No chance brought Sir Gareth on to the scene to counteract the combined influences on an impressionable youth of Amanda and a full moon. Perched on the stable-ladder, a modern Romeo and his Juliet discussed ways and means.
It did not take them long to discard the trappings of convention. ‘Oh, I wish you will not call me Miss Smith!’ said Juliet. ‘Amanda!’ breathed Mr Ross reverently. ‘And my name is Hildebrand.’
‘Isn’t it odd that we should both of us have the most ridiculous names?’ said Amanda. ‘Do you find yours a sad trial?’
Struck by her rare understanding, Mr Ross told her just how sad a trial his name had been to him, and explained to her the precise circumstances which had led to his being given a name calculated to blight his scholastic career. He had never dreamed it could sound well until he heard it on her lips.
After this digression, they became more practical, and very much more argumentative. A number of schemes for Amanda’s deliverance, all of which depended upon some extremely improbable stroke of good fortune, were considered, and dismissed regretfully; and a promising new alliance was nearly ruptured by Hildebrand’s rejection of a daring suggestion that he should creep into Sir Gareth’s room, and steal from under his pillow (where there could be no doubt it was hidden) the key to Amanda’s room. In Hildebrand, an inculcated respect for convention warred with a craving for romance. The thought of the construction Sir Gareth would inevitably place on the attempted theft of the key, should he wake (as Hildebrand rather thought he would) before the accomplishment of the design, made that young gentleman blush all over his slim body. He was naturally unable to disclose to Amanda the cause of his reluctance, and so was obliged to endure the mortification of being thought a wretchedly cowardly creature.
‘Oh, well, if you are afraid – !’ said Amanda, with a disdainful shrug of her shoulders.
Her scorn sharpened his wits. The glimmerings of a plan, more daring than any that had occurred to her, flickered in his brain. ‘Wait!’ he commanded, his brows knit portentously. ‘I have a better notion!’
She waited. After a prolonged silence, pregnant with suspense, Mr Ross said suddenly: ‘Are you willing to place your honour in my hands?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I am!’ responded Amanda, agog with expectation.
‘And do you think,’ he asked anxiously, descending with disconcerting rapidity from these heights, ‘that, if I were mounted on my horse, Prince, you would contrive to leap up before me?’
‘I could, if you reached down your hand to me,’ replied Amanda optimistically.
He considered this for a daunted moment. ‘Well, I shall be holding a pistol in my right hand, and I shouldn’t think I could contrive to hold the bridle in it as well,’ he said dubiously. ‘I could try, of course, but – No, I think it would be best if I tucked the reins under my knee. And even if Prince does become restive it won’t signify, once I have you firmly gripped. All you will have to do is to set your foot on mine in the stirrup, and spring the moment I tell you to. Do you think you can do that?’
‘Are you going to ride off with me across your saddle-bow?’ demanded Amanda eagerly.
‘Yes – well, no, not precisely! I mean, I thought, if you put your arms round me, you could sit before me – just until we were beyond the reach of pursuit!’ he added quickly.
‘Yes, that would be much more comfortable,’ she agreed. ‘Of course I could do it!’
‘Well, when the notion first came to me, I thought you could, too, but now I come to think of it more particularly, I can see that it is a thing we ought to practise.’
‘No, no, I am persuaded there can be not the least difficulty!’ she urged. ‘Only think how knights in olden times were for ever riding off with distressed ladies!’
‘Yes, and in armour, too!’ he said, forcibly struck. ‘Still, we don’t know but what they may have bungled it before they acquired the habit, and it won’t do for us to bungle it. I think I had better dismount, and hold Prince while you get upon his back. Are you able to mount without assistance?’
‘Certainly I am! But what are you going to do?’
‘Hold you up on the road to Bedford!’ disclosed Hildebrand.
Amanda uttered a squeak, which he correctly interpreted as an expression of admiration and approval, and gave a little jump of excitement. ‘Like a highwayman? Oh, what a splendid scheme! Pray forgive me for not having thought you had any courage!’
