On Monday some of the party assembled at Kencote hunted, but the Squire1, who had given up hunting for the season for reasons we know of, went out with Sir Herbert Birkett and George Senhouse to walk up partridges, and shoot whatever else came to their guns in an easy, pottering way. Although he would not have admitted it, he was getting quite reconciled to the loss of his favourite sport. His wide lands afforded him plenty of game, and he enjoyed these small days with a few guns, walking for miles through roots and over grass, and watching his dogs work, descendants of the famous breed of pointers which had been the pride of his sporting old grandfather. He thought they had not been given half enough to do of late years, and now that his mind was turned in another direction he had begun to feel keenly interested and to follow it up with vigour2. "Driven birds are all very well," he said to his brother-in-law as they set out. "They're more difficult to hit and you get more shooting. But you don't get so much sport. Any cockney who's got the trick of it can bring 'em down."
"Well, I can't, and I'm a cockney," said Sir Herbert. "Still, I agree with you. This is the sort of day for pleasure."
So they spent the whole of the mild winter day in the open, lunched simply on the warm side of a hedge, and came back at dusk, having thoroughly3 enjoyed themselves. The Squire had been at his best, the country gentleman, busying himself in the open air with the pursuits his forefathers4 had found their pleasure in for generations, allied5 to his lands, simple in his enjoyment6 of what they provided for him, companionable, master of field-craft, perfect as a host. "I haven't had such a day for a long time," he said as they stood before the hall door being relieved of their paraphernalia7. "I've forgotten all my troubles."
Sir Herbert was touched. He found the man tiresome8 in so many aspects of life, stupid and overbearing. But he had also something of the appealing simplicity9 of a child. He was in trouble, and he had been able to forget it all while he had amused himself.
"It's the best day I've had for a long time too," he said. "You've given me a great deal of pleasure, Edward."
But once in the house, the Squire's worries rolled back on him—not the big trouble, which he had no time to brood over just now, although it was always present in the background of his mind, but the little annoyances11 incident to his entertaining a lot of people whose ways were not his ways, and who interfered12 with the settled course of his life.
Lady Aldeburgh had given him great annoyance10, and as for Bobby Trench13, it was as much as he could do to be civil to him. On the other hand, he was more pleased with his son Humphrey than he had been for a long time, and he had also come to feel that his son Walter was a man to be relied on, in spite of his obstinate14 choice of a profession unsuitable for a son of his, and his management of his life since he had taken up that profession. If it had not been for this new-found satisfaction in his younger sons, perhaps he would not have been able to prevent the thoughts of his eldest15 son spoiling his day, and he would certainly have been far more actively16 annoyed with Lady Aldeburgh and Bobby Trench.
For neither of those gay butterflies of fashion had been able or cared to adjust themselves to the Sabbath calm of a house managed in the way that Kencote was. Lady Aldeburgh, having spent the morning in her room, written her letters and done her duty to privacy for the day, came down to luncheon17 ready and willing to be amused. And there was no amusement provided for her. After luncheon she had played a game of running round the billiard-table and knocking balls into pockets with the bare hand with Bobby Trench, and fortunately the Squire, at rest in his room, with the Spectator on his knee, had not known what they were doing. But this mild amusement had soon palled18, and the problem was to find something for two active young things to do in its place. "Have you ever stayed in a house like this before, Bobby dear?" asked Lady Aldeburgh.
Bobby dear said that he never had, and the powers above being favourable19, never would again.
"Slumbering21 on their beds," replied Bobby Trench; "and in half an hour or so they will all appear, rubbing their eyes, and we shall go for a nice long walk."
"Not me," said her ladyship, with a glance at the leaden sky outside and the bare leafless trees shaking in a cold wind. "Do let's get somewhere by a cosey fire and have a rubber of bridge."
"Who's the four?" asked Bobby Trench. "Shall we wake up old Clinton, and ask him? There are risks. It might be amusing to see somebody in an apoplectic22 fit, and again it might not."
"Don't be foolish," said Lady Aldeburgh, patting him on the arm. "Humphrey would play, and I'll tell Susan she's wanted."
