‘Yes, yes, that is where her grandmother lives! When does she go?’
‘I can’t read it – oh yes, I see! Tomorrow morning, with her Papa. She says I am to tell you to arrange for the elopement this evening, without fail.’
‘Good God!’ Piers snatched the letter from her, and read it for himself. ‘Yes, you are right: she does say tomorrow morning!Pen, if she goes, it will be the end of everything! I never meant to do anything so improper as to elope with her, but I have now no choice! It is not as though her parents disapprove of me, or – or that I am not eligible. Ifthatwere so, it would be different. But until they quarrelled – however, talking is to no purpose!’ He turned to the maidservant, who had by this time put back her veil, and was listening to him with her mouth open. ‘Are you in your mistress’s confidence?’ he demanded.
‘Oh yes, sir!’ she assured him, adding with another giggle: ‘Though the master would tear me limb from limb if he knew I was taking letters to you, sir.’
Piers ignored this somewhat exaggerated statement. ‘Tell me, is your mistress indeed resolved upon this course?’
‘Oh!’ said the damsel, clasping her plump hands together, ‘she was never more resolved in her life, sir! “I must Fly!” she says to me, clean distracted. “Lucy,” she says, “I am Utterly Undone, for All is Discovered!” So I popped on my bonnet, sir, and slipped out when Cook’s back was turned, “for,” says my poor young mistress, with tears standing in her eyes fit to break anyone’s heart, “if I am whisked off to Lincolnshire, I shall die!” And so she will sir, no question!’
Pen sat down again, hugging her knees. ‘Nothing could be better!’ she declared. ‘I always liked the notion of your eloping to Gretna Green. In fact, it was my suggestion. Only, Lydia told me that you have no money, Piers. Shall we make Richard pay for the post-chaise?’
‘Certainly not!’ he replied. ‘Of course I have enough money forthat!’
‘I think you ought to have four horses,’ she warned him. ‘Posting charges are very high, you know.’
‘Good God, Pen, I’m not penniless! Lydia meant only that I am dependent upon my father. If he refuses to forgive us, I shall be obliged to find some genteel occupation, but I am persuaded that once the deed is done he will very soon come round. Oh, Pen! Is she not an angel? I am quite overcome! Is it not affecting that she should trust me so implicitly?’
Pen opened her eyes at this. ‘Why shouldn’t she?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Why shouldn’t she? Really, Pen, you don’t understand in the least! Think of her placing her life, honour, all, in my care!’
‘I don’t see anything wonderful in that,’ replied Pen contemptuously. ‘I think it would be a great deal more extraordinary if she didn’t trust you.’
‘I remember now that you never had much sensibility,’ said Piers. ‘You are such a child!’ He turned again to the interested abigail. ‘Now, Lucy, attend to me! You must take a letter back to your mistress, and assure her besides that I shall not fail. Are you prepared to accompany us to Scotland?’
She gaped at him for a moment, but however strange the idea might have been to her it apparently pleased her, for she nodded vehemently, and said: ‘Oh yes, sir, thank you, sir!’
‘Who ever heard of taking a maid on an elopement?’ demanded Pen.
‘I will not ask Lydia to fly with me without some female to go with her!’ declared Piers nobly.
‘Dear me, I should think she would wish the girl at Jericho!’
‘Lydia is quite unused to waiting upon herself,’ said Piers. ‘Moreover, the presence of her maid must lend respectability to our flight.’
‘Has she a little lap-dog she would like to take with her too?’ asked Pen innocently.
Piers cast her a quelling look, and stalked across the room to a small writing-table near the window. After testing the pen that lay on it, mending it, and dipping it in the standish, he then sat while the ink dried on it, frowning over what he should write to his betrothed. Finally, he dipped the pen in the standish once more, and began to write, punctuating his labour with reminders to Lucy to see that her mistress had a warm cloak, and did not bring too many bandboxes with her.
‘Or the parrot,’ interpolated Pen.
‘Lor’, sir, Miss Lydia hasn’t got any parrot!’
‘If you don’t hold your tongue, Pen –’
‘No little lap-dog either?’ Pen asked incredulously.
‘No, sir, ’deed, no! There’s only her love-birds, the pretty things, and her doves!’
‘Well, you will not have room in the chaise for a dove-cot, but you should certainly bring the love-birds,’ said Pen, with an irrepressible chuckle.
Piers flung down his pen. ‘Another word from you, and I’ll put you out of the room!’
‘No, you won’t, because this is a private parlour, and you are nothing but a guest in it.’
‘But will I tell Miss to bring the love-birds?’ asked Lucy, puzzled.
