That did make him look round, not so much interested as vexed. It was on the tip of his tongue to request the intruder to make less noise when he perceived that the rude interruption had come from a lady.
“Oh, I beg your pardon!” Tiffany called. “But would you be so very obliging, sir, as to give me my whip again? I can’t think how I came to be so stupid, but I’ve dropped it!”
He reeled in his line, saying: “Yes, of course—with pleasure, ma’am!”
She sat still, serenely awaiting his approach. He laid his rod down, and came towards her. There was a slight look of impatience on his face, but this speedily vanished when he was near enough to see what a vision of beauty had accosted him. Instead of picking up the whip he stood staring up at Tiffany, frank admiration in his gaze.
She was dressed in a flowing habit of sapphire-blue velvet, a lace cravat round her neck, and a curled ostrich plume caressing her cheek. It did not occur to Julian that this undeniably becoming costume was scarcely the established country-mode; he thought only that never in his life had he beheld a more staggeringly lovely girl.
An enchanting smile made him blink; Tiffany said contritely: “I am so sorry! I interrupted you—but I can’t mount without a block, so you see ....!”
He found his tongue, saying quickly: “No, no, you didn’t, I assure you!”
A gleam shone in her eyes. “But I know very well I did!”
He laughed, flushing a little: “Well, yes! But you needn’t be sorry: I’m not!”
“Oh, and you looked so vexed!”
“That was before I saw who had interrupted me,” he retorted audaciously.
“But you don’t know who I am!”
“Oh, yes, I do. Diana!”
“No, I’m not!” she said innocently. “I’m Tiffany Wield!”
“Tiffany! How pretty! But you make me remember an old poem: Queen and huntress, chaste and fair—though I rather fancy it was about the moon, not the goddess. But I know the title is To Diana,and the refrain, or whatever it’s called, is Goddess, excellently bright!So—!”
“I don’t think I ought to listen to you,” she said demurely. “After all, sir, we haven’t been regularly introduced yet!”
“There’s no one to perform that office for us,” he pointed out. “Do you care for such stuff?”
“No, not a scrap, but my aunt thinks I should! And also that I should never converse with strange gentlemen!”
“Very true!” he answered promptly. “May I present Lord Lindeth to you, Miss Wield?—he is most anxious to make your acquaintance!”
She gave a trill of laughter. “How do you do? How absurd you are!”
“I know—but what else was to be done in such a case? I was afraid you would gallop away!”
“So I shall—if you will be so very obliging as to pick up my whip for me, sir!”
He did so, but stood holding it. “I’m tempted to keep it from you!”
She held out her hand. “No, please!”
He gave it to her. “Only funning!” It struck him that it was strange that so young and lovely a girl should be quite unattended, and he said, glancing about him in a puzzled way: “Is no one with you, Miss Wield? Your groom, or—or—”
“No one! It’s so stuffy to have a groom at one’s heels! Do you think it very improper?”
“No, indeed! But if anything were to happen—some accident—”
“I’m not afraid of that!” She shortened the bridle. “I must go now. Thank you for coming to my rescue!”
“Oh, wait!” he begged. “You haven’t told me where you live, or when I shall see you again!”
“I live at Staples—and who knows when you will see me again?” she replied, her eyes glinting down into his. “I’m sure I don’t!”
“Staples,” he said, committing it to memory. “I think I know—oh, I should have told you that I’m at Broom Hall, with my cousin, Waldo Hawkridge! Yes, and we are to dine at the Manor the day after tomorrow—some sort of a party, I believe! Shall I see you there?”
“Perhaps—perhaps not!” she said mischievously, and was off before he could demand a more positive answer.
Chapter 5
Lord Lindeth, who had greeted with disapprobation the news that he was to be dragged out to a dinner-party, returned to Broom Hall after his encounter with Miss Wield in quite a different frame of mind. The first thing he did was to run through the various visiting-cards which had been bestowed upon his cousin; the next was to burst into the library, where Sir Waldo was frowning over his deceased cousin’s rent-books, demanding: “Waldo, are you acquainted with anyone called Wield?”
“No, I don’t think so,” replied Sir Waldo, rather absently.
“Do pay attention!” begged Julian. “From Staples! Isn’t that the place with the wrought-iron gates, beyond the village? They must have called, but I can’t find any card!”
“Presumably they haven’t called, then.”
“No, but—Of course, the name might not be Wield: she spoke of her aunt,and I suppose—But there’s no card bearing that direction that I can find!”
Sir Waldo looked up at this, a laugh in his eye. “Oho! She?”
“Oh, Waldo, I’ve met the most ravishing girl!” disclosed his lordship. “Now, think! Who lives at Staples?”
“Miss Wield, I collect.”
“Yes, but—Oh, don’t be so provoking! Surely you must know who owns the place.”
“I can see not the smallest reason why I must know—and I don’t.”
“I wish you may not have lost the card! You would suppose her uncle must have called, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, I haven’t so far given the matter any consideration,” said Sir Waldo apologetically. “Perhaps he doesn’t approve of me?”
Julian stared at him. “Nonsense! Why shouldn’t he?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“No, nor anyone else! Do stop talking slum, and try to be serious!”
“I am serious!” protested Sir Waldo. “Quite perturbed, in fact! I have sustained an introduction to someone who, unless I am much mistaken, does disapprove of me.”
“Who?” demanded Julian.
“A female whose name I can’t recall. A remarkably good-looking one, too,” he added reflectively. “And not just in the common style, either.”
“She sounds a maggotty creature to me!” said Julian frankly. “Not but what I think you’re shamming it! Why should she disapprove of you?”
“I rather fear, my fatal addiction to sport.”
“What a ninnyhammer! No, but, Waldo, do think! Are you perfectly sure no one from Staples has been here?”
“Not to my knowledge. Which leaves us quite at a stand, doesn’t it?”
“Well, it does—except that she may be at the party. She didn’t precisely say so, but—Lord, what a fortunate thing it was that we stayed with the Arkendales on our way here! I might not else have brought my evening rig with me!”
This ingenuous observation made Sir Waldo’s lips twitch, for Julian’s reception of the news that his journey north was to be broken by a visit to the home of one of the highest sticklers in the country would not have led anyone to foresee that he would presently think himself fortunate to have undergone a stay which he had stigmatized as an intolerable bore. Similarly, when he knew that he had been included in Mrs Mickleby’s invitation to Waldo he had denied any expectation of enjoyment, saying that if he had guessed that he had fled from the London scene only to be plunged into a succession of country dinner-parties he would not have accompanied his cousin.
But all such unsociable ideas were now at an end; it was not hebut Sir Waldo who deplored the necessity of attending a dinner-party on a wet evening: Julian had no doubt of its being a delightful party; and as for the ancient vehicle brought round from the coach-house for their conveyance, he told his cousin, who was eyeing it with fastidious dislike, that he was a great deal too nice, and would find it perfectly comfortable.