“Well, don’t forget it!”

“Pray have the goodness to inform me, sir,” said Amanda, with awful civility, “where you have the intention of taking me tomorrow?”

“I hope, to your grandfather.”

“No!”

He shrugged. “As you wish.”

Intrigued, she demanded: “Where, then?”

“That, my child, you will see, in good time.”

“I believe you are at a stand!” she challenged him.

“Not a bit of it!”

Conversation languished after that, Amanda occupying herself for the remainder of the journey in turning over in her mind various plots for Sir Gareth’s discomfiture, and returning only monosyllabic replies to his occasional remarks.

They reached Brancaster Park as the shadows were beginning to lengthen, passing through impressive lodge-gates, and driving for some way up an avenue which had been allowed to deteriorate into something akin to a cart-track. The trees, growing rather too thickly beside it, rendered it both damp and gloomy; and when the pleasure gardens came into sight these too bore unmistakeable signs of neglect. Amanda looked about her with disfavour; and, when her eyes alighted on the square, grey mansion, exclaimed: “Oh, I wish you had not brought me here! What an ugly, disagreeable house!”

“If I could have thought of any other place for you, believe me, I wouldn’t have brought you here, Amanda!” he said frankly. “For a more awkward situation I defy anyone to imagine!”

“Well, if it seems so to you, set me down now, while there is still time!” she urged.

“No, I am determined not to let you escape me,” he replied lightly. “I can only hope to be able to pass you off with some credit—though what the household will think of a young lady who travels with her belongings contained in a couple of bandboxes heaven only knows! I trust at least that we may not find the house full of guests. No, I fancy it won’t be.”

He was right, but his host, who did not scruple to exaggerate in moments of acute vexation, had been so describing it ever since the unwelcome arrival, earlier in the day, of the Honourable Fabian Theale.

Mr. Theale was his lordship’s brother, and if he had been born with any other object than to embarrass his family, his lordship had yet to discover it. He was a bachelor, with erratic habits, expensive tastes, and pockets permanently to let. His character was volatile, his disposition amiable; and since he had a firm belief in benevolent Providence neither duns nor impending scandals had the power to ruffle his placidity. That it was first his father, and, later, his elder brother, who enacted the role of Providence troubled him not at all; and whenever the Earl swore that he had rescued him for the last time he made not the slightest effort either to placate his brother or to mend his extremely reprehensible ways, because he knew that while the Earl shared many of his tastes he had also a strong prejudice against open scandals, and could always be relied upon, whatever the exigencies of his own situation, to rescue one of his name from the bailiff’s clutches.

At no time was his lordship pleased to receive a visit from Mr. Theale; when that florid and portly gentleman descended upon him on the very day appointed for Sir Gareth’s arrival he so far forgot himself as to say, in front of the butler, a footman, and Mr. Theale’s own valet, that no one need trouble to carry the numerous valises upstairs, since he was not going to house his brother for as much as a night.

Mr. Theale, beyond enquiring solicitously if his lordship’s gout was plaguing him, paid no attention to this. He adjured the footman to handle his dressing-case carefully, and informed the Earl that he was on his way to Leicestershire. The Earl eyed him with wrath and misgiving. Mr. Theale owned a snug little hunting-box near Melton Mowbray, but if he was proposing to visit it in the middle of July this could only mean that circumstances had rendered it prudent, if not urgently necessary, for him to leave town for a space. “What is it this time?” he demanded, leading the way into the library. “You haven’t come home for the pleasure of seeing me, so out with it I And I give you fair warning, Fabian—”

“No, no, it’s no pleasure to me to see you, old fellow!” Mr. Theale assured him. “In fact, if I weren’t in the basket I wouldn’t have come here, because to see you fretting and fuming is enough to give one a fit of the dismals.”

“When last I saw you,” said the Earl suspiciously, “you told me you had made a recover! Said you had had a run of luck at faro, and were as fresh as ever.”

“Dash it, that was a month ago!” expostulated Mr. Theale. “You can’t expect it to be high water with me for ever! Not but what if you could trust to the form-book I ought to be able to buy an abbey by now. But there it is! First there was the Salisbury meeting—by the by, old fellow, did you lay your blunt on Corkscrew? Got a notion I told you to.”

“No, I didn’t,” replied the Earl shortly.

“Good thing,” approved Mr. Theale. “Damned screw wasn’t placed. Then there was Andover! Mind you, if I’d followed my own judgment, Whizgig would have carried my money, and very likely I wouldn’t be here today. However, I let Jerry earwig me into backing Ticklepitcher, so here I am. I hear you was at the July meeting at Newmarket, and came off all right,” he added dispassionately.

