“Thank you! So very kind! If it is not a trouble!”

Mrs. Scorrier, who had been looking appraisingly about her, laughed at this, and exclaimed: “You will make Miss Lanyon think you quite a goose, my love, if you talk like that! You must remember that you are in your own house, must she not, dear Miss Lanyon? Some tea would be very welcome, though I do not in general indulge in that luxury at this hour. But Charlotte, I must tell you, is in a delicate situation, and although we lay at Doncaster last night I daresay she is quite done-up.”

“In a delicate situation!” Venetia looked in some amazement at Charlotte. “You have been married for some time, then!”

“July,” whispered Charlotte, blushing. “Conway was on furlough, you see—in Paris.”

“I don’t wonder you should look amazed, Miss Lanyon!” said Mrs. Scorrier, disposing herself on a sofa beside the fire, and drawing off her gloves. “I promise you I was so much amazed that I let Sir Conway sweep me quite off my feet. Such a whirlwind-romance as it was! A case of love at first sight, and nothing would do for Sir Conway but to carry his treasure back to Headquarters with him. Indeed, I believe if I had refused my consent to the marriage he would positively have eloped with her!”

“Oh, Mama!” faintly protested Charlotte.

“But—you were not previously acquainted? I had supposed—Well, that was certainly a romance! I shall look forward to your telling me all about it—when you have had some tea!”

She excused herself gracefully, and went away to confer with Mrs. Gurnard. She had seen her standing at the foot of the stairs when she had entered the house, and had known, without venturing to meet her speaking eye, that she was far from pleased. She had now acquired reinforcements, in the persons of Nurse and Ribble, and no more than a glance at these three devoted retainers was enough to inform Venetia that trouble lay ahead. No time was lost in disclosing its root: upon being desired to send in a tea-tray to the new arrivals Mrs. Gurnard replied in icy accents: “I have already ordered it to be done, Miss Venetia— her ladyship’s mama having desired me to do so. Not,” she added carefully, “that it was necessary for her to have spoken to me on the matter, for it was on the tip of my tongue to have asked her ladyship if she would take some tea, or a glass of wine, to refresh her after her journey.”

“Miss Venetia!” broke in Nurse. “In my very hearing that Mrs. Scorrier, or whatever she calls herself, told Mrs. Gurnard to be sure the beds were well-aired! If she had had the audacity to say such a thing to me I’d have told her to her head that this is a gentleman’s seat, and not a common inn!”

“I would not so demean myself, Nurse,” said Mrs. Gurnard loftily. “But when it comes to her saying that the best bedchamber must be prepared instantly for her ladyship—”

“and informing us that until her fine London abigail arrives here one of the housemaids must wait on her ladyship!” interpolated Nurse.

“—I felt obliged to say, miss, that no doubt you would give me whatever orders you thought proper.”

“That’s just what I said, ma’am!” nodded Ribble approvingly. “The lady seemed to feel, Miss Venetia, that without she attended to the matter herself no one here would think to send in to York tomorrow to meet the young woman, who, I understand, will be coming by the stage. I trust I was able to set her mind at rest. I assured her, miss, that I shouldn’t fail to ask you what you wish done.”

With a sinking heart Venetia applied herself to the task of soothing these ruffled sensibilities. With only one of the indignant parties did she achieve a modicum of success: Nurse, learning that the bride was already in the family way, showed by the fanatical light in her eyes that this circumstance did much to reconcile her to Charlotte. Though lamentably unworthy of the position she had been called upon to fill she could (and, indeed, must) be tolerated for the sake of the infant over whom Nurse had every intention of exercising the fullest control. Mrs. Gurnard, foreseeing that the happy event would elevate Nurse once more to her vacated throne, spoke ominously of her advancing years and inability to accustom herself to new ways; and Ribble, not presuming to comment upon an affair of such delicacy, added a still more sinister note to the symposium by begging leave to enquire whether Mrs. Scorrier would be making a prolonged stay at Undershaw.

Having succeeded in slightly mollifying these important members of the household Venetia prepared to grapple with the far more difficult task of persuading Aubrey to behave at least with propriety towards his sister-in-law and her mama. He had driven off to the stables without having uttered one word, and Venetia had thought it prudent to refrain from making any attempt to detain him. She guessed that he must have come into the house through the garden-door, and went to look for him in the library, reflecting, as she walked down the broad passage that led to it from the front hall, that a very little of Mrs. Scorrier’s somewhat overpowering personality would suffice to turn Aubrey into as obstinate a recluse as ever his father had been. As she had expected, he was in the library. He had obviously been awaiting her appearance with a good deal of impatience, for he demanded almost before she had shut the door into the ante-room: “What have you done with them? Do you believe such a tale? I don’t! Even Conway couldn’t serve us such a trick!”

