A Rescue

26

A Rescue

    Scarcely had Nan made up her mind to look forward to a peaceful summer and forget about London and all its nonsense, than there was a knock at her bedroom door.

    “What ees eet?” she called.

    The door opened and Dom appeared, holding a candle. “Ructions.”

    “Help; are they all right?” she gasped, sitting up in bed.

    “Oh, they’re fine and dandy,” he said on a grim note. “But you had best come down. They’ve—er—picked up an extra passenger on the way back from Marlow.”

    “What?” she said dazedly, reaching for a wrapper.

    “You’ll see,” he said grimly.

    In the downstairs sitting-room Mrs Stewart and Susan were very flushed, Daphne had a dubious expression on her face, and Mrs Urqhart was looking wry. Mr Charleson was looking desperate. Mr Urqhart, who had not accompanied his mother’s house guests to Marlow, was standing with a book in his hand, looking disconcerted. And on the sitting-room sofa sat a little pale, slim, brown-haired lady in a shabby grey pelisse, whom Nan had never laid eyes on before in her life.

    Dom cleared his throat. “Thees ees my sister: Lady Benedict. Nan, thees ees—uh—Miss Smeeth.”

    The little pale lady looked up, and Nan saw that she was very young. And very red-eyed.

    “Pray forgive the intrusion,” she said in a trembling voice.

    “Well, eet ees not my house, Miss Smeeth, but Mr Urqhart’s,” said Nan, smiling kindly at her. “But what ees the matter? Are you een trouble?”

    Miss Smith nodded convulsively, biting her lip hard and looking as if she was going to cry.

    “Found her by the roadside, in a state,” said Mrs Urqhart briefly. “Won’t say what’s up.”

    Nan could not forebear to stare, a little: Miss Smith, or whatever her real name might be, was very clearly a lady, shabby though she was.

    “We could not possibly leave her there,” said Mrs Stewart, still very flushed.

    “No, indeed!” agreed Susan vigorously, also still very flushed.

    “I suppose not,” agreed Daphne, still dubious.

    “Accordin’ to these, she was sitting on a milestone, crying her eyes out,” explained Dom neutrally.

    It was obvious that he was reserving judgement. Nan swallowed. “No, of course you could not leave her, my dears!”

    “That was what they thought: aye,” agreed Mrs Urqhart drily.

    Nan had to bite her lip. “I theenk you had best tell us exactly what the matter ees, Miss Smeeth. Then we may perhaps figure out a way to help you.” She avoided Mrs Urqhart’s eye.

    “That would certainly be sensible,” said Timothy Urqhart firmly. “In the meantime, I shall ring for some refreshment for us all: you look chilled, Miss Smith.”

    “Yes: we shall all take a leetle sometheeng, no?” said Nan, seating herself beside Miss Smith on the sofa. “Sit down, my dears, do not tower over us.”

    Obediently they all seated themselves—Dom, however, still looking exceedingly noncommittal.

    “Een the meantime,” said Nan, as they waited for hot negus to be brought, Mrs Urqhart having declared that it would hit the spot: “how was the party at Marlow?”

    There was a startled silence: obviously they had forgot they had ever been to a party. Then Mrs Stewart replied with an effort, not unaware of Mrs Urqhart’s sardonic eye upon her: “Very pleasant indeed.”

    “Yes,” agreed Susan, also with an effort. “Major-General Sir Percy Wayneflete was most disappointed that you were not able to come, Nan.”

    “Expect a posy tomorrow, then,” noted Dom.

    “Don’t,” said Nan. biting her lip. “Well, I am glad eet was pleasant, my dears. Deed you enjoy yourself, Daphne?”

    “What?” she said, jumping. “Oh—eet was well enough, I suppose. –I weesh you had come, Mr Urqhart,” she said to him suddenly, “for there was a gentleman there who spoke of the new ventures weeth tea een the hills een India, and I know the firm ees vairy much eenvolved een that, but I could not tell heem what he weeshed to know.”

