‘From you,’ the lady threw at him furiously. ‘You are stubborn like a mule. Why do you not go away?’
‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. ‘You are really not helping matters, my friend.’
Captain Roding looked frowningly from one to the other. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last.
‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. I’ll be waiting for you outside.’
‘No, no, go and fetch the men to the house. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke.’
‘We!’ said Hilary witheringly, and went off as Gerald laughed and turned back to the lady.
She was frowning, but it was evident that her initial fright had left her. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness.
She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. ‘Why does this person say you are mad?’
‘Because I am risking having my head blown off,’ Gerald answered cheerfully.
The girl nodded sagely. ‘And me?’
‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head.’
A radiant smile dawned. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand.’
‘I am relieved to hear it.’
The smile vanished. ‘But to do only what one wishes, it is not always convenient.’
‘Consider me warned,’ said Gerald solemnly. He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’
She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’
Gerald bowed. ‘I try to be.’
‘Ah, that is good,’ sighed the lady. ‘You do not say, “I am a gentleman born.” Frenchmen, they are different.’ She released the pistol which lay in her lap and gestured expressively with her hands. ‘They hold their nose up, so. And look down, so. Englishmen also certainly. But only inside, you understand, that one cannot see it.’
Her conversation was wonderful, Gerald decided. And she was as shrewd as they come. ‘You seem to understand the gentry very well.’
‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet.’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. ‘Please to sit, monsieur. I am not afraid that you may try to make love to me.’
‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled.
The thought had not even occurred to him. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. Which was not to say that ladies were not interested in him. But Gerald took it for the routine interest in an eligible bachelor, although he was aware many females had an eye for scarlet regimentals. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind.
‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you.’
‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. ‘And me, I am a lady. Voilà tout.’
Such simple faith touched Gerald. He refrained from pointing out that the case would be exactly the same if she was not a lady. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat.
‘That is settled then. May I know your name?’
The lady eyed him. He waited. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment. Then she shrugged.
‘Eh bien. It is Thérèse. Ah, no, I have it wrong.’ With care, she gave it an English pronunciation. ‘Tee-ree-sa.’
Gerald tutted. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle.’
The eyes flashed momentarily. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. ‘You do not like it?’
‘That is hardly the point.’
She looked up again and smiled sweetly. ‘You do not think it is enough English. I will endeavour.’ She bit her lip and thought deeply. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. ‘How is this? Proo-den-ss.’
Gerald gazed at her without expression. ‘Very inventive.’
‘But it is a very good English name,’ she protested.
‘Very. But it is not your name. Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse.’
The lady opened her eyes very wide indeed. ‘You do not believe me?’
‘I do not.’
‘Pah!’
‘Precisely.’
She let out a peal of laughter. ‘You are not at all stupid. Even if you pretend sometimes to be without sense.’
