She pushed her hands away, saying in a trembling voice: “You don’t wish to go against him. You don’t wish me to be here. You never did! You had rather see Fontley fall into ruin than allow me any part of it! You won’t even like to see your son here, because hell be my son too!”

“Jenny!”

She gave a strangled sob, and fairly ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

For a few minutes hewas furiously angry. They had been going on so comfortably together that he had almost forgotten the time when he had not wanted her at Fontley. Her outburst seemed to him unjust; her final words unpardonable. His heart hardened against her. Then his good sense told him that those words at least had been flung at him merely because she was in an ungovernable rage, and could think of nothing worse to say.

He went out presently into the garden. He supposed that he ought to go in search of Jenny, but his anger still smouldered; and because her words had held so much truth he did not know what he could say to reassure her. She was too acute to be deceived by lip-service, and in his present mood of resentment he knew he would find it hard to offer her even as much as that He crossed the lawn with his slightly halting step, and passed into the rose-garden. Here Jenny found him some minutes later. He was rather absently nipping off the withered blooms, and when he saw her, hesitating under the arch of the yew hedge, he looked gravely at her, saying nothing.

She had seldom appeared less attractive, for her face was swollen with her tears. She said huskily: “I beg your pardon! I didn’t mean it! Forgive me — pray!”

His heart melted. He moved quickly towards her, not thinking that she was plain and commonplace but only that she was in trouble. He said in a light, caressing tone: “As though I didn’t know that! What a shrew I have married! Scolding like a cut-purse merely because your father and I have more regard for your health than you have!”

“It was very bad,” she muttered. “I don’t know what made me — I think it must be my situation!”

“Oh, indeed?” he said. “All the fault of this son whom I shall dislike to see here! Well, if he means to make his mama as cross as a cat I certainly shall dislike to see him here, or anywhere else!”

She hung her head, saying imploringly: “Oh, no, no! How could I say such a wicked thing? I know it wasn’t true!”

He patted her shoulder. “So I should hope! Moreover, Lady Lynton, if you think that I dislike seeing you here you must be even more gooseish than I had supposed — which is not possible!”

She laughed, rather shakily, but said, after a moment’s hesitation: “You don’t wish to go back to London, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’d thought we were snugly settled here for the winter, and came shockingly near to recommending your papa to go to the devil. But there’s no denying that you’re not in high health, Jenny, or that Fontley is rather too remote for either your father’s peace of mind or mine. It may be that you’ll need a more skilled practitioner than old Tilford. It’s a great bore, but we’ll run no stupid risks, my dear.”

“No,” she said submissively. “I’ll do what you think right How soon must we go? Not quite yet — need we?”

“No, not if you go on fairly prosperously. Next month, before the winter begins to set in. And if this top-of-the-trees doctor of your father’s gives you leave, I’ll bring you back again. That’s a promise!”

She began to look more cheerful, though she said wistfully, as they strolled back to the house, her hand tucked into Adam’s arm: “I wanted him to be born here, where you were born.”

“But for anything we know she might prefer to be born in London,” objected Adam provocatively. “You were, after all!”

“She?” exclaimed Jenny. “No!”

“I have a great fancy for a daughter,” said Adam.

“Well, I haven’t,” said Jenny, in accents far more like her own. “Not till we’ve a son, that is! If I thought — Good gracious, Papa is right! I will consult his horrid doctor!”

He gave a shout of laughter; and later, when Mr Chawleigh anxiously asked him if he had persuaded Jenny to behave like a sensible woman, replied promptly: “Yes, indeed: like a woman of most superior understanding! I had only to hint that she might present me with a daughter to make her perceive instantly the wisdom of putting herself in the hands of an experienced accoucheur!”

“Now, Adam — !” protested Jenny.

“Yes, but it’s not a bit of good thinking that he can do anything about that,” Mr Chawleigh pointed out.

“Good God! And you said he was top-of-the-trees!”

“I didn’t say he was a magician! Yes, I know you’re laughing at me, my lord, but it won’t do for you to go putting a silly notion hike that into Jenny’s head. Oh, so now you’re in whoops, are you, my girl? Well,” said Mr Chawleigh, regarding his hosts indulgently, “I was always one for a good laugh myself, so I don’t grudge it you.”