“As to that—”

“Three winners, and a devilish long price you must have got on True-blue, my boy! If I were half as tetchy as you are, I should take it mighty ill that you didn’t pass me the word.”

“I’ll grease you in the fist on one condition!” said the Earl brutally.

“Anything you please, dear boy!” said Mr. Theale, impervious to insult. “Just tip over the dibs!”

“I have Ludlow coming here today, on a visit, and I shall be glad if you will take yourself off!”

“Ludlow?” said Mr. Theale, mildly surprised. “What the devil’s he coming here for?”

“He’s coming to offer for Hester, and I don’t want him to hedge off, which I don’t doubt he will, if you try to break his shins!”

“Well, by God!” exclaimed Mr. Theale. “Damme if ever I thought Hester would contract an engagement at all, let alone catch a man like Ludlow on her hook! Well, this is famous! I wouldn’t put his fortune at a penny less than twelve thousand pounds a year! Very right to warn me, dear boy: fatal to borrow any money from him until you have the knot safely tied! Shouldn’t dream of making the attempt. I hope he means to come down handsome?”

“Will you,” said the Earl, controlling his spleen with a visible effort, “take yourself off to Leicestershire?”

“Make it a monkey, old fellow, and I’ll be off first thing in the morning,” said Mr. Theale obligingly.

With this promise the Earl had to be content, though he made a spirited effort to improve the terms of the bargain before at last agreeing to them. Nothing, it was clear, would avail to dislodge his brother until the following day, Mr. Theale pointing out very reasonably that it was rather too much to expect that he would set forth on his travels again before he had recovered from the exhaustion entailed by a journey of more than sixty miles. It had taken him two days to achieve this prodigious distance, travelling at a sedate pace in his own carriage, with his valet following behind in a hired coach with all his baggage. “And even with my own fellow to drive me I felt queasy,” he said. “Mind, if I had the sort of stomach that didn’t turn over on me when I’m being jolted and rocked over these devilish bad roads I’d pack up and be off this instant, because I can see we’re bound to spend a damned flat evening here. Wouldn’t do to hook Ludlow in for a rubber or two, for though I don’t doubt you and I, Giles, if we played together, which would be arranged, would physic him roundly, it would be bad policy! Besides, we should have to hook in Widmore to make a fourth, and there’s no sense in winning his money, even if he could be got to sport a little blunt, which I’ve never know him do yet. Of course, you’re his father, but you must own he’s a paltry fellow!”

So the Earl was forced to resign himself, which he would have done more easily had not Mr. Theale’s family loyalty prompted him to lend his aid to the preparations in train for the entertainment of the expected guest. Since this took the form of an invasion of the kitchens, where he maddened the cook by freely editing the dinner to be set before Sir Gareth; and a voyage of exploration to the cellars, whence he brought to light several crusted bottles which the Earl had been jealously preserving, it was not long before his brother’s little stock of patience was exhausted, Forcefully adjured to cease meddling, he was obliged to seek diversion in other fields, with the result that a young housemaid, unused to the ways of the Quality, was thrown into strong hysterics, and had to have her ears boxed before she could be induced to stop screeching that she was an honest maid, and desired instantly to return to her mother’s protection.

“And very stupid it was of Mrs. Farnham to send that girl of all others to make up Fabian’s bed!” said Lady Widmore, in her customary forthright style. “She must know what your uncle is!”

By the time Sir Gareth and his protégée were ushered into the Grand Saloon the only members of the family, gathered there, whose sensibilities had not been in some way or other ruffled were Mr. Theale and Lady Widmore. The Earl was on the one hand uncertain what his daughter’s answer was going to be, and on the other he had been reduced to a state of impotent fury by his brother’s activities; Lord Widmore shared his parent’s misgivings, and was very much put out by the discovery that five hundred pounds, urgently needed on the estate, had been bestowed upon his uncle; and Lady Hester, exhorted and commanded to the point of distraction, was looking positively hagged. A gown of lilac silk, with a demi-train, three rows of flounces, a quantity of ivory lace, and knots of violet velvet ribbons enhanced her pallor; and her abigail, in her anxiety to present her mistress at her best, had slightly over-crimped her soft brown hair. Lately, she had adopted a cap, but although this circumstance had apparently escaped the notice of her relations for several weeks it had today come in for such unmeasured censure that she had wearily removed the wisp of lace.