    Mr Urqhart flushed up a little and replied quietly: “Indeed, I wish that I had been there, Miss Baldaya.”

    “It were that fat Mr Tobias Vane,” explained Mrs Urqhart.

    “Yes, exactly,” agreed Daphne. “But I do not theenk you know heem, sir? Eet appears he ees a connoisseur.”

    Mrs Urqhart gave a very faint sniff. “The only thing he has in common with Lord Rockingham. Though he don’t bore on about it to the extent that fat old Tobias Vane do. Dare say we might send old Fatty a sample of that latest batch, hey, Tim?”

    “Eendeed, he would be threelled to receive eet!” said Daphne.

    “Then I shall do so,” he said, smiling at her.

    Most of those present could clearly see that it was not Mr Tobias Vane’s interest in tea which had so pleased Mr Urqhart, but Daphne’s bothering to report the subject to him at all. Several persons, though they did have other matters on their minds, could not forebear to wonder how Daphne could not also realize this. But she certainly appeared quite unaware.

    The negus duly came, and when they had all drunk some Mrs Urqhart lay back in her chair with a sigh and said to their unexpected guest: “Now, deary, we don’t mean to pry. And if you is in trouble at home, well, depending on the circumstances, we won’t necessarily feel as we have to send you back. For none on us here is what you might call total conventional-minded. Only we has to know. Otherwise, it’ll be Bow Street, right smart.”

    Mrs Stewart locked at her distressfully, but said in a low voice to Miss Smith: “Dear Mrs Urqhart is in the right of it, my dear. You must try to tell us.”

    “Eef eet ees sometheeng you would rather not say een front of gentlemen, Miss Smeeth,” added Dom, “we three weell leave the room.”

    “Aye!” agreed Mr Charleson loudly, an expression of relief replacing his desperate one.

    “Certainly,” said Mr Urqhart, very much more quietly, but still looking immeasurably relieved.

    “Pikers, ain’t they?” said Mrs Urqhart to the ambient air. “That is gents all over: first hint o’ trouble, ’specially of a domestic kind—never mind if it be one o’ their lot what has caused it—and they is off like the wind, leavin’ it all to the womenfolk!”

    “Rubbeesh,” said Dom with his easy smile. “I merely weesh not to cause Miss Smeeth any embarrassment. But as for domestic trouble—! Nan and I have sorted out a sight of eet together, have we not? There was that silly housemaid of Hugo’s, not a se’en-night after the funeral, what had got into trouble with a groom, and then before that, een India—”

    “Dom, don’t,” murmured Nan, looking at little Miss Smith’s face.

    “Eh? Oh. Well, begging your pardon, ladies!” he said, twinkling kindly at Miss Smith. “But eef these other fellows are pikers, let me assure you, Miss Smeeth, nothing you have to say weell shock me.”

    “Actual, that be true enough,” admitted Mrs Urqhart. “I has discovered quite recent as Mr Baldaya is a sensible man, and not shockable.”

    Miss Smith was very flushed, as well as tearful, but she did not cry, and looked Mrs Urqhart bravely in the face as she said: “It is nothing like that, ma’am. I have not got into that sort of trouble.”

    “Glad to hear it,” said Mrs Urqhart drily.

    Miss Smith took a deep breath. “I—I have run away from home.”

    “We can see that,” said the old lady.

    “Mrs Urqhart, that ain’t fair!” protested Dom, trying not to laugh. “Come along, Miss Smeeth, you had best make a clean breast of eet.”

    “Yes. I— My Papa wishes me to marry a very much older gentleman and—and I cannot!” she said, shuddering.

    “Oh,” said Dom dubiously.

    “No, of course you cannot!” cried Daphne sympathetically.

    “No, indeed,” agreed Susan, smiling warmly at her.

    “Now, hold on a minute,” said Mrs Urqhart, holding up a cautionary hand. “In the first instance, Miss Smith, how old is you, and how old is he? And in the second, what is wrong with him apart from his age?”

