Marion gave no sign of the dismay she felt as Beckenham explained his position; when he offered his criticism of her plan her eyes flashed. She rose.
'As you are in Her Majesty's service, sir, there is nothing more to be said, except to thank you for your kindness in coming to the house.'
Beckenham bowed.
'Forgive me,' he said, something of the look his messmates knew coming into his eyes. 'There is something to be said. It would be an ill reward to the friendship with which Lady Fairfax has always favoured me if I failed her at this point.'
'Failed her, sir?'
'Failed her, madam. Lady Fairfax is away, her husband is away, Colonel Sampson is away. For the moment you are unprotected. I would not let my sister or my mother travel so far without suitable escort. Shall I allow a lady whom I would honour as I do either, to set out on such a dangerous road? I must offer a very humble but very real protest, Mistress Marion. May not the matter wait?'
'It may not wait.'
Marion sat down again, her anger undone by the manner of Beckenham's speech. The two were silent awhile, the gentleman watching his companion, who was toying with the lid of her aunt's sweetmeat box, her thoughts already running ahead to the problem as to which of the Fairfax servants she would choose to take Beckenham's place.
'Is your mind fully made up, Mistress Marion?' asked the soldier, his face still troubled.
Marion's grey eyes met his own with what was known by her aunt as the Penrock look.