But he said with perfect civility: “An unfortunate mishap. You must permit me to send you to Grantham in one of my carriages, ma’am.”
Lord Fleetwood, who had been standing staring in the frankest admiration at Arabella, was jerked into action by this speech. Pulling a chair invitingly close to the fire, he exclaimed: “No, no, come and sit down, ma’am! I can see you are chilled to the bone! Shocking weather for travelling! You will have got your feet wet, I daresay, and that will never do, you know! Robert, where have your wits gone a-begging? Why don’t you desire Brough to fetch some refreshment for Miss—er—Miss—for the ladies?”
With a look which Arabella was strongly inclined to construe as one of resignation, Mr. Beaumaris replied: “I trust he may be doing so. I beg you will be seated, ma’am!”
But it was Lord Fleetwood who handed Arabella to the chair he had placed, saying solicitously: “I am sure you are hungry, and will be glad of something to eat!”
“Well, yes, sir,” confessed Arabella, who was very hungry indeed. “I own, I have been thinking of my dinner for several miles! And no wonder, for I see it is already past five o’clock!”
This naive speech made his lordship, who never sat down to his dinner before half-past seven at the very earliest, swallow convulsively, but he recovered himself, in an instant, and replied without a blink: “So it is, by Jupiter! You are famished, then! But never mind! Mr. Beaumaris here was just saying that dinner would be served in a trice. Weren’t you, Robert?”
“Was I?” said Mr. Beaumaris. “I have the wretchedest of memories, but I am sure you are right. I beg you will do me the honour of dining with me, ma’am.”
Arabella hesitated. She could see from her anguished expression that Miss Blackburn thought she should rather accept Mr. Beaumaris’s first offer; and not the most inveterate of optimists could have read into that languid gentleman’s voice anything more than a reluctant civility. But this warm, comfortably furnished room was a most welcome change from the travelling carriage, and the aroma of cooking which had assailed her nostrils as she had crossed the hall had considerably whetted her appetite. She looked a little doubtfully at her host. Again it was Lord Fleetwood who, with his friendly smile and easy manners, clinched the matter. “Of course they will dine with us! Now, won’t you, ma’am?”
“It would be giving too much trouble, sir!” said Miss Blackburn, in a sort of gasp.
“No trouble in the world, ma’am, I assure you! In fact, we are very much obliged to you, for we had been wishing that we were to have company, eh, Robert?”