him. I’ll say no more on that head, but leave you to judge for yourself. As for her eligibility from the worldly standpoint—no! It must be thought an unequal marriage, though I collect that Evelyn would have no reason to blush either for Miss Askham, or for her family. They are not persons of consequence, nor are they affluent, but they seem to be of unquestionable gentility.”