said Deborah, picking the story up. ‘But I was forced to leave Nanny Humble and the bulk of our things at the inn at the crossroads.’ She paused and Hugo spoke once again.
‘I despatched a carriage for them as soon as we got here.’
‘But how did the animals get here? The…the parrot and the dog?’ said Lady Perceval. ‘They weren’t with Mrs Humble.’
‘I thought I ought not to leave them with Nanny Humble, so Hugo kindly brought them with us,’ Deborah replied, not looking at Hugo.
‘That dog and the parrot? In the curricle?’ asked Lowell in disbelieving accents.
‘Of course.’
‘I wish I’d been there to see it,’ said Lowell with a grin.
‘Half of Abbot Quincey did.’ Hugo’s tone was grim.
‘So you have a dog with you, Deborah. I had a pug once—he was a dear little thing and very affectionate,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘I think I still have his basket. I must look it out.’
‘Er… I don’t think Autolycus would fit into a pug’s basket,’ said Hugo.
‘Autolycus? What a strange name for a dog! Deborah, why have you called your dog Autolycus?’ Henrietta’s question was a welcome diversion, and Deborah turned to her with relief.
‘He was a character in Shakespeare.’
‘A rogue and a thief,’ added Hugo. ‘I’m sorry to say that the name reflects on the dog’s moral character. The original Autolycus was a “picker up of unconsidered trifles”. At a guess I’d say it’s a good name for the animal.’
Henrietta laughed. ‘He sounds a real character. Who chose the name? You, Deborah?’
‘My father named him,’ said Deborah with reserve. ‘Just before he died.’
There was an awkward silence, and several members of the family threw an anxious glance at Lady Elizabeth. It did not please Deborah’s aunt to hear any mention of Edmund Staunton. Her father, the late Duke of Inglesham, had cast her sister Frances off for marrying Mr Staunton against his commands. He had ignored Lady Frances’s further existence till the day he died, and had ordered the rest of the family to do the same. Lady Elizabeth had not found this possible. She had remained in touch with the Stauntons in defiance of her father’s wishes, and had now offered their daughter a home. But she had never approved of the man for whom her sister had sacrificed so much. Lady Frances and her husband were now both dead, but Elizabeth Perceval’s Christian conscience was still wrestling with the problem of forgiveness for the man who had run off with her sister and reduced her to penury. With an obvious effort at brightness she said, ‘Well, are we to see this dog of yours, Deborah?’
Hugo gave his brother a speaking look. It was Lowell’s fault that Autolycus was to be sprung on the family without careful preparation for the blow.
‘I think he’s asleep, as Hugo said,’ protested Deborah weakly.
‘Then we shall all go to the stables to visit him,’ announced Lady Perceval with a smile. ‘I’m beginning to think you’re ashamed of him, Deborah.’
‘Oh no! I love him dearly. It’s just…’
‘Come along then!’ The party got up and made for the stables.
Autolycus was lying where Hugo had left him, snoring gently. He had the supremely contented air of a dog well exercised, well fed and now comfortably settled. When he heard Deborah’s voice he raised his head, wagged a sleepy tail and flopped down once again.
‘He’s very big,’ said Lady Elizabeth slowly.
‘He doesn’t expect to live indoors, Aunt Elizabeth! He’s well used to being kept in a stable or one of the outhouses.’ Deborah was perhaps unaware of the desperation in her voice. But Hugo heard it.
‘It’s time you had another guard dog, Aunt Elizabeth. You still haven’t replaced old Beavis, have you?’
‘But—’ Deborah began, but Hugo interrupted her. His frown told her plainly that this was no time to be expressing foolish doubts about Autolycus’s qualifications as a guard dog.
‘The dog is amiable enough,’ he said firmly, ‘but he can growl quite terrifyingly. And his size would put most ruffians off.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘We’ll see what your Uncle William has to say.’
The tension eased visibly. Everyone knew that, except in matters connected with his ministry, the Vicar would do whatever his wife suggested.
‘Well, I suppose we must gather ourselves together and set off for home. It has been a most eventful day,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘First the Vernons, then finding dearest Deborah here waiting for us, then the dog…’ Her voice trailed away as she glanced doubtfully back at the stable.
The Reverend William and his wife drove off to the Vicarage in the carriage, followed by Nanny Humble and Deborah’s possessions in the gig. With the exception of Hester, who returned to her attic, the young people had elected to walk to the Vicarage, collecting Autolycus as they went. Deborah took the opportunity of a moment alone with Hugo to ask what was wrong with Hester.
‘Is she ill?’
‘No, she’s in love.’
‘In love! Hester? But…’
‘Yes, I know. My sister has always sworn she would never marry. And now she’s in love, and she doesn’t know what to do. It’s an absurd situation!’
‘Poor Hester! If her affection isn’t returned what can she do?’
‘That’s what makes it all so ridiculous! The man she loves is Robert Dungarran, one of my best friends—the most sensible, reasonable chap you could wish to meet. In all the years I’ve known him he has never shown the slightest sign of idiocy. But now he is in as desperate a case as Hester. He adores her! He writes notes to her which she tears up, he calls to see her every day—even though she absolutely refuses to receive him. That’s why she went up to her attic when we left—in case he calls.’
Deborah looked bewildered. ‘But if she is in love with him, and he with her…?’
‘Exactly! They are both mad! I tell you, Deborah, passionate love is a plague to be avoided. There is neither sense nor reason in it. To be honest, I am surprised and a little disappointed in Dungarran. I would not have thought his present behaviour at all his style. When I choose a wife I promise you I shan’t have all this drama. I shall find a pretty, well-behaved girl who, like myself, has little taste for such extravagances. We shall, I hope, live in amicable harmony, but I want no passionate scenes, no tantrums, no dramatic encounters. I give you leave to push me into the nearest duckpond, Deborah, if you ever see signs of such madness in me.’
Deborah looked at Hugo in silence. She was not surprised at his words, though they chilled her. He had always disliked scenes and avoided them whenever possible, taking pride in keeping calm whatever the provocation. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had seen Hugo lose
