“I see what it is,” said Sir Horace indulgently. “You’re afraid she may take the shine out of Cecilia. No, no, my dear! I daresay you’ll think she’s a very pretty girl. But Cecilia’s something quite out of the common way. Remember thinking so when I saw her last year. I was surprised, for you were never above the average yourself, Lizzie, while I always thought Ombersley a plain-looking fellow.”

His sister accepted these strictures meekly, but was quite distressed that he should suppose her capable of harboring such unhandsome thoughts about her niece. “And even if I was so odious, there is no longer the least need for such notions,” she added. “Nothing has as yet been announced, Horace, but I don’t scruple to tell you that Cecilia is about to contract a very eligible alliance.”

“That’s good,” said Sir Horace. “You’ll have leisure to look about you for a husband for Sophy. You won’t have any difficulty. She’s a taking little thing, and she’ll have a snug fortune one of these days, besides what her mother left her. No need to be afraid of her marrying to disoblige us, either. She’s a sensible girl, and she’s been about the world enough to be well up to snuff. Whom have you got for Cecilia?”

“Lord Charlbury has asked Ombersley’s permission to address her,” said his sister, swelling a little with pride.

“Charlbury, eh?” said Sir Horace. “Very well indeed, Elizabeth! I must say, I didn’t think you’d catch much of a prize, because looks aren’t everything, and from the way Ombersley was running through his fortune when I last saw him — ”

“Lord Charlbury,” said Lady Ombersley a little stiffly, “is an extremely wealthy man, and, I know, has no such vulgar consideration in mind. Indeed, he told me himself that it was a case of love at first sight with him!”

“Capital!” said Sir Horace. “I should suppose him to have been hanging out for a wife for some time — thirty at least, ain’t he? But if he has a veritable tendre for the girl, so much the better! It should fix his interest with her.”

“Yes,” agreed Lady Ombersley. “And I am persuaded they will suit very well. He is everything that is amiable and obliging, his manners most gentlemanlike, his understanding decidedly superior, and his person such as must please.”

Sir Horace, who was not much interested in his niece’s affairs, said, “Well, well, he is plainly a paragon, and we must allow Cecilia to think herself fortunate to be forming such a connection! I hope you may manage as prettily for Sophy!”

“Indeed, I wish I might!” she responded, sighing. “Only it is an awkward moment, because — the thing is, you see, that I am afraid Charles may not quite like it!”

Sir Horace frowned in an effort of memory. “I thought his name was Bernard. Why shouldn’t he like it?”

“I am not speaking of Ombersley, Horace. You must remember Charles!”

“If you’re talking about that eldest boy of yours, of course I remember him! But what right has he to say anything, and why the devil should he object to my Sophy?”

“Oh, no, not to her! I am sure he could not do so! But I fear he may not like it if we are to be plunged into gaiety just now! I daresay you may not have seen the announcement of his own approaching marriage, but I should tell you that he has contracted an engagement to Miss Wraxton.”

“What, not old Brinklow’s daughter? Upon my word, Lizzie, you have been busy to some purpose! Never knew you had so much sense! Eligible, indeed! You are to be congratulated!”

“Yes,” said Lady Ombersley. “Oh, yes! Miss Wraxton is a most superior girl. I am sure she has a thousand excellent qualities. A most well-informed mind, and principles such as must command respect.”

“She sounds to me like a dead bore,” said Sir Horace frankly.

“Charles,” said Lady Ombersley, staring mournfully into the fire, “does not care for very lively girls, or — or for any extravagant folly. I own, I could wish Miss Wraxton had rather more vivacity. But you are not to regard that, Horace, for I had never the least inclination toward being a bluestocking myself, and in these days, when so many young females are wild to a fault, it is gratifying to find one who — Charles thinks Miss Wraxton’s air of grave reflection very becoming!” she ended, in rather a hurry.

“You know, Lizzie, it’s a queer thing that any son of yours and Ombersley should have grown into such a dull stick,” remarked Sir Horace dispassionately. “I suppose you didn’t play Ombersley false, did you?”

“Horace!”

“No, I know you didn’t! No need to fly into a pucker! Not with your eldest; you know better than that! Still, it is an odd circumstance — often thought so! He can marry his bluestocking, and welcome, for anything I care, but none of this explains why you should be caring a fig for what he likes or don’t like!”

