He went with her into this apartment, and had no sooner passed the doorway than she clasped his wrist, and said in an urgent undervoice: ‘Never mind the eggs! Go to the stables, and direct the Ombersley servants to pole up the horses again! You may change them at the inn in the village, or, if not there, at Epsom! Take Cecilia back to London! Only think how embarrassing for her to be obliged to meet Augustus now! She would dislike it excessively! Besides, it is quite ridiculous for so many people to be crowded into the house, and not at all what I bargained for!’
He grimaced, but said: ‘If I do it, will you go with us?’
‘What, to sit bodkin between you? No, I thank you!’
‘But I cannot leave you here!’
‘Nonsense! It would not suit me at all to be going to London yet!’
He set the candlestick down, and took her hands in his, and held them firmly. ‘Sophy, I owe you a debt of gratitude: thank you, my dear! You may command me in anything: shall I remove Miss Wraxton?’
‘No, for I have had a capital notion about her. She shall stay to nurse Bromford, and very likely they will make a match of it!’
His shoulders shook. ‘Oh, Sophy, Sophy!’
‘No, do not laugh! I do feel I ought to make some provision for her, poor girl! I cannot permit her to marry Charles, and make them all unhappy at Ombersley House, but I am persuaded she and Bromford would deal extremely. Do not make me any more pretty speeches, but go down to the stables at once! I’ll tell Cecy!’
She then thrust him back into the hall, and, while he let himself out of the house, went back to the group about the fire, and said: ‘It is tolerably cosy in the parlour, and if you choose to sit there for a little while, Lord Bromford, one of the bedchambers shall be prepared for you, and I will send Clavering to pull off your boots. Do you take him in, Miss Wraxton, and see him comfortably bestowed!’
‘I trust the chimney may not smoke as badly as this one!’ said Miss Wraxton acidly. ‘Nothing could be worse! Lord Bromford has coughed twice already!’
‘How shocking! You should take him away at once.’
His lordship, who was sitting in a miserable huddle, shivering and sneezing, thanked her in a feeble voice, and rose from his chair with Miss Wraxton’s kindly help. Hardly had they gone into the parlour, than Mr Fawnhope came into the hall, saying severely: ‘The drawing of hens is revolting! No one should be called upon to witness such an operation! The Marquesa must have eggs.’
Cecilia, who had given a violent start, and perceptibly changed colour, exclaimed: ‘Augustus!’
‘Cecilia!’ said Mr Fawnhope, staring at her in astonishment. ‘You were not here before, were you?’
‘No,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘Oh, no! I – I came with Miss Wraxton!’
‘Oh, was that how it was?’ he said, rather relieved. ‘I did not think I had seen you.’
She said resolutely, but in some little agitation: ‘Augustus, Iwill not trifle with you! I must tell you I find I have made a great mistake. I cannot marry you!’
‘Noble, noble girl!’ Mr Fawnhope said, much moved. ‘I honour you for this frankness, and must ever deem myself fortunate to have been permitted to adore you. The experience has purified and strengthened me: you have inspired me with a poetic fervour for which the world may yet thank you, as I do! But marriage is not for such as I am. I must put aside the thought. Idoput it aside! You should marry Charlbury, but my play you must allow me to dedicate to you!’
‘Th-thank you!’ faltered Cecilia, a good deal taken aback.
‘Well, she is going to marry Charlbury,’ said Sophy bracingly. ‘And now that that is settled, Augustus, pray will you go and find the eggs for Sancia?’
‘I know nothing of eggs,’ he said. ‘I fetched Talgarth from the cellar, and he has gone in search of them. I am going to write a poem that has been taking shape in my brain this past hour. Should you object if I entitled itTo Sophia, Holding a Lamp?’
‘Not in the least,’ said Sophy affably. ‘Take this candle, and go into the library! Shall I tell Clavering to light a fire there for you?’
‘It is of no consequences, thank you,’ he replied absently, receiving the candlestick from her, and wandering off in the direction of the library.
No sooner had the door closed behind him than Cecilia said, in some confusion: ‘Has he understood me? Why did you not tell me that he was here, Sophy? I do not know how to look him in the face!’
‘No, and you shall not be called upon to do so, dearest Cecy! Charlbury has gone to order the chaise: you must go back to Berkeley Square immediately! Only conceive of my aunt’s anxiety!’
Cecilia, who had been about to demur, wavered perceptibly at this. She was still wavering when Lord Charlbury came back to the house, cheerfully announcing that the chaise would be at the door in five minutes’ time. Sophy at once picked up her cousin’s hat, and fitted it becomingly over her sunny locks. Between herefforts, and those of Lord Charlbury, she was presently escorted, resistless, out of the house, and handed up into the chaise. His lordship, pausing only to bestow upon his benefactress a hearty embrace, jumped up after her; the steps were let up, the door slammed upon the happy couple, and the equipage was driven away. Sophy, having waved a last farewell from the porch, turned back into the house, where she found Miss Wraxton awaiting her, in an alarming state of frigidity. Miss Wraxton apprehending (she said) that no assistance from the Marquesa need be expected, desired to be conducted to the kitchen, where she proposed to brew a posset, used in her family for generations as a cure for colds. Not only did Sophy lead her to the kitchen, but she also quelled the Marquesa’s protests, and commanded that the Claverings set water on to boil for a mustard foot-bath. The unfortunate Claverings, labouring up the back-stairs with coals, blankets, and cans of hot water, were kept fully occupied for nearly half an hour, at the end of which time, Lord Bromford was tenderly escorted upstairs to the best spare-bedroom, divested of his boots, and his coat, coaxed into the dressing-gown Sir Vincent had had the forethought to pack into his valise, and installed in a winged chair by the fire. Sir Vincent’s protests at having not only his dressing-gown, but also his nightshirt and cap wrested from him were silenced by Sophy’s representations that she herself was relinquishing to Miss Wraxton her portmanteau, with all the night-gear which it contained. ‘And considering how unhandsome your behaviour has been, Sir Vincent, I must say that I shall think it excessively shabby of you if you demur at rendering me this small service!’ she declared roundly.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘And you, Sophy? Will you not be remaining here for the night?’ he laughed, seeing her at a loss for an answer, and said: ‘In a previous age you would have been burnt at the stake, and rightly so, Juno! Very well: I will play your game!’
Within half an hour of this passage, Sophy, seated at the table in the hall, which she had drawn into the ingle-nook by the fire, heard the sound for which she had been waiting. She wasengaged in building card-houses, having found an aged and grimy pack in the breakfast-parlour, and she made no attempt to answer the imperative summons of the bell. Clavering came into the hall from the back premises, looking harassed, and opened the door. Mr Rivenhall’s decisive accents pleasurably assailed Sophy’s ears. ‘Lacy Manor? Very well! Be good enough to direct my groom to the stables! I’ll announce myself!’
Mr Rivenhall then shut the aged servitor out of the house, and stepped into the hall, shaking the raindrops from his curly-brimmed beaver. His eye alighted on Sophy, absorbed in architecture, and he said with the greatest amiability imaginable: ‘Good evening, Sophy! I am afraid you must have quite given me up, but it has been raining, you know, the moonlight quite obscured by clouds!’
