It was not surprising that it should have exhausted him, for it was more complicated than he had foreseen, and he was obliged to play it while labouring under severe spiritual stress. It was his duty, as he saw it, to thrust his bride into the heart of the ton. It never occurred to him that his own charm and address might achieve his object with the expenditure of very little effort. He saw himself as the insignificant son of a man of immense popularity, and he went to Nassington House determined, however distasteful the task might be, to exploit this popularity, and to persuade his father’s friends, if he could, to accept Jenny because they liked him well enough not to wish to wound him. This in itself was sufficiently disagreeable to make him look forward to the evening’s entertainment with revulsion; when, at the very outset, to this obligation was added the more urgent need to exert himself to the utmost in an effort to shield his love from malicious tongues — and his wife, too, poor little soul! — what had been designed as a party of pleasure became a prolonged ordeal through which he had moved, exchanging lighthearted conversation with his fellow-guests as though nothing had happened to disturb him. Whether he had succeeded in convincing the suspicious he had no idea: he had done his best, and if that proved to be not good enough he was much too tired to consider what more could be done.
So he was grateful to Jenny for her comfortable commonplaces. They might argue a certain insensibility, but they were preferable to the comments and questions he had dreaded — and why, after all, should she show sensibility over an episode which (if she had realized its significance) could scarcely have wounded her, however much it might have mortified her?
Except that she did not mention the matter at all, which was a little surprising, he could have believed that she really did think the heat responsible for Julia’s collapse. She was her usual, matter-of-fact self, though rather sleepy; she demanded neither explanation nor reassurance: he could relax at last.
Some hours later, when he saw her over the teacups at the breakfast-table, he thought she looked as though she had not slept very much after all. She had not, but she merely said that she was unused to such late nights.
“You should have stayed in bed. I wish you may not have got up merely to make tea for me?”
It was what she had done, knowing that he was very unhandy with urns and teapots, but she said: “As though you couldn’t make it yourself! No, indeed!”
“I can’t,” he confessed ruefully. ‘“I can never get it as I like it, and if they make it for me downstairs it’s worse. Thank you: that is exactly as it should be!”
She smiled, but having supplied his wants turned to the perusal of an advertisement which had been sent her through the post, and which adjured her, in the strongest terms, to lose no time in procuring a new and infallible Nostrum for Gout. She had not the smallest use for this commodity, but if she sat with nothing to occupy her she knew that Adam would bestir himself to talk to her, and Adam did not like breakfast-table conversation.
He went away presently; and after sitting for some time, pondering the problem which had kept her awake during what had remained of the night, she got up from the table, and sent a message to the stables. An hour later, having executed a commission in the Strand, she was being driven back, not to Grosvenor Street, but to Lord Oversley’s house in Mount Street.
Mr Chawleigh, to Adam’s intense but rigorously suppressed annoyance, had visited the stables and the coachhouse attached to Lynton House while the bridal pair were in Hampshire, and had condemned out of hand the landaulette which had previously served the ladies of the house. He thought it a very dowdy turn-out, and he replaced it with a glossy barouche, on whose shallow doors he insisted on having the Lynton arms blazoned. The carriage was drawn by a pair of showy chestnuts. Mr Chawleigh had paid a large price for them, but he was not a judge of horseflesh, and when Adam first saw them he ejaculated involuntarily: “Oh, my God!”
However, Jenny was not a judge of horseflesh either, so she was quite satisfied with her peacocky pair. They might have been bishoped, as John Coachman told Adam he was willing to swear they had been, but they were quite capable of conveying her about the town in dashing style.
She found Lady Oversley at home, and was taken upstairs to the drawing-room, where her ladyship welcomed her with affection but rather nervously. She was looking harassed, and when Jenny disclosed that she had called to enquire how Julia did she answered in a flurry: “Oh — ! So very kind of you! My dear, I’m afraid I didn’t thank you — in the agitation of the moment, you know! But Emily Castlereagh told me how good you were, and indeed I am very much obliged to you! Poor Julia! The rooms were hot, weren’t they? I was conscious of it myself, and, of course, Julia’s constitution is not strong. She is not in very high health — in fact, quite out of sorts! — so I have kept her in bed today, and Dr Baillie has given me a composer for her.”
Jenny nodded. “I was afraid she would fall into one of her hysterical fits,” she remarked. “I thought about it a great deal, after we had gone home, and it seemed to me as though the best thing would be for me to come to see you, ma’am, because I don’t doubt you’re in quite a worry. Well, I don’t know much about tonnish people yet, but I expect they don’t differ greatly from anyone else, and Julia’s going off as she did, the instant she clapped eyes on Adam, is bound to set tongues wagging.”
Thankfully abandoning pretence, Lady Oversley said tragically: “Oh, Jenny, I declare I am worn to a bone! What with Julia, and then Oversley — But she did not faint on purpose!”
“No, of course she didn’t I don’t understand how people can faint away as she does, but there’s no denying that it never needed more than a harsh word to send her off. She used to suffer dreadfully from the vapours, too.”
“Yes,” sighed Lady Oversley. “And all the doctors could find amiss was that she was too excitable! But she doesn’t have the vapours now — at least, not if. she is gently treated, and not scolded when she is already so much distressed! I don’t mean to say that I didn’t sympathize with Oversley — heaven knows I could have murdered her! In that house of all others, and with Emily Cowper in the very room! But what, I ask you, Jenny, is the use of ringing a peal over the poor child, and driving her into hysterics?”