    “My dear ma’am,” said Mrs Stewart in a very low voice: “would that not be enough?”

    “To land herself up stranded halfway to Marlow in the middle of the night? No, it would not!”

    “I theenk eet might be, depending on the circumstances,” said Nan, taking a deep breath. “You must tell us all of eet, Miss Smeeth.”

    “Yes,” said Mr Urqhart. “But I think it would, indeed, be easier for you if we gentlemen left. –Shall we?” he said to Mr Charleson. Eric nodded, and they went out.

    “You, too, Dom!” urged Daphne. She got up, reseated herself on the sofa with Nan and Miss Smith, and took the latter’s hand. “Then Miss Smeeth may speak easily.”

    “I am not going anywhere,” replied Dom grimly.

    “Of course you must not, Mr Bal—Balbaya,” said Miss Smith shyly, blushing very much but looking him bravely in the eye. “You must think I am imposing most dreadfully on your kind sisters and friends, and—and indeed, I fear I am.”

    “I has to admit Susan and Mrs Stewart was nigh to an apoplexy when I said as how picking up young damsels discovered sitting on milestones by the side of public roads were a receet for disaster,” noted Mrs Urqhart neutrally.

    “Mrs Urqhart,” asked Dom, his eyes twinkling, “eef you had been alone een the carriage, would you have hesitated?”

    Mrs Urqhart replied very crossly indeed: “Out of course I would not, but we has a houseful of young girls, here!”

    He smiled very much, but said to Miss Smith: “Pray proceed, Miss Smeeth.”

    “Um, I am not precisely sure of the gentleman’s age, but he—he is truly very elderly. and—and not pleasant. Um—well, he is older than my Papa, I am very sure.”

    Horrors: Miss Smith looked about seventeen, so her papa might be as much as forty! Nan and Dom exchanged cautious glances.

    “Stop eet!” said their sister crossly, reading their minds without difficulty. “Nan was married to an older gentleman, Miss Smeeth: eendeed, to two much older gentlemen, and she was vairy happy and—and we all loved them vairy much.”

    “I beg your pardon,” said Miss Smith to Nan, turning scarlet. “Of course I did not mean to imply— But he—he is truly horrid,” she said in a low voice.

    “So how old are you?” asked Dom firmly.

    “I am nearly eighteen, Mr Balbaya.”

    “Seventeen. Well, that’s young. And what would you estimate thees old gentleman’s age to be?”

    “Forty?” said Mrs Urqhart in a terrifyingly neutral voice.

    Miss Smith counted on her fingers. “No, he must be much more. For he was once at the Court of France, when poor Queen Marie Antoinette was queen. And even though he said he was but a lad at the time, still—”

    Several jaws had sagged. After a minute Dom said very cautiously. “Ees he a foreign gentleman. Miss Smeeth?”

    She nodded.

    “A French émigré?”

    “No,” she said, biting her lip.

    Dom swallowed.

    “German,” stated Mrs Urqhart.

    Miss Smith nodded very hard. “Mr Balbaya, truly he is horrid!” she declared earnestly. “He is very fat and—and scented, and he wuh-wears a wuh-wig. And—and puts powder upon his face.”

    Dom’s shoulders quivered but he replied, straight-faced: “Would thees be a wig of horrid yaller curls, Miss Smeeth?”

    “Why, yes,” she said, staring.

    Dom fought to control his mouth. “The Prince Frédéric von Maltzahn-Dressen?”

    “Yes!” she said in astonishment.

    “Dom, she cannot posseebly marry that fat old creature!” cried Nan in horror.

    “No, eendeed! He ees positively decrepit, and gross!” cried Daphne.

    Mrs Stewart nodded, looking anxiously at Mrs Urqhart.

    “She would be comfortable enough with old Pom-Pom.”

    “Mrs Urqhart!” cried Nan.

