Georgette Heyer - Sylvester

‘When I make a cake of myself it will be on my own account, and not on yours, Miss Woolly-crown!’ said Tom.

Two vehicles had been provided for the journey. One was a hired post-chaise, the other Sylvester’s own phaeton, and to each was harnessed a team of four horses. They were job-horses, but they had been chosen by Keighley, and therefore, as Master Rayne pointed out to his uncle, prime cattle. When Tom brought his haughty charge out of the inn he found Master Rayne seated already in the phaeton, and Sylvester standing beside it, drawing on his gloves. He went up to him, exclaiming: ‘Are you driving yourself all the way to London, Salford?’

‘I am,’ replied Sylvester. ‘I would offer to take you with me, but I’m afraid Keighley must have that seat.’

‘Yes, of course, but you don’t mean to take Edmund too, do you? Had you not better let him come with us in the chaise?’

‘My dear Thomas, my only reason for telling Keighley to bring my phaeton to Dover was to save that brat as much travel sickness as I could! He is invariably sick in closed carriages, and never in open ones. Will you accompany Miss Marlow? I hope she will not find the journey too fatiguing: we are a little late in starting, but we should reach town in time for dinner.’

Tom, though strongly of the opinion that Sylvester, in his present humour, would be happy to part with his nephew on any terms at the end of the first stage, raised no further demur, but went back to hand Phoebe up into the chaise.

For the first five miles not a word was uttered within this vehicle, but at Lydden, Phoebe (recovering a trifle, in her faithful friend’s opinion, from the sullens) asked Tom where he meant to put up in London.

‘At Salford’s house. He has invited me to spend a few days there. As long as I choose, in fact.’

‘Good gracious!’ said Phoebe. ‘What an honour for you! No wonder you were so unwilling to oblige me! I must be quite beneath your touch!’

‘You’ll precious soon wish you were beneath my touch , if you don’t take care, my girl!’ said Tom. ‘If you’ve any more pretty morsels of wit under your tongue, reserve ‘em for Salford! He’s far too well-bred to give you your deserts: I ain’t!’

Silence reigned for the next mile. ‘Tom,’ said Phoebe, in a small voice.

‘Well?’

‘I didn’t mean to say that. It was a horrid thing to say! I beg your pardon.’

He took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. ‘Pea-goose! What’s the matter?’ He waited for a moment. ‘I know I walked smash into a turn-up between you and Salford. What are you trying to do? Break your own silly neck?’

She withdrew her hand. ‘Excuse me, Tom, if you please! It would be quite improper in me to repeat what passed between us. Pray say no more!’

‘Very well,’ said Tom. ‘But don’t you choke yourself with pride, Phoebe!’

At Sittingbourne a halt was called, and the travellers partook of refreshment at the Rose . When they came out of the inn again, and Tom was about to hand Phoebe into the chaise, Sylvester said: ‘Do you care to tool the phaeton for a stage or two, Thomas?’

‘By Jove, yes!-if you think I shan’t overturn it!’ Tom replied, with a rueful grin. ‘And if-’ he hesitated, glancing at Phoebe.

‘Do just as you wish!’ she replied at once. ‘I can very well finish the journey in one of the Accommodation coaches!’

Sylvester turned, and strode towards the phaeton. ‘Get in!’ said Tom curtly. He added, as he took his seat beside Phoebe: ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever been glad you are not my sister!’

She returned no answer. Scarcely half a dozen sentences were exchanged during the remainder of the journey; but although Phoebe pretended to be asleep for the greater part of the way, sleep was never farther from her, so torn was she by conflicting emotions. Beside her Tom sat gazing out of the window, wondering what Sylvester could have said to have made her so angry; and wishing that there was something he could do for Sylvester, even if it were no more than relieving him of Edmund’s company.

But Keighley was shielding Sylvester from Edmund. ‘Give over plaguing his grace, Master Edmund!’ said Keighley. ‘Now, that’s quite enough, Master Edmund! There’s no good to be got out of flying into one of your tantrums!’ said Keighley, thinking what a pity it was that he could no longer say the same to Sylvester.

It was after six when the carriages drew up in Berkeley Square, before Salford House. ‘Why do we stop here?’ demanded Phoebe.

‘To set down my portmanteau, of course,’ replied Tom, opening the chaise door. ‘Also, I daresay, to allow Salford to take leave of you! Try for a little civility!’

He climbed down from the chaise as he spoke. The doors of the great house were already flung open, and several persons emerged. ‘Reeth, Reeth, I’ve been to France!’ shouted Edmund, dashing up the steps. ‘Where’s Button? She’ll be ‘stonished when she hears the things I’ve done! Oh, Button, I have needed you! Did you miss me, Button? Phoebe doesn’t do things the right way. Do you know, I had to tell her , Button?’

‘Repellent brat!’ remarked Sylvester. ‘Reeth, Mr. Orde is staying with me for a few days: take care of him for me! Will you go in with him, Thomas? I’ll escort Miss Marlow to Green Street.’

This scheme seemed so fraught with disaster that Tom could not help saying, in an urgent undervoice: ‘I wouldn’t, Salford! Leave her to come about!’

‘Go in with Reeth, Thomas: I shall be with you presently,’ replied Sylvester, as though he had not heard this advice.

He mounted into the chaise, and almost before the door was shut grasped Phoebe’s hands, saying: ‘Phoebe, you must listen to me! I know I made wretched work of it: I can’t explain it to you now-there is too little time-but I won’t let you go like this! You can’t think I would ask you to marry me in jest , or to insult you!’

‘You have told me already that you never meant to ask me,’ she replied, trying to pull her hands away. ‘I fancy you will be truly thankful, when you have recovered from the mortification of having your suit rejected, that I didn’t snap at so brilliant an offer. Will you please to release me, my lord Duke?’

‘But I love you!’ he said, gripping her hands rather more tightly.

‘You are very obliging, but I cannot return your affection, sir.’

‘I’ll make you!’ he promised.

‘Oh, no, you will not!’ returned Phoebe, thoroughly ruffled. ‘ Will you let me go? If you have no more conduct than to behave in this fashion in the middle of the street, I have! Make me love you, indeed! If I were not so angry, I could laugh to think how exactly I hit him off when I wrote of Ugolino that, try as he might to appear conciliating, he could not open his lips without betraying his arrogance!’

‘Do you call it arrogance when I tell you that I love you, and wish to make you my wife?’ he demanded.

‘Yes, and folly too! You have never suffered a rebuff, have you, Duke? When any female has shown herself not to be disposed to like you it has been a sport with you to make her like you very much too well, I daresay, for her comfort. You even lay bets that where others have failed you will succeed!’

‘What nonsense is this?’ he exclaimed. ‘ I ?’

‘Yes, you ! Was there not an heiress who was called the Citadel ? Or are your conquests too numerous to be remembered by you?’

‘I remember,’ he said grimly. ‘You had that from Ianthe, did you? Did she also tell you that it was a piece of funning between my brother and me-discreditable, if you like, but never meant to go beyond the pair of us?’