“You are nearly ready to leave!” he observed, glancing around.
“I shall be quite ready in an hour.”
“And may I ask whither? I would like to take you to my uncle’s place—Rothwell Abbey—but I do not wish it to appear that I have any hand in shaping your course. At the same time I should like to help you.”
“I intended going direct to a London hotel—I and my maid,” Elaine said, “and then seeking for a pretty home somewhere in the country. I have a few hundred pounds in money, and there is my private fortune. Now that I have your friendship, viscount, I know that no bar will be put against my deriving full benefit from that. You see my plans are very simple,” she added, pathetically; “I have no desire to meet those friends who have nothing but pity for me, and my soul sickens at the thought of gayety.”
“I quite agree with all you say; indeed, nothing could be better under existing circumstances,” the viscount said. “I will order the carriage to be ready in an hour. The luggage had better precede us to the railway station, if it is ready. Allow me to tighten the straps.”
He busied himself for some minutes, then asked if lunch should be sent upstairs.
“No, thank you,” Lady Elaine said. “I shall not breathe freely until I am out of this house forever. I shall never forget your kindness, viscount.”
There were tears in her eyes and in her voice, and Rivington felt that his cause was half won.
“I will accompany you to London,” he said. “A man is useful in looking after things, and I may be able to assist you in the choice of a house. I know every inch of the suburbs. I would suggest a pretty villa in the vicinity of Hyde Park—a sort of combination of country and town, where people mind their own business. The ordinary country village is a perfect hotbed of malicious gossip.”
“I am sure that I shall be content to leave the selection in your hands,” Lady Elaine replied, thoughtfully. “And it will, perhaps, be wise to be within easy reach of Mr. Worboys.”