Miss Letty broke in hotly with a flat disclaimer. She turned to the coachman and demanded whether it was not a fair duel. Perceiving that his late master was in danger of being convicted — if you could convict a dead man, of which ticklish point he was not certain — of abduction, the coachman bestowed some of his support on the other side. Decidedly it had been a fair fight, so far as he was able to judge.
The affair was, in fact, a strange mystery, but the officers of the Law hoped to unravel it.
Sir Humphrey shook his head gravely when he found himself alone with his daughter, and said only that they were not likely to hear the end of this for many a long day.
Chapter 26
Arrest of Mr Merriot
My Lady Lowestoft was true to her word: she bore her guests off to the Richmond house, and gave there, lest any should think the retirement suspicious, a large ball. All London came, including my Lord Barham, who was overpoweringly resplendent in silver brocade, and wonderfully benign. Sir Anthony Fanshawe was also there. He danced several times with Miss Merriot, and Mr Molyneux was inclined to think that there was a match in that direction. Quite a number of people were of his opinion: Prudence told Robin she was growing jealous.
She had a little tussle of wills with the large gentleman that evening: he was pledged to visit his sister, and he wanted to take Prudence with him. She would have none of it; she, too, had some strength of purpose and her nay could be very steadfast.
She had, in fact, small desire to be presented to my Lady Enderby in her present guise. Sir Anthony guessed something of this, and drew a reassuring picture of his sister. She was, he said, a comfortable soul, with no respect for conventions. Still Prudence held to her refusal. To go down to Hampshire with Sir Anthony meant that she must marry him forthwith; she wanted to see first the issue of the old gentleman’s claim. Sir Anthony must be guarded against himself.
It cost her something to stand out so resolutely against him; for all her calm she was troubled, and looked wistfully when Sir Anthony ceased to press her. She had seen that expression in his face once or twice before; she remembered how at the very outset she had remarked to Robin that she would not choose to cross him. Well, it was true, and he was an ill man to withstand. But one had one’s pride after all. Egad, it was a poor love that could wish to see the gentleman pulled down to marry an adventuress. That sister of his had probably some views other than he knew of on the subject of his marriage. My Lord Barham’s daughter would be well enough; an impostor’s daughter very ill indeed.
She stood still before him, a slim figure in dove-grey velvet, one hand fingering the black riband that held her quizzing-glass, and her tranquil eyes resting on his face. Even though he was angry with her for her obstinacy he could find it in him to admire the firm set of her mouth, and the clean-cut determination of her chin. She had spirit, this girl, in the man’s clothes, and with the man’s brain. Ay, and she had courage too, and a calmness of demeanour that pleased. No hysterics there; no sentimentalism; no wavering that one could see. Bravery! He warmed to the thought of it. She made nothing of this masquerade; she had faith in herself, and for all the restfulness that characterised her, that slow speech, and the slow smile she had, the wits of her were quick, and marvellously resourceful. She would fleece the wolf at cards, flash a sword out on a party of Mohocks, and stand by with a cool head while her brother fought a grim duel. She could even contemplate a duel on her own account without outward flinching.