Miss Marrable, who, when she received this love-letter, was sitting
in her bedroom, was thunderstruck. At first, she thought of going to
Amy and charging her with baseness and ingratitude; but after some
reflection, she decided to let matters, for the time at least, take
their course, and to confound the schemes of the rash couple by means
of a grand stroke at the final moment. She went, however, at once to
Lucy, in whom, as I have said, she had great confidence, and told her
all.
‘How foolish of her,’ said Lucy.
‘Yes, my dear! how foolish, and how wicked!’ assented Miss Marrable.
‘I feel it my duty to prevent the carrying out of this mad plan, and
also to make Amy suffer for her folly. I shall therefore send her this
letter; and allow the hare-brained pair to mature their schemes.—And
what, Lucy dear, do you think that I propose to do? You will never
guess. Listen! Amy and I are of much the same height. I shall personate
her by concealing—ahem—my face, and drive away with this vile young
man; and then, when he believes that he has left me far behind, I shall
overwhelm him with shame and confusion.’
Lucy could not help laughing. ‘That would really be good fun, aunt,’
she said. ‘Yes, send the letter to Amy; and by all means let matters
take their course for the present.’
Miss Marrable did send the letter; and Amy duly received it,
unsuspectingly; but five minutes later, Lucy revealed the whole plot to
her, and threw her into the deepest trepidation.
Here, however, Lucy’s superior coolness came in most usefully. ‘You
need not despair,’ said the elder cousin. ‘If aunt thinks of having fun
with you and Mr Jellicoe, why not turn the tables, and have fun with
her? You must find some other way of carrying on your correspondence;
but at the same time answer this letter by the old medium. Your answer
will of course fall into aunt’s hands. You must mislead her, and then’——
‘But,’ objected Amy, ‘how am I to make matters turn out properly?’
‘Listen!’ said Lucy. ‘Aunt proposes to personate you. Very well. Put
off the time of your elopement, say, for half an hour; and meantime Mr
Jellicoe must find some one to personate him. My idea is for aunt to
elope with the billiard-marker, and so give you time to get away. Do
you see?’
Amy could not at first grasp the significance of this bold proposition;
but when she succeeded in doing so, she was delighted with it.
‘I shall tell Mr Rhodes,’ said Lucy, when she had sufficiently
explained the plan; ‘for I know that he will gladly help you; and Mr
Jellicoe can talk it all over with him and have the benefit of his
advice.’
‘But what will aunt say when she discovers how we—how you—have
deceived her?’ asked Amy.
‘Ah!’ said Lucy slily, ‘I must talk about that too with Mr Rhodes. But
never fear!’ And she went off to rejoin Miss Marrable, who was still
much flurried.
Later in the day, Lucy met Robert on the beach, and told him what had
happened. ‘And now,’ she said in conclusion, ‘I am going to make a
dreadful proposition to you. We must also elope together!’
‘I am sure I don’t mind,’ said Mr Rhodes. ‘After hearing your news, I
was going to propose as much myself. It would take you out of the reach
of your aunt’s reproaches, when she finds out the trick that has been
played upon her.’
‘You are a dear old love!’ cried Lucy with enthusiasm. ‘I wouldn’t
for the world have Amy made unhappy; and I feel that I must help her,
although I don’t approve of elopements. Now go and talk to Mr Jellicoe;
and don’t forget to have the licenses ready. Perhaps Mr Jellicoe can
arrange for both Amy and me to sleep that night with the Joneses,
whoever they may be; or perhaps, after all, we had better not go there,
since aunt knows of that part of the scheme.’
‘I daresay,’ said Robert, ‘that I can arrange for both of you to sleep
at the Browns at Llanyltid. They have a large house, and, curiously
enough, my sister Dora, whom you have often met in town, is staying
there with them; so you will have a companion and sympathiser. And now
I will go and talk to Jellicoe.’
I need not follow in detail the progress of the new scheme of double
elopement. Suffice it to say that the bogus correspondence destined
to mislead Miss Marrable, was steadily kept up; that Amy and Vivian
found other means of safely communicating with one another; that the
Browns were written to; that the licenses were obtained; that three
carriages-and-pairs were engaged, one to call at the hotel at nine
o’clock P.M., and two at half-past; that coachmen were liberally feed;
and finally, that the billiard-marker at the _Cors-y-Gedol_, a spruce
young fellow of some education, was bribed, at considerable cost, to
personate Vivian Jellicoe and to run away with Miss Marrable.
At length, Wednesday morning arrived; and with it came the last of the
billet-doux that were to fall into the cunning spinster’s hands. One of
them had been composed by Vivian and Robert, and written by the former
on pink paper, folded billet-doux-wise. It ran as follows:
MY OWN AMY—I have satisfactorily arranged everything. The
carriage will be at the door of the hotel at nine o’clock. I
shall not show myself, for your aunt may be about. Be careful,
therefore, to avoid her; and enter the carriage as quickly as
possible. In order that there may be no mistake, I have told
the driver to wear a white choker round his neck. I hope that
you will be punctual. Everything depends upon punctuality. Till
nine o’clock, good-bye.—Your most devoted