He gave her shoulder a pat, and turned away. As he reached the door, she blurted out: “You won’t like it — and I never knew that he meant to — Adam, he writes to me that he has furnished it for us!”

He paused, his hand on the door-knob. “Has he? Generous of him! I am much obliged to him! I am sure it was all sadly shabby. And my mother took so much from it, didn’t she? I expect I shall hardly recognize the house when I see it again.”

He went out of the room as he spoke, and when they met, a little later, he made no reference to the subject, and nor did she. It was never mentioned again until the arrival of Charlotte’s letter, when Jenny’s tongue tripped over the words Grosvenor Street, and she changed them quickly to London. She would have liked to have been able to talk naturally about the house, but dared not. She had discovered that when Adam was angry he retired behind a barrier which was as impenetrable as it was intangible. Accustomed as she was to her father’s unrestrained manifestations of wrath, it had surprised her that Adam should have felt that his own mild outburst called for apology. Had he ripped up at her she would have been sorry, but not alarmed; his forebearance set her at a distance, and his unfailing courtesy made her more frightened of offending than a fit of the sullens would have done.

In the end it was he who broached the dangerous topic, asking her if servants had been engaged. She replied nervously: “Yes — that is, Papa said he would leave it to Mr Wimmering to hire servants, thinking that he would know best — and, of course, only as a temporary thing, so that if you don’t like any of them, or — ”

“My dear Jenny, no one knows less than I do about such matters! I’m much obliged to your father. The horrifying thought occurred to me that we might return to town to find ourselves stranded, with no one to cook the meals and sweep the rooms but your Martha, and my Kinver — both of whom, I am persuaded, would have taken instant offence, and deserted us.”

“Papa felt that you would not want to be troubled with such matters, when you had so much else to do — besides wishing it to be a surprise.” She recollected that this rider was far from being felicitous, and hurried on: “The arrangement is a makeshift one, of course: if you consider too few servants have been hired — or too many — ”

“Well, that will be for you to decide,” he interposed. “The house is yours, and I hope you will manage it exactly as seems best to you.”: ‘

Her heart sank; she said: “No — pray don’t say that! Papa gives it to you, not to me!”

“Ah, but you are forgetting that I endowed you with all my worldly goods!” he said lightly.

It flashed across her mind that he had not called Fontley hers. Then her thoughts were diverted by his saying: “Don’t forget to ask me for a frank when you write to tell your father that we shall be in town on Tuesday!”

She laughed at that, and protested: “Now, you know it was only once that I forgot you could give me one! I think I should write to him directly. He will want to see me, you know.”

“You will ask him to dine, of course.”

Her face lit up; she said eagerly: “May I do so?”

“But, Jenny — !”

“He told me I must not,” she disclosed. “He said he would visit me now and then, but privately.”

“Well, it would be quite improper in you to beg him not to talk nonsense, so just tell him that we both look forward to seeing him in Grosvenor Street at seven o’clock on — shall we say Wednesday?”

“Thank you! It will please him very much. I’ll write to him immediately!”

She hurried away, so that he was not obliged to answer her, which he hardly knew how to do, since they were not upon such terms of intimacy as would have made it possible for him to speak at all frankly.

They reached Grosvenor Street a little before dusk on the 3rd May. Adam was relieved to see only two footmen reinforcing the middle-aged butler; but this alleviation of his worst fears was not of long duration: by the time he had reached the drawing-room on the first floor he would scarcely have noticed it had there been a dozen stalwart lackeys, all arrayed in dazzling livery, in attendance upon him.

He had said that he would not recognize the house, and he now discovered how true was this prophecy, Mr Chawleigh’s taste for opulence had been given full rein. Even the dining-room had not escaped his transforming hand, for although Lady Lynton had removed none of its furniture, he had given it a new carpet of Turkish origin, and new curtains of a rich red brocade, draped, and looped, and embellished with bright gold cords and tassels. He had also supplemented the illumination cast by four massive candelabra by several girandoles. In the hall, and on the half-landing, his passion for lights had expressed itself in a succession of oil lamps, concealed in alabaster bowls, and mounted on tall pedestals. At the foot of the staircase, another of these lamps, on a shaft in the form of a triform Egyptian figure supported by sphinxes, was set on the lowest baluster, and afforded the first sign of what was to be abundantly proved when the first pair of stairs had been ascended: Mr Chawleigh had fallen a victim to the fashionable rage for the Egyptian and the classical styles. The Dowager had stripped the drawing-room of almost everything but the large Aubusson carpet, and on its delicately hued pattern were placed couches with crocodile-legs, occasional tables inlaid with marble and wreathed with foliated scrolls, lyre-backed chairs, footstools on lion-legs, and several candelabra on pedestals entwined with lotos and anthemion garlands.

