“Oh, Mrs Jane! what things you do say!”
Millicent had some excuse for her horror, since at that time shaking hands was a form of greeting only used between relatives or the most intimate friends. To give the hand to an inferior was the greatest possible favour.
“Well,” said Mrs Jane, locking the second trunk, “I expect Will Jackson is a decent fellow, and will attend me very well. At any rate, I mean to try him.”
“Well, Mrs Jane, I have warned you!”
“You have so, Millicent. And if Jackson murders me before I come home, I promise to agree with you. But I don’t believe he will.”
“Well!” repeated Millicent, “one thing is certain; the creature has surely never been in a gentleman’s service before. I expect he has followed the plough all his life. But I do hope, Mrs Jane, you may come back safe.”
“Thank you, Millicent; so do I,” answered Mrs Jane.
The friends who were to accompany Mrs Jane arrived at Bentley Hall on the Monday evening, and the party set out, eight in all, a little after five o’clock on the Tuesday morning. Mrs Lascelles and Mrs Petre rode behind their husbands; Mrs Jane behind her new man, Jackson. For Jenny an escort was provided in the shape of Mr Lascelles’ servant, a sober-looking man of about forty years, whom she thought most uninteresting. So they rode away from Bentley Hall, Robin Featherstone kissing his hand to Jenny, and making her a very elaborate bow in the background.
The first day’s journey brought them to the house of Mr Norton, a relative of the Lanes.
“Remember, Jackson,” said Mrs Jane as she alighted, “I shall want my palfrey by six to-morrow morning at the latest.”