“Say ‘how d’you do?’ aunt,” said Violet.
“I mean about this engagement,” said Lady Baldock, with an increase of awe-inspiring severity in her voice.
“Say nothing about it at all, if you don’t like it,” said Violet.
“How can I say nothing about it? How can I be silent? Or how am I to congratulate you?”
“The least said, perhaps, the soonest mended,” and Violet smiled as she spoke.
“That is very well, and if I had no duty to perform, I would be silent. But, Violet, you have been left in my charge. If I see you shipwrecked in life, I shall ever tell myself that the fault has been partly mine.”
“Nay, aunt, that will be quite unnecessary. I will always admit that you did everything in your power to—to—to—make me run straight, as the sporting men say.”
“Sporting men! Oh, Violet.”
“And you know, aunt, I still hope that I shall be found to have kept on the right side of the posts. You will find that poor Lord Chiltern is not so black as he is painted.”
“But why take anybody that is black at all?”
“I like a little shade in the picture, aunt.”
“Look at Lord Fawn.”
“I have looked at him.”
“A young nobleman beginning a career of useful official life, that will end in—; there is no knowing what it may end in.”
“I daresay not;—but it never could have begun or ended in my being Lady Fawn.”
“And Mr. Appledom!”
“Poor Mr. Appledom. I do like Mr. Appledom. But, you see, aunt, I like Lord Chiltern so much better. A young woman will go by her feelings.”
“And yet you refused him a dozen times.”
“I never counted the times, aunt; but not quite so many as that.”
The same thing was repeated over and over again during the month that Miss Effingham remained at Baddingham, but Lady Baldock had no power of interfering, and Violet bore her persecution bravely. Her future husband was generally spoken of as “that violent young man,” and hints were thrown out as to the personal injuries to which his wife might be possibly subjected. But the threatened bride only laughed, and spoke of these coming dangers as part of the general lot of married women. “I daresay, if the truth were known, my uncle Baldock did not always keep his temper,” she once said. Now, the truth was, as Violet well knew, that “my uncle Baldock” had been dumb as a sheep before the shearers in the hands of his wife, and had never been known to do anything improper by those who had been most intimate with him even in his earlier days. “Your uncle Baldock, miss,” said the outraged aunt, “was a nobleman as different in his manner of life from Lord Chiltern as chalk from cheese.” “But then comes the question, which is the cheese?” said Violet. Lady Baldock would not argue the question any further, but stalked out of the room.
Lady Laura Kennedy met them at Saulsby, having had something of a battle with her husband before she left her home to do so. When she told him of her desire to assist at this reconciliation between her father and brother, he replied by pointing out that her first duty was at Loughlinter, and before the interview was ended had come to express an opinion that that duty was very much neglected. She in the meantime had declared that she would go to Saulsby, or that she would explain to her father that she was forbidden by her husband to do so. “And I also forbid any such communication,” said Mr. Kennedy. In answer to which, Lady Laura told him that there were some marital commands which she should not consider it to be her duty to obey. When matters had come to this pass, it may be conceived that both Mr. Kennedy and his wife were very unhappy. She had almost resolved that she would take steps to enable her to live apart from her husband; and he had begun to consider what course he would pursue if such steps were taken. The wife was subject to her husband by the laws both of God and man; and Mr. Kennedy was one who thought much of such laws. In the meantime, Lady Laura carried her point and went to Saulsby, leaving her husband to go up to London and begin the session by himself.
Lady Laura and Violet were both at Saulsby before Lord Chiltern arrived, and many were the consultations which were held between them as to the best mode in which things might be arranged. Violet was of opinion that there had better be no arrangement, that Lord Chiltern should be allowed to come in and take his father’s hand, and sit down to dinner—and that so things should fall into their places. Lady Laura was rather in favour of some scene. But the interview had taken place before either of them were able to say a word. Lord Chiltern, on his arrival, had gone immediately to his father, taking the Earl very much by surprise, and had come off best in the encounter.
“My lord,” said he, walking up to his father with his hand out, “I am very glad to come back to Saulsby.” He had written to his sister to say that he would be at Saulsby on that day, but had named no hour. He now appeared between ten and eleven in the morning, and his father had as yet made no preparation for him—had arranged no appropriate words. He had walked in at the front door, and had asked for the Earl. The Earl
