“Well, it seems to me,” said Miss Grantham, “that if you go to your aunt your Papa will very likely fetch you back. It would be much better if he did not know where you were. In the morning, we will write him a letter between us. You will explain that you do not wish to marry Sir James—”
“But he knows that!”
“Very well, you will remind him of it. You will say that you have sought refuge with friends, who are taking you into the country, and that you won’t return to your home unless he inserts an advertisement in the Morning Post, signifying that he will not ask you to marry Sir James.”
Phoebe looked a little doubtful. “Yes, but my Papa is so obstinate that I don’t suppose he will do it.”
“Fiddle! If he cannot find you, and he will not, he must do so.”
“He will be dreadfully angry,” said Phoebe, with a shiver.
“No, he will be glad to have you restored to him. Besides, he would be just as angry if you went to your aunt, would he not?”
“Yes, indeed he would! Oh dear, do you think I ought not to have run away at all? It happened so quickly that I had scarcely time to think, and now I see that whatever I do they will be angry with me. Besides, I have no friends, so where am I to go?”
“Nowhere, silly puss! You will stay here with me until your parents relent, or until I—until Lord Mablethorpe and I think what is to be done with you.”
“Oh!” cried Phoebe, jumping up. “If only I could! And then perhaps I could become a governess, or an actress, or something of that nature, and never, never go home again!”
“As to that,” said Miss Grantham diplomatically, “we shall have to consult Lord Mablethorpe.”
“Oh yes! He will know what I ought to do!” agreed Phoebe confidently.
Miss Grantham, having no such faith in his lordship’s wisdom, mentally resolved to prime him well, and led Miss Laxton away to the spare bedchamber, helped her to undress, and tucked her up snugly for the night.
Chapter 8
When Lady Bellingham, sipping her early chocolate in bed on the following morning, was informed by her niece that she had brought home a guest to stay, she not unnaturally demanded to know who the visitor might be. When she learned that she was none other than the Honourable Phoebe Laxton, and that her visit would be for an indefinite time, she laid down her cup and saucer and regarded Deborah with real concern.
“Deb, my love, are you feeling quite the thing?” she asked anxiously. “You never told me that you were acquainted with the Laxtons, and why in heaven’s name should one of them wish to come and stay here, when they have a very good house of their own?”
“I am not acquainted with the Laxtons,” replied Miss Grantham, with a twinkle. “I never saw this child in my life until yesterday. I am helping her to escape from gross persecution, you must know.”
“Oh dear, as though we had not trouble enough!” groaned her aunt. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, you unnatural girl!”
Deborah laughed, and, sitting down beside the bed, gave Lady Bellingham an account of the events of the evening. Her ladyship was quite horrified, and told her that she was little better than a kidnapper. She then begged her to consider the danger she courted in offending a man of Filey’s standing in the world, not to mention Miss Laxton’s parents, and expressed herself as being fully satisfied now that she was out of her mind.
“Besides, Deb, what are we to do with the girl if her parents don’t relent?” she asked reasonably.
Miss Grantham’s eyes danced. “Well, dear ma’am, I have a little plan of my own for Phoebe’s future,” she said.
Lady Bellingham looked at her uneasily. “I don’t trust you, Deb. I know you have some dreadful scheme in your head when you look like that! What am I to say if Lady Laxton comes here demanding her daughter?”
“Dearest Aunt Lizzie, this must surely be the last house in London where Lady Laxton would think of looking for her daughter! While she remains with us, by the way, she is to be known as Miss Smith, in case the servants should talk.”
“Yes, but how long is she to remain with us?” asked her ladyship. “If it is not just like you, Deb, to fill the house with guests when there is no money to pay the coal-bill! And poor Kit is coming next week besides! We shall be ruined! And I must tell you that Ormskirk was here last night, and when he asked me where you were I declare I hardly knew how to answer him. But I dare say he guessed, for he said in a very dry voice that he saw Mablethorpe was absent too. Oh dear, what a tangle we are in, my love, and you making it so much the worse with all this nonsense about Miss Laxton, let alone enraging Ravenscar, and behaving so abominably at Vauxhall that I declare I feel quite ashamed to own you! Where is this girl?”
Miss Grantham then offered to fetch Phoebe for inspection. Lady Bellingham said that she had no wish to see her, but if she were to be compelled to house her for the rest of her life, as she had little doubt would turn out to be the case, she supposed she had better make her acquaintance. So Miss Laxton was brought into her hostess’s room, clutching one of Deborah’s wrappers round her small person, and Lady Bellingham said that she understood nothing, but Deborah had better put on her hat at once, and go out to buy the poor child something to wear and, as for Filey’s thinking that he would be permitted to gobble up such a morsel as that, it would give her much pleasure to be able to bestow a piece of her mind upon him, which she very likely would do, one fine day, for she was sure he was a disagreeable creature with a bad heart, and she had never liked him, no, not from the start!
This rambling speech gave Miss Grantham to understand that her aunt was resigned to the unexpected addition to her household, so she kissed that long-suffering lady’s cheek, and went off to replenish Phoebe’s wardrobe. By noon, Phoebe, dressed in pale blue muslin, was able to emerge from the seclusion of her bedchamber; and when Lord Mablethorpe arrived to pay his promised call, she was sitting with Deborah in the small back-parlour half-way up the stairs.
Lord Mablethorpe heartily approved of Deborah’s plan to keep Phoebe in St James’s Square, and he could not help feeling rather flattered by her dependence on his judgement. She made him feel quite old, and responsible, and by the time he had endorsed all his Deborah’s suggestions, he was in a fair way to believing that he had thought of them for himself. He helped to draft a suitable letter to Lord and Lady Laxton, which Phoebe copied out in her best copyplate handwriting, and he said that he would give a monkey to see their faces when they received it. This made their undutiful daughter giggle. His lordship then asked if it were true that the Honourable Arnold Laxton had been rolled-up at Epsom, and Miss Laxton said, yes, it was all so dreadful because Arnold always backed horses which fell down, or crossed their legs, and that was why it was so important that she should make a good match. This exchange led to others and, since both lived in the same circle, and knew very much the same people, it was not many minutes before they were on the most comfortable terms, pulling most of their relatives’ characters to shreds, and laughing a great deal over the business.
Lady Bellingham, coming into the room presently, and seeing her niece sewing quietly by the window, while, on the sofa, Lord Mablethorpe and Miss Laxton had their heads close together, was quite dismayed. She seized the earliest opportunity of warning her niece that if she did not take care she would lose Mablethorpe as well as the twenty thousand pounds she had so recklessly refused.
“Well, I don’t want Mablethorpe,” said Miss Grantham, maddeningly placid. “I think it would be a charming thing if he were to fall out of love with me, and into love with Phoebe.”
“It might be a very charming thing if we had twenty thousand pounds,” said Lady Bellingham, with strong common sense. “When we have nothing but debts, it is a disaster! Do you know, my love, I have been trying to add up my accounts, and do what I will I cannot alter the truth! We lost seven thousand pounds last year by bad debts!”