Bath Tangle

Lord Rotherham, but it is inconceivable to me that he, or any other man, could wish to marry a lady who held him in such aversion!”

“Mr Goring,” said Serena, “it is a happiness to have become acquainted with you! Your common sense is admirable! I can think of no one more unlikely than Rotherham to hold a reluctant female to her engagement to him, and you will own that I have reason to know what I am talking about!” A murmur from Emily caused her to whip round, saying, sharply: “If you bleat “Mama” just once more, Emily, you will find that I have a temper quite as much to be dreaded as Rotherham’s! Why, you little ninnyhammer, if it is Mama you fear, marry Rotherham tomorrow! You could not have found any man more capable of protecting you from her! Or, I dare swear, more willing to do so! Yes, you may stare! That had not occurred to you, had it? There is another thing that has not occurred to you! We have heard a great deal from you about the terror with which he has inspired you, but I have yet to hear you acknowledge that he has treated you during these weeks you have skulked in Bath with a forbearance of which I did not believe a man of his temper to have been capable! Why he should love such a sapskull as you, I know not, but it is clearly seen that he does! His reward is that when he at last tells you that it is time you came to a point, rather than summon up the courage to face him, and to tell him the truth, you elope with a silly schoolboy for whom you do not care the snap of your fingers! His own ward, too! Did you plan it, between the pair of you, to make him appear ridiculous? Of you, Gerard, I can believe it! After this day’s disclosures, it is not in your power to surprise me! You are an ill-conditioned puppy, without gratitude, without propriety, without a thought in your head for anything but what may happen to suit your pleasure!” Her scorching gaze swept to Emily’s horrified countenance. “You I acquit of all but childish folly, but I tell youthis, my girl: but for that saving grace—if grace you call it!—I should think you the most contemptible and vulgar of jilts!”

These flaming words not unnaturally left both the persons to whom they were addressed speechless and shaken. Gerard was red to the roots of his hair, Emily paper-white, and almost cowering in her chair. Mr Goring rose, and went to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. Over her head he spoke to Serena. “No more, ma’am, I beg of you! You have said enough! She has indeed behaved ill, but you forget what you yourself have said!—She is the merest child: one, moreover, who is timid, and has felt herself to be alone, and has never known the sympathy and support which girls more fortunately circumstanced than herself enjoy!”

“Yes!” burst in Gerard. “But when I rescue her, and try to protect her—”

“If you have the slightest regard for your skin, be silent!” interrupted Mr Goring, his voice losing some of its deliberate calm. “No man who wishes to protect an ignorant girl persuades her into taking a step that must expose her to the censure and the contempt of the world!”

The storm vanished from Serena’s face, and she gave an involuntary laugh. “You set us all to rights, Mr Goring! There is really no more to be said, and if we are to be in Bath again by dinner-time we should set forward immediately. You need not look so scared, Emily! I shan’t scold you any more—and I hope you will not, because I once lost my temper with you, imagine me to be an ogress!”

“Oh, no, no!” Emily stammered. “How could I? I never meant—I didn’t think —”

“But you have turned Rotherham into an ogre, have you not?” Serena said, arching her brows. “Come! I think you would do well to wait until you have seen him again before you decide to jilt him, my dear. It may be, you know, that you will find that the picture you have painted is a false one. If he still seems terrible to you, why, then, tell him you wish to cry off!” She held out her hand, but spoke to Mr Goring. “Do you come with us, sir?”

“I shall ride behind the chaise, ma’am.”

“Emily!” exclaimed Gerard. “Will you permit yourself to be dragged from my side?”

“I am so very sorry!” she said, trembling. “Pray forgive me! I didn’t mean to behave so wickedly!”

“My dear Gerard, if you wish to remain at Emily’s side, you have only to hire a horse!” said Serena. “Then, when Rotherham comes to Bath, you may confront him together.”

“No, no!” cried Emily, clutching her arm. “Oh, don’t let him! Lord Rotherham and Mama would know what I did, and I couldn’t bear it!”

“If my love means so little to you, go!” said Gerard nobly. “I see that the coronet has won!”

22

When Major Kirkby rode over the Bridge into Laura Place shortly before three o’clock, he was surprised not to see Fobbing waiting there with Serena’s phaeton, and still more surprised to be informed by Lybster that the Lady Serena had gone off on a picnic expedition. Lady Spenborough, added Lybster, was in the drawing-room, and had desired him to show the Major upstairs. He observed that the Major had hitched his horse’s bridle over the railings, and said that he would send my lady’s footman to take charge of the animal.

He then led the Major upstairs, announced him, and went away, shaking his head. In his view, there was something smoky going on, some undergame of which he could not approve.

Fanny jumped up from the sofa, as the door shut behind Lybster, and moved impulsively towards the Major, exclaiming: “Oh, Hector, I am so glad you have come! I am in the most dreadful worry!”

“My dear, what is it?” he asked quickly, catching her hands. “Fanny, you are trembling! My darling—!”

She gave a gasp, and disengaged her hands, casting an imploring look up at him. “Hector—no! You must not—I should not have—! Oh, my love, remember!”

He walked away to the window, and stood staring out. “Yes, I beg your pardon! What has happened to distress you, my dear?”

She blew her nose, and said rather huskily: “It’s Serena. She has quite taken leave of her senses, Hector!”

He turned his head. “Good heavens, what has she done? Where is she?”

“That,” said Fanny distractedly, “is what is so agitating, for I don’t know! I mean, anything might have happened to her, and if she has not been murdered by footpads, or kidnapped by Mr Goring—for what, after all, do we know of him?—she may be halfway to Wolverhampton by this time!”

“Halfway to Wolverhampton?” he repeated, startled. “Fanny, for heavens’ sake—! Why should Serena go to Wolverhampton? Who is Mr Goring?”

“Oh, he is Mrs Floore’s godson, or some such thing! I daresay a very worthy young man, but so very dull and respectable!”

He could not help laughing. “Well, if he is dull and respectable, he will hardly have kidnapped Serena!”

“No, I don’t suppose it is as bad as that, but what if she doesn’t catch them before they reach Gloucester? She can’t ride all night, and there she will be, miles and miles from Bath, and no luggage, but only Mr Goring, and her reputation quite lost. You had better read her letter!”

“Indeed, I think I had!” he said.

She dragged it from her reticule, and gave it to him. “She says I am to tell you what has happened, so you may as well see just what she says. Hector, I am quite vexed with Serena!”

He had unfolded the sheet of paper, and was rapidly running his eyes down it. “Emily—Gerard—Gretna Green! Good God! What’s this? Oh, I see! Monksleigh hired the chaise to take him to Wolverhampton. My dear, Serena doesn’t say she means to go there!”

“She is equal to anything!” said Fanny despairingly.

He went on reading the letter, frowning a little. When he reached the end of it, he folded it, and gave it back to Fanny without a word.

“What am I to do?” she asked. “What can I do?”

“I don’t think either of us can do anything,” he replied. “If I thought it would be of the least use, I would ride after her, but either she is already on her way back, or she must be far beyond my reach. Fanny, does she often do things like this?”

“Oh, thank goodness, no! In fact, I’ve never before known her to ride off with a strange man—well, the merest acquaintance, at all events!—and not even take Fobbing with her! Of course, it is very wrong of Gerard and Emily to elope, but it is not Serena’s business to take care of Emily! And, I must say, if the wretched girl fears that her odious mother will push her into marrying Lord Rotherham unless she runs away with Gerard, I cannot wholly blame her! How Serena can believe that Emily could ever be happy with such a man as