Black Sheep Read online

  'Hayfield? What the devil – ?'

  'In my day it was the South Lawn.'

  There was an uncomfortable silence. 'So you've been there, have you?' Stacy said sullenly.

  'Yes, I've been there. I thought poor old Penn was going to burst into tears. Mrs Penn did. Fell on my neck, too, and went straight off to kill a fatted calf. The return of the Prodigal Son was nothing to it. No, I don't think I shall be shunned by the county, Stacy.'

  Another silence fell, during which Stacy sat scowling down at the table. He said suddenly: 'Fifteen thousand? Paltry!'

  'Perhaps,' suggested Miles, 'you are forgetting the little matter of the mortgages.'

  Stacy bit his lip, but said: 'It's worth more – much more!'

  'It is, in fact, worth much less. However, if you believe you can sell it for more, by all means make the attempt!'

  'With you holding all the rest of the estate? Who the devil would buy a place like Danescourt with no more land attached to it than the gardens, and the park?'

  'I shouldn't think anyone would.'

  'Brought me to Point Non-Plus, haven't you?' said Stacy, with an ugly laugh.

  'You're certainly there, but what I had to do with it I don't know.'

  'You could help me to make a recover – give me time!'

  'I could. I could also ruin you. I don't choose to do either – though when I saw Danescourt I was strongly tempted to let you take up residence in the King's Bench Prison, and leave you to rot there! Which is what you will do, if you refuse my offer.'

  'Oh, damn you, I can't refuse it! How soon can I have the blunt?'

  'As soon as the conveyance is completed. The necessary documents are being prepared, and you will find them with my lawyer. I'll furnish you with his direction. You had better take your own man with you, to see all's right, by the way.'

  'I shall certainly do so! And I shall be very much obliged to you if you'll advance me a hundred, sir, at once!'

  'I'll make you a present of it,' said Miles, drawing a roll of bills from his pocket.

  'You're very good!' said Stacy stiffly. 'Then, if there's nothing more you wish to say, I'll bid you goodnight!'

  'No, nothing,' replied Miles. 'Goodnight!'

  Eighteen

  Since Miss Butterbank, after a night and the better part of a day enduring the agonies of violent toothache, was closeted with the dentist when Mr Miles Calverleigh returned to Bath, the news of his arrival was not carried to Sydney Place until several hours after he had made an unexpected descent upon Miss Abigail Wendover.

  He took her entirely by surprise. Not only did he present himself at an unusually early hour, but when Mitton admitted that he rather thought Miss Abigail was at home he said that there was no need to announce him, and ran up the stairs, leaving Mitton in possession of his hat and malacca cane, and torn between romantic speculation and disapproval of such informal behaviour.

  Abby was alone, and engaged on the task of fashioning a collar out of a length of broad lace. The table in the drawing-room was covered with pins, patterns, and sheets of parchment, and Abby had just picked up a pair of shaping scissors when Mr Calverleigh walked into the room. She glanced up; something between a gasp and a shriek escaped her; the scissors fell with a clatter; and she started forward involuntarily, with her hands held out. 'You've come back! Oh, you have come back!' she cried.

  The unwisdom, and, indeed, the impropriety of this unguarded betrayal of her sentiments occurred to her too late, and did not seem to occur to Mr Calverleigh at all. Before she could recover herself she was in his arms, being kissed with considerable violence. 'My bright, particular star!' uttered Mr

  Calverleigh, into her ear.

  Mr Calverleigh had very strong arms, and a shoulder most conveniently placed for the use of a tall lady. Abby, gasping for breath, gratefully leaned her cheek against it, feeling, for a few brief moments, that she had come safely to harbour after a stormy passage. She said, clinging to him: 'Miles! Oh, my dear. I've missed you so dreadfully!' But hardly had she uttered these words than all the difficulties of her situation rushed in upon her, with the recollection of the decision she had so painfully reached, and she said, trying to wrench herself free: 'No! Oh, I can't think what made me – ! I can't, Miles, I can't!'

  Mr Calverleigh, that successful man of affairs, was not one to be easily rocked off his balance. 'What can't you, my heart's dearest?' he enquired.

  Abby quivered. 'Marry you! Oh, Miles, don't! '

  She broke from him, and turned away, groping blindly for her handkerchief, and trying very hard not to let her emotion get the better of her.

  'Well!' said Mr Calverleigh, in stunned accents. 'This is beyond everything! After what has just passed between us! I wonder you dare look me in the face!'

  Abby, was not, in fact, daring to look him in the face: she was occupied in drying her wet cheeks.

  'Has no one ever told you that it is the height of impropriety to kiss any gentleman, unless you have the intention of accom-panying him immediately to the altar?' demanded the outraged Mr Calverleigh. 'It will not do, ma'am! Such conduct –' He broke off abruptly, as she looked up, between tears and laughter, and said, in quite another voice: 'Now, what's this? Let me look at you!'

  As he took her face between his hands as he spoke, and turned it up, she was obliged to let him. She dared not meet his eyes, however, and very nearly broke down again when he said, after a moment's scrutiny: 'My loved one, I left you in a high state of preservation! What has been happening here?'

  She moved away, saying: 'Do I look hagged? I am – I am rather tired. Fanny has been ill. And there have been other things.' She smiled, with an effort, and made a gesture towards a chair. 'Won't you sit down? I must tell you – explain to you – why I can't marry you.'

  'Yes, I think you must do that,' he said, drawing her to the sofa. 'I can think of only one reason: that you find you don't love me enough.'

  She allowed him, though reluctantly, to push her gently down on to the sofa, and sat there, primly upright, with her hands tightly folded in her lap. 'I meant to tell you that that was it,' she said, keeping her eyes lowered. 'I – thought it would be best to say just that. I never, never meant to –' She stopped, as a thought occurred to her, and looked up, a sparkle of indignation in her eyes. 'I should like to know what Mitton was about to let you walk in on me, without coming first to ask me if I was at home to visitors, and not even announcing you!' she said, with a strong suggestion of ill-usage in her voice.

  He had taken his place at the other end of the sofa, seated sideways, with one arm lying along the back of it: a position which enabled him to keep his eyes on her profile. He seemed to be quite at his ease; and there was nothing in his demeanour to suggest that he was suffering from any of the chagrin natural to a gentleman whose suit had been rejected. He said: 'Oh, you mustn't blame the poor fellow! I told him I would announce myself.'

  'You had no business to do so!' scolded Abby. 'If you hadn't startled me – if I had had a moment's warning – I shouldn't have – it wouldn't have happened!'

  'Well, you might not have kissed me, but I had every intention of kissing you, so it's just as well he didn't announce me,' said Mr Calverleigh. 'Do you always kiss gentlemen who walk in unannounced? I'll take good care none is allowed to do so when we are married!'

  A smile trembled on her lips, and she blushed faintly, but also she shook her head, saying: 'We are not going to be married.'

  'I was forgetting that,' he apologised. 'Why are we not going to be married?'

  'That is what I feel I must explain to you. I didn't mean to, but after behaving so very improperly it wouldn't be any use to tell you that I don't love you, would it?'

  'No, none at all,' he agreed.

  'No. Well – you must try to understand, Miles! I know you don't enter into my feelings on this subject, so it is very difficult to explain it to you. I have thought and thought – argued with myself until my head aches – but in the end I've realised that I c