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  It took a few moments’ coaxing to persuade him to relax his air of outraged dignity, but when it was borne in upon him that Lydia had summoned Pen to her side that morning, he did seem to feel that such forward conduct called for an explanation. Pen waved his excuses aside, however. ‘I don’t mind that, if only she would not cry so much!’ she said.

  Mr Luttrell said that his Lydia was all sensibility, and deprecated, with obvious sincerity, a suggestion that a wife suffering from an excess of sensibility might prove to be a tiresome acquisition. As he seemed to feel that the support of Lydia was his life’s work, Pen abandoned all thought of trying to wean him from his attachment to the lady, and announced her plans for his speedy marriage.

  These palpably took Mr Luttrell aback. Lydia’s refusal to elope with him he regarded as natural rather than craven, and when Pen’s false-abduction scheme was enthusiastically described to him he said that she must be mad to think of such a thing.

  ‘I declare I have a good mind to wash my hands of the whole affair!’ said Pen. ‘Neither of you has the courage to make the least push in the matter! The end of it will be that your precious Lydia will be married to someone else, and then you will be sorry!’

  ‘Oh, don’t suggest such a thing!’ he begged. ‘If only my father would be a little conciliating! He used to like the Major well enough before they quarrelled.’

  ‘You must soften the Major’s heart.’

  ‘Yes, but how?’ he asked. ‘Now, don’t, pray, suggest any more foolish abduction schemes, Pen! I daresay you think them very fine, but if you would but consider the difficulties! No one would ever believe we had not planned it all, because if she eloped with you she would not then wish to marry me, now, would she?’

  ‘No, but we could say that I had forcibly abducted her. Then you could rescue her from me.’

  ‘How should I know that you had abducted her?’ objected Piers. ‘And just think what a pucker everyone would be in! No, really, Pen, it won’t answer! Good God, I should have to fight a duel with you, or something of that nature! I mean, how odd it would look if all I did was to take Lydia home!’

  ‘Well, so we could!’ said Pen, her eyes brightening, as new horizons swam into her ken. ‘I could have my arm in a sling, and say that you had wounded me! Oh, do let us, Piers! It would be such a famous adventure!’

  ‘You don’t seem to me to have changed in the least!’ said Piers, in anything but a complimentary tone. ‘You are the most complete hand indeed! I cannot conceive how you came to be betrothed to a man of fashion like Wyndham! You know, you will have to mend your ways! In fact, I cannot conceive of your being married at all! You are a mere child.’

  Another quarrel might at this point have sprung up between them, had not Sir Richard come back into the room just then, with Mr Philips in his wake. He was looking faintly amused, and the instant expression of extreme trepidation which transformed the countenances of the youthful couple by the window made his lips twitch involuntarily. However, he spoke without a tremor in his voice. ‘Ah, Pen! Would you explain, if you please, your – er – owl story, to Mr Philips?’

  ‘Oh!’ said Pen, blushing furiously.

  The magistrate looked severely across at her. ‘From the information I have since received, young man, I am forced to the conclusion that your story was false.’

  Pen glanced towards Sir Richard. Instead of coming to her rescue, he smiled maliciously, and said: ‘Stand up, my boy, stand up, when Mr Philips addresses you!’

  ‘Oh yes, of course!’ said Pen, rising in a hurry. ‘I beg pardon! My owl-story! Well, you see, I did not know what to say when you asked why I had not been with my cousin last night.’

  ‘Did not know what to say! You had only one thing to say, and that was the truth!’ said Mr Philips austerely.

  ‘I could not,’ replied Pen. ‘A lady’s reputation was at stake!’

  ‘So I am informed. Well, I do not say that I do not sympathize with your motive, but I must warn you, sir, that any further prevarication on your part may lead to serious trouble. Serious trouble! I say nothing of your conduct in meeting Miss Daubenay in a manner I can only describe as clandestine. It is no concern of mine, no concern at all, but if you were a son of mine – However, that is neither here nor there! Fortunately –’ He cast a reproachful glance at Sir Richard – ‘fortunately, I repeat, Miss Daubenay’s evidence corroborates the information that this shocking crime was perpetrated by a person corresponding with the description furnished me of the man Trimble. Were it not for this circumstance – for I will not conceal from you that I am far from being satisfied! Very far indeed! You must permit me to say, Sir Richard, that your presence in the spinney last night points to your having positively aided and abetted your cousin in his reprehensible – But I am aware that that is Major Daubenay’s concern!’

  ‘No, no, you have it wrong!’ Pen assured him. ‘My cousin was searching for me! In fact, he was very angry with me for going to the spinney, were you not, Richard?’

  ‘I was,’ admitted Sir Richard. ‘Very.’

  ‘Well, the whole affair seems to me very strange!’ said Philips. ‘I will say no more than that yet !’

  ‘You behold me – er – stricken with remorse,’ said Sir Richard.

  The magistrate snorted, jerked a bow, and took himself off.

  ‘My reputation! oh, my reputation!’ mourned Sir Richard. ‘Horrible and unprincipled brat, why the owl?’

  ‘Well, I had to say something!’ Pen pointed out.

  ‘I am afraid,’ said Piers, conscience-stricken, ‘that it is a little Lydia’s fault. But indeed, sir, she meant no harm!’

  ‘I know,’ said Sir Richard. ‘She is so impulsive! I feel a hundred years old.’

  He went out on the words, and Pen at once rounded on Mr Luttrell, saying in accusing accents: ‘There! You see now what your precious Lydia has done!’

  ‘She is no worse than you are! In fact, not as bad!’ retorted Piers. ‘She would not masquerade about the country as a boy! I do not wonder at Sir Richard’s feeling a hundred years old. If I were betrothed to you, I should feel the same!’

  Miss Creed’s eyes flashed. ‘Well, I will tell you something, Piers Luttrell! I have got a cousin with a face like a fish, and he wants to marry me, which is why I escaped out a window. But – do you hear me? – I would a great deal rather marry him than you. If I had to marry you, I would drown myself ! You are stupid, and rude, and spiritless!’

  ‘Merely because I have a little common sense,’ began Piers, very stiff, and rather flushed.

  He was interrupted. A waiter came in with the news that a Young Person desired instant speech with Mr Wyndham.

  Correctly divining this mythical being to be herself, Pen said: ‘What can that nonsensical girl want now? I wish I had never come to Queen Charlton! Oh, very well! Show the young person in!’

  ‘Good God, can it be Lydia?’ exclaimed Piers, when the waiter had withdrawn.

  The young person was not Miss Daubenay, but her personal maid, a rosy damsel, who appeared to be strongly imbued with her mistress’s romantic ideals. She came in heavily veiled, and presented Pen with a sealed letter. While Pen tore it open, and read its agitated message, Piers besieged the girl with urgent questions, to which, however, she only replied with evasive answers, punctuated by giggles.

  ‘Good gracious!’ exclaimed Pen, deciphering Miss Daubenay’s scrawl. ‘Matters are now desperate! She says she will elope with you.’

  ‘What?’ Piers abandoned the servant, and strode to Pen’s side. ‘Here, give it to me!’

  Pen warded him off. ‘She says they are going to send her to the Wilds of Lincolnshire.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that is where her grandmother lives! When does she go?’

  ‘I can’t read it – oh yes, I see! To-morrow morning, with her Papa. She says I am to tell you to