on being urged to spring ’em a bit, obeyed with such enthusiasm that the body of the chaise rocked and lurched so violently that Emily began to feel sick. Gerard had to request the post-boy to abate the pace, but he felt that a good deal of lost time had been made up, and applied himself to the task of assuaging Emily’s fears, and directing her thoughts towards a halcyon future. By dint of skimming lightly over the next year or two, and dwelling on the time when he should have become an important member of Lord Liverpool’s administration, he succeeded pretty well. By the time the Cambridge Inn was reached, twenty-three miles out of Bristol, Emily had temporarily forgotten her fears in discussing the rival merits of Green Street and Grosvenor Square as possible localities for the house of a rising politician.
A couple of miles farther on, a slight contretemps occurred, at the Church End turnpike, where the pike- keeper made a spirited attempt to overcharge one whom he took to be a greenhorn. But from this encounter Gerard came off triumphant, which pleased him so much that he began to feel more confident; and for the next four miles boasted to Emily of all the occasions when ugly customers, trying to cheat him, had found themselves powerfully set down.
It was at about this time that Serena and Mr Goring, after a splendid cross-country gallop, dropped into a narrow lane, leading to the village of Dursley from the Bristol to Gloucester pike-road.
“By Jove, Lady Serena, you’re a devil to go!” Mr Goring exclaimed, in involuntary admiration.
She laughed, leaning forward to pat the mare’s steaming neck. “I like a slapping pace, don’t you?”
“I should have called it a
“Was it indeed? It didn’t seem to me that you were precisely hanging back, Mr Goring!”
He smiled. “Why, if you chose to take the fence, what could I do but follow?”
“Very true! Pitting that peacocky bay of yours against my mare, you could do nothing else—but you did your best to get ahead of me, I thought!” she said, throwing him a quizzical look. “Confess that you enjoyed that last point as much as I did! For myself, I could almost forgive Gerard and Emily their iniquities: I haven’t liked anything so well since I came to Bath. What is the time?”
He pulled out his watch. “Twenty minutes to two. We should come up with them before they reach Gloucester, I think.”
In another few minutes they were on the pike-road, and with the Cambridge Inn in sight. Here, Serena permitted Mr Goring, who knew the house well, to make the necessary inquiries. He returned to her presently with the intelligence that the yellow chaise had changed horses there about twenty minutes previously. They were sweating badly,” he added, as he hoisted himself into the saddle again, “so no doubt young Monksleigh is making the best speed he can.”
“In that case, we won’t jaunter along either,” said Serena.
“What do you mean to do when we sight the chaise?” asked Mr Goring. “Am I to hold it up?”
“Good God, no! We want no dramatic scenes upon the highroad! We shall follow discreetly behind, to see which inn they mean to patronize. Leave it to me, then! I know Gloucester as you know Bristol. I shall be better able to carry it off smoothly than you. Yes, I know you would like to have a turn-up with Gerard, but it’s my ambition to emerge from this imbroglio without kicking up any dust!”
Thus it was that Gerard, jumping down from the chaise at the Bell Inn, Gloucester, to inspect the horses that were being led out, received an extremely unpleasant shock. “How glad I am to have caught you!” said an affable voice. “You need not have the horses put to!”
Gerard spun round, hardly believing his ears. But they had not deceived him: it was the Lady Serena who had spoken. She was standing just behind him, a pleasant smile on her lips, but her eyes glinting. His own eyes starting at her, he stood transfixed, and could only stammer: “L-Lady Serena!”
“I knew you would be surprised!” she said, still with that horrid affability. “It is not necessary, after all, for Emily to hurry north: her brother is very much better! Famous news, isn’t it? The letter came too late for anyone to be able to stop you before you left Bath, so I told her grandmother I would ride after you. Mr Goring—do you know Mr Goring?—was so obliging as to give me his escort, and here we are!”
