Джорджетт Хейер - Lady of Quality

He never needed much encouragement to talk about his children, and spent the rest of his brief stay thus innocuously employed. When he got up to go, he kissed her cheek, gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and said: “There, no one can accuse me of having stayed too long, or talked you to death, can they?”

“Certainly not! It has done me a great deal of good to have a chat with you, and I hope you’ll give me a look in later on.”

“Ay, to be sure I will! Ah, is that you, Jurby? Come to turn me out, have you? What a dragon you are! Well, Annis, be a good girl, and see how fast you can get back into high force! I am going to take Amabel for an airing now: just a gentle walk, you know; but I’ll look in on you when we come back.”

He then went off, and Jurby removed one of the cushions which was propping her mistress up, and adjured her to close her eyes, and have a nap before her nuncheon was brought up to her.

Lady Wychwood, having reluctantly handed her daughter over to Nurse, was very well pleased to go for an ambling walk with Sir Geoffrey, and not sorry when Lucilla refused an invitation to accompany them. She set off in the direction of the London Road, leaning on her husband’s arm, and saying: “How agreeable it is to be with you again, dearest! Now we can have a comfortable cose, without poor Maria’s breaking in on us!”

“Yes, that’s what I thought, when I coaxed you to come for a walk with me,” he said. “Devilish good notion of mine, wasn’t it?”

But he would not have thought it a good notion had he known that little more than ten minutes later Mr Carleton would be seeking admittance to Miss Wychwood’s house.

Limbury, opening the door to Mr Carleton, said that Miss Wychwood was not at home to visitors. Miss Wychwood, he said, had been unwell, and had not yet left her room.

“So I have already been informed,” said Mr Carleton. “Take my card up to her, if you please!”

Limbury received the card from him, and said, with a slight bow: “I will have it conveyed to Miss’s room, sir.”

“Well, don’t keep me standing on the doorstep!” said Mr Carleton impatiently.

Limbury, an excellent butler, found himself at a loss, for he had never before encountered a morning caller of Mr Carleton’s calibre. Vulgar persons he could deal with; no other of Miss Wychwood’s friends would have demanded admittance when told that Miss Wychwood was not at home; and Sir Geoffrey, who disliked Mr Carleton, as Limbury was well aware, would certainly wish him to be excluded.

“I regret, sir, that it is not possible for you to see Miss Wychwood. Today is the first time she has been well enough to sit up for an hour or two, and her maid informs me that she had hardly enough strength to walk across the floor to the sofa. So I am persuaded you will understand that you cannot see her today.”

“No, I shan’t,” said Mr Carleton, rudely brushing past him into the hall. “Shut the door! Now take my card up to your mistress immediately, and tell her that I wish to see her!”

Limbury was affronted by Mr Carleton’s unceremonious entrance, and he by no means relished being given peremptory commands. He was about to reply with freezing dignity when a suspicion entered his head (he described it later to Mrs Wardlow as a blinding light) that he was confronting a man who was violently in love. To gentlemen in that condition much had to be forgiven, so he forgave Mr Carleton, and said in the fatherly way he spoke to Master Tom: “Now, you know I can’t do that, sir! I’ll tell Miss you called, but you can’t expect to see her when she has only just got up out of her bed!”

“I not only expect to see her, but I am going to see her!” replied Mr Carleton.

Fortunately for Limbury, he was rescued from his predicament by the appearance on the scene of Jurby, who came down the stairs, dropped the hint of a curtsy, and said: “Were you wishful to see Miss Annis, sir?”

“Not only wishful, but determined to see her! Are you her abigail?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Good! I have heard her speak of you, and I think your name is Jurby, and that you have been with Miss Wychwood for many years. Am I right?”

“I have been with her ever since she was a child, sir.”

“Good again! You must know her very well, and can tell me whether it will harm her to see me.”

“I don’t think it would harm her, sir, but I cannot take it upon myself to say whether she will be willing to receive you.”

“Ask her!”

She seemed to consider him dispassionately for a moment; and then said: “Certainly, sir. If you will be pleased to wait in the drawing-room, I will do so.”

She turned and went majestically up the stairs again; and Limbury, recovering from the shock of seeing the most formidable member of the household yield without a sign of disapproval to Mr Carleton’s outrageous demand, conducted him to the drawing-room. He was immensely interested in this unprecedented situation, and his enjoyment of it was no longer marred by fear of Sir Geoffrey’s wrath, because if Sir Geoffrey came the ugly he could now foist the blame of Mr Carleton’s intrusion on to Jurby.

Mr Carleton had not long to wait before Jurby came into the drawing-room, saying: “Miss Annis will be happy to receive you, sir. Please to come with me!” She conducted him up the second pair of stairs, and paused on the landing, and said: “I must warn you, sir, that Miss Annis is by no means fully restored to health. You will find her very pulled by the fever, and I hope you won’t agitate her.”

“I hope so too,” he replied.

She seemed to be satisfied with this reply, for she opened the door into Miss Wychwood’s bedroom, and ushered him in, saying in a voice wholly devoid of interest: “Mr Carleton, miss.”

She stayed, holding the door open, for a few moments, because when she had carried the news of Mr Carleton’s arrival to her mistress Miss Wychwood had behaved in an extremely agitated way, and had seemed not to know whether she wished to see him or not. She had started up from her recumbent position, uttering distractedly: “Mr Carleton? Oh, no, I cannot—Jurby, are you hoaxing me? Is he indeed here? Oh, why must he come back just when I am so hagged and miserably unwell? I won’t see him! He is the most detestable—Oh, whatever am I to do?”

“Well, miss, if you wish me to send him away, I’ll try my best to do it, but from the looks of him it’s likely he’ll order me to get out of the way, and come charging up the stairs, and the next thing you’ll know he’ll be knocking at your door—if he don’t walk in without knocking, which wouldn’t surprise me!”

Miss Wychwood gave an uncertain laugh. “ Odious man! Take this horrid shawl away! If I must see him, I will not do so lying on the sofa as though I were dying of a deep decline!”

So, when Mr Carleton entered, he found Miss Wychwood seated at one end of the sofa, the train of her dressing-gown lying in soft folds at her feet and her glorious hair hidden under a lace cap. She had managed to regain a measure of composure, and said, in a tolerably steady voice: “How do you do? You must forgive me for receiving you like this: Jurby will have told you, I daresay, that I have been unwell, and am not yet permitted to leave my room.”

As she spoke, she tried to rise, but her knees shook so much that she was obliged to clutch at the arm of the sofa to save herself from falling. But even as she tottered Mr Carleton, crossing the room in two strides, caught her in his arms, and held her close, breast to breast, and fiercely kissed her.

“Oh!” gasped Miss Wychwood, making a feeble attempt to thrust him off. “How dare you? Let me go at once!”