“It is very true, upon my word!” John said. “Ned, I do not think you have used Mrs. Cheviot well, you know.”
“I cannot agree to it,” replied Carlyon. “I make it a rule always to get over heavy ground as light as I can, and you will scarcely deny that we have met with very heavy ground from start to finish of this business. We are now safely over it, at the trifling cost of a hole in Nicky’s shoulder and a bruise on Mrs. Cheviot’s head.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Elinor indignantly. “This passes everything!”
“Well, I don’t grudge my share in it, I can tell you!” Nicky declared. “But I know you are funning, Cousin Elinor! You would not have missed such sport, now, would you?”
Carlyon laughed, and rose to his feet. “You will never prevail upon her to own as much, Nicky. Come, ma’am, it is time I was taking you back to Miss Beccles before you have quite undermined my credit with my brothers.”
“Indeed, my lord, it is quite unnecessary for you to put yourself to the trouble of escorting me,” Elinor replied, getting up also. “After all I have gone through, a mere drive of seven miles, even supposing I were to be held up by footpads, can hold no terrors for me.”
“Of course you need not come, Ned!” said Nicky. “She does not go alone! I shall be with her, and Bouncer too. You will not object to having Bouncer in the carriage, will you, Cousin? He is too tired to run behind.”
“My dear Nicky, there is no longer the smallest danger threatening Mrs. Cheviot, and it is time that you came back to me.”
“Well, and so I will, Ned, but had I not better return to Highnoons tonight? You see, I left my gear there, and—”
“You have plenty of gear here,” said Carlyon.
“Yes, and what is more you are looking fagged to death!” said John in the rough tone he used to conceal any anxiety about his young brother. “I do not know what Ned was about to be encouraging you to tramp miles in search of that dog of yours!”
“Oh, fudge! I was never better in my life!”
“No! And I dare say your shoulder does not pain you either, and you keep shifting in your chair because you have the fidgets!”
“I wish you will take a look at it, John,” said Carlyon. “You are very right: I should not have let him go out after Bouncer. It seemed preferable to his falling foul of Francis, however.”
This unguarded remark made Nicky stiffen with shocked surprise. “Ned! You advised me to go after him only to get me out of the way! Oh, it is too shabby of you! I would not have thought you would have used me so!”
“No, indeed!” said Elinor. “I am sure we had none of us any reason to expect such solicitude. It is wretched for you, Nicky, and if you like to return with me to Highnoons I shall be very happy to accept your escort.”
“Well, I will!” said Nicky.
John encountered his elder brother’s eye and grasped Nicky’s arm. “Oh, no, you will not!” he said. “You will come up to bed, and no more of this nonsense. I’ll attend to him, Ned.”
Nicky, who was indeed extremely weary, said, “Oh, very well, but I am not a baby! I do not need to be put to bed! Good night, Cousin Elinor. I shall be riding over to collect my gear in the morning, I dare say. Come, Bouncer!”
John shook hands with the widow. “I must say good-by, ma’am, for I set out for London tomorrow, and do not know when I may be in Sussex again. I hope when I see you next you will be comfortably settled at Highnoons, with no more secret entrances discovered! But Ned will look after you!”
She returned some answer and he then marched Nicky off. Carlyon had fetched her hat and pelisse to Elinor, and she put them on and let him usher her out to where the carriage was already waiting. “I wish you will not put yourself to this trouble, my lord!” she said, as he handed her in. “Indeed, I am not at all afraid to go alone!”
“But I wish to go with you,” he replied, spreading a fur rug over her knees and taking his place beside her.
The carriage moved forward. Mrs. Cheviot said, “I do trust Nicky may not be found to have done his shoulder an injury!”
“I do not think it.”
There was a pause.
“Well, it will seem strange not to be going in terror of my life any morel” remarked Elinor. “So much has happened this week that there has been no opportunity for me to discuss with you what next I must do. But this must now be thought of, my lord, as I am persuaded you must realize.”
“There is little that you can do until probate has been granted,” Carlyon replied.
“You mean to keep me at Highnoons until then?”
“Surely that was agreed between us?”
“Was it?” she said doubtfully.
“Certainly. You are to sell Highnoons, and we must hope that my cousin’s debts will not swallow all the purchase price.”
She turned, but could only dimly discern his face in the darkness. “My lord, that is no matter to me! I could not reconcile it with my conscience to benefit by that dreadful marriage! Please to understand that I mean that!”
“As you wish,” he said indifferently.
She was surprised, for she had expected him to argue the matter and had braced herself to resist his persuasions. After another slight pause she said, “I do beg you will agree to let me leave Highnoons at once, sir. You are aware of my situation. I must look about me for an eligible engagement, and it will not do for me to be lingering on in this way.”
“Mrs. Macclesfield,” he murmured. “I thought we should return to her.”
She laughed. “No, alas! I fear my credit with Mrs. Macclesfield cannot be high! But do be serious, sir! I dare say it may be many months before a purchaser is found for Highnoons, and then what shall I do, with so much time wasted?”
“I have considered that, ma’am, and if you should not like to return for a space to your own relatives I think it would be an excellent scheme for you to go on a visit to my sister, Lady Hartlepool. You will like her, I fancy. She has a sweetness of disposition which must always please. I do not suggest that you should go to Lady Flint, for she is expecting to be confined. And my sister Augusta is forever racketing about town in a way that would hardly be proper for you during the period of your mourning. My sister Elizabeth will be visiting me shortly, and if I may do so I will bring her to make your acquaintance.”
“But—but does Lady Hartlepool require a governess?” asked Elinor.
“Oh, no! Her children are all still in the nursery.”
“Then—My lord, I do not know what scheme you may have in your head, but—”
“I hope you will think better of this determination to seek another post as governess.”
“Well, I shall not, I assure you, sir! I told you once before that I would not become your pensioner, and I beg of you to believe that I meant it!”
“I hope that you will become my wife,” he replied, with all his usual calm.
She was stricken to silence and was aware of nothing but the hammering of her heart in her chest.
He continued after a moment, “I should not be making such a declaration to you yet, but I think my sentiments cannot be unknown to you.”
“Quite—quite unknown, my lord!” she said in a voice which did not seem to be her own.
“I have tried to conceal them. It is too soon, and I would not upon any account embarrass you. But when the period of your strict mourning is over it is my very ardent desire to be permitted to pay my addresses to you.”
She could only say: “It is absurd! I am persuaded this is one of your whimsical turns, my lord!”
“My whimsical turns! No, indeed! I was never more serious in my life. You are the only woman I could think of asking to be my wife. You must be aware, at least, that I have found no common delight in your company.”
“No! No, no, I had not the least notion—Oh, pray do not, my lord! This is some chivalrous conceit! You cannot mean it!”