Archie scratched his head: even heroes go through that undignified process occasionally. ‘Upon my word, I don’t know what to make of the governor,’ he said. ‘He seems to get more crotchety every day. Here, according to what you say, he sends poor Etheridge all the way from Spa as the bearer of a letter which any other man would have intrusted to the post; then he apparently changes his mind and telegraphs for me to meet him in London. To London I go, and there wait, dangling my heels; but no Mr Governor turns up. Then Blatchett receives a telegram from somewhere—by-the-bye, he never told me where he did receive it from—in which I am instructed to return to Windermere immediately, and am told that my long-lost papa will meet his boy there. It’s jolly aggravating, to say the least of it.’
‘Mr Etheridge says that Sir William may perhaps want to see me. O Archie, I was never so frightened in my life!’
He soothed and petted her after the fashion which young men are supposed to find effectual in such cases, and presently they drew up at the hotel.
They went at once to the sitting-room, the only inmates of which they found to be Lady Renshaw, Bella, and Mr Golightly. The last had come to inquire whether Miss Wynter would go for a row on the lake after dinner. If she would, there was a particular boat which he would like to engage beforehand.
Lady Renshaw was doubtful. She was inclined to think that Bella had caught cold on the lake in the morning. She had sneezed more than once. It would scarcely be advisable, her ladyship thought, for Miss Wynter to venture on the water again in the chill of the evening. Besides, the clouds looked threatening, and to be caught in a storm on the lake, she had been told, was dangerous.
In short, without exactly wishing to discourage Mr Golightly, she was desirous of damping his ardour in some measure for the time being. Till she should be able to judge how events were likely to shape themselves, he must not be allowed too many opportunities of being alone with Bella; perhaps even, at the end, it might become necessary to give him the cold shoulder altogether.
Lady Renshaw was in the midst of her platitudes when Archie and Clarice entered the room. On their way from the station Clarice had spoken of her sister’s indisposition, so that Archie was prepared not to find Madame De Vigne downstairs; but probably he had hardly counted upon coming so unexpectedly on her ladyship. As, however, she was there, the only possibility left him was to look as pleasant as possible.
He greeted her with as much cordiality as he could summon up at a moment’s notice, and then he turned to Miss Wynter, whose pretty face he was really pleased to see again. There was a hidden meaning laughing out of his eyes as he shook hands with her. It was as though he had said: ‘You naughty girl, I should like to spoil your little game, just for the fun of the thing, but I won’t.’
He did spoil it, however, a moment later, all unwittingly. Turning to Dick, who appeared to be gazing abstractedly out of one of the windows, he gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. ‘Dulcimer, old chappie, how are you? Delighted to see you again.’
Next moment he could have bitten his tongue out.