“Indeed!” said Judith, taking fire. “I shall not allow him to be a judge of my actions, ma’am. I believe my credit may survive a journey to Brighton in my brother’s curricle. You must know that my determination is fixed. I go with Perry.”
No arguments could move her; entreaties were useless. Mrs. Scattergood abandoned the struggle, and hurried away to send off a note to Worth.
Upon the following day Peregrine came to his sister and said, with a rueful grimace: “Maria must have split on you, Ju. I’ve been at White’s that morning, and met Worth there. The long and short of it is that you are to go in a chaise to Brighton.”
An interval of calm reflection had done much to soften Miss Taverner’s resolve; she could not but admit the justice of her chaperon’s words, and was more than a little inclined to submit gracefully to her wishes. But every tractable impulse, every regard for propriety, was shattered by Peregrine’s speech. She cried out: “What? Is this Lord Worth’s verdict? Do I understand that he takes it upon himself to arrange my mode of travel?”
“Well, yes,” said Peregrine. “That is to say, he has positively forbidden me to take you up in my curricle.”
“And you? What answer did you make?”
“I said I saw no harm in it. But you know Worth: I might as well have spared my breath.”
“You submitted? You let him dictate to you in that insufferable fashion?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, Ju, I did not see that it was such a great matter after all. And, you know, I don’t wish to quarrel with him just now, because I am in hopes that he will consent to my marriage this summer.”
“Consent to your marriage! He has no notion of doing so! He told me as much months ago. He does not mean you to be married if he can prevent it.”