A Country Gentleman and His Family

hands to thwart the lawyers and regulate matters at his own pleasure, made him at once completely subservient to them, accepting everything which he had struggled against before. He took up his abode at Markland with his wife without so much as a protest; from thence he found it an amusement to watch the slow progress of the works at the Warren, riding over two or three times a week, sometimes accompanied by Geoff on his pony, sometimes by Geoff’s mother, who it appeared could ride very well too. And when they went into society it was as Lady Markland and Mr. Warrender. Even on this point, without a word, Theo had given in.

There was, of course, a great outcry in the county about this almost runaway marriage. It was not dignified for Lady Markland, people said; but there were some good-natured souls who said they did not wonder, for that a widow’s wedding was not a pretty spectacle like a young girl’s, and of course there were always embarrassments, especially with a child so old as Geoff. What could his mother have done with him, had he been present at the wedding, and he must have been present at the wedding, if it had been performed in the ordinary way. Poor little Geoff! If only the new husband would be good to him, everybody said.

XXXVIII

“Of course it was perfectly right. No one could say that I was in any way infatuated about Lady Markland, never from the first: but I quite approve of that. Why should she call herself Mrs. Theodore Warrender, when she has the title of a viscountess? If it had been a trumpery little baronetcy,” said Minnie, strong in her new honours, “that would have been quite a different matter; but why should one give up one’s precedency, and all that? I should not at all like to have Mrs. Wilberforce, for instance, or any other person of her class, walk out of a room before me⁠—now.”

“Nor me, I suppose,” Mrs. Warrender said, with a smile.

“Oh, you! that is different of course,” said the Hon. Mrs. Eustace Thynne; but though she was good enough to say this, it was very evident that even for her mother Minnie had no idea of waiving her rights. “When a thing is understood it is so much easier,” she added, “everyone must see that. Besides it was not her fault,” said Minnie triumphantly, “that her first husband died.”

“It was her fault that she married again, surely.”

“Oh, what do you know about it, Chatty? An unmarried girl can’t really have any experience on that subject. Well, to be sure it was her own doing marrying again: but a lady of any rank never gives up her title on marrying a commoner. A baronet’s wife, as I say⁠—but then a baronet is only a commoner himself.”

“You seem to have thoroughly studied the subject, Minnie.”

“Yes, I have studied it; marrying into a noble family naturally changes one’s ideas. And the Thynnes are very particular. You should have seen my mother-in-law arranging the dinner-party she asked to meet us. I went first of course as the bride, but there was Lady Highcourt and Lady Grandmaison, both countesses, and the creation within twenty years of each other. Eustace said nobody but his mother could have recollected without looking it up that the Grandmaisons date from 1425 and the Highcourts only from 1450⁠—not the very oldest nobility either of them,” said Minnie, with a grand air. “The Thynnebroods date from 1395.”

“But then,” said Mrs. Warrender, much amused, shooting a bow at a venture, “their descent counts in the female line.”

Upon which a deep blush, a wave of trouble and shame, passed over Minnie’s countenance. “Only in one case,” she cried, “only once; and that you will allow is not much in five hundred years.”

This bridal pair had arrived on their visit only the day before: they had taken a long holiday, and had been visiting many friends. It was now about two months since their marriage, and the gowns in Minnie’s trousseau began to lose their obtrusive newness: nor can it be said that her sentiments were new. They were only modified a little by her present milieu. “I suppose,” she said, after an interval, “that Lady Markland will come to see me as soon as she knows I am here. Shall they have anyone there for the shooting this year? Eustace quite looks forward to a day now and then. There is the Warren at least, which poor dear papa never preserved, but which I hope Theo⁠—Eustace says that Theo will really be failing in his duty if he does not preserve.”

“I know nothing about their plans or their visitors. Theo is very unlikely to think of a party of sportsmen, who were never much in his way.”

Chatty in the meantime had gone out of the room about her flowers, which were always her morning’s occupation. When she closed the door, Minnie, who had been waiting eagerly, leaned forward to her mother. “As for being in his way, Theo has no right to be selfish, mamma. He ought to think of Chatty. She ought to think of Chatty. I shall not have nearly so good an opinion of her, if she does not take a little trouble and do something for Chatty now she is going out again and has it in her power.”

“For Chatty⁠—but Chatty does not shoot!”

“You never will understand, mamma,” said Mrs. Eustace Thynne with gentle exasperation. “Chatty ought to be thought of now. I am sure I never was; if it had not been for Eustace coming to Pierrepoint, I should have been Miss Warrender all my life: and so will Chatty be Miss Warrender all her life, if no one comes to the rescue. Of course it should lie with me in the first place: but except neighbouring clergymen, we are likely to see so few people just at present. To be sure I