The fish and soup had already disappeared and the
Duke was wakening himself to eloquence on the first
entree when Lord Rufford entered the room. “There
never were trains so late as yours, Duchess,”
he said, “nor any part of the world in which
hired horses travel so slowly. I beg the Duke’s
pardon, but I suffer the less because I know his Grace
never waits for anybody.”
“Certainly not,” said the Duke, “having
some regard for my friends’ dinners.”
“And I find myself next to you,” said
Lord Rufford as he took his seat. “Well;
that is more than I deserve.”
How Things were arranged
“Jack is here,” said Lord Rufford, as
soon as the fuss of his late arrival had worn itself
away.
“I shall be proud to renew my acquaintance.”
“Can you come to-morrow?”
“Oh yes,” said Arabella, rapturously.
“There are difficulties, and I ought to have
written to you about them. I am going with the
Fitzwilliam.” Now Mistletoe was in Lincolnshire,
not very far from Peterborough, not very far from
Stamford, not very far from Oakham. A regular
hunting man like Lord Rufford knew how to compass
the difficulties of distance in all hunting countries.
Horses could go by one train or overnight, and he
could follow by another. And a post chaise could
meet him here or there. But when a lady is added,
the difficulty is often increased fivefold.
“Is it very far?” asked Arabella.
“It is a little far. I wonder who are going
from here?”
“Heaven only knows. I have passed my time
in playing cat’s cradle with Sir Jeffrey Bunker
for the amusement of the company, and in confidential
communications with my aunt and Lady Drummond.
I haven’t heard hunting mentioned.”
“Have you anything on wheels going across to
Holcombe Cross to-morrow, Duke?” asked Lord
Rufford. The Duke said that he did not know of
anything on wheels going to Holcombe Cross. Then
a hunting man who had heard the question said that
he and another intended to travel by train to Oundle.
Upon this Lord Rufford turned round and looked at
Arabella mournfully.
“Cannot I go by train to Oundle?” she
asked.
“Nothing on earth so jolly if your pastors and
masters and all that will let you.”
“I haven’t got any pastors and masters.”
“The Duchess!” suggested Lord Rufford.
“I thought all that kind of nonsense was over,”
said Arabella.
“I believe a great deal is over. You can
do many things that your mother and grandmother couldn’t
do; but absolute freedom,—what you may
call universal suffrage,—hasn’t come
yet, I fear. It’s twenty miles by road,
and the Duchess would say something awful if I were
to propose to take you in a post chaise.”
“But the railway!”
“I’m afraid that would be worse.
We couldn’t ride back, you know, as we did at
Rufford. At the best it would be rather a rough
and tumble kind of arrangement. I’m afraid
we must put it off. To tell you the truth I’m
the least bit in the world afraid of the Duchess.”
