Chapter XVIII
Once having taken her resolution, not all Miss Beccles’ prayers—and she uttered many—had the power to prevent Elinor from setting forth in search of Carlyon. The barouche which the late Mrs. Cheviot had used was still in the coach house, but so covered with dust that it was obviously useless to expect it to be got ready for Elinor in the little time at her disposal. She adopted instead Barrow’s suggestion that she should take Eustace Cheviot’s phaeton, a vehicle very much more to her taste than the gig. The groom, rather pleased to have something more in his line to do than the gardening to which he had been set, hurried to put on his livery and to harness one of Eustace Cheviot’s horses to the carriage. When he discovered that his mistress had formed the intention of driving herself and required him merely to sit beside her and to direct her, he looked dubious and ventured to inform her that the mare, not having been exercised for some days, was lamentable fresh. Mrs. Cheviot deigned no reply to this but took the reins in a businesslike way and drove off at a spanking pace. By the time the groom had watched her loop a rein, as they swung out of the gate onto the lane, and catch the thong of her whip without so much as glancing at it, he was very much impressed, and treated her with all the deference she could have desired.
Highnoons was only some seven miles distant from the Hall, but the roads to it were narrow and full of bends, so that it was nearly three-quarters of an hour before Mrs. Cheviot was drawing up outside the Hall. The drive had done much to steady the agitation of her nerves, and she was able to ask for his lordship in a voice of tolerable composure. The butler and the footman who admitted her were both too well trained to show any surprise at her unconventional arrival, and she was at once bowed into a handsome saloon and begged to take a seat while his lordship was informed of her visit. She had not long to wait. The firm tread she was beginning to know soon came to her ears, and she started up out of her chair even as the butler flung open the door for Carlyon to pass into the saloon.
“My dear Mrs. Cheviot!” he said, coming toward her with his hand held out. “You should be laid down upon your bed! How is this?”
Her gloved hand clung to his urgently. “My lord, I had to come! I am quite well—the fresh air has even done me good. I was obliged to come had I been twice as unwell!”
“You cannot doubt of my happiness in welcoming you to my house, ma’am. Only the conviction that it cannot be good for you to exert yourself so unwisely has the power to mar it. But will you not come into the library? It is chilly in here and I think you are cold already.”
“Thank you. It is nothing to signify! I have something of the greatest importance to disclose to you!”
“We shall be perfectly private in the library,” he said, opening the door for her and leading her across the hall. The footman sprang to open the library door and was desired to bring wine and cakes to the room.
“Indeed, I require nothing!” Elinor said.
“You will let me be the best judge of that, ma’am,” Carlyon said, closing the door. “May I take your pelisse? I wonder what you were thinking of to come out in this weather with only that to protect you from the wind?”