‘It’s a pretty desperate thing to do, of course,’ said Hildebrand, ‘but I can see that only desperate measures will answer in this case and I would do anything to save you from your guardian! I cannot conceive why your father left you in the care of such an infamous person! It seems the oddest thing!’
‘He was deceived in him, but never mind that!’ said Amanda hastily. ‘How do you know he means to go to Bedford?’
‘I discovered it when I was waiting for an opportunity to seize this ladder! Only to think that I was wishing that groom at Jericho, when all the time I had been guided to the stables by Providence! Because the groom was arranging for the hire of a chaise for his master, and enquiring about the state of the road that runs to Bedford. It’s not a pike-road, you know, but Sir Gareth means to go by it, just to Bedford, which is only one stage. And there you are to change from this chaise, which is a shabby, old-fashioned one, and go on to London in a better one, which, of course, may readily be hired in a place like Bedford. Four horses, too! By Jove, it is another instance of Providence! For, you know, if this weren’t such a quiet place, with precious little custom, I daresay they would keep any number of fast vehicles for hire, and bang-up cattle as well, and I might have been at a stand. For I daresay I should have found it pretty hard to cover two postilions, as well as Sir Gareth. But only a pair of horses are hired for the first stage, which makes my task much easier. And I will own myself astonished if we do not find the road deserted, so early in the day! I mean, it can’t be like the pike-roads, with mails and stages going up and down at all hours.’
Amanda agreed to this, but was shaken by doubt. ‘Yes, but how will you procure a pistol?’ she objected.
‘Procure one! I have a pair of my own, in my saddle holsters,’ said Hildebrand, unable to keep a note of pride out of his voice. ‘Loaded, too.’
‘Oh!’ said Amanda, rather thoughtfully.
‘You need not be afraid that I don’t know how to handle them. My father holds that one should be accustomed to guns as soon as possible. I don’t wish to boast, but I am accounted a tolerably good shot.’
‘Yes, but I don’t wish you to shoot Sir Gareth, or even the post-boy,’ said Amanda uneasily.
‘Good God, no! Of course I shall do nothing of the sort! Lord, a pretty kick-up that would mean! I might be obliged to fire one of the pistols over the post-boy’s head, to frighten him, you know, but I promise you I shan’t do more. There won’t be the least need. I shall hold Sir Gareth covered, and you may depend upon it he won’t dare to move, with my pistol pointing at his head. He is bound to be taken quite by surprise, but you will not be, and you must lose not an instant in jumping down from the chaise, and mounting Prince. Then I shall get up behind you, and we shall be off in a trice.’ He paused, but Amanda said nothing. After a moment, he said, rather hurt: ‘You don’t care for the scheme?’
‘Yes, I do!’ she replied warmly. ‘I like it excessively, for I have always wished to have adventures, and I can see that this would be a truly splendid adventure. Except for the pistols.’
‘Oh, if that is all – ! I promise you, you need not be afraid: I won’t even fire in the air!’
‘Oh, well then – No, it won’t do. Nothing is of any use, because I have nowhere to go to,’ said Amanda, plunging back into dejection.
But Hildebrand was not daunted. ‘Don’t be unhappy!’ he begged. ‘I had been thinking of where I should take you, and, if you shoul
d not dislike it, I fancy I have hit upon the very thing. Of course, if this had not chanced to fall at an awkward time, I should have taken you home, so that Mama could have looked after you, which, I assure you, she would have been delighted to do. But it so happens that my eldest sister is about to be confined, and Mama has gone away to be with her, while Father is at this very moment taking Blanche and Amabel to Scarborough, for a month. It is very vexatious, but never mind! I will take you to Hannah instead. She is the dearest creature, and I know you would be happy with her, for she used to be our nurse, and she will do anything in the world for me. And her husband is a very good sort of a man. He is a farmer, and they have the jolliest farm, not far from Newmarket. What I thought was that I should ride with you’cross country, to St Neots, and there hire a chaise. I suppose I shall be obliged to stable Prince there, or perhaps I could ride him as far as to Cambridge. Yes, that would be best, for I am accustomed to keep a horse when I am up, and I shall know he will be well cared-for at the livery-stables there.’
