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Updated: June 6, 2025
From here she saw the last of the horsemen below her sweep round the curve towards Baronmead, and the hubbub growing fainter in the distance told her that the hounds were already plunging through the woods. Ahead of her the ridge culminated in a bare knoll whence it was evident that she could overlook a considerable stretch of country. She urged her animal towards it.
This year she spent the day in the peaceful atmosphere of Baronmead, driving home at length, through the frosty starlight, in the Errols' car.
His expression was positively villainous, and sharp as a pin-prick there darted through her the memory of her first visit to Baronmead, and the hatred of Nap Errol she had that day seen revealed in the man's eyes. She had never given the matter a thought since. To-day it awoke to life, stirring within her a vague apprehension. "How is your master, Tawny?" she asked.
Errol. Her happiest hours were those she spent with Lucas and his mother in the great music-room at Baronmead. It was here also that she learned to know of that hidden, vital quantity, elusive as flame, that was Nap Errol's soul.
Her face was quite white, but her eyes were alight, curiously vital, with a glitter that was almost of horror. "To Baronmead!" she said, a queer note of sharpness in her voice. "No, certainly not, most certainly not!" And there she stopped, stopped dead as though struck dumb.
They went a few yards farther; then, "In Heaven's name come early to Baronmead," he said jerkily. "I shall have no peace till you come." "I will," she promised. The chauffeur came to meet them with clumsy solicitude as they neared the car, but Nap kept him at a distance. "Don't touch me! I've had a bad fall skiing. It's torn me to ribbons. Just open the door. Lady Carfax will do the rest!"
It might be that even now he was fighting the desperate battle. Inaction became intolerable. She had promised Mrs. Errol that she would take a long rest, but there was no rest for her. She knew that she would hear from Lucas the moment he had anything definite to report; but a new and ghastly fear now assailed her. What if Nap had not returned to Baronmead?
She was helpless as an infant and could not have refused her hostess's ministrations even had she desired to do so. She suffered a good deal of pain also, and this kept her from taking much note of her surroundings during that first day at Baronmead.
He took a keen interest in the doings of the young couple at the Dower House, and Dot's breezy presence was ever welcome. As for Anne, she went to and fro between Baronmead and the Manor, of which her husband's will had left her sole mistress, no longer leading a hermit's life, no longer clinging to her solitude, grave and quiet, but not wholly unhappy.
She had not the remotest intention of seeing Bertie alone again for many a month, if ever. His persistence had scared her badly on that night at Baronmead. She was horribly afraid of what he might feel impelled to say to her, almost terrified at the bare notion of an explanation, and the prospect of a possible apology was unthinkable.
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