The Nonesuch

Miss Trent pulled herself together. Wisely rejecting such ideas as first occurred to her, which embraced a little much-needed practice on the pianoforte, a sketching expedition, and an hour devoted to the study of the French tongue, she sought in vain for distractions likely to find favour with a damsel determined to pout at every suggestion made to her. Fortunately, an interruption came just in time to save her temper. A carriage drove up to the door, and presently disgorged Elizabeth Colebatch, who came in to beg that Tiffany would accompany her and her mama to Harrogate, where Lady Colebatch was going to consult her favourite practitioner. Elizabeth, still faithful in her allegiance, eagerly described to Tiffany a programme exactly calculated to appeal to her. Besides a survey of the several expensive shops which had sprung up in the town, it included a walk down the New Promenade, and a visit to Hargroves’ Library, which was the most fashionable lounge in either High or Low Harrogate, and necessitated an instant change of raiment for Tiffany, including the unearthing from a bandbox, where it reposed in a mountain of tissue-paper, of her very best hat. Since the season was in full swing, and all the inns and boarding-houses bursting with company, it was safe to assume that the progress through the town of two modish young ladies, one of whom was a striking redhead, and the other a dazzling brunette, would attract exactly the kind of notice most deprecated by Tiffany’s Aunt Burford; but as Miss Trent knew that Mrs Underhill would regard Lady Colebatch’s casual chaperonage as a guarantee of propriety she did not feel it incumbent on her to enter a protest. But she did feel it incumbent on her to not to be backward in attention to Lady Colebatch; so, much as she longed for solitude, she went out to beg her to come into the house while Tiffany arrayed herself in her finest feathers. Lady Colebatch declined this, but invited Miss Trent to step into the carriage instead, to indulge in a comfortable coze. Miss Trent bore her part in this with mechanical civility; but little though she relished it, it proved beneficial, in that by the time Elizabeth and Tiffany came out to take their places in the carriage her disordered nerves had grown steadier, and the impulse to sob her heart out had left her.

Her rejected suitor, though in no danger of succumbing to even the mildest fit of hysterics, would also have been glad to have been granted an interval of solitude; but hardly had he entered the book-room at Broom Hall than he was joined by his younger cousin, who came in, asking, as he shut the door: “Are you busy, Waldo? Because, if you’re not, there’s something I want to say to you. But not if it isn’t quite convenient!” he added hastily, perceiving the crease between Sir Waldo’s brows.

Mastering the impulse to tell Lord Lindeth that it was extremely inconvenient, Sir Waldo said: “No, I’m not busy. Come and sit down, and tell me all about it!”

The tone was encouraging, and even more so the faint smile in his eyes. It was reflected, a little shyly, in his lordship’s innocent orbs. He said simply, but with a rising colour: “I daresay you know—don’t you?”

“Well, I have an inkling!” admitted Sir Waldo.

“I thought very likely you had guessed. But I wanted to tell you—and to ask your advice!”

“Ask my advice?” Sir Waldo’s brows rose. “Good God, Julian, if you want my advice on whether or not you should offer for Miss Chartley, I can only say that until my advice or my opinion are matters of complete indifference to you—”

“Oh, not that!”interrupted Julian impatiently. “I should hope I knew my own mind without your advice, or anyone’s! As for your opinion—” He paused, considering, and then said, with a disarmingly apologetic smile: “Well, I do care for that, but—but not very much!”

“Very right and proper!” approved Sir Waldo.

“Now you’re roasting me! I wish you won’t: this is serious,Waldo!”

“I’m not roasting you. Why do you need my advice?”

“Well ...” Julian clasped his hands between his knees, and frowningly regarded them. “The thing is ... Waldo, when we first came here I daresay you may have guessed—well, I told you, didn’t I?—that I was pretty well bowled out by Tiffany Wield.” He glanced up, crookedly smiling. “You’ll say I made a cake of myself, and I suppose I did.”

“Not such a cake that you offered for her hand.”

Julian looked at him, suddenly surprised. “Do you know, Waldo, I never thought of marriage?” he said naively. “I hadn’t considered it before, but now you’ve mentioned it I don’t think that I ever thought of it until I met Miss Chartley. In fact, I never thought about the future at all. But since I’ve come to know Patience, naturally, I’ve done so, because I wish to spend the rest of my life with her. And, what’s more, I’m going to!” he stated, his jaw hardening.