“Very — but you were right to cry off, I think. A vast crush, and the talk all of agriculture. I hope I may have profited by the discussions, but I felt as ignorant as when I first went to school! Tell me about yourself! How have you been keeping?”

“Oh, I am perfectly stout!” she asserted. “Charlotte was so kind as to pay me a visit — and Dr Tilford, too, which, I collect, he did at your command, my lord! He’s a sensible man, and tells me not to coddle myself.”

“He could have spared his breath! What do you call this excellent chicken-dish? Italian salad, is it? It informs me that Scholes has been restored to us, and thank God for it! Has your new stove arrived? Was it very troublesome to make the change?”

“No worse than what was to be expected,” she replied. “We had the chimney swept, and the walls and ceiling new white-washed into the bargain, so you’d hardly know it for the same dingy old kitchen.”

She then wished that she had not said this, but Adam merely said: “I can’t conceive how you can have contrived to get dinner cooked while all this was going forward!”

“‘Oh, quite easily!” she said, not disclosing to his male ignorance that the household had subsisted on picnic meals for three hideous days. She asked him instead to describe the clippings to her.

In general, he took care not to bore her with agricultural talk, but his head was so full of it that he was led on, from the clippings, to tell her about Mr Coke’s experimental farm. She listened, watching him, and thinking that he was talking more to himself than to her. When he spoke of stall-feeding, of hurdling sheep over turnips, of trebling livestock for manure, of shorthorns, and of North Devons, she knew that he had his own acres in mind, not Mr Coke’s. He sat with the fingers of one hand crooked round the stem of his wineglass, his eyes fixed on the dregs in it; and he answered the few questions she put to him rather abstractedly, until she asked if Mr Coke used the Tullian drill, when he looked up quickly, between surprise and amusement, and replied: “He has done so for years — but what do you know about the Tullian drill?”

“Only what I’ve read. It dibbles the soil, and sows the seed — oh, and covers it, too, doesn’t it? Is it used here?”

“Not yet. Where did you read about it, Jenny?”

“In one of your books. I have been looking into them, and trying to learn a little from them.”

“My poor girl! Were you reduced so low? I had thought you brought a boxful of books down from London!”

“Oh, I did! But Mansfield Park is the only one I’ve read  yet. I kept it by me, and took it up whenever Artificial Manures, and the Four-Course System began to pall. And I must own, Adam, they do pall! But that drill seems to me to be an excellent machine, and I think you should adopt it.”

“I mean to, and to induce my tenants to follow my example — I hope! As for manure, we use sticklebacks.”

“Sticklebacks?”

“Also pigeon-dung.”

“Oh, you’re roasting me!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not. Sticklebacks make the best of all manures. We get them from Boston Haven, at a halfpenny the bushel. Gorse is good for turnips; and in the wolds they spread straw, and burn it.”

“Good gracious! And here have I been trying to learn about lime, and marl, and rape-cake!”

“Poor Jenny! Does it comfort you to know that we use those too? Why should you tease yourself over such dull matters?”

“I like to understand the things that interest you. The Home farm isn’t large enough to be made experimental, is it? Do you mean to take over one of the others, as Mr Coke did? I know there are some let on short-term leases.”

Too many,” he said. “Yes, perhaps I shall do that, one day, but there’s so much else to be done first that I’m afraid it won’t be for some time to come.”

“Is it very costly, to bring an estate like this into good order?” she ventured to ask.

“Very. I can only do so gradually.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t — ” She stopped, and then, when he raised his brows enquiringly, blurted out: “Why don’t you sell Lynton House?”

The words had no sooner passed her lips than she wished them unspoken. He answered perfectly pleasantly; he even smiled; but she knew that he had retreated behind his disconcerting barriers. “Well, you know why I don’t,” he said. “Don’t let us fall into a wrangle over that, Jenny!”

“No,” she muttered, her eyes lowered, and her cheeks flaming. “Only, when I think how much it costs to keep that great house — and how much you need the money here — I beg your pardon! I didn’t mean to vex you.”

