XVI #3
But Nell knew that she would have to face them, and the thought gave her a sleepless night.
Not that she was particularly worried about Clarissa or Crossways, but Huntley would be livid, and that fact did worry her.
No matter how often she told herself that she had dealt successfully with his temper before, she could not convince herself that she would enjoy dealing with it upon this particular occasion.
If she could be sure she was doing the right thing, it would be easier.
But she could not. She knew perfectly well that Rory had little comprehension of the severe consequences that would attend a Gretna Green marriage.
But Nell knew, and she was not at all certain she could reconcile herself with her conscience.
Only the knowledge that all speed was necessary—and a lurking suspicion that Huntley would forgive her once he perfectly understood her reasons—kept her from throwing back her covers and hastening to inform her niece that she could not allow her to take such a desperate step.
The morning and Rory’s glowing, confident face helped a great deal.
If the child herself was so certain of the rightness of her course, who was Nell to deny her the opportunity to seek her happiness?
By eleven o’clock they were ready to depart.
Nell ordered their horses brought around in the ordinary way, and if Joe wondered about the satchel his mistress ordered him to tie securely to her saddle, he said not a word.
At last, their grooms trailing behind, the two ladies set out to meet the major.
Not until she actually perceived him riding up the hill from the wood did Nell truly believe he would be there.
Nevertheless, when she realized that the look on his face was not one of pleased anticipation but rather the opposite, she could not say that she was completely astonished.
The two grooms fell prudently behind, and beside her, Rory gave a little sigh.
“Oh, dear.”
“Rory, I thought you said—”
“Well, perhaps I overstated his willingness a little,” Rory admitted in a small voice.
“By the look of him, I should say you overstated it by a great deal.”
Major Talcott, his brow furrowed in thunderous anger, was upon them in a trice.
He spoke first to Nell, his voice under rigid control.
“I am both glad and a little disappointed to see you here, Miss Lindale, for I didn’t believe her ladyship when she said you were party to this ridiculous start.
I had no doubt, however, that she would come herself, and feared she would not have the good sense to provide herself with an escort, which is the only reason, believe me, that you find me here. ”
He said nothing whatever of Nell’s good sense, but it was forcibly brought home to her that Rory had grossly misled her, that young lady having believed as usual that her own wishes would prevail over any opposition.
In truth, the major had flatly refused from the outset to be party to an elopement that would most surely put an end to his promising military career.
When he repeated that refusal in no uncertain terms and said he would escort them personally back to Brighton, Rory spoke up at last.
“Gideon! You could not be so cruel. Why, Aunt Nell’s very presence must prove to you that our case is desperate!”
The major’s response to this near wail was to favor her ladyship with a hard look before he dismounted, dropped his reins casually to the ground, and strode over to remove her without ceremony from her saddle.
Setting her none too gently upon her feet and retaining a firm grip on her elbow, he glanced balefully up at Nell.
“I trust you will excuse us for a moment or two, Miss Lindale. I have something of a private nature to say to her ladyship.” She nodded without daring to speak, and watched as he practically dragged the reluctant Rory toward the nearby wood.
Nell hoped he would not be too harsh, but the words that drifted back to her just before they entered the wood were scarcely encouraging.
“You will be well served, young lady,” the major said, more sternly than he had spoken before, “if you find yourself across my knee!”
Rory’s dismayed protests faded into the distance, and though Nell strained her ears, she could hear nothing to indicate that the major had made good his threat.
Nevertheless, when they returned at last, his fury had abated somewhat, and Rory walked with her head down, carrying a large white handkerchief clutched in her two slim hands.
As Talcott swung her into her saddle again, Nell could see that she had been crying.
There seemed to be nothing to say that might ease the situation, however, so she held her tongue and merely fell in beside them when Talcott had mounted his own horse.
The two grooms, no doubt suffering agonies of curiosity, remained a discreet distance behind them.
It was clear that Rory had met her match at last, but the discovery did little to ease the pricking of Nell’s conscience.
The major’s disapproval of their actions brought home to her more clearly than ever how rashly they had behaved.
But even that mattered little, now that their plan had failed.
For if it had succeeded, she realized that she would not have cared one whit whether it was proper or not.
At the moment, all that mattered to her was that the future looked bleak indeed.
Even the major would probably insist that Rory marry the earl.
And even if he did not, surely Philip would not wish to marry a woman who had made so dreadful a mull of everything.
He would no doubt retire to Huntley Green, thankful to have escaped a fate worse than …
well, worse than anything else Nell could name at the moment.
In any event, he would be furious with her, for it never occurred to her that he would not discover what they had attempted to do.
The whole story would come out the moment he returned from London.
And the thought of his anger, no doubt greater even than the major’s had been, was a good deal more disturbing than she might have expected.
Whenever the thought of his quick temper had chanced to cross her mind while the elopement was still in the planning stages, Nell had simply told herself that she would deal with it when the time came.
But now, riding beside her niece and her niece’s angry would-be suitor, it seemed as if all she could think about was the fact that Philip would be angry with her, and that she did not wish him to be.
The ride back to Brighton was a dismal one at best, but they arrived at the tall house in Upper Rock Gardens at last to discover a large traveling coach drawn up at the flagway.
Talcott, giving it a speculative look, swung down and handed his reins to a link boy, announcing flatly that he would come inside with them.
Rory had not looked up or spoken during the entire ride, but at these words she glanced first at him and then at the coach, and her face went perfectly white.
“Papa and Mama are here!” She looked at Nell in dismay. “Whatever shall we do now?”
At that moment, the front door opened, and Pavingham put his head out, then seemed to jump back inside again, and a moment later, Kit hurried out followed by Lord Crossways.
“What the devil!” Kit exclaimed, hurrying up to them.
Major Talcott turned to help Rory down. “See to your sister if you please, Lindale. Then, perhaps we might go inside before we begin to discuss this matter.”
“Yes, by Jove, of course,” Kit stammered, looking him up and down.
But he hurried to assist Nell, whispering as he did, “There’s the devil to pay and no pitch hot.
They’re all here, and the brat left a note, so they’ve been stewing the past half hour over whether Crossways ought to set out after them or let them go.
Whatever were you about to have let her go like this, Nell? Huntley is—”
“Huntley! He’s here?” Nell was certain her own face must have gone as white as Rory’s, and as Kit set her on her feet, her knees seemed to go weak. He steadied her, speaking lightly.
“He’s here, all right and tight, and I can tell you I’ve never seen the man so put out. I daresay he’s offended that the chit would prefer the cavalry over an earldom, but whatever it is, someone’s in for the devil’s own trimming when he gets his chance. And that’s a fact.”