Mrs. Morville, bestowing a brief smile upon Ulverston, then turned her attention to the Earl, shaking hands with him, and expressing the conventional hope that he was recovered from his accident. Since Drusilla had not chosen to describe him to her parents, his fair countenance came as a shock to Mrs. Morville, who had expected to confront an unmistakable Frant. She almost blinked at him, found that he was smiling at her, and instantly understood why her staid daughter had lost her heart to him. Her own heart sank, for she was by no means a besotted mother, and while she truly valued Drusilla she could not find it in her to suppose that it lay within her power to engage the affections of one who, besides being a notable parti,was more handsome than (she felt) any young man had a right to be.

Nothing of this showed, however, in her manner. The Earl was expressing the sense of his obligation to Drusilla: she replied calmly that she was glad Drusilla had found an opportunity to be useful; and, seating herself on the sofa, made a little gesture to the place beside her, saying: “I am persuaded you should not stand, Lord St. Erth.”

The Dowager, who had resumed her own seat by the fire, said: “I assure you, he is perfectly well again, my dear Mrs. Morville. Young men, you know, are amazingly quick to recover from such accidents. I daresay his nerves have suffered less than mine. I have a great deal of sensibility. I do not deny it: I am not ashamed to own the truth. Dr. Malpas has been obliged to visit me every day, and in general I enjoy very good health. I inherit my constitution from my dear father. You were not acquainted with my father, Mr. Morville. I have often been sorry that you were not, for you would have been excessively pleased with one another. My father was a great reader, though not, of course, during the hunting-season.”

Fortunately, the historian was too well-used to having such remarks addressed to him to betray his feelings other than by a satirical look over the top of his spectacles, and a somewhat dryly expressed regret that he had not been privileged to meet the late Lord Dewsbury. Mrs. Morville began to talk to the Earl about his service in the Peninsula; her husband returned to his interrupted conversation with Ulverston, and the Dowager addressed one of her monologues to Sir Thomas, in which her affection for her stepson, her hatred of poachers, and the state of her nerves became inextricably mixed with her conviction that if young persons in general, and St. Erth in particular, had more regard for their elders they would take care not to incur accidents calculated to alarm them. By the time she had recollected two of her deceased parent’s moral reflections upon the selfishness of young people, Sir Thomas discovered that he must carry his daughter back to Whissenhurst. The Dowager, although she had observed with displeasure Lord Ulverston’s attentions to Marianne, had lately had other things to occupy her mind than Martin’s courtship. She said graciously: “Marianne is in very good looks. I am always pleased to welcome her to Stanyon, for she has very pretty manners, and she was most good-natured in playing at spillikins with dear little Harry and John. When I come to London I daresay I shall find her quite the belle of Almack’s — that is, if you have vouchers, and if you have not I shall be happy to procure them for you.”

“Much obliged to you!” said Sir Thomas, anything but gratefully. “No difficulty about that, however! I hope your ladyship will come to London in time to attend Lady Bolderwood’s ball. Don’t mind telling such a kind friend as you that you’ll hear me make an interesting announcement.” He observed, with satisfaction, a startled look on her face, and chuckled. “Ay, that’s the way the wind blows!” he said, with a jerk of his head towards Lord Ulverston. “We said it must remain a secret until after the little puss’s presentation, but, lord! I suppose it must be all over the county by now!”

He then took his leave, and the party broke up. Both St. Erth and Ulverston escorted the visitors downstairs, and while the Morvilles’ carriage was waited for, Sir Thomas, finding himself beside his host, shot one of his penetrating looks at him, and said: “So it was a poacher, was it? H’m! Coming it strong, but I don’t blame you! I shan’t give you my advice, because for one thing it ain’t any of my business, for another you young fellows never listen to advice, and for a third I’ve a notion you’ll manage your affairs very well for yourself. Only don’t take foolish risks, my lord! Where’s your cousin?”

“At Evesleigh,” replied the Earl.

Sir Thomas grunted. “Gone back there, has he? Well! You be careful! That’s all I’ve got to say!”

He gave the Earl no opportunity to answer him, but turned away to bid farewell to Mrs. Morville. By the time the carriage had driven off, his own and Marianne’s horses had been brought round from the stables. Lord Ulverston lifted Marianne into the saddle, good-byes were exchanged, and the Bolderwoods rode away. Ulverston, perceiving that the Earl’s thoughtful gaze was following Sir Thomas, said: “Regular quiz, ain’t he? Rather wondered at first what m’father would say to him, but I daresay they’ll deal famously together. He’s no fool, Sir Thomas: in fact, he’s a devilish knowing cove!”

