happen! I daresay the gang would have tried to burn our houses, but we should have kept watch—yes, and laid ambushes, too!”
“Well, if that’s your notion of comfort it ain’t mine!” said Claud. “Dashed if I don’t think you’ve got windmills in your head!”
Lord Darracott thrust back his chair, and rose. “I wish to hear no more from any of you!” he said harshly. “I don’t know which puts me the more out of patience, Hugh’s damned morality, or your nonsense, Richmond! Matthew, I want a word with you! The rest of you may join the ladies.”
He then stalked out of the room, and Vincent, getting up, said: “That I take to be a command. Shall we go?”
His lordship was not seen again that evening, but shortly before the tea-tray was brought in Matthew joined the drawing-room party, all of whom, with the exception of Vincent, who was absent, were gathered round a card- table. As Matthew entered the room, his wife laid her hand face upwards on the table, to the accompaniment of a chorus of indignant protests, which she acknowledged with a small, triumphant smile.
“Dash it, Mama, that makes it five times you’ve looed the board!”
“Oh, Aurelia, you
“Aunt! That was my forlorn hope! You’ve left me without a feather to fly with!”
“Well! you are all very merry!” said Matthew. “Silver-loo, eh?”
“No,
“Aha! so you have been physicking them, have you, my dear?”
“I should rather think she has!” said Claud. “If she don’t loo the board outright, you may depend upon it she holds Pam!”
“Except when Hugo has it! Hugo, if you’ve saved your groats
“No, not this time. My luck is nothing to her ladyship’s. Do you always hold such cards, ma’am?”
“I am, in general, very fortunate,” said Lady Aurelia. She gathered up her fan and her reticule, and said graciously: “Well, that was very diverting! You would have stared, I daresay, Matthew, had you seen us being so foolish, and cutting such jokes!”
Matthew had never known his wife to cut jokes, or to behave foolishly, but he accepted this without a blink, saying that he was glad she had been so well entertained. He then looked round the room, and asked, with a slight frown, what had become of Vincent. To this she replied with majestic unconcern that she had no notion, but it was to be inferred from the subsequent folding of her lips that she was displeased.
“Begged to be excused,” said Claud. “Beneath his touch to play copper-loo.”
“Stupid fellow!” Matthew said, his frown deepening.
He did not mention Vincent again until he was alone with Lady Aurelia. He found her ladyship attired in a voluminous dressing-gown, reading a volume of sermons, as was her invariable custom, while her maid brushed her hair. She raised her eyes, and after a moment’s dispassionate study of his face, placed a marker in her book, laid it down, and dismissed the maid.
“Well, Matthew?”
He was fidgeting about the room, and at first seemed to have nothing of much moment to say; but after making several desultory remarks, to which she responded with accustomed patience, he disclosed the real purpose of his visit by saying that he wished she would speak to Vincent.
“It would be useless,” she replied.
“He is behaving abominably!” Matthew said angrily. “I am vexed to death! If anyone has a right to resent Hugh’s presence it is I—though I trust I have too much dignity to conduct myself towards him as Vincent does! It is a fortunate circumstance that Hugh is a muttonhead, and doesn’t know when Vincent is cutting at him, but sooner or later Vincent will go too far, and a pretty uproar there will be!”
“I do not consider Hugh a muttonhead, nor do I think he is unaware of Vincent’s hostility.”
He stared at her. “I cannot imagine why you should say so, ma’am! For my part, he seems to me little better than a dummy! It is always so with these clumsy giants: beefwitted! When I think of the future—that oaf in my father’s shoes!—I declare I don’t know how to support my spirits! But as for coming the ugly, as Vincent does— Upon my word, he will be well served if Hugh does take offence! That is—” he paused, looking harassed, but Lady Aurelia said nothing, and after a minute he burst out with the true cause of his anxiety. “I do not conceal from you, Aurelia, that my mind misgives me! There is no saying what might come of it, if a quarrel were to spring up between those two! Vincent is capable of anything: he is my father over again!”
She considered this calmly, before saying: “There is a want of conduct in him that vexes me very much, but I cannot suppose that he would go so far as to force such a quarrel upon his cousin as I collect you have in mind, my dear Matthew.”
It was what he had in mind, but he exclaimed instantly: “Good God, I hope not indeed! It does not bear thinking of!” He took a hasty turn about the room. “I wish I knew what to do for the best! I don’t understand Vincent: I have frequently been shocked by the reckless things he will do. His temper, too! Then the feeling he seems to have for this place: one would imagine he had always expected to inherit it, but that is absurd! And—But I will not say all I feel upon this occasion!”
“You are afraid that Vincent may force a duel on his cousin,” she said relentlessly. “I cannot think it possible. If he did so, it could only be with the intention of putting a period to Hugh’s life, and that, my dear sir, would be such an infamous act as I am persuaded no son of ours would be capable of performing.”
“No, no, of course not!” he said. “Good God, I should hope—Aurelia, my father told me this evening that he wishes Vincent to remain here for a week or two! I had had no notion that anything like that was in the air, and I cannot like it. I ventured to suggest to my father that it would be wiser to let Vincent go, but you know what he is! He will never listen to one word of advice. Indeed, he is becoming so—However, I do not mean to discuss
“Certainly not,” she replied. “I believe you are overanxious, and although I place no more reliance than you do upon your father’s behaving as he ought I am strongly of the opinion that we may place every reliance on Major Hugh Darracott’s good sense. Of the amiability of his disposition even you can have no doubt. I have observed him narrowly, and have been agreeably surprised. He is a man of principle; his temper is equable; his manners perfectly gentlemanlike and unaffected. The only fault I perceive in him is a tendency to levity, but—”
“
“If it escaped your notice, my dear sir, that his atrocious brogue overcame him only when it had been made deplorably plain to him that his family held him in contempt, I can only say that it did not escape mine.”
“You mean to tell me—No, I don’t believe it! He slips into it when he forgets to guard his tongue! If he is shamming it—Well, upon my word, what infernal impudence!”
“I am no friend to levity, but I cannot but acknowledge that in taking his family’s hostility in good part he showed himself to be a man of considerable forbearance,” said her ladyship repressively.
He coloured, and looked discomfited. Lady Aurelia, satisfied that her words had gone home, continued in precisely the same composed tone: “As to Vincent, though I do not anticipate any such issue as you have suggested, I daresay it would be wiser for me to remain at Darracott Place, instead of returning with you to Mount Street.”
His expression changed to one of relief. “Should you dislike it, ma’am? I own, I should be easier in my mind, for although you may say Vincent does not listen to you, I am tolerably certain that while you are at hand he will take care to keep within bounds. But I don’t mean to press you: it is not an object with my father to make his guests comfortable!”
“My dear sir, I hope my mind is stronger than you believe it to be! I do not suffer from an excess of sensibility. I have never allowed your father’s odd humours to sink my spirits, and it would be a strange thing if I did so now, after nearly thirty years. I am perfectly willing to remain, particularly so because Elvira has twice expressed her wish that I should stay to support her through this very awkward time.”
