Peggy drove with Drusilla into Yeading on market day, for the girl had been oppressively well-conducted, and it seemed to Peggy that she needed a small treat. They had a jolly time, and presently, as they drove homeward, Drusilla grew confiding. She described life in Bath with Lady Meriden with such candour that Peggy wondered why Julian's sister had not run away sooner, and was so incautious as to say so.
"Oh, Julian asked me not to," Drusilla said in matter-of-fact tones. "So, of course, I didn't."
That baffled Peggy and amused her. She said lightly, "I collect he forgot to tell you not to run away from London."
Drusilla flushed. "I wasn't really running away. I asked Jane to come with me to Yorkshire, but she would not, so, of course, I had to pretend to run off. I knew she must follow, for Cousin Georgy never leaves London in the Season, and who else would?"
"Miss Goodnight?" Peggy ventured.
"Goody can't travel alone. Casts up her accounts."
Peggy shook her head to clear it.
"I planned it all so exactly," Drusilla mourned. "And then I had to lose myself on that stupid moor. It spoilt everything."
Peggy stared into the ambient air. "My dear, if you weren't really running away, what were you doing?"
"Bringing Jane to Julian, of course."
Peggy digested that. "Why?"
Drusilla cast her a sidelong look. "It was Jane's Aunt Hervey who gave me the idea. She said Julian must marry, for then his wife could present Maria, and none of us need stay with Mama in Bath--except Thomas. One sees that it wouldn't do to deprive Mama of her baby, and I daresay he's too young to mind. Why are you laughing?"
Peggy shook her head. "Go on, my dear. Jane's Aunt Hervey..."
Drusilla eyed her suspiciously. "Well, she said Julian should go about in Society, and all the ladies would throw their caps at him, and he'd be wed in a trice, and of course I was horrified. Only think what sort of dismal female he might be trapped by. I was quite cast down. Then all at once I saw what a good idea it would be if he were to marry Jane."
"Good for whom?" Peggy asked.
"Oh, for everyone."
"For Drusilla?"
Drusilla stiffened. "Yes. And Maria and Felix and the twins, and Vincent, even, but especially Julian. He needs Jane."
She spoke with such conviction that Peggy was startled out of laughter. "My dear, you can't know that."
"Yes, I can. He's been blue-devilled ever since Jane left us."
Peggy was silent. At last she said slowly, "'Even if that were so, Drusilla, what of Jane herself?"
"You mean, I collect, that we should be a nuisance to her. You sound like Julian."
"You haven't discussed this with Ju!"
"No, but he kept saying we were not to be troubling Jane forever, that she had her own life to lead."
"He may be right."
"He's not. She loves us and had the greatest care of us before Julian came. She even took me to the tooth drawer."
"That does argue devotion."
Drusilla nodded emphatically.
"But, my dear," said Peggy, who felt in over her head, "even if she is devoted to you, that doesn't argue she's devoted to Julian. A man and woman don't marry to make their brothers and sisters comfortable. At least," she added cautiously, "I've never heard of such a thing."
"I daresay you think Julian's not romantical or dashing like Vincent. Jane don't care for that. She likes my brother. They was always joking together and looking for each other. And besides, if she can't love him, she's paltry, for Julian is--"
"I'm fond of Julian," Peggy interrupted. "You needn't catalogue his virtues for me, but, well, tastes differ. A woman can like a man without wishing to be married to him."
"I wasn't bent on forcing them to it," Drusilla said in a small voice. "Only how could they find out whether they were suited if they never saw each other? Oh, if only my Uncle John had not come for Jane. We were all so happy!"
"I'm sorry, darling." When Drusilla had composed herself, Peggy added, "But you know, Dru, I don't see much sign that they're in the grip of passion. They're both very polite--"
"Polite." Drusilla looked glum. "It's my fault. Julian was never used to be so formal with Jane. I daresay he feels obliged to her."
On that dismal note the discussion ended, and Peggy drew Drusilla off onto other subjects before that intrepid damsel should create further conspiracies. Nevertheless the seed was planted, and she found herself watching her new friend and her old friend.
From watching, it was a short step to contriving to set them occasionally in each other's sole company. For, she told herself, echoing Drusilla, how can they know they're not suited if they never see each other?
