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  The expression of boredom on Sir Charles Wainfleet’s countenance became more pronounced.

  ‘I am sure, a most notable dandy!’ said Miss Massingham, hopeful of giving pleasure.

  ‘Believe me, ma’am, you flatter me!’ said Sir Charles.

  The third person present here came, as her duty was, to his rescue. ‘No, Louisa!’ she said. ‘Not a dandy! They only care for their clothes, and Charles cares for a great deal besides, such as prize-fighting, and cocking, and all the horridest things! He is a Corinthian!’

  ‘Thank you, Mama, but shall we leave this subject, and discover instead just what it is that the General feels I shall have not the least objection to doing?’

  Encouraged by this speech, Miss Massingham plunged into a tangle of words. ‘It is so very obliging of you! The notion came into Papa’s head when I mentioned the circumstance of your Mama’s going to Bath next week, and that you mean to escort her! “Well, then,” he said, “if that is so, Charles may bring Anne home!” I instantly demurred, but, “Balderdash!” exclaimed Papa – you know his soldierly way! – “If he fancies himself to have become too great a man to escort my granddaughter home from school, let him come and tell me so!” Which, however, I do beg you will not do, Charles, for Papa’s gout has been very troublesome lately!’

  ‘Have no fear, ma’am! I should not dare!’ said Sir Charles, his weary boredom suddenly dissipated by a smile of singular charm.

  ‘Oh, Charles, you are so very –! The thing is, you see, that ever since the Mail was held up in that shocking way at Hounslow last month we have not known how to bring Nan home in safety! You must know that she has been a parlour boarder this year past at the Misses Titterstone’s seminary in Queen’s Square, and we have promised that she shall come home at Christmas. But for the circumstance of Papa’s illness last winter, we had intended – but it was not to be! And now we find ourselves at a stand, and how we may entrust my poor brother’s only child, left to our care when he was killed in that dreadful Peninsula – how we may entrust her, as I say, to the perils of the road, without some gentleman to escort her, we know not! And I am confident,’ added Miss Massingham earnestly, ‘that she would not tease you, Charles, for we shall send her old nurse down to Bath, and you need do no more than drive your curricle within sight of the chaise, and so we may be easy!’

  If Sir Charles wondered why General Sir James Massingham should consider that his presence, within sight of his granddaughter’s chaise, would afford a better protection against highwaymen than an armed escort, he did not betray this. Nor did he betray the reluctance of a Nonpareil to assume charge of a Bath miss. It was Lady Wainfleet who raised an objection. ‘Oh, but I depend on having Charles with me for Christmas!’ she said. ‘Dearest Almeria has been to visit me today, expressly to tell me that she will be in Bath herself for several weeks. She is to stay with her aunt, in Camden Place, and her brother, Stourbridge, is to bring her to town only a few days after we ourselves shall have left.’

  Miss Massingham’s face fell. The notice that Sir Charles Wainfleet, wealthiest of baronets, had at last fulfilled the expectations of the impoverished Earl of Alford, by offering for the hand of the Lady Almeria Spalding, eldest daughter of this improvident peer, had appeared some weeks previously in the Gazette, and she recognized that Lady Almeria’s claims must take precedence of her niece’s.

  It was at this point that Sir Charles shook off his air of detachment. ‘Almeria is going to Bath?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, is it not a happy chance? I was about to tell you of it when Louisa was announced.’

  ‘On the contrary!’ he returned. ‘It is unfortunate that I should not have been apprized of this circumstance earlier. It so happens that I have engagements in town which I must not break. It will not be in my power, ma’am, to remain in Bath above a couple of nights.’

  ‘You cannot mean to do such an uncivil thing as to leave Bath before Almeria arrives!’ cried his mother. ‘Good God, you would very likely meet her on the road!’

  ‘Were I to delay my departure until after her arrival,’ said Sir Charles glibly, ‘I dare say I should find it impossible to tear myself away. I could not reconcile it with my conscience to disoblige so old a friend as the General. I shall be happy, Miss Massingham, to afford your niece all the protection of which I am capable.’

  It was impossible for Lady Wainfleet to say more. Miss Massingham was already overwhelming Sir Charles with her gratitude. She said that she could not thank him enough, and she was still thanking him when he escorted her out to her carriage. But when he strolled back to the drawing-room, Lady Wainfleet begged him to consider before deciding to leave Bath so soon. ‘Now that Almeria is to go there –’

  ‘That circumstance, Mama, did decide me,’ interrupted Sir Charles. ‘Within a few months I shall be obliged to spend the rest of my life in Almeria’s company. Allow me to enjoy what is left to me of my liberty!’

  ‘Charles!’ she faltered. ‘Oh, dear! if I had thought that you would dislike it so much I would never – Not that I have the least power to force you into a marriage you don’t like, only it has been an understood thing for so many years, and it is not as though you had ever a tendre for another eligible lady, and you are past thirty now, so that –’

  ‘Oh yes, yes, ma’am!’ he said impatiently. ‘It is high time that I settled down! I have no doubt that Almeria will do me great credit. We were clearly made for one another – but I shall not spend Christmas in Bath!’

  2

  EIGHT DAYS LATER, having sustained an interview with two genteel spinsters in mittens and mob-caps, who were much flustered to find their parlour invaded by a large and disturbingly handsome gentleman, wearing a drab driving-coat with no fewer than sixteen shoulder-capes, Sir Charles made the acquaintance of his youthful charge. He beheld a demure schoolgirl, attired in a plain pelisse, and with a close bonnet almost entirely concealing her braided locks. She stood in meek silence while Miss Titterstone assured Sir Charles that dear Anne would be no trouble to him. Miss Maria, endorsing this statement, added, with rather odd anxiety, that she knew Anne would behave just as she ought. Both ladies seemed to derive consolation from the presence of Mrs Fitton, who all the while stood beaming fondly upon her nurseling.

  Sir Charles, amused, wondered whether the good ladies suspected him of cherishing improper designs towards a chit of a schoolgirl in the most unbecoming hat and pelisse he had ever seen. Their evident uneasiness seemed to him absurd.

  Farewells having been spoken, the travellers went out into the Square, where two vehicles stood waiting. One was a post-chaise and pair; the other a sporting curricle. Miss Massingham’s large grey eyes took due note of this equipage, but she made no remark. Only, as Sir Charles handed her up into the chaise, she said: ‘If you please, sir, would you be so very obliging as to permit me to stop for a few minutes at Madame Lucille’s, in Milsom Street?’

  ‘Certainly. I will direct your post-boy to drive there,’ he replied.

  Upon arrival in Milsom Street, one glance at Madame Lucille’s establishment was enough to inform Sir Charles that Miss Massingham proposed to visit a mantua-maker. Assuring him that she would not keep him waiting for very long, she disappeared into the shop, followed by Mrs Fitton, whose smile, Sir Charles noticed, had given place to a look of decided anxiety.

  Time passed. Sir Charles drew out his watch, and frowned. Speenhamland, where rooms for the night had been bespoken, was fully fifty-five miles distant, and the start of the journey had already been delayed by the chattiness of the Misses Titterstone. The horses were on the fret. Sir Charles walked them to the top of the street, and back again. When he had repeated this exercise some half a dozen times, there was a sparkle in his eye which made his groom thankful that it was the young lady and not himself who was keeping Sir Charles waiting.

  At the end of another twenty minutes there erupted from the shop a vision in whom Sir Charles with difficulty recognized Miss Anne Massingham. Not only was she now array