“That was my own thought,” she admitted. “But it won’t do, love: it must be true! A horrid shock, wasn’t it? I don’t yet know how we are to make the best of it, but that’s what we must do.”

“Don’t you know? Then I’ll tell yon! We’ll set up house for ourselves—exactly as you planned to do in this event!”

“Yes, of course, but we can’t do so immediately, my dear! You must perceive how impossible it would be! Until Conway returns I’m responsible for Undershaw.”

“And failing you, Mytchett!” he said swiftly. “Conway empowered both of you to act for him. I remember Mytchett’s coming here to discuss the terms of the power of attorney with you before he sent it to Conway to be signed!”

“To be sure he did, but that was because he knew he was very much fitter than I to take care of the invested capital, and, of course, any legal business that might arise. He did not bargain to have all the everyday affairs of the estate thrust upon him as well. Besides, Aubrey, we could not leave Undershaw the instant Conway’s wife entered it! It would be most improper, and unkind as well.”

“As improper and as unkind as to have foisted her on to us without one word of warning?”

“Well, I fancy that wasn’t her fault. In fact, I’m sure of it. Poor creature, she is so much mortified she dare hardly speak above a whisper! I am very sorry for her. And I don’t find her in the least objectionable, love: she seems to be a gentle, shy sort, of a girl, and I daresay we shall soon grow to be very much attached to her.”

“Do you? And as for her mother, I collect we shall positively dote on her!”

She laughed. “For my part, no! A detestable woman—she has set up the servants’ backs already, and mine too, a little! But I don’t mean to show her anything but civility, and I beg you won’t either!”

He looked at her out of narrowed eyes, but said nothing. The most she could wring from him was a promise that he would say nothing uncivil to Mrs. Scorrier unless she offered him provocation, and with this she had to try at least to be satisfied. But as what Aubrey might regard as provocation depended to a large extent upon his mood her expectations were not high; and it was with considerable foreboding that she took him to the drawing-room to be formally introduced.

They found the two ladies discussing tea and macaroons. Mrs. Scorrier welcomed Venetia into the room with a gracious smile, saying: “Such delicious tea, dear Miss Lanyon! I must really ask the housekeeper where she procures it.” She then saw that Aubrey had entered the room in his sister’s wake, and included him in her welcome. He bowed rather stiffly, and shook hands with her before turning to Charlotte, and saying: “How do you do? How did you leave my brother! Will he soon be following you?”

“I don’t know—I hope—I did not like to leave him, but Mama thought—”

“Mama thought that her daughter would be very much better away from the hurly-burly of Cambray!” interrupted Mrs. Scorrier, with the laugh that was already beginning to irritate Venetia. “Your brother will certainly be at home by the end of the year, for the Duke means to begin removing the Army at the beginning of next month. Miss Lanyon, I have been saying to Charlotte what a pretty room this is! Quite charming, indeed, and wants nothing but fresh hangings to make it as elegant a saloon as any I have seen.”

Venetia was a little taken aback by this, but replied with composure, and, in the hope that if she could engage Mrs. Scorrier in conversation Aubrey and Charlotte might become acquainted, sat down beside her on the sofa.

Mrs. Scorrier was perfectly ready to talk, and soon showed that she possessed the ability to maintain more than her share of one conversation while interpolating remarks every now and then into another. Whatever was addressed to her daughter she answered, and whatever Charlotte said she either corrected or amplified. Her manner was good-humoured, she smiled almost continuously, but it was not long before Venetia became convinced that she was being regarded with suspicious hostility. Mrs. Scorrier was lavish in paying her compliments, but contrived at the same time to disparage; and Venetia, who had never before encountered her like, was puzzled to account for her attitude. She seemed to be determined to see in her daughter’s sister-in-law a foe whom it was necessary to overcome; and by talking about the changes Charlotte would no doubt inaugurate at Undershaw, and assuring Venetia how well she understood what must be her feelings at being obliged to hand over the reins of government to another, she made it plain that she was very jealous of Charlotte’s rights, and very ready to do battle in defence of them.