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Maidie was in no condition to reply to this, for her lips were otherwise engaged, and her bones threatened to abandon the struggle to hold her up. But at length Delagarde finally disengaged himself, declaring hunger must take precedence.
“You must be longing for your dinner, my precious starry-eyed one.”
Entranced by this endearment, Maidie agreed to it. In very short order, she found herself in a bedchamber, with the landlady pouring hot water from a jug into a basin, and hovering with an offer of combs and brushes. Maidie did what she might to tidy herself from the further dishevelment caused by Delagarde’s welcome caresses. The cool water did much to revive her, and she began to have leisure to reflect on the extraordinary coincidence which had brought him to this place at just the right moment.
Back in the private parlour, she discovered covers had been laid for them, together with a number of interesting silver dishes awaiting their pleasure. Joining Delagarde at the table, Maidie fell upon the repast provided, but when her first hunger was satisfied, she gave him an account of her escape.
“That wretch gave me the most dreadful shock.”
Upon the carriage entering Greenwich, it had begun to slow down. Looking from the let-down window, Maidie had seen the signpost, expecting the Royal Observatory to come presently into view. Instead, the coach had paused by the village green. The door had opened, and Eustace Silsoe had leapt into the coach, which had started up again immediately, and had gained a furious pace before Maidie had been able to gather her wits.
“He made no secret of his intentions. He meant to take me back to East Dean. He has a small house about fifteen miles from the Shurland home.”
“He meant to hold you there?”
“Yes, for he planned for us to be married quite respectably in the East Dean parish. There is a new incumbent in the rectory, who is in a string with Firmin.”
“The rectory is in Shurland’s gift?”
“Exactly. But I had no mind to fall in with his scheme.” She perceived Delagarde was looking murderous, and her heart leapt. “Why do you look like that?”
“Because I would like to kill him! He may count himself fortunate you have prevented me from coming up with him—tonight, in any event.”
“What do you mean to do?” Maidie asked, a throb of emotion in her breast. A heady sensation to discover the man one loved was intent upon avenging one’s honour.
Delagarde’s eyes narrowed, and he sipped his wine. “It need not concern you. Tell me how you got away.”
“But it does concern me, Laurie. I do not want—”
“Maidie, don’t imagine my partiality will prevent me from quarrelling with you. Will you have the goodness to answer my question?”
Maidie twinkled with sudden merriment. “I hit Eustace on the head with my reticule, and he fell unconscious.”
“Your reticule? I am not fool enough to swallow that. Tell me the truth!”
“It is the truth. Only you see, I had my hand telescope inside it. I had taken it with me, for I wanted to ask for some advice about replacing it.” She saw Delagarde was looking sceptical, and took up the reticule she had laid beside her on the table. She handed it across to him. “See for yourself.”
Delagarde took it, opened it, and brought out a squat brass tube which readily telescoped out. He closed it again, and glanced across at her, one eyebrow raised. “I begin almost to feel sorry for the fellow. Where did you perpetrate this daring escape?”
“Just past Lewisham. I saw a lad with a cart going the opposite way, and seized the opportunity. I hit Eustace, and jumped out of the coach, and then bribed the farm boy to take me up. He was but the first of three, who brought me by stages to this place.”
She might have kept to the main post road, but she believed Eustace, once he regained consciousness, would scour for her on that route. He would hardly guess she would return by a circuitous way to Greenwich.
“Nor would you have met me so fortuitously. I had been asking for you at every inn in every village round about Greenwich for the past hour and more, only to try to discover which way he had taken you.” He told her about the letter Adela must have forged, and explained why he had opted for Greenwich.
Maidie eyed him a little uncertainly. “Did you believe I had run away with Eustace?”
“No, I thought you had run away with Wiveliscombe.”
Maidie stared. “How came you to think of him?”
Delagarde took a painful breath, as the memory of his hideous suspicion returned. “I believed you were in love with him.”
“With Wiveliscombe? Oh, no!”
“Is it any more ridiculous than the suspicions you have harboured of me?” He eyed her bodingly. “By the by, Maidie, do you know what strikes me?”
“No, what?”
