“Certainly,” agreed Mr. Beaumaris. “Was I not just saying so?”
Miss Blackburn, having undergone a life-time of slights and snubs, was quick to catch the satirical inflexion. She cast him a scared, deprecating look, and coloured. His eyes met hers; he stood looking down at her for a moment, and then said in a much kinder tone: “I am afraid you are not quite comfortable there, ma’am. Will you not draw nearer to the fire?”
She was thrown into a flutter, and assured him rather disjointedly that she was perfectly comfortable, and himself too good, too obliging! Brough had come into the room with a tray of glasses and decanters, which he set down on a table, and Mr. Beaumaris moved towards it, saying: “You will like to go upstairs with my housekeeper, I daresay, to take off your wet coat, but first you must let me give you a glass of wine.” He began to pour out some Madeira. “Two extra covers for dinner, Brough—which you will serve immediately,”
Brough thought of the Davenport fowls roasting on the spits in the kitchen, and of the artist in charge of them, and was visibly shaken. “Immediately, sir?” he said, in a failing voice,
“Let us say, within half-an-hour,” amended Mr. Beaumaris, carrying a glass of wine over to Miss Blackburn.
“Yes, sir,” said Brough, and tottered from the room, a broken man.
Miss Blackburn accepted the wine gratefully, but when it was offered to Arabella she declined it. Papa did not like his daughters to taste anything stronger than porter, or the very mild claret-cup served at the Harrowgate Assembly Rooms, and she was a little doubtful of its possible effect on her. Mr. Beaumaris did not press her in any way, but set the glass down again, poured out some sherry for himself and his friend, and returned to sit beside Miss Blackburn on the sofa.
Lord Fleetwood, meanwhile, had ensconced himself beside Arabella, and was chatting to her in his inconsequent, cheerful way, which set her quite at ease. He was delighted to hear that she was on her way to London, hoped to have the pleasure of meeting her there—in the Park, possibly, or at Almack’s. He had plenty of anecdotes of ton with which to entertain her, and rattled on in an agreeable fashion until the housekeeper came to escort the ladies upstairs.
They were taken to a guest-chamber on the first floor, and handed over there to a housemaid, who brought up hot water for them, and bore their damp coats away to be dried in the kitchen.
“Everything in the first style of elegance!” breathed Miss Blackburn. “But we should not be dining here! I feel sure we ought not, my dear Miss Tallant!”