Jenny had never seen the house before, and, treading silently beside Adam, looked about her in doubt, not knowing where the Deveril influence ended and the Chawleigh began. Certain of her doubts were resolved on entering the drawing-room, where the glossy green and gold stripes of the upholstery caused her to say apologetically: “Papa has always been very partial to green.” A glance at Adam’s countenance informed her that he did not share this partiality, and she added cheerfully: “Well, those stripes won’t do in this room, but I’ll soon attend to that. I’ll start at once to work a set of chair covers, and Papa will see in a flash that the rest must be altered to suit them.”

“But not at his expense, if you please, Jenny.”

“Oh, no! That is — ”

“I should have said, at his added expense. He has made a very handsome settlement, you know, besides all else, and I had rather by far endure these stripes than that you should ask him to change them.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “I only meant that he won’t wonder at my covering the chairs again when he sees the ones I shall embroider. Pray tell me what you wish, Adam! Must I not accept gifts from Papa?”

“What he chooses to give you for yourself is no concern of mine. But we’ll settle our household accounts ourselves.”

“Yes, Adam.” She added, after a thoughtful moment: “Though it may be a little difficult now and then. You see, whenever he sees some new thing which takes his fancy, like a Patent Lamp, or a washing-machine, I am afraid he will buy it for us, because that’s his way. Particularly anything which he thinks ingenious, like the Rumford Roaster, which he would have for our kitchen in Russell Square, I didn’t have to ask you if it was he who set up all those lamps: I knew it was, the instant I clapped eyes on them: lighting is one of the things he is particularly interested in. He was one of the biggest subscribers to Mr Winsor’s Light and Heat Company, and now, of course, he has a finger in the Gas Light and Coke Company.”

“Good God, will he try to bring gas-lamps into the house?”

She laughed. “No, no, he hasn’t run as mad as that! Though I’ve heard him say that the day will come when we shall have gas in houses!”

“Not in my house!” said Adam firmly.

“No, indeed!” she agreed.

She scanned the room again, but beyond remarking that it was a droll notion to set sofas on crocodile-legs made no further criticisms. However, when she reached her bedchamber she gave a gasp, and exclaimed: “Good gracious, does Papa think I’m Cleopatra? Oh, I never saw such a bed in my life! Whatever does he suppose I shall look like in it?”

It was certainly a startling piece of furniture, of mahogany inlaid with silver, the head decorated with carved Isis. Adam was amused, but Martha Pinhoe was unequivocally disapproving. “Well, may you ask, Miss Jenny — my lady, I should say! Heathenish, that’s what I call it, and I’m sure I don’t know what’s come over the Master! For there’s worse to come!”

“Good God, what?” demanded Jenny.

“You’ll see, my lady!” said Miss Pinhoe darkly. “But not before his lordship! Indecent, that’s what it is! You wait, that’s all!”

“If it’s indecent I think I ought to see it, not her ladyship!” interposed Adam. “Go away, Jenny! Martha is going to disclose the horrid secret to me, so that I may decide whether it’s fit for you to see.”

“For shame, my lord!” said Miss Pinhoe, whose first deferential manner towards him had lasted for rather less than a week. Her defences breached by the smile which had won for him so many well-wishers, it had not been many days before she was treating him as though he as well as Jenny had been her nurseling. She now told him, with a severity which only the initiated would have recognized as a sign of doting fondness, that it was no laughing matter. He cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her, but she was adamant, so he went away, to discover what fell changes the hand of Mr Chawleigh had wrought in the bedchamber which had been his father’s. He was relieved to find that the only innovation was a shaving-stand of really excellent design. He was exchanging a few words with his valet when the most spontaneous peal of laughter he had yet heard from Jenny gave the lie to Miss Pinhoe’s words, and drew him back to his bride’s room.