Stunned by this communication, Miss Tresilian could not for many minutes collect her scattered wits. With every will in the world to spring to instant action she felt as though she had been smitten with paralysis. From this distressing condition she was reclaimed by the sudden opening of the door, and the sound of a harsh, too-well remembered voice saying: ‘Thank you, I’ll announce myself!’
She raised her head, and stared blankly across the room at Lord Iver.
He was dressed for travel, and had not stayed to put off his long, many-caped driving-coat of white drab. It was plain, from his blazing eyes and close-gripped lips, that he was in a towering rage, but he did not immediately speak. After a searing moment, his gaze dropped to the letter in her hand, and he said: ‘Mine is an empty errand, I apprehend! Is that from your niece?’
Hardly knowing what she did, she held it out to him. He rapidly scanned it, and said contemptuously: ‘Very affecting!—if you have a taste for the romantic! I have not!’ His eyes searched her face; he gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t look so tragic! You don’t imagine, do you, that I shan’t stop this crazy project?’
She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. ‘Can you do so? Do you know where—Has Arthur written to you?’
‘Yes—like the silly widgeon he is!’ he replied. ‘As for knowing where, there was no need to tell me that! Or you either, I imagine!’
‘But I haven’t the least notion!’ she said distractedly. ‘Where could they have gone? She’s underage! Even if Arthur has a special licence, no one would marry them! She knows that, and surely he must?’
‘Of course they know it, and also the one place where they may be married, with no questions asked!’ He read bewilderment in her face, and strode up to her, and gave her a rough little shake. ‘They’ve set off for the Border, my innocent! This is to be a Gretna Green affair: a charming scheme, isn’t it?’
‘Gretna Green?’’ she repeated. The colour rushed up into her face; she thrust him away, exclaiming: ‘How dare you say such a thing? Never would Lucy behave with such impropriety!’
‘Then have the goodness to tell me where else she has gone—with a wedding as her acknowledged goal!’
‘I don’t know!’ she cried, unconsciously wringing her hands. ‘Unless—Oh, could they have hoaxed some cleric into believing Lucy to be of age?’
‘They can hardly have needed a post-chaise-and-four for that fetch! Oh yes, I’ve ascertained that much already—and also that the chaise has been hired for an unspecified time, and the post-boys for the first two stages. To Welwyn, in fact, and Welwyn, I would remind you, is on the Great North Road!’
‘Oh no!’ she protested. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘Well, that’s of no consequence!’ he said unkindly. ‘I have discharged my duty, at all events, and must now be off. I shall overtake them long before they reach the Border, and will engage myself to restore your niece to you with as little scandal as may be possible, so don’t fall into despair!’
‘Wait!’ she uttered. ‘If this is true—What was it she wrote?—repugnant to her as it must be to me—agonizing struggle—shock the world—Good God, she must be out of her senses! Iver, she left the house before ten o’clock! Can you overtake them?’
‘Do you care to hazard a bet on the chance that I shan’t have done so before nightfall? I shouldn’t, if I were you!’
‘Then grant me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready to go with you!’ she said, hurrying to the door.
‘Don’t be so absurd! I’m not taking you with me on this chase, or anyone! Not even my groom!’
‘I should hope you were not taking your groom! But me you are taking, make up your mind to that, Iver! Who is to protect Lucy’s reputation if I don’t! You cannot!—in fact, you would be very much more likely to blast it!’
‘Thank you! Let me tell you that I am not travelling in a post-chaise, but in my own curricle!’
‘So I should suppose! And let me tell you, my lord, that this won’t be the first time I’ve travelled in a curricle—or driven one, if it comes to that!’
‘It will not come to that!’ declared his lordship, flinging these words after her retreating form.
The first few miles of the journey were accomplished in silence, since Miss Tresilian was absorbed in her agitating reflections, and Lord Iver’s attention was fully engaged by the task of guiding a spirited team through the noise and bustle of the crowded streets. His curricle was lightly built and well sprung; and since, like every other sporting blood of his day, he had not two but four horses harnessed to it, and was himself a Nonesuch of the first stare, it bowled over the ground, when the streets were left behind, at a speed that allayed one at least of Miss Tresilian’s fears. The June day was bright and warm, the road in excellent condition, and these circumstances helped materially to restore her spirits. When my lord swept through Barnet without a check she asked him where he meant to change horses. He replied curtly that his team was good for two stages. Miss Tresilian relapsed into silence, but, after some twenty minutes, said suddenly: ‘Try as I will, I can’t believe we haven’t come on a wild goose chase!’
‘Then perhaps you will tell me why you forced yourself upon me?’
‘On the chance that you might be right—but the more I consider it the less do I think you can be!’
But at Welwyn, where my lord arranged for the stabling of his own horses, and had a fresh team put-to, her optimism was quenched. One of the waiters at the White Hart had had ample opportunity to observe the handsome young gentleman who had jumped down from a chaise to procure a glass of lemonade for his lady; and he described him in terms which left no room for doubt. Miss Tresilian’s rising spirits went into eclipse, and were not improved by his lordship’s saying, as he drove out of the yard: ‘Satisfied?’
Spurred by this unhandsome taunt, she responded: ‘A very odd notion you must have of me if you suppose I could be satisfied by such intelligence! I was never more shocked in my life!’
‘I should hope you had not been! If anything had been needed to prove me right in thinking you wholly unfit for the post of guardian your niece has supplied it!’
‘Well, if it comes to that, you’ve made a sad botch of your ward, haven’t you?’ she retorted.
‘I have not the smallest doubt that Arthur was cajoled into this escapade by your niece’s wiles!’
‘To own the truth,’ said Miss Tresilian frankly, ‘nor have I! Lucy has ten times his spirit! There is a want of resolution in him which I can’t but deplore, even though I perfectly understand the cause of it. Poor boy! It must have been hard indeed to have developed strength of character, bullied and browbeaten as he has been almost from infancy!’
‘Bullied and browbeaten?’ echoed his lordship.
‘I dare say you never knew you were crushing his spirit,’ she offered, in a palliative tone.
‘No! Nor he either, let me tell you! You have only to add that fear of me has driven him into this elopement, and you will have gone your length!’
‘Well, of course it has!’ she said, turning her head, in genuine astonishment, to scan his grim profile.
‘God grant me patience!’ he ejaculated. ‘So you mean to shuffle off the blame on to my shoulders, do you? Well, you won’t do it! You are to blame, not I!’
‘I?’ she gasped.
‘Yes, you! With your henwitted scheme to carry the girl out of the country! Of all the cork-brained, ill-judged—’
‘This,’ interrupted Miss Tresilian, ‘goes beyond belief! Next you will say that it was I who forbade the marriage!’
‘You were the only person with the authority to do so, at all events!’