“Nothing at all.”
“Nor will be for some while?”
“Nor will be—for some while.” This he said in a tone which he himself felt to be ill-humoured and almost petulant. And he felt also that such ill-humour on such a subject was unkind, not to his sister, but to Lucy. It seemed to imply that the matter of his marriage was distasteful to him. “The truth is,” he said, “that nothing can be fixed. Lucy understands that as well as I do. I am not in a position at once to marry a girl who has nothing. It’s a pity, perhaps, that one can’t train one’s self to like some girl best that has got money; but as I haven’t, there must be some delay. She is to stay where she is—at any rate, for a twelvemonth.”
“But you mean to see her?”
“Well, yes; I hardly know how I can see her, as I have quarrelled to the knife with Lord Fawn; and Lord Fawn is recognised by his mother and sisters as the one living Jupiter upon earth.”
“I like them for that,” said Ellinor.
“Only it prevents my going to Richmond;—and poor Fawn himself is such an indifferent Jupiter.”
That was all that was said about Lucy at Bobsborough, till there came a letter from Lucy to her lover acquainting him with the circumstances of her unfortunate position at Richmond. She did not tell him quite all the circumstances. She did not repeat the strong expressions which Lord Fawn had used, nor did she clearly explain how wrathful she had been herself. “Lord Fawn has been here,” she said, “and there has been ever so much unpleasantness. He is very angry with you about Lady Eustace, and of course Lady Fawn takes his part. I need not tell you whose part I take. And so there have been what the servants call—‘just a few words.’ It is very dreadful, isn’t it? And, after all, Lady Fawn has been as kind as possible. But the upshot of it is, that I am not to stay here. You mustn’t suppose that I’m to be turned out at twelve hours’ notice. I am to stay till arrangements have been made, and everybody will be kind to me. But what had I better do? I’ll try and get another situation at once if you think it best, only I suppose I should have to explain how long I could stay. Lady Fawn knows that I am writing to you to ask you what you think best.”
On receipt of this, Greystock was very much puzzled. What a little fool Lucy had been, and yet what a dear little fool! Who cared for Lord Fawn and his hard words? Of course, Lord Fawn would say all manner of evil things of him, and would crow valiantly in his own farmyard; but it would have been so much wiser on Lucy’s part to have put up with the crowing, and to have disregarded altogether the words of a man so weak and insignificant! But the evil was done, and he must make some arrangement for poor Lucy’s comfort. Had he known exactly how matters stood, that the proposition as to Lucy’s departure had come wholly from herself, and that at the present time all the ladies at Fawn Court—of course, in the absence of Lord Fawn—were quite disposed to forgive Lucy if Lucy would only be forgiven, and hide herself when Lord Fawn should come;—had Frank known all this, he might, perhaps, have counselled her to remain at Richmond. But he believed that Lady Fawn had insisted on Lucy’s departure; and of course, in such a case, Lucy must depart. He showed the letter to his sister, and asked for advice. “How very unfortunate!” said Ellinor.
“Yes; is it not?”
“I wonder what she said to Lord Fawn?”
“She would speak out very plainly.”
“I suppose she has spoken out plainly, or otherwise they would never have told her to go away. It seems so unlike what I have always heard of Lady Fawn.”
“Lucy can be very headstrong if she pleases,” said Lucy’s lover. “What on earth had I better do for her? I don’t suppose she can get another place that would suit.”
“If she is to be your wife, I don’t think she should go into another place. If it is quite fixed—” she said, and then she looked into her brother’s face.
“Well; what then?”
“If you are sure you mean it—”
“Of course I mean it.”
“Then she had better come here. As for her going out as a governess, and telling the people that she is to be your wife in a few months, that is out of the question. And it would, I think, be equally so that she should go into any house and not tell the truth. Of course, this would be the place for her.” It was at last decided that Ellinor should discuss the matter with her mother.
When the whole matter was unfolded to Mrs. Greystock, that lady was more troubled than ever. If Lucy were to come to the deanery, she must come as Frank’s affianced bride, and must be treated as such by all Bobsborough. The dean would be giving his express sanction to the marriage, and so would Mrs. Greystock herself. She knew well that she had no power of refusing her sanction. Frank must do as he pleased about marrying. Were Lucy once his wife, of course she would be made welcome to the best the deanery could give her. There was no doubt about Lucy being as good as gold;—only that real gold, vile as it is, was the one thing that Frank so much needed. The mother thought that she had discovered in her son something which seemed to indicate a possibility that this very imprudent