    “Well, me lovey, he would not do for you, but then, you has chances. What has this little girl got, hey? What sort of home do she come from? If her Pa is forcin’ her to a distasteful marriage, ain’t she better off out of his house?”

    “Not weeth Pom-Pom von Maltzahn-Dressen,” said Dom definitely.

    “No,” Nan agreed. “He ees—he ees abhorrent!”

    Dom scowled. “He ees more than abhorrent. He—” broke off, looking at Susan and Daphne.

    “Dom, say eet! I am not a child!” cried Daphne

    ‘You are so far as thees ees concerned. I theenk eet would be better eef you and Susan left the room a moment.”

    Susan got up with some relief.

    “Mrs Stewart, do not stay eef you would rather not,” added Dom kindly.

    Mrs Stewart was very flushed, but she said firmly: “No, I shall stay, Mr Baldaya. Daphne, my dear, please go with Susan.” Daphne looked reluctant, but went.

    Dom took a deep breath. “I shall speak plain. Please forgive me, Miss Smeeth. You are een the right of eet, you must not marry Frédéric von Maltzahn-Dressen.”

    “Dare say he ain’t diseased,” opined Mrs Urqhart. “Never heard it, at all  events.”

    “Possibly he ees not; certainly he looks healthy, as much as a man of that bulk may. That ees not entirely the point. Though I should not care to expose a daughter of mine to that sort of reesk,” he said, his nostrils flaring.

    Nan shuddered. “No.”

    “The theeng ees,” said Dom, very grimly indeed: “he has mignons. Strictly speaking, one would have to say, both mignons and mignonnes, none of ’em over nineteen or so. And disports heemself with both types at the same time.”

    “Girls and boys. All in the bed with him, lovey,” explained Mrs Urqhart to the bewildered little Miss Smith with a sigh. “Your instincts was right about him. That type of man—though dunno as I’d call it a man—well, that type, he will do nasty things to a pretty little flower like you without never thinkin’ twice about it. Married or not.”

    “Yes, well, eet ees a particular vice, and I would not like to say that, seence he has been practising eet all these years, he would refrain weeth hees wife. Well, might, eef she were an older woman,” added Dom.

    “I think I see,” she faltered.

    Nan squeezed her hand hard and gave her brother a warning look.

    “We all see,” said Mrs Stewart faintly. “It would be a terrible fate, indeed.”

    “Aye,” said Mrs Urqhart, sighing. “Well, thank you for tellin’ us, Dom, lovey. Don’t you fret, Miss Smith, we shall see as you never need go near the creature as long as you live.”

    “Yes,” said Dom grimly. He strode over to the door and opened it, saying: “Come back een. We are all convinced she shall not marry Pom-Pom, so you may be easy on that score. –Now, Miss Smeeth,” he said, as Susan and Daphne sat down again, looking relieved: “seence we know eet ees Pom-Pom von Maltzahn-Dressen, we have guessed you cannot be nobody.”

    “Here! What become o’ Miss Boynton?” asked Mrs Urqhart suddenly.

    “My papa says that her mamma would not permit it,” faltered Miss Smith.

    “Hm! And how about your mamma, hey?”

    “She died when I was born, and—and Papa has always borne me a grudge, for not being a boy. And—and he is a bad man, but I think he truly loved Mamma, once!” She burst into tears.

    Daphne immediately put an arm round her. Mrs Urqhart, more practically, passed her a handkerchief.

    “Who are you, then?” said Dom simply when the tears had dried up.

    “I am Ruth Norrington, sir,” she whispered shakily.

    There was a blank silence.

    “Don’t theenk I know a Norrington,” said Dom. “Uh—wait: one of those military friends of General Sir Francis’s: ain’t he a Norrington?” he said to Nan.

    “Um... Oh, yes: we met heem but the once: I thought he seemed a sensible man. Major Norrington.”

    “He is Papa’s cousin, and his heir, but we never see him, because he does not like Papa,” said Miss Norrington, sniffing.