‘A farm?’ said Amanda, reviving as though by magic. ‘With cows, and hens, and pigs? Oh, I should like that of all things! Yes, yes, do hold us up tomorrow!’
‘Well, I will,’ he said, gratified. ‘Then, when I have escorted you to Nurse, I think I should post off to Scarborough, to ask Father just what ought to be done in such a case. Depend upon it, he will know exactly.’
This part of the scheme held out no appeal to Amanda, but she did not say so. There would be time enough at her disposal to dissuade Hildebrand; the immediate need was to escape from Sir Gareth. It seemed to her very unlikely that he would run her to earth at Newmarket; while a farm, as she had already decided, would be an ideal refuge in which to await the capitulation of her grandfather. Her weariness forgotten with the revival of her hopes, she discussed with Hildebrand the various ramifications of his plot; and parted from him finally with only one flaw spoiling her satisfaction. Hildebrand, although willing to engage in any dangerous enterprise for her sake, drew the line at Joseph. A kitten, he said, would place the whole enterprise in jeopardy. Moreover, he doubted very much whether Joseph would enjoy riding on a horse. He rather thought he would not. Amanda was obliged to give way on this point, and could only hope that Sir Gareth would be kind to Joseph when he found himself his sole support.
Thirteen
Mr Ross, by his own overnight request, was roused by the boots, though not without difficulty, at an unseasonably early hour on the following morning. Having consulted his watch, he was just about to turn over in bed, and sink back into slumber, when the events of the previous evening came rushing back to him. He gave a gasp, and sat up, all desire to sleep being effectually banished by a recollection which, it had to be admitted, was extremely unwelcome.
It was extraordinary what a difference daylight made. A plan which had seemed, in the moonlight, to have everything to recommend it, was no sooner inspected in the clear light of the morning than it was found to bear the hall-marks, if not of madness, at least of alarming foolhardiness. Mr Ross, thinking it over, was inclined to think he had been bewitched. It was not that he disliked the plan: given the right setting, there was nothing he had rather do than ride off with Amanda on his saddle-bow. The mischief was that the right setting was lacking. The adventure demanded an odd dragon or two in the background, and a few false knights in full armour. One could made do, at a pinch, with love-locks and a leather coat, exchanging the dragons and the knights for a contingent of Roundheads; but a nineteenth century scene was hopelessly anachronous. It was not an encounter with a dragon which one would have to avoid, but one with a stage-coach, or a carrier’s van; and instead of winning great worship by the deed one was much more likely to be sent to prison, or, at the very least, severely reprimanded for having done something that one’s elders would say was not the thing.
Sitting up in bed, hugging his knees, and staring out of the window at the promise of another hot day, Mr Ross seriously considered crying off from the engagement. But the more he thought about it, the more impossible did it appear that he could do so. For one thing, he could scarcely climb a ladder to Amanda’s window in broad daylight; for another, his last words to her had been an assurance that she might trust him, and to fail her at the eleventh hour would be conduct of unforgivable baseness. She had already doubted his mettle, too. There was nothing for it but to do his best to carry the adventure through to a triumphant conclusion. Instead of wishing that he had not been quite so impulsive, he forced his mind to dwell on the wrongs Amanda had suffered at the perfidious Sir Gareth’s hands; and in this way he managed to keep up his resolution. By sacrificing one of a pair of black silk evening stockings, he contrived to fashion a very tolerable mask, and when he tried it on in front of the mirror, with his frieze riding-cloak wrapped round him, and his hat pulled low on his brow, the effect was so awe-inspiring that his spirits rose considerably. But he had little appetite for his breakfast. However, he drank some coffee, and ate a slice of ham, taking care, in case Sir Gareth should later enquire for him, to talk at great length to a bored and sleepy waiter about his plans for his supposed journey into Wales. He asked searching questions about the road, and the towns he would reach, and rose at last from the table with the comfortable conviction that if Sir Gareth asked any questions he would certainly be told that Mr Ross, desirous of covering as much ground as possible before the heat of the day made travel disagreeable, had set forward on his way to Wales an hour earlier.
