‘Oh! No, no, do not say so,’ she said, all agog, and hanging on every word. ‘Well, go on.’
But it was no good. I could not go on, I was too busy laughing.
‘You will have to use your own imagination!’ I said.
She came back from her horrid visions to reality and tried to pretend that she had not been carried away, and said she was sure that Eleanor would never put her in such a chamber. And then, to prove that she had never taken any of it seriously, she remarked on the fields and the country lanes, and talked of nothing but commonplaces until we drew near the abbey.
Upon my remarking that we were entering into the neighbourhood, however, her excitement began to grow. She looked ahead eagerly, craning her neck around corners in an effort to catch an early glimpse of it.
‘We will be seeing it at any moment,’ she said.
‘No, not until we pass through the gates of the lodge,’ I said. ‘It sits very low to the ground and cannot be seen from any great distance.’
‘We must surely see a chimney.’
Alas! I knew it was not the case but I did not like to disappoint her, and the final stages of the journey were passed by her in a state of pleasurable excitement which I found entrancing.
As we passed by the lodge I saw a look of surprise cross her face, for there is no denying it, the lodge has a modern appearance, and she was no less surprised by the well-kept drive, which allowed us to pass smoothly along it, instead of enveloping us in overhanging branches and mossy creepers.
The weather sprang to her aid, however, and a sudden scud of rain added a semblance of horror as we pulled up before the abbey, though the horror was only that it might ruin her new straw bonnet, instead of leading to a fearful presentiment that she would be abducted by banditti or harsh-voiced mercenaries.
I helped her down from the carriage, my hands closing about her waist with a satisfying feeling of pleasure. She was soon beneath the shelter of the old porch, and then passing into the hall, where Eleanor and my father were waiting to welcome her.
I watched with amusement as we went into the drawing room and she saw the modern furniture and the Rumford fireplace, with its slabs of marble instead of ponderous stone, and the pretty English china instead of two-handed axes and rusting shields.
My father, misunderstanding her air of disappointment, immediately began to apologize for the room, whilst taking out his watch, a habit of his, and saying with surprise, ‘But it is within twenty minutes of five!’
Eleanor and I knew at once what that meant: it was time to dress for dinner. Eleanor hurried Miss Morland upstairs. I retired to my own room, amusing myself by imagining Miss Morland’s feelings at being in a real abbey, with its broad staircases of shining oak, its wide galleries and its quadrangles; though these could be but a poor substitute for dungeons, cells and secret passages.
I was soon dressed, and met Eleanor on the landing as I was on my way down to dinner. She was walking there, looking anxious.
‘Miss Morland has not yet come out of her room, and you know how Father is about punctuality,’ she said in dismay.
‘Then go in, and see if she is ready.’
‘Yes, I think I must. I do not want to hurry her, but ...’
And so saying, she disappeared into Miss Morland’s room. I went downstairs to find my father pacing the drawing room and looking at his pocket watch.
‘Where are they?’ he demanded irascibly.
‘They will be here directly,’ I said. ‘Ladies, you know, take longer to dress than gentlemen.’
‘It is a confounded nuisance,’ he said, as though he had an appointment, when in fact there was no need whatsoever for dinner to be served at that minute, other than his love of running the house with the precision of a military campaign.
Eleanor and Miss Morland appeared a few minutes later. My father’s irritation did not noticeably subside and he barked, ‘Dinner to be on the table at once!’ to the footman. He offered Miss Morland his arm and, leaving me to escort Eleanor, he went through to the dining room.
‘I hope we are not to have this every night,’ I said to Eleanor, thinking that Miss Morland looked frightened.
‘I think Catherine will never dare be late again,’ said Eleanor.
‘You must send your maid to help her tomorrow night,’ I said, ‘for she has not brought one with her and it must be difficult for her to dress on her own.’
‘I did, but she sent Annie away. She was busy examining her room when I went in, and small wonder, for it is all new to her. She was fascinated by the old chest. It is a curious object, I suppose—’
She looked at me curiously as I began to laugh.
‘Depend upon it, she was thinking it hid some fiendish secret: a body, perhaps, or a mound of jewels!’ I said.
Eleanor smiled and replied, ‘Henry, no!’
‘Why not? She is excited at being in an abbey, and she would not be a heroine if she did not entertain such a notion for a minute, at least.’
‘Then she must have been sadly disappointed, for she found nothing but linen!’ said Eleanor with a laugh. Then, more seriously, ‘And is she a heroine?’
‘She is most certainly that. But, I take it, you mean, is she my heroine?’
‘Well?’
‘As to that, I cannot say. I like her.’ My eyes lingered on her as she took her place at table. ‘Yes, I like her very much. But I have seen her very little as yet, you know. One can never know someone by dancing with them at assemblies and the like. Here, where I will see her day by day for the next few weeks, I will be able to see if the liking is just that, or anything more.’
‘And she will be able to see you.’
‘Also important,’ I said. ‘I want no unwilling bride, however much such creatures might amuse me in a novel; for whilst it is very pleasant to read about young ladies incarcerated in castles, with devious guardians and sinister suitors forcing them into horrible marriages, it is not so pleasant in real life. Then it is better to be surrounded by friends, and to laugh a great deal.’
There was time for no more. We took our places at table and the soup was immediately served.
‘This is a very spacious room,’ said Miss Morland, looking about her.
My father, recovering from his ill humour, for of all things he likes everything to be punctual, was all charm again.
‘It is by no means an ill-sized room,’ he said. ‘Though I am as careless on such subjects as most people, I look upon a tolerably large eating-room as one of the necessaries of life; I suppose that you must have been used to much better-sized apartments at Mr Allen’s?’
A suspicion took hold of me, as it had done before, that he had somehow mistaken her for an heiress, and that that was the cause of his charm. But upon Miss Morland’s saying, ‘No, indeed. Mr Allen’s dining parlour is not more than half as large. I have never seen so large a room as this in my life,’ he was not at all put out, as he surely must have been if he had thought of her as a wealthy young lady. Instead, his good humour increased, and I supposed that he liked having someone to whom he could show off.
‘Why, as I have such rooms, it would be simple not to make use of them,’ he said. ‘But upon my honour, I believe there might be more comfort in rooms of only half their size. Mr Allen’s house, I am sure, must be exactly of the true size for rational happiness. But tell me, Miss Morland, is your room to your liking?’
‘Oh, yes, it is very grand,’ she said. ‘I have never seen a finer chamber.’
‘There are no headless spectres?’ I asked her innocently.
She blushed.
My father frowned and drew her attention back to the dinner. But when he had left us, called away by some letters he needed to answer, the mood grew lighter and I was able to tease her at my leisure. The night was stormy and the wind, which had been rising at intervals the whole afternoon, was heard to moan on occasion down the chimney.