    “So who’s your Pa, lovey?” asked Mrs Urqhart bluntly.

    “He is Lord Curwellion,” replied Miss Norrington.

    There was a stunned silence.

    Finally Nan drew a deep breath. “That explains almost everytheeng! Dear Miss Norrington, you weell be quite safe from both Lord Curwellion and Prince Frédéric een thees house.”

    “You are very kind,” she said timidly. She looked up at Dom. “But I—I cannot impose like this.”

    “You are not imposing, Miss Norrington,” he said, bowing. “Now, my sisters weell take you upstairs, and een the morning we shall discuss what must be done. We shall certainly not send you back to your Papa. And you may rest assured that we shall protect you for as long as you need eet.”

    “Thank you,” she whispered.

    “Aye, go on up,” said Mrs Urqhart, nodding at Nan. “Bapsee will be in my room: tell her to look to Miss Norrington. –Lovey, can we call you Ruth?”

    She nodded shyly.

    “Aye. Well, you had best be Ruth Smith to the household.”

    “Thank you,” she said, blushing.

    Nan rose; Daphne and Susan followed suit, and they led Miss Norrington out.

    Mrs Urqhart and Dom looked limply at each other.

    “Gawd, it had to be Curwellion!” said the old lady. “Killed his man, don’t they say?”

    “More than once, I believe,” he said, his nostrils flaring.

    Mrs Stewart stepped forward, shy but determined. “Mrs Urqhart, it might be best if Miss Norrington comes back to Scotland with me.”

    “No, we is not about to dump that responsibility on your shoulders, while you ain’t got a man to protect you, me love,” said the old lady firmly.

    “No, eendeed!” agreed Dom. “I theenk perhaps Nan and the girls might take her down to Sussex right away. The children weell be pleased to be by the sea.”

    “Mm,” said Mrs Urqhart, rubbing her chin.

    Mrs Stewart tried to argue for Scotland but was overborne, and the company retired, to sleep on the matter.

    Mr Urqhart got the whole out of his mother early the next morning before she had even risen.

    “I quite see that she cannot go back to a man like that, yes,” he admitted, sighing. “But you realize he could have us all clapped up for kidnapping the girl?”

    “I’m not stupid, you know.”

    “No...”

    Mrs Urqhart watched him unemotionally as he thought it over.

    “Did not you say the old Prince was hanging out for a rich wife, Mother?”

    “The girl has money of her own—tied up, like. So if her Pa ain’t a-doing it for the settlements—”

    Timothy was shaking his head.

    “What?” she demanded.

    “I think that if her money is tied up then possibly Prince Frédéric and her father may have come to an agreement.”

    “Oh, Lor’. Yes, that would be it. Nasty. Well, perhaps this will answer, then, lovey: offer Curwellion whatever the girl’s worth to shut his mouth and give her to us.”

    Timothy had to swallow. “Buying a human being, Mother?”

    “Well, if her father is ready to sell her, me love? Nor he ain’t the only fine lord what thinks nothin’ o’ that, neither.”

    “Mm. I shall get my solicitors to write him, naming no names— No?” he said in some surprise as Mrs Urqhart clutched at his sleeve.

    “No: hold off on it, me lovey. I wants to see if this thing is goin’ to make a man of young Dom! You could broach the notion, y’know. but let’s see if he will offer to take charge of it all, hey?”

    Timothy Urqhart passed a hand over his neat brown hair. “Those that claim you are the complete Machiavel, Mother, are not far wrong.”

    Mrs Urqhart grinned complacently.

    Later in the morning, when Miss Norrington, Daphne, Susan and the unsuspecting Tarry and Cherry, to whom the new guest had been introduced only as “Ruth Smith,” were all happily ensconced in the smaller sitting-room, the more industrious sewing or tatting, and the less merely chatting about the fashions, the conspirators met in Mr Urqhart’s study, and Mr Urqhart duly broached the notion.