“I begin to think you are right,” said the Earl slowly. “Devilish knowing! — unless I misunderstood him.”

Chapter 20

The effect of Sir Thomas’s morning-call could hardly have been said to have been happy. Its repercussions were felt mostly by the long-suffering Miss Morville, who was obliged not only to lend a sympathetic ear to the Dowager’s tedious and embittered animadversions on the duplicity of Lord Ulverston and the Bolderwoods, but also to dissuade her from casting repulsive looks at Ulverston, and from mentioning more than once a day that the task of entertaining her stepson’s friends at the Castle imposed a strain upon her enfeebled nerves which they could ill support.

Both Martin and Gervase came in for their share of her comprehensive complaints, for she could not suppose that Marianne would have rejected Martin’s suit, had he put himself to the trouble of using a little address in its prosecution; while as for Gervase, the more she considered his behaviour the greater grew her conviction that he was responsible for every evil which had fallen upon the family, dating from the shocking occasion when he had permitted a four-year old Martin to play with a tinder-box, and so set fire to the nursery blinds: an accident which would have led to the total demolition of the Castle had the nurse not entered the room at that moment, and beaten out the flames with a coal-shovel.

It was not the Earl’s practice to argue with his stepmother, but this accusation was so unexpected that he was surprised into exclaiming: “But I wasn’t there!”

He would have done better to have held his peace. The Dowager very well recollected that he had not been there, for it was what she had been saying for ever: he liked his brother so little that even when they had been children he had always preferred to slip away rather than to play with him. She had known how it would be from the outset; she had not the least doubt that he had brought Ulverston to Stanyon merely to ruin poor Martin’s chances of marrying an heiress; and now that she came to think of it, she had never liked Ulverston, besides knowing a very discreditable story about his Uncle Lucius.

“And as for your conduct in not wearing the Frant ring, and causing the Indian epergne to be removed from the Smaller dining-table, I am sure it is all of a piece, and just what anyone would have expected!” she said. “I daresay it is the influence of Lady Penistone, but on that head I shall maintain silence, for although I never liked her, and, indeed, consider her a fast, frivolous woman, I do not forget that she is your grandmother; and if I am persuaded that her third son was fathered by Roxby, as no one could doubt who had ever clapped eyes on him, I am determined that nothing shall prevail upon me to say so!”

She then startled Miss Morville, as much as the Earl, by bursting into tears; and Gervase, who had stiffened at this all too probable answer to the problem of his Uncle Maurice’s curious likeness to my Lord Roxby, relaxed again, and only said, in a coaxing tone: “It is very bad, ma’am, but although I had not enough good taste to get myself killed in the late wars, at least you may be sure that I shall never accuse Martin of attempting to put a period to my existence.”

Perhaps as much surprised as he by her unaccustomed display of weakness, she dried her eyes, saying: “It is one thing to think you would very likely not survive the war, and quite another to be contriving your death, St. Erth! You may choose to believe that I am in league with poor Martin to kill you, which only serves to convince me that I shall never meet with anything but ingratitude, for it is quite untrue, and I have instead been considering how I might contrive a very eligible match for you!”

He thanked her gravely, and she said: “You may ask Louisa if it is not so! But one thing I am determined on! No matter what comes of it I shall not desire her to assist me in the matter, for she has written me such a letter, and about her own brother, too, as makes me excessively sorry to think that she is coming into Lincolnshire this summer!”

After this, she begged Miss Morville to find her smelling-salts, and the Earl made good his escape.

His recovery from the effects of his wound was speedy enough to astonish everyone but the Viscount. Having once left his room, he showed no signs of suffering a relapse; and it was not many days before he was taking the air on horseback. On these gentle expeditions he was invariably accompanied by Ulverston, who refused to be shaken off even when the Earl’s intention was merely to return Mr. and Mrs. Morville’s call. Under these circumstances it was scarcely surprising that the visit should have passed without the exchange of anything but civilities. Lord Ulverston rattled on in his usual style; and the Earl, although primed by his friend with a description of that one of Mrs. Morville’s novels which he had been obliged by circumstances to read, and which he said was a devilish prosy book about a dead bore of a girl who never did anything but struggle against adversity, and moralize about it, wisely chose to confine his conversation with his hostess to the military career of her elder son. Nor did he make the mistake of attempting to hoax Mr. Morville into believing that he had ever so much as looked between the covers of one of his interesting histories, a piece of rare good sense which caused Mr. Morville slightly to temper his first criticism of him. He still said that he was a frippery young fashionable, whose exquisite tailoring bore every evidence of extravagance, but he now added, in a fair-minded spirit, that he was not such an empty-headed jackanapes as he looked.