Volume Iii Part 3 (1/2)
”Well, then, my dear sir,” rejoined the widow, in accents of renewed cheerfulness, ”I throw myself entirely upon you, and shall be quite ready to begin to-morrow to go here, there, and everywhere, exactly as you command.”
A scheme for St. Paul's and the Tower in the morning, and one of the theatres at night, was then sketched out; and the gentleman departed, by no means certain that this adventure might not terminate by being one of the most important of his life.
CHAPTER III.
A BOLD MEASURE.--A TOUR DE FORCE ON THE PART OF MRS. BARNABY, AND OF SAVOIR FAIRE ON THAT OF LORD MUCKLEBURY.--SIGHT-SEEING.--THE WIDOW RESOLVES UPON ANOTHER JOURNEY.
Mr. Morrison, who really had a little business, though not very much, had named two o'clock as the earliest hour at which he should be able to come to Half-moon Street for the purpose of escorting the ladies in a hackney-coach to the city; and it was during the hours that intervened between her breakfast and this time, that the active-minded Mrs. Barnaby determined upon making a private visit to Mivart's Hotel, in the hope of seeing Lord Mucklebury.
She had quite made up her mind to the worst, as may be seen from the projects already maturing themselves in her brain, as the consequence; nevertheless she thought it was just possible that his lords.h.i.+p might be unable to resist the expression of sorrow in eyes he had so vehemently admired; and, at any rate, there was something so ... so touching in the idea of this final interview, that she could not refuse herself the satisfaction of making the experiment.
Telling Agnes that she had a little shopping to do before their sight-seeing began, and that she would not take her, for fear she should be as stupidly fatigued as on the night before, she mounted to her bed-room, adorned herself in the most becoming costume she could devise, and with somewhat less rouge than usual, that the traitor might see how sorrow worked, set forth on her expedition.
Having reached Piccadilly, she called a coach, and in a few minutes was safely deposited before Mivart's door.
”Is Lord Mucklebury here?...” she inquired in a voice of authority of the first official she encountered.
”Yes, ma'am,” was the answer. ”His lords.h.i.+p is at breakfast.”
”I must see him, if you please, directly!”
”Is it by appointment, ma'am?” questioned the discreet waiter, looking at her keenly.... ”His lords.h.i.+p is just going to set off, and is too busy, I believe, to see anybody.”
”He is not too busy to see me--I must see him directly!”
”Is it an appointment?” repeated the man, in an accent not the most respectful.
”Yes, it is,” ... replied the unblus.h.i.+ng widow.
”Better call his own man, Joe,” said another napkined functionary, attracted by the appearance of the lady.
”You had better take this sovereign,” said Mrs. Barnaby in a whisper.
Apparently the man thought this advice the best; for taking the coin with such practised dexterity as hardly to make the action perceptible, he gave the lady a look with his knowing eye that said, ”Follow me!...”
and slid away among pa.s.sages and stairs till he had marshalled her to the door of Lord Mucklebury's apartments. Being probably somewhat doubtful whether the office he had performed would be as gratefully requited by the gentleman as by the lady, he waited not to open the door, but saying, ”There's his room,” disappeared, leaving Mrs. Barnaby to announce her ill-used self.
She was a little frightened, but still resolute; and, after pausing for one moment to recover breath, threw open the door and entered.
The waiter's account was strictly true, for his lords.h.i.+p was at breakfast, and his lords.h.i.+p was packing. _En robe de chambre_, with a cup of coffee in one hand, and a bunch of keys in the other, he was standing beside his valet, who knelt before a carriage-seat he was endeavouring to close. Lord Mucklebury was facing the door, and raised his eyes as it opened. The sight that greeted them was a.s.suredly unexpected, but the nerve with which he bore it did honour to his practised philosophy.
”Mrs. Barnaby!” he exclaimed, with a smile, in which his valet seemed to take a share, for the fellow turned his head away to conceal its effect upon him.... ”Mrs. Barnaby!... How very kind this is.... But I grieve such obliging benevolence should be shewn at a moment when I have so little leisure to express my grat.i.tude.... My dear lady, I am this instant starting for the continent.”
”I know it, sir.... I know it but too well!” replied the widow, considerably embarra.s.sed by his easy tone.... ”Permit me, however, to speak to you for one moment before you set out.”
”a.s.suredly!... Place yourself on this sofa, Mrs. Barnaby.... How deeply I regret that moments so delightful.... Confound you, Rawlins, you'll break those hinges to pieces if you force them so.... My dear lady!... I am shocked to death; ... but, upon my soul, I have not a moment to spare!”
”I wish to speak to you, my lord, without the presence of your servant.”
”My dearest Mrs. Barnaby, you need not mind Rawlins any more than the coffee-pot!... You have no idea what a capital fellow he is!... true as steel ... silent as the grave.... That's it, Rawlins!... I'll set my foot upon it while you turn the key ... here! it is this crooked one.”