    “Splendeed!” said Dom, rubbing his hands. “You may leave eet to me, sir!”

    “Dom, Lord Curwellion weell call you out and keell you!” gasped Nan.

    “Seelly, my name won’t appear. Do eet through the solicitors.”

    “Dare say that will answer,” said Mrs Urqhart. “But listen here, Dom, lovey: buying a human soul ain’t a light thing, y’know.”

    “Pooh!” said Dom with his easy laugh. “She need never know. And once we find her relatives, eet weell be as eef eet had never happened!”

    “Dare say,” she said drily. “Though she may well wonder how we made her pa give her up. But what if we don’t find this Major what’s her pa’s cousin? Didn’t seem to me as if she’s even sure he lives at Reading, never mind she were a-tryin’ to walk there in the middle of the night.”

    “No; een fact,” said Nan, wrinkling her brow over it, “eef she remembers seeing heem there weeth hees soldiers when she was a leetle girl, hees regiment may only have been in cantonments.”

    “Exact,” she said drily.

    “I shall get hees address through General Sir Francis,” decided Dom. “—No, I shan’t let on to heem!” he said indignantly as his sister looked alarmed.

    “That may answer, if so be as this Major’s willing to have her,” said Mrs Urqhart. “But if he ain’t, there is you with this human soul what you have bought and paid for upon your hands, Dom. Or was you meanin’ to shove ’er off onto your sister?”

    Dom went very red.

    “Mrs Urqhart!” cried Nan. “That ees most unfair! Dom ees an unmarried gentleman: how can he look after her? And of course I shall not mind een the least!”

    “Hm. Well, just you recollect, there may be many a man as will offer for a woman with young children from an earlier marriage, and many more as won’t mind a couple of grown-up stepdaughters or sisters what is nigh off her hands. Only when one on ’em ain’t related in any way and has been at the centre of a scandal to boot—acos mark my words, if we does pay off Lord Curwellion, that won’t be the story as he’ll spread around London—”

    “I would not dream of marrying a man who deed not entirely share my sentiments een such a case!” cried Nan loudly and angrily.

    Mrs Urqhart sniffed slightly.

    “No, of course you would not, dear Lady Benedict,” said Mrs Stewart. “But Mrs Urqhart is certainly right in saying that Miss Nor—Smith, I suppose we should call her, will be a heavy responsibility.”

    “She weell certainly not be a pecuniary responsibility, for I shall dower her myself,” said Dom through his teeth. “And I apologize, Nan: I was taking you for granted.”

    “Of course you were, and I would be vairy cross eef you had not been!” she cried warmly.

    “No, they’re right,” he said glumly. “Well, I’ll do all I can, I promeese, Nan. –Look,” he said, as Mrs Urqhart sniffed once more, “eet ain’t my fault as I’m not a married lady, too!”

    “True,” she said stolidly, though her wide shoulders quivered.

    Mrs Stewart at this tried once more to urge the Scottish scheme upon them but was cried down once more.

    They left it at that, for the nonce. Dom went off to consult with the solicitor, and Nan hurried off to take the children for their walk.

    Dom did not find the encounter with the lawyer as easy as he had anticipated. In fact, he found himself wishing very much he had an older gentleman with him to support him. He had never wanted Hugo Benedict’s large, solid, capable presence more in his life. He did carry the day in the end, but he did not feel he did so very gracefully: he had had to insist forcibly upon the fact of his now being of age. And to assure the doubtful Mr Quigley that Lady Benedict was in agreement with his proposed course of action.

    The attorney obediently drafted a letter: Dom, though he had not originally intended spending so much of his day at the task, grimly waiting until it should be done, and making sure it expressed what he wished it to.

    Mr Quigley then attempted to warn him that whatever agreement they might come to, Lord Curwellion would still have a parent’s and guardian’s rights over his daughter.

    “I know that,” he said, grim-faced.

    There was a short pause.

