Fearing that non-compliance might result in the indignity of being struck on the back with the sword while in flight, Everell obeyed. Ere he could think, his blade had crossed that of Foxwell, who a second time bade the three underlings hold off. The two gentlemen made their swords ring swiftly, in that part of the garden near the steps, Caleb moving the lantern so as to keep its light upon them. Georgiana watched in fearful silence, Prudence clinging to her and recurrently moaning, “Oh, lor!” Rashleigh stood on the steps, ready to interfere at call. The combatants seemed admirably matched, and each had reason to admire the other’s fencing. But, to Everell’s relief, it presently became apparent that the elder man’s arm was weakening. The Jacobite now indulged the hope of disarming him. But Foxwell, too, saw that possibility. He beckoned Rashleigh, who thereupon ran forward and struck up Everell’s sword, while the groom and the gardener, obeying a swift command of their master, seized the Jacobite’s elbows from behind. Everell made a violent effort to throw them off, but in sheer strength he was no match for them. Relinquishing the attempt, he said, quietly, to Foxwell, “’Twas scarcely fair.”
“For that I beg your pardon,” replied Foxwell, still panting for breath. “In a matter between us two alone as gentlemen, ’twould be dastardly. But I had to take you at all cost. You would not surrender; though you certainly owe me an explanation on one score, and are an object of suspicion on another.”
“Oh, Everell!” murmured Georgiana, who had fallen to weeping, and was heedful only of her lover’s plight and not at all of her uncle’s words.
“Everell, say you? Bring the lantern here, Caleb.” In the better light, Foxwell scrutinized his prisoner’s face. “The scar on the cheek, too. ’Tis as I thought. But how Miss Foxwell happens to participate—well, there will be time for explanations. Sir, if you will give me your parole d’honneur, I need not inflict upon you the restraint of—” He indicated the cords in Caleb’s possession.
“I thank you, but I prefer to retain my right of escape.”
“In that case, you will admit the necessity of the precautions I reluctantly take.” And Foxwell set about directing the servants in fastening the captive’s wrists behind him, and in tying his ankles so as to limit the length of his steps. With a courteous “Allow me, sir,” Foxwell disengaged the sword from Everell’s fingers and returned it to its own scabbard, which Everell had retained at his side. This act of grace the Jacobite acknowledged with a bow.
“Uncle, you will not detain this gentleman?” entreated Georgiana, conquering her tears. “He has done you no offence. As to our meeting here, I will tell you all; the fault is mine.”
“Not so!” said Everell, quickly. “If there be any fault in that, ’tis mine. Sir, it was not by Miss Foxwell’s desire that I came here; it was against her will that I spoke to her. My presence was forced upon her.”
“Well, well, you shall be heard presently. You have a more serious charge to face than making love clandestinely to young ladies.—As for you, Georgiana, I thought you were in your chamber, wrapped in the sleep of innocence. I’ll never trust prudery again. I beg you will go in immediately, miss.”
“Uncle, I will not go till you have set this gentleman free. You shall have all my gratitude and obedience: I’ll give you no cause of complaint. Be kind—generous—I pray—” Her voice failing her, she fell upon her knees, and essayed to take Foxwell’s hand.