He hesitated a good deal, and then said flatly he should not tell her, so it was no use her asking him; at least now, though she would very likely know it by and bye; he then added in a confidential tone, that he was going to leave home for a short time; but that he hoped in a few days to return to her with pleasure. She could not compliment him by pretending to be sorry at his departure, as she really cared very little about it; but she enquired, by way of making some kind of answer, whether his sister was acquainted with his plans. He told her she was not yet, but that he intended to tell her the first opportunity, as he had not yet had time to tell her, his project had been so suddenly formed; it originated solely in some news he had heard that morning.
Emma was too indifferent about him, to feel any curiosity as to the reason of his journey or its object—for she little suspected that it nearly concerned herself; the fact being that, in consequence of the scandal that Fanny Carr had repeated in the morning, he had resolved to go over to Croydon and exert himself to trace and confute, what he was certain were only base calumnies, and when he had succeeded in triumphantly proving her innocence, he meant to lay at her feet his title and his fortune. He was perfectly delighted at the prospect of proving his devotion to her by this piece of knight-errantry,—which, he flattered himself, would render him quite irresistible in her eyes; indeed, he had serious thoughts, if the original fabricator of these lies was a man, of challenging him—a step which he firmly believed would not fail to secure the heart of any woman, for whom the duel was fought.
His ideas on this subject were rather derived from the old-fashioned novels, where the hero invariably fights at least three duels, to clear the character of his lady-love.
Very soon after imparting this information to Emma, there came a division in the party; Lady Gordon having persuaded her husband to change places with her brother for several reasons. One of the motives that actuated her, was a wish to converse with Lord Osborne on the reports relative to Emma, and learn what he thought of Miss Carr's stories. But she rather wished likewise to separate him from Emma—with whom she thought he had been enjoying too long a tête-à-tête; and she was, moreover, determined to prove the entire absence of all jealousy as a wife, notwithstanding the insinuations of her friend.
Emma was always pleased with Sir William's company and conversation, and enjoyed this part of her ride much more than the first. She had the pleasant conviction in her mind that Sir William liked her; a feeling which made their intercourse very agreeable—and, as to the scandal which Miss Carr had tried to insinuate on that subject—she was so perfectly ignorant of it, that it never occurred to her that an exception to their being together could possibly be taken.
All Lady Gordon's eloquence and persuasive powers—seconded by the strongest curiosity, failed to draw from her brother an acknowledgement of his purpose in leaving home, or a definite opinion as to his belief, or otherwise, in Miss Carr's stories. On this subject, indeed, he was particularly impracticable, only exclaiming—
"Pshaw! don't ask me, Rosa, about any thing she says—you know I never listen to her."
One thing which greatly excited her curiosity, was the manner of her brother's journey; she had questioned him as to how he intended to travel, and he only told her to guess. In vain she attempted to do so. His carriages were all enumerated in vain—his horses, his servants, were not to accompany him; she concluded that he must be going on foot, and the object of his journey became more mysterious than ever.
He piqued himself on his discretion, and was delighted to torment her, until she was obliged to own herself fairly puzzled, and then he told her to console her—"Time would show."
In fact Lord Osborne left the Castle the next morning in a gig, with a single attendant, who only accompanied him a couple of miles, and then returned home, leaving his lordship and his portmanteau at a small road-side public house. Further than this, nothing was to be extracted by the most adroit questioning of Lady Gordon's woman, who well knew how curious her mistress was on the subject. But although his expedition was a secret to his relatives and friends, it is none to the reader, and we shall, therefore, without ceremony leave him at the public-house in question, until the stage-coach through Croydon passed, and picking him up transported him the rest of the journey.