“I daresay he was on his way to White’s,” said her ladyship.
“But he saw me! I know he saw me, and knew me too! I not immediately perceive him, and when I did look toward him he was standing quite still, staring up at me! I thought I should have died of fright! I ran away from the window came directly in search of you, Deb! Oh, what is to be doing. I won’t go back, I won’t, but I know Papa will come to fetch me, and Mama too, very likely!”
“Well, if Augusta Laxton comes into this house I shall know what to do!” said Lady Bellingham, with unwonted pugnaciously. “I do not wish to speak ill of your Mama, Phoebe, but she is odious, mercenary, cheating wretch! She used to play faro at my parties, when we lived in the smaller house, and at times did I catch her cocking her card! Let her attempt to find her way in here, that is all I have to say!”
Miss Laxton, however, refused to be comforted. She quite sure that she would be wrested from her friends’ protection, and compelled to marry Sir James Filey. No representations which Miss Grantham could make of the impossibility of her being compelled to marry anyone bore any weight with her; she seemed to be determined to give herself up for lost. It was with considerable relief that Miss Grantham learned, a few minutes later, that Lord Mablethorpe was belowstairs.
“Desire him to come up!” she said. “You will not object to his coming into your dressing-room, aunt?”
“Oh no, let him come!” said her ladyship, quite exhausted by her efforts to reassure Phoebe. “I do not care who comes, if only they can put some sense into this stupid girl’s head! I will say this for you, Deb: you may lock people up in the cellar, and fling thousands of pounds in their faces as though it was mud, but you don’t cry! Nothing could be more tiresome, when all is said and done! If that is you at the door, Mablethorpe, come in this instant, and do something!”
Lord Mablethorpe came in, looking a little shy, and rather startled. He began to apologize for intruding upon Lady Bellingham in her dressing-room, but stopped short at the sight of Miss Laxton, and started forward, exclaiming, “Good God, what is the matter?”
Miss Laxton, who had been lying with her eyes closed, apparently on the verge of yet another swoon, revived sufficiently to sit up, and to cast herself into his lordship’s arms. Miss Grantham then abandoned her own attempts to bring relief to her suffering protégée, and stood back to see what success his lordship’s efforts might meet with.
“What a fool that woman is never to have told her daughter that nothing can be more fatal than to weep all down a man’s waistcoat!” whispered Lady Bellingham, quite exasperated. “They can’t bear it, and I’m sure I don’t wonder!”
But Lord Mablethorpe did not seem to mind being wept over. Miss Grantham could not but admire his handling of a situation which she frankly acknowledged to be beyond her power to mend. In a remarkably short time, Miss Laxton had stopped crying, and was even able to smile tremulously up at his lordship, and to beg his pardon for having been such a goose. Now that he had come, she said, she knew that she would be safe.