“Not quite;—only I am to go away.”
“I don’t see why you should go away at all. Frederic doesn’t come here so very often, and when he does come he doesn’t say much to anyone. I suppose it’s all Amelia’s doing.”
“Nobody wants me to go, only I feel that I ought. Mr. Greystock thinks it best.”
“I suppose he’s going to quarrel with us all.”
“No, dear. I don’t think he wants to quarrel with anyone;—but above all he must not quarrel with me. Lord Fawn has quarrelled with him, and that’s a misfortune—just for the present.”
“And where are you going?”
“Nothing has been settled yet; but we are talking of Lady Linlithgow—if she will take me.”
“Lady Linlithgow! Oh dear!”
“Won’t it do?”
“They say she is the most dreadful old woman in London. Lady Eustace told such stories about her.”
“Do you know, I think I shall rather like it.”
But things were very different with Lucy the next morning. That discussion in Lady Fawn’s room was protracted till midnight, and then it was decided that just a word should be said to Lucy, so that, if possible, she might be induced to remain at Fawn Court. Lady Fawn was to say the word, and on the following morning she was closeted with Lucy. “My dear,” she began, “we all want you to do us a particular favour.” As she said this, she held Lucy by the hand, and no one looking at them would have thought that Lucy was a governess and that Lady Fawn was her employer.
“Dear Lady Fawn, indeed it is better that I should go.”
“Stay just one month.”
“I couldn’t do that, because then this chance of a home would be gone. Of course, we can’t wait a month before we let Mrs. Greystock know.”
“We must write to her, of course.”
“And then, you see, Mr. Greystock wishes it.” Lady Fawn knew that Lucy could be very firm, and had hardly hoped that anything could be done by simple persuasion. They had long been accustomed among themselves to call her obstinate, and knew that even in her acts of obedience she had a way of obeying after her own fashion. It was as well, therefore, that the thing to be said should be said at once.
“My dear Lucy, has it ever occurred to you that there may be a slip between the cup and the lip?”
“What do you mean, Lady Fawn?”
“That sometimes engagements take place which never become more than engagements. Look at Lord Fawn and Lady Eustace.”
“Mr. Greystock and I are not like that,” said Lucy, proudly.
“Such things are very dreadful, Lucy, but they do happen.”
“Do you mean anything;—anything real, Lady Fawn?”
“I have so strong a reliance on your good sense, that I will tell you just what I do mean. A rumour has reached me that Mr. Greystock is—paying more attention than he ought to do to Lady Eustace.”
“His own cousin!”
“But people marry their cousins, Lucy.”
“To whom he has always been just like a brother! I do think that is the cruellest thing. Because he sacrifices his time and his money and all his holidays to go and look after her affairs, this is to be said of him! She hasn’t another human being to look after her, and, therefore, he is obliged to do it. Of course he has told me all about it. I do think, Lady Fawn—I do think that is the greatest shame I ever heard!”
“But if it should be true—?”
“It isn’t true.”
“But just for the sake of showing you, Lucy—; if it was to be true.”
“It won’t be true.”
“Surely I may speak to you as your friend, Lucy. You needn’t be so abrupt with me. Will you listen to me, Lucy?”
“Of course I will listen;—only nothing that anybody on earth could say about that would make me believe a word of it.”
“Very well! Now just let me go on. If it were to be so—”
“Oh-h, Lady Fawn!”
“Don’t be foolish, Lucy. I will say what I’ve got to say. If—if—Let me see. Where was I? I mean just this. You had better remain here till things are a little more settled. Even if it be only a rumour—and I’m sure I don’t believe it’s anything more—you had better hear about it with us—with friends round you, than with a perfect stranger like Lady Linlithgow. If anything were to go wrong there, you wouldn’t know where to go for comfort. If anything were wrong with you here, you could come to me as though I were your mother.—Couldn’t you, now?”
“Indeed, indeed I could! And I will;—I always will. Lady Fawn, I love you and the dear darling girls better than all the world—except Mr. Greystock. If anything like that were to happen, I think I should creep here and ask to die in your house. But it won’t. And just now it will be better that I should go away.”
It was found at last that Lucy must have her way, and letters were written both to Mrs. Greystock and to Frank, requesting that the suggested overtures might at once be made to Lady Linlithgow. Lucy, in her letter to her lover, was more than ordinarily cheerful and jocose. She had a good deal to say about Lady Linlithgow that was really droll, and not a word to say indicative of the slightest fear in the direction of Lady Eustace. She spoke of poor Lizzie, and declared her conviction that that marriage never could come off now. “You mustn’t be angry when I say that I can’t break my heart for them, for I never did think that they were very much in love. As for Lord Fawn, of course he is my—enemy!” And she wrote the word in big letters. “And as for Lizzie—she’s your cousin, and all that. And she’s ever so pretty, and all that. And she’s as rich as Croesus, and all that. But
