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Not the most daring of her previous suitors had ventured even to slide an arm round her waist, for although she enjoyed light-hearted flirtation, she never gave her flirts any cause to think she would welcome more intimate approaches. She had supposed that she must have a cold, celibate disposition, for she had always found the mere thought of being kissed, and (as she phrased it) mauled by any gentleman of her acquaintance shudderingly distasteful. She had once confessed this to Amabel, and had privately thought Amabel's response to be so foolishly sentimental as to be unworthy of consideration. Amabel had said: 'When you fall in love, dearest, you won't find it at all distasteful, I promise you.' And sweet, silly little Amabel had been right! When Mr Carleton had caught Miss Wychwood into his arms, and had so ruthlessly kissed her, she had not found it at all distasteful; and when he did it again it seemed the most natural thing in the world to return his embrace. He felt the responsive quiver that ran through her, and his arms tightened round her, just as some one knocked on the door. Miss Wychwood tore herself free, uttering: 'Take care! This may well be my sister, or Maria!'
It was neither. The youngest of her three housemaids came in, bearing a jug and a glass on a tray. At sight of Mr Carleton this damsel stopped on the threshold, and stood goggling at him, with her eyes starting from their sockets.
'What the devil do you want?' demanded Mr Carleton, pardonably annoyed.
'Please, sir, I don't want anything!' said the intruder, trembling with terror. 'I didn't know Miss had a visitor! Mrs Wardlow told me to bring the fresh barley-water up to Miss, being as Betty is sick!'
'Barley-water?' ejaculated Mr Carleton, in revolted accents. 'Good God! No wonder that you are in low spirits if that's what they give you to drink!'
'It has lemon in it, sir!' offered the maid.
'So much the worse! Take it away, and tell Limbury to send up some Burgundy! My orders!'
'Yes, sir, b-but what will I say to Mrs Wardlow, if you p-please, sir?'
Miss Wychwood intervened. 'You need say nothing to her, Lizzy. Just set the barley-water on that table, and desire Limbury to send up a bottle of Burgundy for Mr Carleton. And when it comes you will drink it,' she informed her visitor, as soon as Lizzy had scurried away. 'I don't want it!'
'You may think you don't, but it is exactly what you do want!' he retorted. 'Next they will be bringing you a bowl of gruel!'
'Oh, no!' said Miss Wychwood demurely. 'Dr Tidmarsh says that I may have a little chicken now that I am so much better. Or even a slice of boiled mutton.'
'That ought to tempt you!' he said sardonically.
She smiled. 'Well, to tell you the truth, I haven't any appetite, so it doesn't much signify what they bring me to eat!'
'Oh, how much I wish I had you under my own roof !'
'So that you could bullock me into eating my dinner, Mr Carleton? I shouldn't like that at all!' she said, shaking her head.
'If you don't stop calling me Mr Carleton, my girl, we shall very soon find ourselves at dagger-drawing!'
'Oh, that terrifies me into obedience – Oliver! What a shocking thing it would be if we were to fall out!'
He smiled, and raised her hand to his lips. 'Shocking indeed! And so unprecedented!'
'It's all very well for you to kiss my hand,' said Miss Wychwood austerely, 'but what you ought to do is to promise that you will never quarrel with me again! But as I have known ever since I made your acquaintance that you haven't the least notion of conducting yourself with elegance or propriety, I imagine it is ridiculous of me to expect that of you!'
'Quite ridiculous! I never promise what I know I can't perform!
'Odious creature!'
He grinned at her. 'Should I be less odious if I humbugged you with court-promises? Of course we shall quarrel, for I have a naggy temper, and you, I thank God, are not one of those meek women who say yes and amen to everything! Which reminds me that I have hit on a solution to the problem of what to do with Lucilla to which I do expect you to say yes and amen!'
'But when we are married she will naturally live with us!'
'Oh, no, she will not!' he said. 'If you imagine, my loved one, that I am prepared to stand by complacently while my bride devotes herself to my niece, rid yourself of that idiotic notion! Think for a moment! Do you really wish to include a third person – and one who must be chaperoned wherever she goes! – into our household? If you do, I do not! I want a wife, not a chaperon for my niece!' He took her hands, and held them in a compelling grasp. 'A companion, Annis! Someone who may say, if I suggest to her that we should jaunt over to Paris, that she doesn't feel inclined to go to Paris, but who won't say: "But how can I leave Lucilla?" Do you understand what I mean?'
'Oh, my dear, of course I do! I don't wish to include a third person in our household, and I must own that fond though I am of Lucilla I do find that the task of looking after her is heavier than I had supposed it would be. But how unkind it would be to send her to live with someone else, for no fault of hers, but merely because we didn't wish to be bothered with her! If she knew, and liked, any of her paternal aunts, or cousins, the case would be different, but she doesn't, and thanks to that miserable aunt the only friends the poor child has are those she has made here, in Bath!'
'Yes, exactly so! What do you say to giving her into Mrs Stinchcombe's charge until it is time for her to make her comeout?'
Miss Wychwood sat up with a jerk. 'Oliver! Of course it would be the very thing for her, and what she would like best, I am very sure. But would Mrs Stinchcombe be willing to take her?'
'Perfectly willing. In fact, it was settled between us this morning! I came here straight from Laura Place. It was Mrs Stinchcombe who told me that you had been ill, and – Oh, lord, now what?'
But the timid tap on the door merely heralded the reappearance of Lizzy, who came in carrying a silver salver, on which stood a decanter, two of Miss Wychwood's best Waterford wineglasses, and a wooden biscuit tub with a silver lid. Mr Carleton, perceiving that the decanter was in imminent danger of sliding off the salver, got up quickly, and went to take the tray into his own hands, saying: 'That's a good girl! Run along now!'
