Джорджетт Хейер - The Foundling

Nettlebed knew that voice, though he had never heard it issuing from this Duke’s lips. He was frightened, but he felt himself bound by his love and duty to protest. “Now, your Grace,” he began, in a scolding tone.

A sudden flash of anger in the Duke’s frowning eyes silenced him. “You heard what I said!”

“Yes, your Grace,” said Nettlebed miserably.

“Do as I bid you, then! It is to be ready for me within twenty minutes. I am going round to Laura Place now. Call me a hackney!”

Devoutly trusting that Lady Harriet would be better able than himself to dissuade his master from undertaking whatever grim project he had in mind, Nettlebed said: “Yes, your Grace!” again, and hurried out of the room.

The Duke bade the hackney-coachman wait for him outside Lady Ampleforth’s house, and ran up the steps to the door. It was opened to him by the porter, who at once ushered him upstairs to the drawing-room, where he found the Dowager seated beside the fire, with her gloved hands clasped on the head of her ebony cane, a bonnet overpoweringly bedecked with curled ostrich plumes, tied over her improbable ringlets. At the writing-table in the window, Lady Harriet, also in walking-dress, sat agitatedly scribbling on a sheet of hot-pressed note-paper. When the Duke was announced, she turned quickly, half-rising from her chair, and exclaiming in a faint voice: “Oh, Gilly!”

“For heaven’s sake, girl!” snapped the Dowager. “Let us have no die-away airs, I beg of you! One would suppose the end of the world to be upon us! Well, Sale, you are come in a good hour! That fancy-piece of yours had found another fool to run mad over her blue eyes.”

“Gilly, I have been quite unworthy of your trust in me!” Harriet said, in a conscience-stricken tone. “I am so mortified, and I fear you will think I have been dreadfully to blame!”

He trod over to her swiftly, and raised her hands to his lips, and kissed them both. “No, no, I could never think that!” he said. “I should not have saddled you with such a tiresome burden!”

“Very true!” said the Dowager.

“Do you know, then, Gilly?” Harriet asked, her eyes searching his face.

“Yes, I know. Belinda has run away again.”

“I was just writing a note to tell you of it. I have been driving out with Grandmama and when we returned, I discovered—Gilly, is it—is it Charlie?”

“Yes.”

She saw the same tightening of the mouth which had alarmed Nettlebed, and timidly laid a hand on his sleeve. “You are very angry! Pray do not be! I think—I think Charlie did not exactly understand the nature of the affair!”

The irrepressible old lady by the fire gave a croak of sardonic mirth. “Small blame to him! I have no patience with these missish tricks, girl! One would say a young man had never before mounted a mistress!”

“Oh, Grandmama, hash! Of course I know—But I promised Gilly I would let no harm befall Belinda!”

“Harm, indeed! The minx does very well for herself, I vow! I see no occasion for these tragedy airs!”

Harriet clasped her hands together. “I had not thought that he had been alone with her, Gilly, but I have been questioning the servants, and it seems that when he would not go to Lady Ombersley’s party with us, saying that he was engaged with some friends of his own, he spent the evening here, with Belinda. But I do not believe the mischief was concerted between them then! Belinda was very unhappy, you know, when you told us how you had been unable to find Mr. Mudgley—”

“I have found him,” he interrupted.

“Oh, Gilly, no! When she may have gone off with Charlie! It makes it worse! What shall we do?”

“I am going after them. I came only to discover if you knew more than I do, and to inform you that I have received a communication from your brother, apprising me of the event. Obliging of him!”

She winced at this, but the Dowager thumped her cane on the floor, and ejaculated: “Are you crazy, Sale? Let me tell you that you are well rid of the girl! My grandson will know better how to deal with her! I wonder you will concern yourself in this ridiculous fashion over such Haymarket-ware! I knew her for what she was the instant I clapped eyes on her!”

“Grandmama, it is only since she had the misfortune to break your Sevres bowl that you have thought so!” said Harriet pleadingly.

“You are wrong, ma’am,” said the Duke. “She is not yet Haymarket-ware, and I do not mean her to become so.”

This put the old lady out of all patience, and she delivered herself of a scathing denunciation of the namby-pamby behaviour of the present generation. Since her tongue was always salted, and never more so than when she lost her temper, she brought hot blushes to her granddaughter’s cheeks. The Duke, however, heard her out with chill civility, bowing slightly when she stopped for want of breath, and turning to address his betrothed. “You do not know when Belinda, left this house, my love?”

“No, for no one saw her, but I think it cannot have been very long since. It was the unluckiest thing that I was obliged to go with Grandmama to Monkton Combe, for we have been away from the house since noon. Whimple has told us that Gaywood was here shortly after we drove away, and I fear that it must have been then that he—that the mischief was planned. You know how it is when Belinda is not quite happy, Gilly! She cries, and she looks so very lovely—not in the least like other people!—and poor Charlie must have been led astray, and have offered to take care of her, without, perhaps thinking—”

“Nonsense, Harriet!” the Duke said. “It was not Gaywood that was led astray!”

She hung her head. “It isvery bad of him, I know,” she faltered. “Indeed, I am very sorry!”

He dropped a hand on her shoulder. “ You have nothing to be sorry for!”

“She might be sorry to be such a fool, and you too, Sale!” interpolated the Dowager.

He paid no heed to this, but said: “I am going after them, of course. I imagine Gaywood will have taken her to London, for he will scarcely have the effrontery to be seen with her in Bath, under our noses! I beg your pardon, Harriet, and yours, ma’am: I shall be unable to escort you to the Assembly Rooms tonight I hope you will forgive me.”

“Oh, Gilly, as though I cared for that! Indeed, I have no wish to go! If—if you should not dislike it very much, I will go with you to fetch Belinda back!”

“Hoity-toity, what next?” demanded the Dowager. “ That would be the outside of enough, girl! Junketing about the country like any hoyden! You will do no such thing!”

Harriet flushed, but looked beseechingly up at the Duke. “Would it be improper, Gilly? You must be the judge, but I wish very much to go with you.”

He pressed her hand. “No, not improper, but I could not permit it, love. There is not the least need, moreover.”

“No. Oh, no! Only that—when he is vexed, poor Charlie has such a dreadful temper, and—and you are angry too, Gilly!”

“Oh, you need have no fear on that score!” he said reassuringly. “We shall not brawl in public, I hope!”

“I do not wish you to quarrel!” she said piteously.

“My dear, you are being absurd!” he said. “I might give Charlie a trimming, but I do not intend to come to pistols with him!”

“ You would not, I know, but he—!”

“No, no!” he said. “He is not such a fool!” She was obliged to be satisfied, and he took his leave of her, promising to visit her immediately upon his return to Bath.

When he reached the Christopher again, he found his chaise waiting for him. He determined to drive first to Lord Gaywood’s lodging in Green Street, to learn what he might there, but as he had no expectation of finding Belinda there, and believed it to be possible that he might have a long drive before him, he went first into the hotel to provide himself with an overcoat. He ran up the stairs, and was brought up short on the landing by the sight of Tom, coming out of his parlour. “Good God! What are you doing in Bath, Tom?” he demanded, misgiving in his heart.