    “You weell please send eet today,” said Dom.

    “Certainly, Mr Baldaya”

    There was another short pause.

    “Vairy well, Mr Quigley, perhaps you would be so good as to spell out how Lord Curwellion may be made to releenqueh the rights of a guardian wheech he has so deesgracefully abused?” said Dom, more or less through his teeth.

    Mr Quigley took a deep breath. “I think you must be aware, sir, that there is only one way that could happen, short of Lord Curwellion’s voluntarily resigning the guardianship to another. Er, well, two, but as I apprehend his Lordship is not an elderly gentleman, we cannot presume his demise to be imminent.”

    “Go on.”

    “Miss Norrington would have to be married, sir. Her husband would then have the rights over her which her father, as you so correctly point out, is currently abusing.”

    “Yes,” he said tightly.

    “Mr Baldaya, I must beg you not to do anything precipitate!”

    Dom’s pleasant mouth tightened. “I am not going to do anytheeng precipitate. But thees letter weell at once assure her father she ees safe—not that he deserves to know eet, the old— Never mind. Eet weell do that, and eef nothing else, buy us a leetle time while he theenks over the offer. And when we have found her distant cousin, he may be able to persuade Lord Curwellion to resign the guardianship of hees daughter to heemself.”

    “Let us hope so, indeed, sir.”

    “And eef not, I shall marry her myself!” said Dom, going very red.

    “Pray, sir—”

    “Do not say anytheeng more: I do not intend doing eet tomorrow.” He took a deep breath. “And eef one word should come to my seester’s ears—”

    “No, of course not, sir!” said the lawyer quickly, reddening.

     Dom took another deep breath, but did not make any retort. “Get that letter off, then,” he ordered grimly.

    “Yes, sir.”

    “All the same,” said Mrs Urqhart frankly to her newest guest when Mrs Stewart and the girls had departed for a walk in the Park with Pug: “you can’t go on lurkin’ indoors all summer, me deary.”

    “No,” she whispered.

    “And that Tarry, she’s got a good heart, but she ain’t learned yet to be discreet: she’ll start a-wondering and a-talking, you see? And Cherry’s nigh to engaged to a nephew of my late husband’s: do you know the Amorys, me dear?”

    Pinkening, Miss Norrington nodded. “Yes. Last year I danced several times with a Sir Noël Amory, and Papa knows a Mr Bobby Amory, an older gentleman, quite well: he was so kind as to dance with me, also, on numerous occasions.’

    Mrs Urqhart sighed. “Aye: that’s them. They is in and out of this house all the time. You’ll be safe for the short term, don’t fret. But—” She shrugged.

    “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m so very sorry, Mrs Urqhart.”

    “Lordy, me dear, none of it ain’t your fault! Look, how’s about this,” she said airily: “what say we offers old Pom-Pom enough so’s he’d forget it?”

    Miss Norrington’s hands trembled. “Do you mean, go back to Papa?”

    Mrs Urqhart eyed her shrewdly. “Beats you, does ’e?”

    She nodded convulsively.

    “Thought so. Mean mouth to ’im. No, well, we won’t send you back, but if he don’t have a husband lined up for you—”

    “He will be furious,” she whispered. “He will demand I return.”

    “I get you. Well, Mr Baldaya’s got a scheme in his head that may answer better.”

    “Oh ! “ she breathed, clasping her hands under her chin. “I am sure!”

    Mrs Urqhart eyed her in some amusement but managed not to grin. Even though Mr Baldaya had not been one of the original rescue party, it had been very clear to the shrewd old lady that within about five minutes of his putting his finger in the pie Miss Norrington had concluded he was the bee’s knees. Well—wait and see. And if nothing else, the thing might make a man of young Dom: she had nigh to burst trying not to laugh when the dear lad had upped and said he would not expose a daughter of his to marriage with an old creature like Prince Pom-Pom, for all the world as if he had been a man of fifty-one, rather than twenty-one, bless him!