"They are going out for a walk together. It's a case," said Bobby Trench boldly.
"Whatever put that into your head?" enquired23 her ladyship, with wide-open eyes. "It's quite absurd."
"Oh, I think Susan's a very nice girl," replied Bobby Trench. "Though I admit it's absurd to take much notice of her while you're about."
Lady Aldeburgh hit his sleeve again with her jewelled hand. "If you talk like that I shall go away," she said. "When I said it was absurd I meant that neither of them has a shilling."
"Humphrey ought to have a good many shillings if he plays his hand well with old Papa Beetroot just now," replied Bobby Trench. "There's a deuce of an upset. I should hold for a rise if I were you."
"You shouldn't talk so disrespectfully. You are disrespectful to me, and to Mr. Clinton, who is a relation of mine—and the head of our family, or so he says. And as for Humphrey, he's a nice boy—certainly the pick of this particular bunch—but Susan wouldn't look at him."
"Why not? He's civilised, if his people aren't."
"She could do much better, and I shouldn't allow it. Of course they are friends, and I don't mind that. You must remember that they are cousins."
"Is it fifty-sixth or fifty-seventh cousins?" asked Bobby Trench innocently. "Well, you know best, of course, but you've got other girls besides Susan to look after, and if you don't take care she'll get left. No, my dear lady, it's no use trying to deceive me. You're quite ready to let Susan marry Humphrey if Papa Mangel-Wurzel will put up the stakes. Aren't you, now? Confess."
"I shan't confess anything so ridiculous," said Lady Aldeburgh petulantly24. "What I want to do is to play bridge, and relieve myself of this frightful25 boredom26. I shouldn't have come here if I'd known what it was like. Can't we get a four?"
"I'll see about it later on," said Bobby Trench. "Perhaps after tea. Why not picquet in the meantime?"
"It's a stupid game," said Lady Aldeburgh. "But if you make the stakes high enough it would be better than nothing."
"I'll make the stakes what you like," said Bobby Trench. "I'll pay you if I lose, and if you lose you must pay me."
Lady Aldeburgh having consented to this not unreasonable27 arrangement, Bobby Trench rang the bell and asked the servant who answered it to bring a card-table and some cards. Although somewhat surprised at the order he presently fulfilled it, and the game proceeded until tea-time.
All the members of the house party met over the tea-table, and afterwards Lady Aldeburgh, having whispered to her daughter, went out of the room followed by Bobby Trench. Lady Susan then whispered something to Humphrey, who looked rather disturbed, and then also went out of the room with her. Now the whispers had not been in the least obtrusive28, or of the nature to arouse comment, but the Squire happened to have observed them both, and told Joan as he went back into his room to find Humphrey and send him to him, not anticipating hearing of anything wrong, but thinking that he might as well know what was going on as not.
Joan was delighted with the errand. She also had observed the whispers, and was at least as eager as her father to find out what was on foot. She went to several rooms before she opened the door of the billiard-room, which was little used, and never on a Sunday. There she found Lady Aldeburgh and Bobby Trench seated at a card-table, and Humphrey standing29 by them with Susan Clinton at his side. "Humphrey, father wants to speak to you for a minute," she said, and then ran away to find Nancy and tell her of the terrible thing that was happening.
"Well, if you don't mind, then," said Humphrey, preparing to obey the summons, and Lady Aldeburgh said, "Oh no, not in the least. I didn't know there would be any objection."
Joan, passing through the hall, was again stopped by the Squire, who was standing at the door of his room. "I told you to fetch Humphrey," he said irritably30. "Why have you been so long? I want to speak to him."
"I couldn't find him, father," said Joan.
"Where was he?" asked the Squire.
"He's just coming," replied Joan.
"I asked you where he was," persisted the Squire, and when she said he had been in the billiard-room, asked her what he was doing there.
"Talking to Lady Aldeburgh," said Joan; and the Squire asked her what she was doing.
Then it came out. "Playing at cards with Mr. Trench," said Joan, who disliked Lady Aldeburgh and Bobby Trench equally, and didn't see why she shouldn't answer a plain question in plain terms.
