“Ah, that gives me a very good opinion of him!” said her ladyship quickly. “I shouldn’t like it at all if Evelyn wished to marry too far beneath him, but I don’t give a straw for consequence. As for your Uncle Henry, it has nothing whatsoever to do with him, and so I shall tell him, if he has the impertinence to object to a marriage which has my approval! The only thing is—” She paused, hesitating for a moment, her brow puckered. Then she directed an inquiring, not entirely unhopeful look at Kit, and said tentatively: “Dearest, do you think perhaps you would like to marry Cressy? I can’t but feel that one of you ought to do so, when I reflect on the excessively awkward situation she has been placed in, poor child!” She added hastily, as Kit fell into uncontrollable laughter: “Not that I wish to press you! Only that the thought has frequently crossed my mind that you and she would deal admirably together!”

“That thought has crossed our minds, too, Mama!” he replied unsteadily. “I should like to marry Cressy, and, since she feels she might like to marry me, it is precisely what I hope to do, and what I was just about to divulge to you!”

“Then Cressy knows already! Oh, wicked one, wicked one not to have told me!” cried her ladyship, her countenance transformed. “Dearest, nothing could delight me more! She is the very girl I would have chosen for you, if I hadn’t already chosen her for Evelyn, which was a very foolish mistake, but not, thank goodness, one that can’t be remedied! I knew something would happen to bring us about! Oh, my darling Kit, I wish you so very happy!”

Kit thanked her, but ventured to point out to her that her felicitations were a little premature, since several difficulties still blocked the way to a happy issue. She acknowledged the truth of this, but with unabated cheerfulness, saying: “To be sure, but they are only trifling ones! We shall be obliged to confess the whole to Lady Stavely, for one thing, and I don’t think we dare hope that she won’t cut up dreadfully stiff, do you? Of course, we could keep it a secret from her, but I am much inclined to think it would be wrong to do so.”

“Yes, Mama, so am I!” agreed Kit.

She nodded. “I knew you would say so. Because if Evelyn is determined to marry Miss Askham it would be bound to put Lady Stavely in a much worse pet when she saw the notice of his engagement in the Gazette, and had been thinking all the time that he was promised to Cressy! And, of course, Stavely may not be quite pleased, but you may depend upon it that that odious creature, Albinia Gillifoot, will take good care he gives his consent.”

“Yes, Mama, very possibly. But there is a far worse obstacle confronting us,” Kit said gently. “When you say that Evelyn’s marriage has nothing to do with my uncle, are you not forgetting the circumstances which prompted Evelyn to offer for Cressy?”

She stared at him, the bewilderment in her face slowly changing to consternation. She looked stricken for an instant, but even as he stretched out his hand to her, in quick remorse, she made a recover. She clasped his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and said, gallantly smiling at him: “Are you remembering my tiresome debts? Oh, my darling, you must neither of you waste a moment’s thought on them! As though I could be so monstrous as to set anything so paltry against the happiness of my sons! Besides, I’ve been in debt for years and years, and have grown to be perfectly accustomed to it! I shall bring myself about. Well, of course I shall! I have always contrived to do so, even when matters seemed to be quite desperate!” She gave his hand a pat, and released it. “So now that we have settled that, dearest, you must go away, because it must be ten o’clock already, and I am not yet fully dressed.”

Mr Fancot, never one to waste his time in argument which he knew to be futile, abandoned his attempt to bring his parent to a sense of the size and urgency of her embarrassments. Bestowing a fond embrace upon her, he informed her—just in case he might previously have omitted to do so—that he loved her very much; and left her to Miss Rimpton’s ministrations.

He found the Cliffes and Cressy assembled in the breakfast-parlour; and it said much for his ability to shine in the world of diplomacy that not even Cressy suspected that while he responded with every appearance of interest and amiability to the various utterances of his relations his mind was preoccupied with two problems. The first, and more immediate, was how to gain access to Lord Silverdale, and to this he found a possible answer. The second seemed to be insoluble.

Lady Denville, presently joining the party, bade everyone good-morning; hoped, in her pretty, solicitous way, that her sister-in-law had slept well; and said, as she took her seat at the table: “Dearest Cressy! This afternoon we must have a delightful cose together, you and I!”

