CHAPTER XXXII.
ROSE ON HER DEFENCE.
All the country was stirred by the news of the return of the Mountfords, and the knowledge that they were, of all places in the world, at the ‘Black Bull’ at Hunston, which was the strangest place to go to, some people thought, though others were of opinion that Anne Mountford ‘showed her sense’ by taking the party there. It was Anne who got the credit of all the family arrangements, and sometimes without fully deserving it. Lady Meadowlands and Fanny Woodhead, though at the opposite ends of the social scale, both concurred in the opinion that it was the best thing they could have done. Why not go back to Mount? some people said, since it was well known that the bachelor cousin had put the house at their disposal, and the furniture there still belonged to Mrs. Mountford. But how could Anne go to Mount, both these ladies asked, when it was clear as daylight that Heathcote Mountford, the new master, was as much in love with her as a man could be? Very silly of him, no doubt, and she engaged: but oh dear, oh dear, Fanny Woodhead cried, what a waste of good material that all these people should be in love with Anne! why should they all be in love with Anne, when it was clear she could not marry more than one of them? Lady Meadowlands took a higher view, as was natural, being altogether unaffected by the competition which is so hard upon unmarried ladies in the country. She said it was a thousand pities that Anne had not seen Heathcote Mountford, a very good-looking man, and one with all his wits about him, and with a great deal of conversation, before she had been carried away with the tattle of that Mr. Douglas, who had no looks and no family, and was only the first man (not a clergyman) whom she had ever seen. In this particular, it will be observed, her ladyship agreed with Mr. Loseby, who had so often lamented over the lateness of Heathcote’s arrival on the field. All these good people ordered their carriages to drive to Hunston and call at the ‘Black Bull.’ The Miss Woodheads went in their little pony cart, and Lady Meadowlands in a fine London carriage, her town chariot, which was only taken out on great occasions: and the Rector was driven in by Charley very soberly in the vehicle which the younger son of the family, with all the impertinence of Oxford, profanely called a shandrydan. With each successive visitor Anne’s looks were, above all things, the most interesting subject. ‘I think it suits her,’ Lady Meadowlands said thoughtfully—which was a matter the others did not take into consideration. ‘Don’t you think so, Mr. Mountford?’ she said with deliberate cruelty to Heathcote, who rode back part of the way by her carriage door. ‘I am not a judge,’ he said; ‘I have a great deal of family feeling. I think most things suit my cousin Anne. If she were flushed and florid, most likely I should think the same.’
‘And you would be perfectly right,’ said the first lady in the county. ‘Whatever she does, you’d have her do so ever. You and I are of the same opinion, Mr. Mountford; but if I were you I would not leave a stone unturned to get her back to Mount.’ ‘If will would do it!’ he said. ‘Will can do everything,’ cried the great lady, waving her hand to him as she turned the corner. He stood still and gazed after her, shaking his head, while the beautiful bays devoured the way.
The most agitating of all these visitors to Anne were the Ashleys, who knew more about her, she felt, than all the rest put together. The Rector came in with an elaborately unconcerned countenance, paying his respects to the stepmother and commending the bloom of Rose—but, as soon as he could get an opportunity, came back to Anne and took her by the arm, as was his usual way. ‘Did you send it?’ he said in her ear, leading her toward the further window. It was a large broad bow-window with round sashes and old-fashioned panes, looking down the High Street of Hunston. They did not look at each other, but looked out upon the street as they stood there, the old man holding the girl close to him with his arm through hers.
‘Yes—I sent it—that very day——’
‘And he sent you an answer?’
A tremor ran through Anne’s frame which the Rector was very sensible of; but he did not spare her, though he pitied her.
‘I—suppose so: there was a letter; it is all over now, if that is what you mean. Don’t talk about it any more.’
Mr. Ashley held her close by the arm, which he caressed with the pressure of his own. ‘He took it, then, quietly—he did not make any resistance?’ he said.