Then the Squire went into his room, shutting the door decisively, and Humphrey went in after him, Joan having escaped for the second time.
Inside the Squire's room there was an outbreak. "I will not have it in this house. I simply will not have it," was the burden of his indignant cry.
"Well, look here, father," said Humphrey quietly. "I didn't know what was happening, and directly I did I stopped them. They gave it up at once when I said you wouldn't like it. They couldn't tell, you know. Everybody does it now."
The Squire spluttered his wrath31. "I call it disgraceful," he said. "I don't know what the world's coming to. Cards on Sunday in a respectable God-fearing house! And you defend it!"
"No, I don't," said Humphrey. "I told you that I had stopped them."
The Squire looked at him. "Did they want you to play?" he asked. "You and a girl like Lady Susan! You don't mean to tell me her mother wanted her to play? Is the girl accustomed to that sort of thing, I should like to know?"
Humphrey did not want to give Lady Aldeburgh away, but rather her than Susan, and rather Bobby Trench than either of them.
"Susan doesn't care about it," he said. "Lady Aldeburgh—well, you can see what she is, can't you?—nothing like as sensible as her daughter. She'll do what anybody wants her to."
"Oh, then it's Master Trench I'm to thank for making my house a gambling32 saloon on a Sunday!" exclaimed the Squire. "If he wasn't my guest, I would say something to that young cub33 that would surprise him. Anyhow, he'll never come into this house again, and I must say, seeing what he is, that I wonder at your asking him at all."
"I'm sorry I did," said Humphrey. "But I hope you won't say anything to him about this. I'll take charge of them and see that they behave themselves."
"Then you'll have your work cut out for you," said the Squire grumpily. "You'd better set about doing it at once. I wish to goodness I'd never consented to people like that coming into the house. I may be old-fashioned—I dare say I am—but I don't understand their ways, and I don't want to."
That had been the end of it as far as he was concerned.
If he could have heard what passed between Lady Aldeburgh and Bobby Trench when deprived of their legitimate34 amusement—but that thought is too painful. What had happened further on that Sunday evening was that feeling vaguely35 the need of some sort of comfort in the anxieties that beset36 him he had suddenly taken it into his head to go to church to the evening service, a thing he hardly ever did, and striding with firm and audible steps into the chancel pew during the saying of the Psalms37, he had found, as well as most of the ladies from the house and George Senhouse, assembled there, Humphrey and Susan Clinton sitting together, and had come to the conclusion, during the sermon, that it was creditable on Humphrey's part to have stopped the card-playing on his behalf, instead of joining in it, as might have been expected of him, and that he seemed to be turning over a new leaf, and was probably exercising a good influence over the harmless daughter of a foolish mother.
So he was pleased with Humphrey, but displeased38 with Lady Aldeburgh, who had shown herself perverse39 at the dinner-table and in the drawing-room afterwards, had refused to talk more than was necessary, and had gone up to her room on the stroke of ten; and furious with Bobby Trench, who had made no effort to disguise his yawns throughout the evening, and fallen openly asleep in the library after the ladies had retired40.
As for Walter, he had talked to him very sensibly later still in the evening about Dick. "Don't do anything," he had said, "till I have seen him again. I don't know what can be done, or if anything can be done. But it's quite certain that if you threaten him you will drive him straight into doing what you don't want him to do." So he had consented to Walter acting41 as his ambassador, and felt that he could rely on him in that capacity, and even take some comfort in the hope that he might do something to lighten the state of gloom and depression in which most of his waking hours were now passed.
It was with a feeling of relief that he saw the whole party, with the exception of Sir Herbert Birkett, set out later in the evening on their ten-mile drive to Kemsale. It had been his intention to go with them, but the thought that Virginia, with whom he had seen Lord Meadshire colloguing, would almost certainly have received an invitation, and would no doubt eagerly have accepted it, deterred42 him. When his wife's carriage, containing herself, Lady Birkett, and Lady Aldeburgh, who would far rather have been with the younger members of the party, had driven off, and the omnibus, with the rest of them, had followed it, he breathed a sigh of relief. "To-morrow we shall be able to settle down again, thank God!" he said to himself as the door was shut behind him.
