The Nonesuch (12 page)

‘Oh, no! There can be no question of that,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll take her to the inn, and decide then how best to convey her home.’

She nodded, and went back to the sufferer, who had revived sufficiently to think herself well enough to resume the journey. She was encouraged by Tiffany, who greeted Miss Trent with the news that Lizzie was much better, and needed only a rest to make her perfectly ready to ride on. When she learned that they were to go to Courtenay’s inn she said enthusiastically that it was the very thing. ‘We may all of us refresh there, and get cool!’ she said. ‘You will like that, won’t you, Lizzie?’

Miss Colebatch agreed to it, saying valiantly that she knew she would soon feel as well as any of them; but when she was helped to her feet her head swam so sickeningly that she reeled, and would have fallen but for the support of Miss Trent’s arm around her. She was lifted on to her saddle, and was told by Courtenay, in a heartening voice, that she had nothing to do but hold on to the pommel, and sniff the vinaigrette if she felt faint. ‘No, you don’t want the bridle: I’m going to lead White Star,’ he said. ‘And no need to be afraid of falling off, because I shan’t let you!’

‘Thank you – so very sorry – so stupid of me!’ she managed to say.

‘No such thing! Here, Tiffany, you know the way to Moor Cross! Lindeth is going to ride ahead to warn old Mrs Rowsely, so you’d best go with him!’

She was very willing to do this, announcing gaily that they would form the advance guard, and cantered off with Lindeth. When the rest of the party reached the village, she came dancing out of the little stone inn, crying: ‘Oh, it is the prettiest place imaginable! Do make haste and come into the taproom! Only fancy, I had never been in a taproom before, but there’s no parlour, so I was obliged to! It is so diverting! You’ll be enchanted, Lizzie!’

Miss Colebatch, whose headache had developed into a severe migraine, was only dimly aware of being addressed, and she did not attempt to respond. Courtenay’s hand, which had been grasping her elbow, was removed, and she almost toppled into the arms of the Nonesuch, who was waiting to receive her. He carried her into the inn, where an elderly landlady, over-awed by this unprecedented invasion, dropped a nervous curtsy, and begged him to lay Miss down on the settle. She had placed a folded blanket over its uncompromising wooden seat, and fetched down a flock pillow: two circumstances to which Tiffany proudly drew his attention, saying that it was she who had directed Mrs Rowsely to do so.

‘And while Lizzie rests we are going to sit on the benches outside, just as if we were rustics!’ she said, laughing. ‘Lindeth has ordered
home-brewed
for you, but I am going to drink a glass of milk, because Mrs Rowsely has no lemons. It seems very odd to me, and I detest milk, but I don’t mean to complain! Do come out! Ancilla will look after poor Lizzie.’

She flitted away again, but he lingered for a few moments, while Miss Trent desired the landlady to bring a bowl of water, and some vinegar. The door of the inn opened directly into the taproom, but there was no other ventilation, the tiny latticed windows resisting Sir Waldo’s efforts to force them open. The room was low-pitched and stuffy, and a strong aroma of spirituous liquors pervaded the air. Sir Waldo said abruptly: ‘This won’t do. I collect there’s no other room than the kitchen on this floor, but there must be a bedchamber abovestairs. Shall I arrange to have her moved to it?’

‘If I could be sure that no one will come in, I believe it would be better to remain here,’ she replied, in a low tone. ‘It would be far hotter, immediately under the roof, you know.’

‘Very well; I’ll attend to it,’ he said.

Half-an-hour later she emerged from the inn. Three empty tankards and a milkstained glass stood on one of the benches against the wall of the house; of Tiffany and Sir Waldo there was no sign, but she saw Lindeth and Courtenay walking down the street. They hastened their steps when they caught sight of her, and came up, anxiously asking how Elizabeth did.

‘Asleep,’ she answered. ‘Where is Tiffany?’

‘Oh, she has gone off to look at the Church with Sir Waldo!’ said Courtenay. ‘Lindeth and I have been enquiring all over for some sort of a carriage, but there’s nothing to be had, so we’ve decided – that is, if you agree! – that I’d best ride to Bardsey, and see what I can come by there. Do you think Lizzie will be well enough to be driven home when she wakes, ma’am?’

‘I hope so. I expect she will pluck up when she has had some tea.’ She smiled at Julian. ‘Poor girl, she is so much distressed at having spoilt your party! She made me promise to beg your pardon, and even suggested that we should continue without her!’

‘What, abandon her in a common alehouse? I should rather think not!’ exclaimed Courtenay.