By the time a week had passed, some of Julian's appalling formality had melted, and Jane shewed less constraint in his company. Peggy saw what Drusilla must have observed. Friendship. Whether the attachment was more than that, Peggy could not judge, but she decided to put the matter to the test. Shamelessly she set about to contrive the proper circumstances. Lambs to the slaughter.
* * * *
Mrs. Ellen Bradford was set on marrying a foreigner from Huddersfield, one Jeremy Thorpe, by special license in St. Jude's, Yeading. It was rumoured, though not widely credited, that the groomsman was to be a real lord.
For once rumour had the truth of it.
Mrs. Bradford's dour sons and Methody daughter had not welcomed the prospect of an ex-trooper, ex-poacher step-father. For a time it seemed that the marriage must founder on the rocks of their overweening pride, the kitchen at Whitethorn rang with lamentations, and Vincent complained of a cold breakfast.
When it became apparent that Mrs. Bradford and Thorpe wished to remain in his service, Julian came up with the happy plan of leaving Whitethorn--house, stables, bog, sheep, and all--in their joint charge for as long as they should wish to keep it for him. Thus there was no financial impediment to their bliss. Mere pride. Julian had racked his brains for days trying to come up with some suffocating degree of consequence to bestow on Thorpe, but it was Peggy who suggested the special license. Nothing like that had ever occurred in St. Jude's.
Once Peggy had suggested the license, and Vincent was despatched to York Minster to secure it, it occurred to Julian to offer his services as groomsman. He made the offer rather tentatively. For all he knew, Mrs. Bradford would be offended and Thorpe embarrassed.
Not so. They leapt on the idea, Mrs. Bradford with uncharacteristic and appalling glee and Thorpe with a sort of amazed delight that made Julian feel small and silly. And glum.
He did not wish to lose Thorpe, and he definitely did not wish to dance at anyone's wedding--but if Thorpe could make an heroic sacrifice for him, he did not see that he could do less in return.
When Peggy began to compose the groom's party, however, Julian drew the line--or tried to.
"Good God, Peggy, he's my friend."
"Will has known Thorpe for years."
"That's not to the point, and you know it."
She raised her brows.
"Dru may come," he grudged.
"And Jane."
"I hope I may attend Thorpe's wedding, in proxy for Arty and Horatio," Jane murmured with a delightful gleam in her eyes.
He assented. Indeed it would not have been in his power to refuse her anything when she looked at him like that.
Miss Goodnight assured him that she loved weddings of all things and felt she might dare to represent Lady Meriden. "Now, that is doing it rather too brown!" Julian began to feel flustered. "I beg your pardon, Miss Goodnight, but if you come, it must be in your own right. My esteemed stepmother--"
"Lady Meriden stands very much in Thorpe's debt," Miss Goodnight pronounced. "Whether she knows it or not."
He regarded her helplessly. He was sure by now a conspiracy was afoot and resented it on Thorpe's behalf. When Vincent announced his firm intent to come, too, Julian exploded.
"I won't have Thorpe's wedding turned into a May game for your amusement."
Vincent blinked. "No, I say, dashed obliged to Thorpe. Found m'sister, didn't he? Never knew a better man for doctoring horseflesh either. And," he finished triumphantly, "I fetched the license. Dash it, Ju, you can't stop me."
"Oh, can't I? Peggy, this is your doing..."
She said gravely, "Will and I should come in any case, Julian. We are so well acquainted with the bride and groom that it would be Will's duty as squire."
Julian felt his neck go red. He had forgot that Will, as head of one of the oldest families in the region, must command far solider deference than a mere newcomer to Whitethorn.
"True," he muttered, "but I swear you're up to something. Perhaps Will should stand as Thorpe's groomsman."
She gave him a tranquil smile. "No. Thorpe is your particular friend. No one disputes that. But he is a very good man, and you must allow the rest of us to felicitate him properly. He does not have any family, I believe, and Mrs. Bradford has too much. He will feel safer with an impressive contingent on his side of the aisle."
"Your staffwork is beyond reproach, General Tarrant."
"As usual." Will laughed heartily.
Peggy bridled and grinned.
Julian looked from one to the other.
"We like Thorpe," Peggy said gently.
"Very well. If he agrees And if anyone," He glared at his brother and sister, "causes Jem Thorpe the least embarrassment, I will personally fling him or her into Tanner's Bog."