Kemsale Hall, towards which carriages from every country house in South Meadshire within driving distance, and motor-cars from far beyond, were converging43, was a very fine place, and the ball which Lord Meadshire gave that evening was a very fine ball. Amongst the numerous guests, whose names were all chronicled in the Bathgate Herald44 and South Meadshire Advertiser, were Lady George Dubec and Miss Dexter.
Virginia had gone home from the Hunt Ball vowing45 that nothing would induce her to accept the invitation which Lady Kemsale had given her so patronisingly when it should be confirmed by the promised card, and Miss Dexter had backed her up in her own dry way, while professing46 to combat her resolution.
"I don't know what you can be thinking of, Virginia," she said. "Refuse an invitation to a house like Kemsale—the house of a Marquis, a Lord-Lieutenant! Why, lots of women would commit hari-kari to-morrow—or at least the day after the ball—if they could get an invitation."
"Well, I'm not one of them," said Virginia. "To think that I would go anywhere on sufferance! Lord Meadshire's an old darling, but as for his daughter-in-law, I should very much like to tell her what I think of her."
The opportunity of doing so occurred no later than the following afternoon, when Lady Kemsale came to Blaythorn Rectory to call, but Virginia did not take it.
Lady Kemsale's manners were naturally stiff, but she did her best to soften47 them when she was shown into Virginia's drawing-room. "I thought I would come over before Monday," she said, with a smile, "so as to put everything on the most approved basis of etiquette48. We don't often get new people in this part of the world, and when we do we must make haste to show that we appreciate them."
This was handsome enough, and it rather took Virginia's breath away. When Lady Kemsale had been announced she had jumped to the conclusion that Lord Meadshire had sent her, which was true; but what was also true was that she had been quite pleased to come, and to have the opportunity of making amends49 for her frigidity50 at the Hunt Ball, which had been caused by the Squire's tale and thawed51 again by her own observations. When she drove away half an hour later Virginia said with a rare lapse52 into the American tongue, "Why, she's a perfectly lovely woman, after all, Toby. Now you can't say that I was wrong to say I'd go, after the way she behaved."
"Just a little soft-sawder, and you fall at her feet," said Miss Dexter. But she was pleased, all the same, that Virginia should be going to Kemsale, and that one more of Dick's people should have acknowledged her charm and her worth. She was pleased also to be going herself, for she had a little scheme of her own, which she had not imparted to her friend.
She had, in fact, made up her mind to speak to Mrs. Clinton, if she could find an excuse to do so, unobserved by the Squire. She had watched her in the Bathgate Assembly Room, and she had seen her in her turn watching Virginia with eyes whose meaning, whatever it was, was not one of hostility53. "Now there's a woman with sense," she had said to herself. "She wouldn't be tiresome. I wonder how much she is under the influence of her old bear of a husband?"
This was what she was going to find out, if she could, and she waited her opportunity, refusing invitations to dance, and wandering about the great string of rooms at Kemsale, stalking her prey54, with a whole-hearted indifference55 as to what might be thought of a single lady so apparently56 friendless and partnerless.
It was Lord Meadshire himself, who, coming across her passing through one of the smaller drawing-rooms, did what she wanted. "What! not dancing?" he asked in his friendly way; and with a searching glance at his kind old face she said, "I have something else to do. I want to speak to Mrs. Clinton, but I don't know her."
He looked at her in return with a momentary57 seriousness. "Want to gain a convert, eh?" he asked. He liked her plain sensible face, and the way she stood, square to him and to the world. "Tell me now, is this a serious business?"
She did not answer him directly. "She's one of the best women in the world," she said. "Perhaps I'm the only person who really knows what she's been through and how she has taken it. She has come out of her troubles pure gold. And anybody can see for themselves that she is beautiful and has a charm all her own."
"Oh yes, anybody can see that," said Lord Meadshire. "She's a sweet creature. And Dick Clinton wants to marry her. He's serious, eh?"
"I think he has proved it," said Miss Dexter.
