“I might yet have the pleasure of joining you, all the same,” the Captain said then, as though continuing a previous thought; I might persuade you both to drive out in my barouche[32] when you tire of your visit to the cliffs. Crawford's pits are not far off my road home. When my business is concluded, I shall venture your way, and enquire if a drive is pleasing.”

“You are all consideration, Captain,” I told him. “I am sure a gentle turn in the sea air should do Cassandra a world of good.”

“And what is your opinion, Dagliesh?”

“I do not think her quite recovered. Indeed, had I been asked, I should have advised against even the trip to Crawford's,” the surgeon replied. He folded his arms across his chest, and studied the worn drugget, his countenance gaining a most mulish aspect. “The jolting of a carriage can only revive her injuries. It is not to be thought of.”

“Oh, come, man!” Fielding cried with impatience. “She is in the bloom of health. She is quite obviously well. Are not you well, Miss Austen?”

“Indeed, I feel myself to be not indisposed,” Cassandra said, faltering, with an eye for Mr. Dagliesh. “I grow quite weary of sitting always within doors.”

“And how do the roads, Captain Fielding, that you intend traversing? Are they rutted and poor, such as should incommode my sister?” I enquired.

“The roads are capital,”[33] he said with a dismissive wave, “and my barouche even better. You shall not suffer the slightest jolt, Miss Austen, I assure you. Dagliesh cannot know anything of the matter; he is hardly accustomed to the sort of conveyance I own, and mistakes its effects for his own poor trap.”

The intended rudeness of the remark struck home; Mr. Dagliesh coloured, bit his lip, and as abruptly rose.

“I see that I have offered an opinion where none is wanted,” he burst out. “I shall take care before offering the same again. My compliments, Miss Austen, Miss Jane Austen.”[34] And with the briefest of nods to the Captain, he quitted the room, to our surprise and dismay.

“A touchy fellow!” Fielding said, with a hollow laugh; but his words were drowned in some commotion from the hallway, and the sound of men's voices too indistinct for comprehension. Another moment of suspense, and the door was thrown wide to admit a caller, and a gen-tleman — none other than Mr. Sidmouth!

Captain Fielding turned — saw him — and turned away. He had declined to offer any greeting, and the insult must be felt Mr. Sidmouth, however, appeared insensible of Fielding's very presence, and maintained his careful expression of good breeding. That he maintained it with difficulty, I guessed from the rapid flexing of his fingers, and clutched my own hands involuntarily.

“Mr. Sidmouth!” I cried, in some anxiety of spirit. “You honour us indeed, with so early a visit!”

“I must apologise if my presence has in any way disturbed the course of your morning,” he replied, with a glance for Fielding. I am come to enquire of Miss Austen's health, and should have setded the point with the housemaid at the very door, did not I encounter Dag-liesh, and learn that you were even now entertaining a visitor. It is a pleasure indeed, Miss Austen, to find you in such good looks. I trust you shall be journeying to Mr. Crawford's today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sidmouth. That I am present at all, I am sure is due to your good offices.” Cassandra spoke all the warmth of her gratitude; and I saw Fielding's surprise. That she bore no reservations towards Geoffrey Sidmouth was evident in her attitude of eager attention; that I had imparted nothing of all he had told me, to my dearest sister, was clear in her unguarded thanks.

“I did nothing any person of feeling and decency would not do,” Sidmouth replied, taking the chair Dag-liesh had vacated. In sitting, he adjusted it slightly so as to place Fielding at his back. I am rewarded entirely by finding you much improved, under Dagliesh's care. He is a surgeon's assistant of some ability — and should have been a physician[35], I believe, had his fortune been the greater. With time and Mr. Carpenter's careful instruction, however, he is likely to possess such a practice and home as will make all apology unwarranted.”

“Considering the many cases you put him in the way of, I do not doubt it,” Captain Fielding said drily. “You might almost be taking a finder's fee.”

Sidmouth sat back, his face grave and his lips compressed. Cassandra looked conscious, and coloured.

“Indeed, Mr. Sidmouth engaged Mr. Dagliesh's services on my sister's behalf, Captain,” I interjected, “and we are heartily glad he did so. For as strangers to Lyme, we could not have had the choosing of a surgeon; and Mr. Sidmouth's valuation of his friend has been amply proved, in Cassandra's regained health.”

“I am very sorry — I did not intend — that is to say, I knew nothing of it,” Captain Fielding stammered, in some mortification.

“I wonder if that is not often the case,” Mr. Sidmouth rejoined quietly, his eyes upon mine.

Captain Fielding rose with some effort on his game leg, and reached for his hat. “I must beg leave of this pleasant abode, Miss Austen,” he said, with a bow to Cassandra, “and hope that my business does not detain me too long. I look forward to this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” Mr. Sidmouth enquired, stiffening.

“Indeed.” Captain Fielding looked all his satisfaction. “I am to drive the young ladies about Charmouth once they have done visiting Crawford's fossil site.”

Mr. Sidmouth consulted the large pocket watch that hung from the chain of his waistcoat; and very handsome it was, too. “Then you had best be about your business, Fielding,” he replied smoothly, “for you should not wish to find the party gone upon your arrival. I came, it is true, to enquire after Miss Austen's health; but having been assured of its excellent tendency, I am free to broach my second errand.” He turned his attention to Cassandra and me. “I am come in Crawford's barouche expressly to fetch the Miss Austens, and their father; we are all to be of the party, Fielding, you see. Quite a delightful affair; and it is a pity you shall miss it.”

The transformation of Captain Fielding's face was singular to behold, but there was nothing to be said; and with a bow to myself, and the barest of nods for Sidmouth, he turned for the door. It being evident that the entry was never to be without bustle, the poor Captain encountered my father and mother there, only just returned from the Golden Lion; and upon hearing them successful in their errand, and Henry and Eliza behind, I knew Mr. Sidmouth should be rewarded in his scheme. My father was only too happy to be saved the trouble of hiring a rig; the offer of Mr. Crawford's barouche was gladly accepted; and so, with an air of suppressed triumph not unwarranted by events, Mr. Sidmouth helped my family to their places. My mother alone remained behind, declaring herself untempted by the prospect of rocks, and extremely dirty ones at that; and not all the attractions of a ride in an open carriage, in delightful weather, could persuade her.

“And the barouche is filled, besides,” she pointed out, as she came to the street to wave goodbye. “I do not think that Jane shall find a place.”

“I am afraid the interior is very much occupied,” Mr. Sidmouth said, surveying the four faces turned expectantly my way, “and I should not like to worsen your sister's delicate health, by incommoding her further. It seems you have but one choice, Miss Jane Austen — to remain at home, or ride up front with me.”

At my hesitation, he approached, and added in a low ered tone, “I was denied the felicity of a dance last evening, for reasons I shall not ask. You cannot be inclined to disappoint all your family, who wait upon your decision. Do I presume too much, Miss Jane Austen of Bath — or will you do me the honour of sitting on the box?”