Lady Ombersley transferred her gaze from the glowing coals to his face. “You do not perfectly understand, Horace.”

“That’s what I said!” he retorted.

“Yes, but — Horace, Matthew Rivenhall left his whole fortune to Charles!”

Sir Horace was generally accounted an astute man, but he appeared to find it difficult correctly to assimilate this information. He stared fixedly at his sister for a moment or two, and then said, “You don’t mean that old uncle of Ombersley?”

“Yes, I do.”

“The nabob?”

Lady Ombersley nodded, but her brother was still not satisfied. “Fellow who made a fortune in India?”

“Yes, and we always thought — but he said Charles was the only Rivenhall other than himself who had the least grain of sense, and he left him everything, Horace! Everything!”

“Good God!”

This ejaculation seemed to appear to Lady Ombersley as fitting, for she nodded again, looking at her brother in a woe-begone fashion, and twisting the fringe of her shawl between her fingers.

“So it is Charles who calls the tune!” said Sir Horace.

“No one could have been more generous,” said Lady Ombersley unhappily. “We cannot but be sensible of it.”

“Damn his impudence!” said Sir Horace, himself a father. “What’s he done?”

“Well, Horace, you might not know it, because you are always abroad, but poor Ombersley had a great many debts.”

“Everyone knows that! Never knew him when he wasn’t under a cloud! You’re not going to tell me the boy was fool enough to settle ’em?”

“But, Horace, someone had to settle them!” she protested. “You can have no notion how difficult things were becoming! And with the younger boys to establish creditably, and the dear girls — It is no wonder that Charles should be so anxious that Cecilia should make a good match!”

“Providing for the whole pack, is he? More fool he! What about the mortgages? If the greater part of Ombersley’s inheritance had not been entailed he would have gambled the whole away long since!”

“I do not properly understand entails,” said his sister, “but I am afraid that Charles did not behave just as he should over it. Ombersley was very much displeased, though I shall always say that to call one’s first-born a serpent’s tooth is to use quite unbecoming language! It seems that when Charles came of age he might have made everything quite easy for his poor papa, if only he had been in the least degree obliging! But nothing would prevail upon him to agree to break the entail, so all was at a standstill, and one cannot blame Ombersley for being vexed! And then that odious old man died.”

“When?” demanded Sir Horace. “How comes it that I never heard a word of this before today?”

“It was rather more than two years ago, and — ”

“That accounts for it, then. I was devilish busy, dealing with Angouleme, and all that set. Must have happened at the time of Toulouse, I dare swear. But when I saw you last year you never spoke a word, Lizzie!”

She was stung by the injustice of this, and said indignantly, “I am sure I don’t know how I should have been thinking of such paltry things, with that Monster at large, and the Champs de Mars, and the banks suspending payment, and heaven knows what beside! And you coming over from Brussels without a word of warning, and sitting with me a bare twenty minutes! My head was in a whirl, and if I answered you to the point it is more than I would have bargained for!”

Sir Horace, disregarding this irrelevancy, said, with what for him was strong feeling, “Outrageous! I don’t say Ombersley’s not a shocking loose screw, because there’s no sense in wrapping plain facts up in clean linen, but to be cutting a man out of one’s will and setting up his son to lord it over him, which I’ll be bound he does!”

“No, no!” expostulated Lady Ombersley feebly. “Charles is fully sensible of what is due to his father! It is not that he is ever lacking in respect, I do assure you! Only poor Ombersley cannot but feel it a little, now that Charles has taken everything into his own hands.”

“A pretty state of affairs!”

“Yes, but one comfort is that it is not generally known. And I cannot deny that in some ways it is by far more pleasant. You would scarcely credit it, Horace, but I do believe there is not an unpaid bill in the house!” A moment’s reflection caused her to modify this statement. “At least, I cannot answer for Ombersley, but all those dreadful household accounts, which Eckington — you remember our good Eckington, Ombersley’s agent — used to pull such a face over; and the fees at Eton and Oxford — everything, my dear brother, Charles takes care of!”

“You aren’t going to tell me Charles is fool enough to fritter away old Matt Rivenhall’s fortune paying all the expenses of this barrack of a house!” exclaimed Sir Horace.

“No. Oh, no! I have not the least head for business, so it is of no use to ask me to explain it to you, but I believe that Charles persuaded his father to — to allow him to administer the estate.”