‘Yes, Grandpapa!’ said Phoebe incorrigibly. ‘Goodnight, my lord Duke!’
‘Sleep well, Sparrow!’ retorted Sylvester, holding the door for her.
To Tom’s relief she went away without committing any more solecisms. He drew a long breath, as Sylvester shut the door, and said: ‘I am very conscious, my lord Duke, that an explanation-’
‘Call me Salford,’ interrupted Sylvester. ‘Did the sawbones subject you to further tortures? I trust not: he told me that Keighley had done all he should.’
‘No, no, he only bound it up again when he had put some lotion on it!’ Tom assured him. ‘And that puts me in mind of something else! I wish you had not gone out in such weather to fetch him, sir! I was excessively shocked when I heard of it! Oh, and you must have paid him his fee, for I did not! If you will tell me what it was-’
‘I will render a strict account to you,’ promised Sylvester, pulling up a chair to the bedside, and sitting down. ‘That hock, by the bye, will have to be fomented for a day or two, but there should be no lasting injury. A tidy pair, so far as I could judge by lantern-light.’
‘My father bought them last year-proper high-bred ‘uns!’ Tom said. ‘I wouldn’t have had this happen to them for a thousand pounds!’
‘I’ll go bail you wouldn’t! A harsh parent?’
‘No, no, he’s a prime gun, but-!’
‘I know,’ said Sylvester sympathetically. ‘So was mine, but-!’
Tom grinned at him. ‘You must think me a cow-handed whipster! But if only that curst donkey hadn’t brayed- However, it’s no use saying that: my father will say I made wretched work of it, and the worst of it is I think I did! And what sort of a case I should have been in if you hadn’t come to the rescue, sir, I don’t know!’
‘If you must thank anybody, thank Keighley!’ recommended Sylvester. ‘I couldn’t have set the broken bone, you know.’
‘No, but it was you who fetched Upsall, which was a great deal too kind of you. There’s another thing, too.’ He hesitated, looking rather shyly at Sylvester, and colouring a little. ‘Phoebe didn’t understand-she isn’t by any means fly to the time of day, you know!-but I did, and-and I’m very much obliged to you for what you’ve done for her. Sending that girl to sleep with her, I mean. I don’t know if it will answer, or if- Well, the thing is, sir-now that we are in such a rare mess do you think I ought to marry her?’
Sylvester had been regarding him with friendly amusement, but this naive question brought a startled frown to his face. ‘But isn’t that your intention?’ he asked.
‘No-oh, lord, no! I mean, it wasn’t my intention (though I did offer to!) until we were grassed by that overturn. But now that we’re cooped up here perhaps I ought, as a man of honour- Only ten to one she’ll refuse to marry me, and then where shall we be?’
‘If you are not eloping, what are you doing?’ demanded Sylvester.
‘I guessed that was what you must be thinking, sir,’ said Tom.
‘I imagine you might. Nor am I the only one who thinks it!’ said Sylvester. ‘When I left Austerby I did so because Marlow had already set out for the Border in pursuit of you!’
‘No!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘Well, what a gudgeon! If he thought Phoebe had run off with me why the deuce hadn’t he the wit to inquire for me at the Manor? My mother could have told him all was well!’
‘I can only say that she did not appear to me to have perfectly understood that,’ responded Sylvester dryly. ‘As it chanced it was she who came to Austerby, bringing with her the letter you had written to her. You young idiot, I don’t know precisely what you told her, but it certainly didn’t persuade her that all was well! It threw her into a state of great affliction-and what she said to Lady Marlow I shall always be happy to think I was privileged to hear!’
‘Did she give her snuff?’ asked Tom appreciatively. ‘But she can’t have thought I had eloped with Phoebe! Why, I particularly told her there was no need for her to be in a fidget! Lord Marlow might, I daresay, but not Mama!’
‘On the contrary! Lord Marlow pooh-poohed the suggestion. He was only brought to believe it on the testimony of one of his younger daughters. I forget what her name is: a sanctimonious schoolgirl whose piety I found nauseating.’
‘Eliza,’ said Tom instantly. ‘But she knew nothing about it! Unless she was listening at the keyhole, and if that was the case she must have known we hadn’t gone to the Border.’
‘She was, but she insisted that she had heard you say you were going to Gretna Green.’
Tom frowned in an effort of memory. ‘I suppose I might have said so: I know I couldn’t see any other way out of the fix. But Phoebe had a much better scheme, as it happened, which I own I was devilish glad to hear! I’m as fond of her as I could be-well, I’ve run tame at Austerby ever since I was breeched, you know, and she’s like my sister!-but I’m damned if I want to marry her! The thing was I promised I’d help her, and the only way I could think of to do it was by doing so.’
‘Help her to do what?’ interrupted Sylvester, considerably mystified.
‘To escape from Austerby. So-’
‘Well, I blame no one for wishing to do that, but what the devil made you choose such a moment? Didn’t you know there was snow in the air?’
‘Yes, of course I did, sir, but I had no choice! The need was urgent-or, at least, Phoebe thought it was. If I hadn’t taken her she meant to go to London by herself, on the common stage!’
‘Why?’
Tom hesitated, glancing speculatively at Sylvester. Sylvester said encouragingly: ‘I won’t cry rope on you!’
The smile won Tom; he said in a burst of confidence: ‘Well, the truth is the whole thing was a fudge, but Lady Marlow told Phoebe you were going to Austerby to make her an offer! I must say it sounded like a hum to me, but it seems Lord Marlow thought so too, so one can’t blame Phoebe for being taken in, and cast into flat despair because of it.’
‘In fact,’ said Sylvester, ‘an offer from me would not have been welcome to her?’
‘Oh, lord, no!’ said Tom. ‘She said nothing would induce her to marry you! But I daresay you may have seen how it is in that house: if you had meant to offer for her Lady Marlow would have bullied her into submitting. The only thing was for her to run away.’ He stopped, uneasily aware of having said more than was discreet. There was an odd expression in Sylvester’s eyes, hard to interpret but rather disquieting. ‘You know what females are, sir!’ he added, trying to mend matters. ‘It was all nonsense, of course, for she scarcely knew you. I hope-I mean-perhaps I shouldn’t have told you!’
‘Oh, why not?’ Sylvester said lightly, smiling again.
10
Tom was relieved to see the smile, but he was not wholly reassured. ‘I beg pardon!’ he said. ‘I thought it wouldn’t signify, telling you how it was, if you didn’t wish to offer for her-and you don’t, do you?’
‘No, certainly not! What did I do to inspire Miss Marlow with this violent dislike of me?’
‘Oh, I don’t know! Nothing, I daresay,’ said Tom uncomfortably. ‘I expect you are not just her style, that’s all.’
‘Not timbered up to her weight, in fact. Where, by the way, are you meaning to take her?’
‘To her grandmother. She lives in London, and Phoebe is persuaded she will take her part-or that she would have done so, if it had been necessary.’
Sylvester’s eyes lifted suddenly to Tom’s. ‘Do you mean Lady Ingham?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Tom nodded. ‘The other one died years ago. Are you acquainted with Lady Ingham, sir?’
‘Oh, yes!’ replied Sylvester, a laugh in his voice. ‘She is my godmother.’