Free Cotillion by Georgette Heyer Page B

enter the house, you must say you have come to see me, because I do think, Freddy, we shall go on more prosperously if you do not meet Uncle Matthew until we can confront him together.”
    With this, Mr. Standen found himself to be in entire agreement; and as everything seemed now to be provided for, and the hands of the clock on the mantel-shelf stood at twenty minutes past nine o’clock, he thought they would be well-advised to set forward upon the short journey to Arnside immediately. The last of the punch was disposed of, the chaise bespoken, and Miss Charing once more wrapped in her thick cloak. The travellers climbed into the chaise, the steps were let up, and the door shut; and during the minutes which it took two sturdy horses to cover little more than a mile, Miss Charing coached her reluctant swain in the part he had to play. She was set down at the gates of Arnside, and disappeared, a good deal to the postilion’s surprise, into the night. Miss Charing had her own ways of entering the jealously-guarded grounds of Mr. Penicuik’s house; Mr. Standen was obliged to wait until the lodge-keeper came out to open gates which were invariably locked against the outer world at dusk. Since visitors to Arnside were rare, and evening-visitors unheard of, it was some time before this individual could be roused. By the time Mr. Standen alighted at the front-door of the house he judged that Miss Charing should have reached the side-door, and might even be already in her bedchamber.
    Stobhill, the butler, was quite as much surprised as the lodge-keeper to see Mr. Standen, but (also like the lodgekeeper) seemed to take an indulgent view of his eccentric conduct. Indeed, as he presently observed to his colleague, Mr. Spiddle, there was never any saying what such a harebrained young gentleman might take it into his head to do next. He was perfectly well aware of the errand which had brought Mr. Penicuik’s great-nephews to Arnside; but when Mr. Standen asked in the most nonchalant way if Miss Charing would receive him, his sense of propriety was offended, and he said with some severity: “It’s the Master you should be seeing, sir.”
    “What, is he still up and about?” asked Freddy anxiously.
    “As to that, sir, I’m sure I could not say. We helped him up to his room half-an-hour ago, but I daresay he’s not yet abed. If you care to step into the Saloon, where you will find my Lord Dolphinton, my Lord Biddenden, and the Reverend, I will step up to enquire if the Master will see you.”
    “No, you won’t,” said Freddy. “Bacon-brained thing to do at this hour of the evening! Besides, I want to see Miss Charing.”
    “Miss went up to her room almost immediately after dinner, Mr. Freddy!” said Stobhill, still more disapproving.
    “Yes, I know she did, but—” Freddy paused, encountering an astonished stare. He was momentarily shaken off his balance, but he made a quick recover. “What I mean is, if my cousins are here, of course she did! Anyone would! You go and tell her I’m here, and I beg the honour of a few words with her.”
    He then moved towards the Saloon, and Stobhill, saying unencouragingly: “I will have your message conveyed to Miss, sir,” opened the door for him.
    On one side of the fire, the Rattray brothers were playing cribbage; on the other, Lord Dolphinton was doing nothing. Hugh, who had found the cribbage-board, and had inaugurated the game with the self-sacrificing intention of alleviating his brother’s boredom, wore an expression of determined cheerfulness; Lord Biddenden, to whom cribbage was only less insupportable than an evening passed in talking to Hugh, was frankly impatient, made his discards almost at random, and yawned over the totting up of points. His chair faced the door, and it was thus he who first perceived Freddy. “Oh, the devil!” he exclaimed.
    Hugh turned to look over his shoulder, and for an instant it seemed as though he doubted the evidence of his eyes. A slight