“I know it was a splendid one, but did he care for that? It was not like him!”
“Well, I suppose he must have cared a little, but the thing was that he liked Rotherham, and believed we should suit, because he was an honest man, and there was no flummery about either of us! You know what Papa was, when he had taken a notion firmly into his head! I don’t think anything could have brought him to believe that Ivo was as thankful to be out of a scrape as I was. I never supposed that the pair of them concerted this infamous scheme because Ivo wished to win me back, and as soon as I was cooler, I knew, of course, that Papa would not have done, it to give Ivo an opportunity to be revenged on me.”
“Revenged!”
“Well,” said Serena, reflectively wrinkling her nose, “he has not a forgiving nature, and there’s no denying I did deal his pride the most wounding blow when I cried off. So, when I heard Papa’s Will read, I thought—oh, I don’t know
Fanny said in a wondering tone: “Perhaps he is fond of you, Serena!”
“Yes, when he is not disliking me excessively. I never doubted it,” said Serena coolly. “It is the sort of fondness one has for an old acquaintance, who shares many of one’s ideas and tastes. At the moment, however, I expect dislike has the upper hand. He will come about!”
Nothing was heard of Rotherham until the end of January. The weather continued to be dull, and wet, one leaden day succeeding the last, and exercising a depressive influence on the spirits. Fanny contracted a severe chill, and seemed unable wholly to shake off its effects. She continued very languid, complained of rheumatic pains, and found the days intolerably long. The novelty—for such she had felt it to be—of being mistress of her own house had worn off; and the monotony of the life she was leading made her fretful. The only variations that offered were the occasional visits of neighbours with whom she had nothing in common; and her only amusements were playing cribbage or backgammon with Serena, or going up to the great house to play with Jane’s children. The Countess always had a kind welcome for her, and she could be merry with the children; but a fatal flaw attached to her visits, and caused them to become less and less frequent. She could never be in Jane’s company without being obliged to listen to her complaints of Serena. She knew no way of silencing Jane. “I wish that you would drop Serena a hint,” were words that always made her heart sink. It was not that Jane undervalued Serena, or was not sincerely attached to her, or was unsympathetic. No one, Jane was careful to assure her, in the calm voice of infallibility which so much exasperated Serena, had a greater regard for her, no one could be more certain of her wish to be of use to her cousin, or could more thoroughly appreciate the painful nature of her feelings, but—! Gentle though she was, Fanny would have leapt to Serena’s defence, had she not felt, too often, that Jane had right on her side. As Hartley grew in self-confidence, he naturally depended on his cousin less and less. He inaugurated new customs without consulting her and, since he was inclined to be consequential he contrived—unwittingly, Fanny believed—to convey the impression that he thought his innovations a vast improvement on anything that had been done by his predecessor. Fanny tried to convince Serena that he did not mean to seem to slight her father, but her attempts at peacemaking only drew down the vials of Serena’s wrath upon her own head. Serena, fretting quite as much as Fanny at the boredom of her days, found an outlet for her curbed energy in riding about Milverley, detecting changes (none of them acceptable to her), discovering omissions, and chatting with tenants, or discussing improvements with the bailiff just as she had always done, and so rubbing up against her cousin half a dozen times in a week. To make matters worse, she was far more often right than he; and whereas he, lacking the late Earl’s geniality, was not much liked, she, inheriting it, was loved.
Serena, having more strength of character than Fanny, did not wilt under the trials that beset her, but tried to overcome boredom by throwing herself even more energetically, and much to her cousin’s dismay, into the Milverley affairs. Could she but have found a congenial companion with whom to exchange ideas, she might have refrained, but no such person seemed to exist in the immediate neighbourhood. She became increasingly impatient with Fanny; and the very fact that she seldom allowed her exasperation to appear exacerbated it. There were even days when she felt that she and Fanny conversed in different languages, and that she might almost have preferred to have been cooped up with her aunt. She would have found herself opposed to nearly every one of Lady Theresa’s opinions; but Fanny had no opinions. When Lady Theresa, an accomplished and conscientious correspondent, wrote that Lady Waldegrave was dying of water on the chest, Fanny could be interested, and would discuss the sad news at far greater length than Serena thought necessary; but when lady Theresa informed her niece that retrenchment was all the cry now, and that it was an open secret the Opposition meant to launch an attack on the tax on income which the nation had endured for ten years, some saying that it would be proposed that the two shillings in the pound now exacted should be reduced by as much as half, Fanny had nothing to say beyond a vague: “Oh!” As for Lavallette’s rescue by three British subjects, which, Lady Theresa asserted, was at the moment the only topic to be hotly discussed, she thought an escape very exciting, but never reached the smallest understanding o[ the wider aspects of the case.
Serena was beginning to think that she could even welcome Rotherham in his most quarrelsome mood when the post brought her a letter from him. It informed her in the curtest terms that Probate having at last been obtained, he should call at the Dower House some time during the following week, when he expected to be at Claycross, to explain to her the arrangements which had been made to enable her to draw her allowance as and when she should require it. He was hers, etc., Rotherham.
“Oh, good God, still in the sullens!” exclaimed Serena disgustedly tossing the single sheet on to the fire. “And what does he mean by saying coolly that he will call here some time next week? If he comes without having the civility first to discover when it will be convenient for us to receive him, Lybster shall say that we are neither of us at home! I will not endure his high-handed ways!”
Fanny looked alarmed, but, fortunately for her peace of mind, circumstances made it impossible for this amiable plan to be put into execution. Rotherham drove himself over from Claycross in his curricle, reaching the entrance to the grounds of the Dower House just as Serena, mounted on her mare, approached it from the opposite direction.
Rotherham reined in, and waited for her to come up. She was looking extremely handsome, in a severe black beaver hat of masculine style, with a high crown and a stiffly curled brim, but the expression on her face was decidedly stormy. Perceiving it, Rotherham instantly said: “Good morning, Serena. Who is the latest unfortunate to have incurred your displeasure?”
“My cousin,” she replied curtly. “It is apparently enough for him to discover that some practice has been the custom at Milverley for years for him to overset it!”
“I pity him!” he said.
Her smouldering eyes, which had been running over the points of the two well-matched bays harnessed to his curricle, lifted to his face, and narrowed. “Is Lady Spenborough expecting you?” she demanded. “She has not told me so, and I have had no letter from you since the one you wrote to inform me that you were coming to Claycross.”
“You could hardly have done so, since I have not written another to you.”
“It would have been more civil in you to have discovered when it would be convenient for us to receive you!”
“Accept my apologies! It had not occurred to me that you would so soon be filling your days with engagements.”
“Of course I am not! But—”
“Have no fear! I do not expect to take up many minutes of your time.”
“I hope not, indeed, but I am afraid you will be detained for longer than you may have bargained for. I must change out of my habit before I can attend to you. No doubt Lady Spenborough will be found in the drawing- room.”
She wheeled the mare, and rode through the gateway. He followed her at his leisure, and within a few minutes was shaking hands with Fanny. She said something about sending to find Serena, and he interrupted her, saying: “I met her outside the gate, and the fiend’s own temper she was in. I don’t envy you!”
