“Until Hector gets drunk and upsets the carriage in a ditch,” whispered Lyddon to Angela, who was present.
The start was made on a bright morning in the middle of December. The Harrowby carriage, like all those of the period, had boxes under the seats meant to carry clothes and a rack behind for a trunk, and that accommodated the ladies’ luggage. In addition was a large box filled with provisions and with a dozen bottles of Mrs. Tremaine’s very best blackberry wine, for supplies were scarce and dear in Richmond. It was arranged that the ladies should return in April.
To themselves and to all the family at Harrowby, except Archie, there was a slight feeling of relief at the separation for the winter. Archie had become devotedly attached to Madame Isabey and insisted on following the carriage on horseback a day’s journey to show his regret at parting with his elderly friend, who never ceased to amuse and delight him.
The parting was courtesy itself on both sides. Mrs. Tremaine accepted as a certainty that the ladies would return in April to remain during their pleasure. Many of the county families had guests upon the same indefinite terms, and the arrangement was thought in no way remarkable.
Madame Isabey and Adrienne both expressed the deepest gratitude for the kindness shown them, and promised to return in the spring. Yet there was a certain and secret feeling of satisfaction on both sides when the carriage drove off.
Colonel Tremaine sat by Hector’s side upon the box to see that he did not upset the carriage at the first opportunity, and Archie, like a true cavalier, galloped by the carriage window. He was not expected to return until the morrow. But at sunset on the same day he was seen riding rapidly down the wide cedar-bordered lane. Angela, who was returning from an afternoon walk with Lyddon, said to him: “Archie must bring bad news.”
So thought Mrs. Tremaine, who saw him from the window and came out on the porch to meet him.
“It’s nothing, mother!” he cried, “only Richard is a little ill in Richmond. He caught the measles, just think of it, just think of it! And father met a messenger coming to tell us of it. He sent me back to tell you and to say that if you start at once you will be able to catch up with him at King William Court House to-morrow night, where he will sleep. I am to drive you in the Stanhope gig.”
“I shall be ready to start in half an hour,” replied Mrs. Tremaine without a moment’s hesitation.
Immediately preparations were begun for her departure. Angela followed her, anxious to be of service, and to her Mrs. Tremaine gave the keys and a few household directions. Angela had taken a share in housekeeping since she was twelve years old and accepted the responsibility now laid upon her as the most natural thing in the world. Most of the autumn labor on the estate was over; the negroes’ clothes and shoes were made, and the winter provisions laid in. The chief thing to be attended to was an army of turkeys, ducks, and chickens, and Mammy Tulip, as an expert, had charge of the fowl yard.