‘There’s no question of that, of course,’ Julian said. ‘I am only sorry she should be feeling so poorly. I wish we might bring a doctor to her!’

Miss Trent assured him that matters were not very serious, and recommended Courtenay to saddle up. He went off to the small stable yard to do this, just as Tiffany and the Nonesuch came strolling down the street. Tiffany had caught the sweeping skirt of her velvet habit over her arm, and from the sparkling countenance she had upturned to Sir Waldo’s Miss Trent judged that he had been entertaining her very agreeably.

‘Oh, is Lizzie better now?’ she demanded, running up to Miss Trent. ‘Is she ready to go on?’

‘Well, she’s asleep at the moment, but I am afraid she won’t be stout enough to ride any farther.’

‘Then what’s to be done?’ asked Tiffany blankly. ‘How can you say she won’t be stout enough? I’m persuaded she would wish to do so!’

‘Even if she did wish it, it would be very imprudent,’ Ancilla said. ‘Indeed, Tiffany, I couldn’t permit it! You wouldn’t wish her to run the risk of making herself really ill!’

‘No, of course I shouldn’t!’ Tiffany said impatiently. ‘But what a fuss for nothing more than a headache! I should have thought she would have
tried
to be better!’

‘My dear, she is quite determined to be better, not because she wishes to ride any more, but because she is so much distressed at the thought of spoiling the expedition. I have assured her that we are all agreed that it is a great deal too sultry –’

‘You can’t mean that it must be given up!’ cried Tiffany, looking in dismay from Ancilla to Lindeth.

It was he who answered her, saying gently: ‘You wouldn’t care to go without her. None of us would! Another day, when it isn’t so hot –’

‘Oh,
no
!’
Tiffany interrupted imploringly. ‘I hate put-offs! I know what it would be – we should never go to the Dripping Well, and I
want
to!’

‘Yes, we will go, I promise you,’ he said. ‘It is very disappointing that we can’t go today, but –’

‘We
can
go today!’ she insisted. ‘Not Lizzie, if she doesn’t care for it, but the rest of us!’

He looked slightly taken aback for an instant, but a moment later smiled, and said: ‘You don’t mean that, I know. In any event, we can’t go, because we’ve settled that your cousin is to ride to Bardsey, to see if he can come by a carriage there.’

Her face cleared at that; she said eagerly: ‘So that Lizzie can drive the rest of the way? Oh, that’s a capital scheme!’

‘So that she can be driven home,’ he corrected.

‘Oh! Yes, well, perhaps that would be best. I daresay he would much
prefer
to drive Lizzie home, too, and it will make Lizzie feel much more comfortable to know she hasn’t spoilt the day for us after all. Only consider! She will be perfectly safe with Courtenay, and so we may be easy!
Do
say you will go, Lindeth! Ancilla? Sir Waldo?’

Ancilla shook her head, trying to frown her down; but Sir Waldo, apparently divorced from the scene, was pensively observing through his quizzing-glass the gyrations of a large white butterfly, and evinced no sign of having heard the appeal. But Courtenay, leading his horse out of the yard, did hear it, and it was he who answered.

‘Go where? To Knaresborough? Of course not! We are none of us going there. I wonder you should think of such a thing!’

‘Why shouldn’t I? I don’t mean
you
,
either: you are to drive Lizzie home! We need not
all
go with her!’

‘Miss Trent must! Ma’am, you surely won’t leave Lizzie?’

‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘Don’t say any more, Tiffany! You must know you cannot go without me, and that I cannot under any circumstances leave Miss Colebatch.’

‘I could go if Courtenay went,’ Tiffany argued.

‘Well, I’m not going,’ said Courtenay. ‘I’m going to Bardsey, to try if I can find some sort of a vehicle there. But it ain’t on a pike-road, so the odds are I shan’t be able to get anything better than a gig. Would a gig serve, ma’am?’

‘No, no, of course it wouldn’t!’ interposed Tiffany. ‘She would have the sun beating down upon her head, and that would never do! I don’t think she should attempt the journey until it is cooler, do you, Ancilla? Poor Lizzie, I daresay she would liefer stay in this delightful inn! Then we can all ride home together, when the rest of us come back from Knaresborough! She will be quite well by that time, and Ancilla won’t object to staying with her, will you, Ancilla?’

Lindeth, who was beginning to look extremely troubled, said: ‘I don’t think you can have considered. It would be quite improper for two ladies to spend the day in a taproom!’

‘Oh, fudge!
I
shouldn’t care a rush, so why should Lizzie? She will have Ancilla to bear her company!’

‘But you could not enjoy the expedition, knowing that they were so uncomfortably situated!’ he suggested.

