The Reluctant Widow by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online Page A

least need to tell him so; you have only to tell me,” he responded calmly. There was another pause. “I suppose you think me excessively silly!” Elinor said resentfully. “No, I am well aware of the awkwardness of your situation. You may be pardoned for feeling some irritation of the nerves. But if you could but bring yourself to trust me you would do very well. Do not be forever teasing yourself with thoughts of what is to happen next! I will take care of that.”
    She was mollified, and although she would not for any consideration have acknowledged it, the prospect of being able to cast her burdens on his shoulders could not but attract her. She said no more, but ceased to sit bolt upright beside him, and leaned back instead, as though by this relaxation of her body her mind relaxed also. She still cherished a hazy notion that she must regret this adventure, but the night air was making her sleepy. It was pleasant to be bowling along with a light breeze fanning her cheek; the disagreeable necessity of confronting an irate employer no longer loomed before her; and it was fatally easy to allow herself to be carried into a fantastic dream wherein she was only expected to do as she was bid.
    When he pulled up his horses before the parsonage gate, Carlyon handed the reins over to her, saying, “If I am gone above ten minutes, will you walk them, Miss Rochdale?” “Yes,” she said in a docile voice.
    She was obliged to do so, but she had not taken more than one turn when he rejoined her, this time with a stout little man at his heels. She wondered what arguments had been used to persuade the cleric into performing what must surely be an unorthodox ceremony, but she was not really surprised that they had succeeded. She made room for Mr. Presteign to sit beside her, and gave the reins back to Carlyon. He thanked her and said, “This is Miss Rochdale, Presteign.”
    Mr. Presteign said how do you do in a flustered voice. He added, “Of course, if you have the license there is no objection on that score. But, you know, my lord, if either party should be unwilling, I could not, even to oblige your lordship—not that I mean to suggest that you would—for I hope I have too great a respect for your lordship’s benevolence to suppose—” “My dear sir, you know the circumstances! Unusual they may be, but irregular I have taken care they shall not be. My cousin you will find—if we find him at all—very willing to do what he believes must spite me; the lady may draw back from the contract at any moment she chooses so to do.”
    The parson seemed satisfied. Miss Rochdale could only reflect on the perversity of her own disposition, which made it impossible for her to draw back the instant she was offered the opportunity of doing so.
    It was not far from the parsonage to the inn at Wisborough Green. Miss Rochdale was soon being ushered into a pleasant parlor, where a small fire burned, at which she was glad
    enough to warm her chilled fingers. Mr. Presteign joined her and she saw, in the full candlelight, that he was a jolly-looking cleric with rosy cheeks and a pair of rather innocent blue eyes, just now opened wider than their wont in an expression of mingled nervousness and curiosity.
    A servant whom Carlyon addressed as Jem had received them. Elinor heard him say, with a strong Sussex accent, that the doctor was with Mr. Eustace in the best bedroom, and that it was a hem setout, surely, but in no ways Master Nick’s fault, as everyone, whether present or not, would testify to the crowner.
    “Nonsense! Where is Hitchin?” Carlyon asked, stripping off his driving gloves. “I’ll fetch him to your lordship,” replied the tapster, waiting to help Carlyon to take off his long, many-caped coat. “He should ought to be in the coffee room. Lamentable put about, he is. Well, surely, I disremember when we had such a setout at the Bull, and your lordship knows I’ve been with Mr. Hitchin a dunnamany years.”
    The landlord,