Lady Audley’s Secret M. E. Braddon (best historical fiction books of all time TXT) 📖

this!” he cried, stamping his foot upon the frosty ground. “I always knew it would be so; I always knew that she was a hundred times too good for me. God bless her! How nobly and tenderly she spoke; how beautiful she looked with the crimson blushes under her brown skin, and the tears in her big, gray eyes⁠—almost as handsome as the day she took the sunk fence, and let me put the brush in her hat as we rode home! God bless her! I can get over anything as long as she doesn’t care for that sneaking lawyer. But I couldn’t stand that.”

That sneaking lawyer, by which appellation Sir Harry alluded to Mr. Robert Audley, was standing in the hall, looking at a map of the midland counties, when Alicia came out of the library, with red eyes, after her interview with the foxhunting baronet.

Robert, who was shortsighted, had his eyes within half an inch of the surface of the map as the young lady approached him.

“Yes,” he said, “Norwich is in Norfolk, and that fool, young Vincent, said it was in Herefordshire. Ha, Alicia, is that you?”

He turned round so as to intercept Miss Audley on her way to the staircase.

“Yes,” replied his cousin curtly, trying to pass him.

“Alicia, you have been crying.”

The young lady did not condescend to reply.

“You have been crying, Alicia. Sir Harry Towers, of Towers Park, in the county of Herts, has been making you an offer of his hand, eh?”

“Have you been listening at the door, Mr. Audley?”

“I have not, Miss Audley. On principle, I object to listen, and in practice I believe it to be a very troublesome proceeding; but I am a barrister, Miss Alicia, and able to draw a conclusion by induction. Do you know what inductive evidence is, Miss Audley?”

“No,” replied Alicia, looking at her cousin as a handsome young panther might look at its daring tormentor.

“I thought not. I dare say Sir Harry would ask if it was a new kind of horse-ball. I knew by induction that the baronet was going to make you an offer; first, because he came downstairs with his hair parted on the wrong side, and his face as pale as a tablecloth; secondly, because he couldn’t eat any breakfast, and let his coffee go the wrong way; and, thirdly, because he asked for an interview with you before he left the Court. Well, how’s it to be, Alicia? Do we marry the baronet, and is poor Cousin Bob to be the best man at the wedding?”

“Sir Harry Towers is a noble-hearted young man,” said Alicia, still trying to pass her cousin.

“But do we accept him⁠—yes or no? Are we to be Lady Towers, with a superb estate in Hertfordshire, summer quarters for our hunters, and a drag with outriders to drive us across to papa’s place in Essex? Is it to be so, Alicia, or not?”

“What is that to you, Mr. Robert Audley?” cried Alicia, passionately. “What do you care what becomes of me, or whom I marry? If I married a chimney-sweep you’d only lift up your eyebrows and say, ‘Bless my soul, she was always eccentric.’ I have refused Sir Harry Towers; but when I think of his generous and unselfish affection, and compare it with the heartless, lazy, selfish, supercilious indifference of other men, I’ve a good mind to run after him and tell him⁠—”

“That you’ll retract, and be my Lady Towers?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t, Alicia, don’t,” said Robert Audley, grasping his cousin’s slender little wrist, and leading her upstairs. “Come into the drawing-room with me, Alicia, my poor little cousin; my charming, impetuous, alarming little cousin. Sit down here in this mullioned window, and let us talk seriously and leave off quarreling if we can.”

The cousins had the drawing-room all to themselves. Sir Michael was out, my lady in her own apartments, and poor Sir Harry Towers walking up and down upon the gravel walk, darkened with the flickering shadows of the leafless branches in the cold winter sunshine.

“My poor little Alicia,” said Robert, as tenderly as if he had been addressing some spoiled child, “do you suppose that because people don’t wear vinegar tops, or part their hair on the wrong side, or conduct themselves altogether after the manner of well-meaning maniacs, by way of proving the vehemence of their passion⁠—do you suppose because of this, Alicia Audley, that they may not be just as sensible of the merits of a dear little warmhearted and affectionate girl as ever their neighbors can be? Life is such a very troublesome matter, when all is said and done, that it’s as well even to take its blessings quietly. I don’t make a great howling because I can get good cigars one door from the corner of Chancery Lane, and have a dear, good girl for my cousin; but I am not the less grateful to Providence that it is so.”

Alicia opened her gray eyes to their widest extent, looking her cousin full in the face with a bewildered stare. Robert had picked up the ugliest and leanest of his attendant curs, and was placidly stroking the animal’s ears.

“Is this all you have to say to me, Robert?” asked Miss Audley, meekly.

“Well, yes, I think so,” replied her cousin, after considerable deliberation. “I fancy that what I wanted to say was this⁠—don’t marry the foxhunting baronet if you like anybody else better; for if you’ll only be patient and take life easily, and try and reform yourself of banging doors, bouncing in and out rooms, talking of the stables, and riding across country, I’ve no doubt the person you prefer will make you a very excellent husband.”

“Thank you, cousin,” said Miss Audley, crimsoning with bright, indignant blushes up to the roots of her waving brown hair; “but as you may not know the person I prefer, I think you had better not take upon yourself to answer for him.”

Robert pulled the dog’s ears thoughtfully for some moments.

“No, to be sure,” he said, after a