He stretched out his hand to her, and when she laid her own in it, clasped it warmly. “You haven’t vexed me. I think there can be no more generous persons alive than you and your father. Try to understand me! I’m not ungrateful, but there must be a limit set to my indebtedness. I’ve accepted Lynton House from your father; he holds all the mortgages on my lands, and demands nothing from me in return. To restore those lands to prosperity must be my business — and if I can’t contrive to do it, the sooner Fontley passes into more worthy hands than mine the better! Can you understand?”

“Yes,” she answered, nothing in her tone betraying the desolation in her heart. “Fontley is yours, and you will accept no help from Papa in anything that concerns it. Orfrom me.”

She tried to draw her hand away as she spoke, but his fingers closed round it strongly.

“But for your father I must have sold Fontley,” he said. “As for — ”

“You mean to pay him back, don’t you?” she interrupted.

He was startled, but replied almost immediately: “Yes, I do mean to do that, but your services to my house are another matter, If you choose to spend your blunt on new curtains for Fontley — yes, I have observed them, and I like them very much! — instead of on all the things I’mpersuaded you must have wished to purchase, I’m grateful, but I don’t mean to repay you, any more than I mean to thank you for having the furniture polished — which, also, I have observed! The best thing I’ve yet done for Fontley is to have bestowed on it such a notable housewife: the house begins to look as it should again. You must have been busier than a colony of ants while I was in Norfolk!”

She blushed again, but this time with pleasure. “Oh, I am so glad you don’t dislike the things I’ve done! I told you I wouldn’t meddle, but I thought you might not object to it if I set some things to rights — not changing them, but making them the same again! Only Charlotte said that she scarcely recognized the house, and, although she assured me she liked it, I could see she did not, and that put me in a regular quake!”

“Charlotte’s a goose!” he said, forgetting that he had dreaded to see even a torn rug replaced. He gave her hand a squeeze, before releasing it, and getting up from the table. “Let us go to the library! Have you given that smart new curtains as well?”

“No, no, I haven’t touched it!” she said quickly. “I thought, perhaps, that, if you don’t dislike it, we might have new curtains made, but none of the colours on the pattern-cards I’ve yet had sent me are at all like what I think these old ones must have been.”

“I fancy they were a sort of mustard,” he said, frowning in an effort of memory. “Pray don’t inflict that on me again! I know I thought them very ugly when my mother first had them hung.”

This cool repudiation of his mother’s taste, which she had striven so zealously to copy, almost made her gasp. She suspected him of having said it merely to reassure her; but when they reached the library he looked at the curtains, and pulled a grimace. “Very dingy! Odd that I shouldn’t have noticed it. I suppose one grows accustomed. What shall we hang in their stead?”

Much heartened, she produced her pattern-cards. None of the materials she had thought the most suitable met with more than qualified approval, but when he saw a scrap of red brocade he instantly said: “That’s the one!”

She had expected him to choose a more sober colour, but when he took the brocade over to the corner where the K’ang-hsi bowl had been placed she understood, and applauded his choice. Then she said, knowing that it would please him: “I give you due warning, though, my lord! — you won’t relish the bill! You’ve chosen the most expensive pattern that’s been sent me.”

“Oh, dear, have I? But it’s the only one I like! What’s the figure?”

“About fifty pounds: I can’t tell precisely until I know the measurements.”

“How shocking! But more shocking, don’t you think, to dishonour my bowl with anything shoddy? We’ll have it.” He gave the pattern back to her, and sank into his favourite chair, stretching out his legs with a sigh of content, and saying: “How comfortable to be at home again! And not to be obliged to play whist, or take part in a charade. Tell me what has been happening while I was away!”

Chapter XVII

three days later Julia came to Fontley. Lord Oversley’s seat was situated north of Peterborough, and so within easy distance of Fontley. Julia rode over, accompanied by Rockhill and two of her friends: Miss Kilverley and her brother, an inarticulate and sporting young gentleman who reminded Jenny of Adam’s cousin Osbert. Julia explained that the visit was unpremeditated. “We set out to visit Croyland Abbey,” she said, “but when Mary — you do remember Mary, don’t you? — learned how near we were to Fontley nothing would do for her but to ride on to pay you a visit!”

Jenny, who remembered Miss Kilverley as one of Julia’s satellites, somewhat grimly observed this retiring damsel’s blush, and look of startled enquiry, but said, as she shook hands: “Yes, I remember you very well. How do you do?”