Between the house and the tall back of the theatre lay the garden, in which a past Lord Liskeard with classical tastes had erected a model Grecian temple and a quantity of indifferent antique statuary, the fruits of his sojourn at the Embassy of Constantinople.
In this garden, before dinner was served, a number of Sir Vernon’s guests had already gathered. The old man had been persuaded, despite the brilliant midsummer weather, to remain in the house; but Joan Cowper and John Prinsep were there to do the honours on his behalf. As Harry Lucas came into the garden, John Prinsep was laughingly, as he said, “showing off the points” of a dilapidated Hercules who, club, lion-skin and all, was slowly mouldering under the trees at one end of the lawn. The stone club had come loose, and Prinsep had taken it from the statue, and was playfully threatening to do classical execution with it upon the persons of his guests. Seeing Lucas, he put the club back into the broken hand of the statue, and came across the lawn to bid him welcome.
“You’re the last to arrive, Mr. Lucas,” said he. “You see it’s quite a family affair this evening.”
It was quite a family affair. Of the eight persons now on the lawn, six were members of the Brooklyn family by birth or marriage; Lucas was Sir Vernon’s oldest friend and collaborator; and young Ellery, the remaining member of the party, was Lucas’s ward, and was usually to be found, when he had his will, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Joan Cowper. As Sir Vernon had fully made up his mind that Joan was to marry Prinsep, and there was supposed to be some sort of engagement between them, Ellery’s attentions were not welcome to Prinsep, and there was no love lost between the two men.
But there was no sign of this in Prinsep’s manner this evening. He seemed to be in unusually good spirits, rather in contrast to his usual humour. For Prinsep was not generally regarded as good company. Since he had succeeded Sir Vernon in the business control of the Brooklyn Corporation, of which he was managing director, he had grown more and more preoccupied with affairs, and had developed a brusque manner which may have served him well in dealing with visitors who wanted something for nothing, but was distinctly out of place in the social interchange of his leisure hours. Prinsep had, indeed, his pleasures. He was reputed a heavy drinker, whose magnificent natural constitution prevented him from showing any of the signs of dissipation. Many of Prinsep’s acquaintances—who were as many as his friends were few—had seen him drink more than enough to put an ordinary man under the table; but none had ever seen him the worse for drink, and he was never better at a bargain than when the other man had taken some glasses less than he, but still a glass too much. Men said that he took his pleasures sadly: certainly they had never been allowed to interfere with his power of work; and often, after a hard evening, he would go to his study and labour far into the night. But, for this occasion, his sullenness seemed to have left him, and his rather harsh laugh rang out repeatedly over the garden.
Lucas had never liked Prinsep; and he soon found himself one of a group that included Joan and Ellery and Mary Woodman, a cousin of the Brooklyns who lived with Joan and helped her to keep Sir Vernon’s house. Presently Joan drew him aside.
“Uncle Harry,” she said, “there’s something I want to tell you.”
Lucas was, in fact, no relation of the Brooklyns; but from their childhood Joan and George Brooklyn had known him as “Uncle Harry,” and had made him their confidant in many of their early troubles. The habit had stuck; and now Joan had a very serious trouble to tell him.
“You must do what you can to help me,” she said. “I’ve told Uncle Vernon again today that on no account will I ever marry John, and he absolutely refuses to listen to me. He says it’s all settled, and his will’s made on that understanding, and that we’re engaged, and a whole lot more. I must make him realise that I won’t; but you know what he is. I want you to speak to him for me.”
Lucas thought a moment before replying. Then, “My dear,” he said, “I’m very sorry about it, and you know I will do what I can; but is this quite the time? We should only be accused, with some truth, of spoiling Sir Vernon’s birthday. Let it alone for a few days, and then I’ll try talking to him. But it won’t be easy, at any time.”
“Yes, uncle; but there’s a special reason why it must be done tonight. Uncle Vernon tells me that he is going to announce the terms of his will, and that he will speak of what he calls John’s and my ‘engagement.’ I really can’t allow that to happen. I don’t really mind about the will, or John getting the money; but it must not be publicly given out that John is to have me as well. Uncle Vernon has no right to leave me as part of his ‘net personalty’ to John or anybody else.”
Lucas sighed. He foresaw an awkward interview; for Sir Vernon was not an easy man to deal with, and latterly every year