As the sparkling glance that accompanied these words was as eloquent as it was mischievous, Kit intervened, asking, with all the heartiness of a host bent on arranging every detail of the day, what his guests would like to do that morning.

Attention was certainly drawn away from Lady Denville, but the responses Kit received must have disappointed such a host as he was trying to impersonate. But as his only desire was to snatch a private interview with Cressy, he was very well satisfied with them. His cousin said moodily that he didn’t know; Cosmo, whom the humdrum pattern of an ordinary day in a country house exactly suited, said that he would read, and write letters until the post came in; Cressy, who was having much ado not to laugh, kept her eyes lowered, and did not attempt to speak; and Mrs Cliffe, who was anxiously watching her son, returned no answer, but suddenly declared that Ambrose might say what he chose but she was persuaded that he had a boil forming on his neck. All eyes turned involuntarily towards Ambrose, who reddened, shot a glowering look at his mama, and said angrily that it was no such thing. He added that he had the headache.

“Poor boy!” said Lady Denville, smiling kindly upon him. “I dare say if you were to go for a walk it would soon leave you.”

“Amabel, I must beg you not to encourage Ambrose to expose himself!” said Mrs Cliffe. “There is a wind blowing, and I am positive it is easterly, for I myself have a touch of the tic, which I never get but when there is an east wind! It would be fatal for Ambrose to stir out of doors when he is already not quite the thing, for with his constitution, you know, any disorder is very likely to lay him up for a fortnight!”

“Is it?” said Lady Denville, gazing at her nephew with the awed interest of one confronted with some rare exhibit. “Poor boy, how awkward it must be for you, to be obliged to remain indoors whenever the wind is in the east! Because, so often it is!”

“Well, well, we need not make mountains out of molehills!” said Cosmo testily. “I don’t deny that his constitution is sickly, but—”

“Nonsense, Cosmo, how can you talk so?” exclaimed his sister. “I’m sure he isn’t sickly, even if he has got a little headache!” She smiled encouragingly at Ambrose, sublimely unconscious of having offended all three Cliffes: Ambrose, because, however much he might dislike having an incipient boil pointed out, he was proud of his headaches, which often earned for him a great deal of attention; Cosmo, because he had for some years subscribed to his wife’s view of the matter, finding in Ambrose’s delicacy an excuse for his sad want of interest in any manly sport; and Emma, because she regarded any suggestion that her only child was not in a deplorable state of debility as little short of an insult.

“I fear,” said Cosmo, “that Ambrose has never enjoyed his cousins’ robust health.”

“Your sister cannot be expected to understand delicate constitutions, my dear,” said Emma. “I dare say the twins never suffered a day’s illness in their lives!”

“No, I don’t think they did,” replied Lady Denville, with a touch of pride. “They were the stoutest couple! Of course, they did have things like measles and whooping-cough, but I can’t recall that they were ever ill. In fact, when they had whooping-cough, one of them—was it you, dearest?—climbed up the chimney after a starling’s nest!”

“No, that was Kit,” said Mr Fancot.

“So it was!” she agreed, twinkling at him.

“But how terrible!” exclaimed Emma.

“Yes, wasn’t it? He came down looking exactly like a blackamoor, and brought so much soot down with him that everything in the room seemed to be covered with it. I don’t think I ever laughed so much in my life!”

“Laughed?” gasped Emma. “Laughed when one of your children was in danger of falling, and breaking his neck?”

“Well, I don’t think he could have done that, though I suppose he might have broken his legs, or got stuck in the chimney. I do remember wondering how we were to get him out if he did stick tight. However, it would have been a great waste of time to get into a worry about the twins, because they were for ever falling out of trees, or into the lake, or off their ponies, and nothing dreadful ever happened to them,” said Lady Denville serenely.

Mrs Cliffe could only shudder at such callous unconcern; while Ambrose, quite mistakenly supposing that these reflections were directed at his own, less adventurous, career, fell into obvious sulks.

Lady Denville, having disposed of the tea and bread-and-butter which constituted her breakfast, then excused herself, saying, as she got up from the table: “Now I must leave you, because Nurse Pinner seems not to be very well, and it would be too unkind in me not to visit her, and perhaps take her something to tempt her appetite.”