When he discovered that the Lyntons had no intention of removing to London until the end of October, he was by no means pleased; but, happily for the peace of the establishment, he was diverted by an accident to the pulley-wheel used in the ice-house. Anything savouring of mechanism immediately claimed his interest, and the rest of his short stay was spent very agreeably by him in overseeing the necessary repair, and devising a rather better arrangement of the sloping door in the passage above the vault.

Chapter XIX

The Lyntons returned to London at the end of October, in weeping weather. She was putting a good face on it, but it was Jenny who most regretted leaving Fontley. Adam had left his affairs there in as promising a train as his circumstances permitted, and had meant, in any event, to have gone to London for a time in November, when Parliament reassembled. He was looking forward also to seeing his friends again, for although the 52nd Regiment had been in England since the end of July he had as yet met only three of his particular cronies, who had visited Fontley on short furlough! These visits had been much more successful than Mr Chawleigh’s. Far from disliking the situation of Fontley, or cavilling at the Priory’s many inconveniences, the guests declared it to be the jolliest place imaginable. They enjoyed some excellent partridge shooting; they were extremely well-fed; and their hostess did not expect them to do the pretty. She ministered to their “creature comfort”, and was apparently pleased if they spent a whole evening in the exchange of Peninsular memories instead of making polite conversation to her. They thought her a capital woman, Captain Langton going so far as to say, with a disarming grin: “It’s a great shame Dev sold out, Lady Lynton! You’d have made a famous wife for a soldier, for nothing ever puts you out! No matter how late he returned to his quarters I’ll swear you’d have had a first-rate dinner waiting for him!”

Mr Chawleigh was not present to welcome the Lyntons when they arrived in Grosvenor Street, but he had called there earlier in the day, with a carriage-load of flowers and fruit.. Adam could accept such minor tokens of his generosity with equanimity, but it was with tightening lips that he read the note Mr Chawleigh had left for him. Mr Chawleigh had taken it upon himself to request Dr Croft to call at Lynton House on the following day. Adam handed this missive to Jenny without a word. She was so indignant that his own vexation abated, and instead of telling her that he would thank her father to leave him to manage the affairs of his household he found himself excusing that worthy’s officiousness, and saying instead that she must not be too provoked, since it sprang only from concern for her welfare.

She was not at all appeased, but said: “Adam! You’ll be pleased to tell Dr Croft that I’ve changed my mind — don’t wish to see him!. And I will tell Papa that I’ll choose my own doctor, or let you do so!”

“That would teach him a lesson,” he agreed. “It would relieve our spleens too, I daresay. The only rub is that we might — when we were cooler — feel a trifle foolish! After all, it was to consult Croft that we came to town, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but — ”

“My love,” he said, smiling, “if ever I enter upon an engagement with your father I’ll take care to choose my ground! I don’t like this position at all — and I don’t like Pyrrhic victories either! I should win nothing but your father’s resentment, and an inferior doctor to attend you. I think we’ll admit Croft.”

“Oh, very well!” she said crossly. “But I’m persuaded I shall dislike him excessively!”

In the event, neither of them was drawn to Dr Croft. He was so pompous as to appear opinionated, and he managed to convey the impression that any lady acquiring his services might think herself fortunate. However, his practice was known to be large, and if his manners were too assertive to be generally pleasing he spoke with an authority which engendered confidence in his patients. He was not surprised to learn that Jenny was in poor health, and he did not hesitate to tell her the cause. She was too full-blooded, and too high in flesh: he would prescribe a reducing diet for her, and bleed her once or twice. He explained just how this would benefit her constitution, recounted a few quelling anecdotes relating to ladies of Jenny’s habit to whom he had been summoned too late to remedy the harm done by over-eating, and took his leave, promising to visit Jenny again a week later.

She accepted his pronouncement more readily than Adam, saying in a resigned voice that she knew she was too fat. He was doubtful, knowing that she had a hearty appetite; and when he found her lunching on tea and bread-and-butter he protested. “Jenny, this can’t be right! You are always as hungry as a hawk by noon!”