Lord Meadshire considered this. He had heard that Dick had retired from the army, but not about his having taken an estate agency. "I suppose he is," he said.
"They ought to know her," said Miss Dexter. "People ought not to hug prejudices that have no reason."
Lord Meadshire looked at her with his mischievous58 smile. "A matter of abstract right and wrong—what?" he said. "Well, come along, and I'll introduce you. But you must tell me your name, which I'm afraid I have forgotten, although I know quite well who you are, you know."
"Yes. I'm Lady George Dubec's companion, and my name is Dexter," she said.
Lord Meadshire loved a little conspiracy59. His eyes twinkled at her as he said, "This dance is coming to an end, and people will be here in a minute. You would like to talk to her by yourselves. Go into the conservatory60 there, and leave it all to me."
So Miss Dexter went and deposited herself on one of two chairs under a palm. Couples in search of privacy wondered, sometimes audibly, why on earth the woman couldn't find some other place to sit and mope in, but she sat on undisturbed. A man whom she had danced with before, also unattached, mooned in with his hands in his pockets, and showed a disposition61 to take the vacant chair. "Please go away," she said. "I have got toothache, and anybody who talks to me will have his head snapped off," and he, being of a diffident nature, went. Presently the lilting sweep of strings62 and the sweet penetrating63 sound of horns came sweeping64 in from the distant orchestra, and she was left alone once more, except for one couple, who still sat on in a distant corner. But by and by she heard voices approaching. These were from Lord Meadshire and Mrs. Clinton, whom he had brought in to look at the flowers, which were banked up in gay, scented65 masses underneath66 the spreading branches of the great palms. They came to where she was sitting, and Lord Meadshire said again, "What! not dancing?" She rose and stood before them. "I'm having a little rest," she said, with a smile; and then he made the introduction. "Do you know Miss Dexter, Nina?" he asked. "She has come to live here for a time, Mrs. Clinton."
Mrs. Clinton acknowledged the introduction not without stiffness. She was taken by surprise, as was intended, but she was a woman whom it was not wise to take by surprise, if you wanted her to show you what was in her mind.
Lord Meadshire had intended to leave her with Miss Dexter, slipping away on some excuse with a promise to return, but when he had borne the brunt of a light conversation for a little time he perceived that he could not do so. He paused in some bewilderment, and Miss Dexter said, "May I have a few words with you, Mrs. Clinton?"
"Ah yes," he said, visibly relieved. "I'll leave you both here together, and come back."
But Mrs. Clinton said at once, "If it is about Lady George Dubec, I would rather not hear anything. I think I will go back to the ballroom67, Cousin Humphrey." Then she turned resolutely68, with a bow to Miss Dexter, who had plumped herself into her seat again and did not return it, and Lord Meadshire had nothing to do but to go away with her. "But you mustn't sit here all the evening," he said kindly69, over his shoulder, to Miss Dexter. "I shall come back and fetch you."
But when he returned five minutes later she was not there, and he saw her dancing vigorously, and apparently anxious to avoid him.
But she could not dance the whole evening, owing to a lack of partners, and he had an opportunity of speaking to her later. "I'm afraid our little scheme miscarried," he said, with some concern.
She showed him a pink, angry face. "I wish to goodness I had left it alone," she said. "I don't like being snubbed."
"I thought, to look at her, she had a good deal more sense than he," said Miss Dexter uncompromisingly. "It seems I was mistaken."
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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annoyances
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| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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palled
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| v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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perfectly
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slumbering
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apoplectic
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enquired
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petulantly
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frightful
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boredom
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unreasonable
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obtrusive
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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gambling
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cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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vaguely
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beset
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psalms
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displeased
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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retired
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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44
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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45
vowing
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
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professing
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| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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47
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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48
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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49
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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50
frigidity
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| n.寒冷；冷淡；索然无味；（尤指妇女的）性感缺失 | |
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51
thawed
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| 解冻 | |
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52
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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53
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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54
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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55
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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56
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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57
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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58
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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59
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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60
conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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63
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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64
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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65
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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66
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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67
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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68
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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69
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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