But Sir Gareth made no enquiries. In his experience, very young gentlemen found it much harder to wake up in the morning than did their seniors. He was frequently obliged, when he invited Mr Leigh Wetherby to visit him in the country, to employ the most ruthless methods of getting his nephew out of bed; and he had not expected to see Hildebrand at the breakfast-table.
He was glad to find that his captive was apparently resigned to her fate. She attempted no further argument, and if her expression was discontented, and the glances she cast at him repulsive, at least she was able to enjoy a pretty substantial breakfast. He refrained tactfully from addressing anything but commonplace remarks to her; and to these he received cold and generally monosyllabic answers.
The start to the journey was slightly delayed by the tardiness of the post-boy in presenting himself at the White Lion for duty. He had been granted a holiday on the previous day, and pleaded that he had not known that his services had been commanded for such an early hour. There was no post-master at the inn, since only two boys were employed there, and the landlord told Sir Gareth that all postilions were the same: dratted nuisances, always taking twice as long as they ought to lead their horses home, quarrelling amongst themselves, and for ever sneaking off into the village when they should have been at hand, ready to put off their white overalls, and jump into the saddle. He was incensed with this one for having stayed away all night; but there was one person who would been a good deal relieved, had he known of the defection. Mr Ross, trotting along the Bedford road, on the look-out for a suitable ambush, had suddenly realized that a post-boy from the White Lion could scarcely fail to recognize the handsome chestnut which had been stabled in one of the loose-boxes there.
The chaise which Sir Gareth had been forced to hire was not one of the light, modern vehicles, nor was it very well-hung. Sir Gareth, observing the scornful and slightly affronted glance which Amanda pointedly cast at its worn squabs, gravely apologized for conveying her to Bedford in a carriage wholly unworthy of her dignity, and promised to transfer her there into the smartest and fastest chaise the best posting-house could produce. She sniffed.
She was plainly determined not to unbend; and since Sir Gareth had not the smallest wish to make civil conversation at so early an hour, he did not attempt to charm her out of her sulks, but leaned back in his own corner of the chaise, idly looking out of the window at as much of the countryside as he could see. This was not very much, for the lane, which was narrow, and appeared to be lit
tle used, was bordered by uneven and straggling hedges. It passed through no towns, and the few villages it served were none of them more than hamlets. Here and there a cluster of farm-buildings were to be seen, and several narrow lanes, no better than cart-tracks, debouched on to it. After a time, wearying of a singularly uninteresting prospect, Sir Gareth turned his head, and surveyed Amanda. It struck him immediately that her expression of sullen resignation had vanished, and, an instant later, that there was an air of suppressed excitement about her. There was a pretty colour in her cheeks, her eyes were very bright, and she was sitting bolt upright, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
‘Amanda,’ said Sir Gareth, with mock severity, ‘what mischief are you brewing?’
She jumped guiltily. ‘I shan’t tell you! But I said I should make you sorry, and I shall!’
He laughed, but forbore to tease her. He wondered what fantastic plot she was hatching, but not with any feeling of uneasiness. He would certainly have to keep an eye on her when they broke the journey for rest and refreshment, but he rather suspected that she would not attempt to escape again until they reached London. Well, between them, Beatrix and Miss Felbridge ought to be able to keep her under guard until he could hand her over to her grandfather.
He was lying back, with his eyes half closed, hoping that he would not find, upon enquiry at the Horse Guards, that the Brigade-Major had left town, when a loud shout smote his ears, and the chaise drew up with a jarring lurch. ‘What the devil – ?’ he exclaimed, and sat up, looking out of the window to see what had caused the abrupt halt.