‘Oh, couldn’t she?’ said Courtenay, with a crack of rude laughter. ‘You don’t know her! I can tell you this, Tiffany! you may as well stop scheming, because you won’t cozen me into going to Knaresborough, and that’s my last word!’

A flush rose to her cheeks; her eyes blazed. ‘I think you are the horridest, most disobliging
toad
!’
she said passionately. ‘I
want
to go to Knaresborough, I
will
go!

‘Tiffany!’ uttered Miss Trent, in despairing accents. ‘For heaven’s sake – !’

Tiffany rounded on her. ‘Yes, and I think you’re as disagree-able and unkind as he is, Ancilla! You ought to do what
I
want, not what Lizzie wants! She shouldn’t have come with us if she meant to be ill!’

‘Take a damper!’ said Courtenay sharply, looking towards the door of the inn. ‘Hallo, Lizzie! Are you feeling more the thing now?’

Miss Colebatch, steadying herself with a hand on the door-frame smiled waveringly, and said: ‘Yes, thank you. I’m much better – quite well! Only so very sorry to have been such a bother!’

Tiffany ran to her. ‘Oh, you
are
better! I can see you are! I knew you would be! You don’t wish to go home, do you? Only think how flat it would be!’

‘Miss Colebatch, don’t come out into the sun!’ interposed Miss Trent, taking her hand. ‘I am going to ask the landlady to make some tea for us, so come and sit down again!’

‘Yes, some tea will refresh you,’ agreed Tiffany. ‘You’ll be as right as a trivet then!’

‘Oh, yes! Only I don’t think – I’m afraid if I tried to ride –’

‘But you’re not going to ride, Miss Colebatch,’ said Julian. ‘Underhill is to fetch a carriage for you, and we are none of us going to Knaresborough. It’s far too hot!’

‘Yes, that’s right, Lizzie,’ corroborated Courtenay. ‘I’m just off – and I’ll tell you what! I’ll get an umbrella to shield you from the sun, even if I have to steal one! So just you stay quietly in the taproom with Miss Trent until I return! I shan’t be gone much above an hour, I hope.’

‘An hour?’ exclaimed Tiffany. ‘And what am
I
to do, pray? Do you imagine I’m going to sit in that odious, stuffy taproom for a whole hour? I won’t!’

‘Oh, so it’s odious and stuffy now, is it?’ said Courtenay. ‘I thought you said you wouldn’t care a rush if you were obliged to spend the rest of the day in it? Yes, you can look daggers at me if you choose, but I know what you are, and that’s a selfish little cat! You never did care a button for anyone but yourself, and it’s my belief you never will!’

Tiffany burst into tears; and Miss Colebatch, sympathetic tears starting to her own eyes, cried: ‘Oh, Courtenay, no! You mustn’t – It is all my fault for being so stupid! Oh, Tiffany, I
beg
your pardon!’

‘
You
beg
her
pardon?’ ejaculated Courtenay.

‘Mr Underhill, will you please mind your tongue?’ said Miss Trent, with all the authority of her calling. ‘Stop crying, Tiffany! If you don’t care to stay here, I suggest you ride into Bardsey with your cousin. Then you may enjoy your quarrel without making the rest of us uncomfortable!’

Courtenay opened his mouth, encountered a quelling look, and shut it again.

‘I won’t!’ sobbed Tiffany. ‘I hate Courtenay, and I don’t
want
to go to Bardsey!’

Miss Trent, well aware of the ease with which Tiffany could lash herself into a fit of hysterics, cast a harassed look round in search of support. Lindeth, his lips rather firmly compressed, and his eyes lowered, neither spoke nor moved; but the Nonesuch, amusement in his face, strolled up to Tiffany, and said: ‘Come, come, my child! The beautiful Miss Wield with swollen red eyes? Oh, no, I beseech you! I couldn’t bear to see it!’

She looked up involuntarily, hiccuping on a sob, but with her tears suddenly checked. ‘Swollen – Oh,
no
!
Oh, Sir Waldo, are they?’

He put a finger under her chin, tilting up her face, and scrutinizing it with the glinting smile so many females had found fascinating. ‘Thank God, no! Just like bluebells drenched with dew!’

She revived as though by magic. ‘
Are
they? Oh, how pretty!’

‘Ravishing, I promise you.’

She gave a delighted little trill of laughter. ‘I mean how prettily
said
!’

‘Yes, wasn’t it?’ he agreed, carefully drying her cheeks with his own handkerchief. ‘What very long eyelashes you have! Do they ever become tangled?’