He uttered in a choked voice: “It’s no concern of yours, ma’am! I—”
“Oh, no, but I was happy to be of service!” She nodded smilingly at the elderly ostler, who was touching his forelock to her. “Good-day to you, Runcorn! It is some time since you stabled my horses for me, isn’t it? I am glad you are still here, for I want you to take charge of my mare, and Mr Goring’s horse too. Ah, I see Emily staring at me! I must instantly tell her the good news, Gerard! Do you go into the house, and bespeak refreshment for us all! Tell the landlord it is for me, and that I should like a private parlour!”
“Lady Serena!” he said furiously. “I must make it plain to you—”
“Indeed, yes! We have so much to say to one another!
She turned away, and walked towards the chaise, where Mr Goring, having relinquished the bridles he had been holding into the ostler’s hands, was already persuading Emily to alight. She seemed to be on the point of bursting into tears, but he took her hand in a firm clasp, and said gravely, but with great kindness: “Come, Miss Laleham! There is nothing to be afraid of: you must not go any farther! Let me help you down, and then we will talk the matter over sensibly, shall we?”
“You don’t understand!” she said, trying to pull her hand away. “I can’t—I won’t—”
“Yes, I do understand, but you are making a mistake you would bitterly regret, my child. Rest assured that your grandmama won’t permit anyone to compel you to do what you don’t like!”
She looked unconvinced, but his tone, which was much that of a man bent on soothing a frightened baby, calmed her a little, and made her feel a sense of protection. She stopped trying to free her hand, and only made a faint protest when he lifted her down from the chaise. She found herself confronting Serena, and hung her head guiltily, not daring to look up into her face.
“That’s right!” said Serena, in a heartening voice. “Now, before we go home again, we’ll drink some coffee, my dear. Mr Goring, I shall leave it to you to see that the horses are properly bestowed. Tell old Runcorn that Fobbing will ride over to fetch home my mare in a couple of days’ time, if you please, and arrange for four good horses to be put to half an hour from now. I know I may safely depend upon you.”
She then swept Emily irresistibly into the inn, encountering Gerard in the doorway, and saying: “Well, have you done as I bade you?”
This question, calculated as it was to reduce Mr Monksleigh to the status of a schoolboy, made him flush angrily, and say in a sulky voice: “I am willing to break our journey for a few minutes, ma’am, but pray do not imagine that I shall permit you to dictate to me, or to tyrannize over Miss Laleham! In future, Miss Laleham’s welfare—”
He stopped, not because he was interrupted, but because it was abundantly plain that she was not attending to him. The landlord was bustling up, and she walked past Gerard to meet him, saying, in her friendly way: “Well, Shere, and how are you?”
“Pretty stout, my lady, I thank you! And how is your ladyship? And my Lady Spenborough? Now, if I had but known we was to have the honour of serving your ladyship with a nuncheon today—!”
“Just some coffee and cold meat will do excellently for us. I daresay Mr Monksleigh will have told you that he was escorting Miss Laleham here on what was feared to be a sad errand. One of her brothers took ill suddenly, and the worst was apprehended, so that nothing would do but she must post to Wolverhampton, where he is staying. However, better tidings have been received, I am happy to say, and so I have come galloping after her, to save her a tedious and most anxious journey! Dear Emily, you are still quite overset, and I am sure it is not to be wondered at! You shall rest quietly for a while, before returning to Bath.”
The landlord at once, and in the most solicitous fashion, begged them both to come into his best private parlour; and Emily, dazed by Serena’s eloquence, and incapable of resisting her, allowed herself to be shepherded into the parlour, and tenderly deposited in a chair. Mr Monksleigh brought up the rear, not knowing what else to do. Self-confidence was rapidly deserting him, but as soon as the landlord had bowed himself out of the room, he made another attempt to assert himself, saying, in a blustering voice: “Let it be understood, ma’am, that we are not to be turned from our purpose! You do not know the circumstances which have led to our taking what no doubt seems to you a rash step! Not that it signifies in the least! Upon my word, I shall be interested to learn by what right you —”
The speech ended here somewhat abruptly, for Serena rounded on him, an alarming flash in her eyes. “Are
