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“And I suppose you’ll have plenty of warning that there’s going to be a heavy fall of snow, such as will block all the roads for a sennight?” said Mr Chawleigh, with heavy sarcasm. “What if we get a winter like we had last year, with even the Thames so hard-frozen that there was a fair held on it, and the whole country snowbound? A nice thing it would be if Jenny was to be took ill of a sudden! Why, you’d never get the rabbit-catcher here, let alone — ” He broke off in confusion, and corrected himself. “The month-nurse, I should say! Yes, you may laugh, my lord, but it wouldn’t be a laughing matter!”

“No, of course it wouldn’t. But these apprehensions never troubled my mother, sir! Of her five children, four of us were born at Fontley — one of my sisters in November, myself in January.”

“That’s got nothing to say to anything. Without meaning any disrespect to her la’ship, she’s one of the lean ’uns, and it’s my belief they brush through the business a deal more easily than roundabouts like my Jenny.”

Adam was silent for a moment; then he said: “Very well, sir. It shall be as you think best. But I’m afraid she won’t like it.”

This was soon to be an understatement. When the news was broken to Jenny that she was to return to London, there to await the birth of her child, under the aegis of a fashionable accoucheur, she flew into a towering rage which considerably startled Adam, and reminded him forcibly of her father. That worthy was also surprised. He said that he had never known her to put herself into such a passion, and recommended her not to cut up so stiff. She rounded on him. “I knew how it would be!” she said. “Oh, I knew how it would be, the instant I told you I was breeding! I wish I hadn’t done so! I wish you’d never come to Fontley! Well, I won’t go to London! I won’t see Dr Croft! I won’t — ”

“Don’t you think you can talk to me like that, my girl! interrupted Mr Chawleigh ominously. “You’ll do as you’re bid!”

“Oh, no, I will not!” she flashed. “Not as you bid me, Papa! You’ve no business to interfere — spoilt it all — ”

“Jenny.”

Adam had not raised his voice, but it checked her. Her narrowed eyes went swiftly to his face, glaring but arrested. He went to her, and took her hands, holding them closely, and saying, with a faint smile: “A little beyond the line, Jenny. Ring your peal over me, not over your father!”

She burst into tears.

“Jenny!” ejaculated Mr Chawleigh, aghast. “Now, give over, love, do! There’s no call — ” He stopped, encountering his son-in-law’s eyes. Their message was unmistakable; so, too, was the tiny jerk of the head towards the door. It was many years since Mr Chawleigh had bowed to authority, and he was quite at a loss, when he found himself outside the room, to account for his submission.

“Adam!” Jenny uttered, tightly gripping his hands. “Don’t heed Papa! I’m very well! I promise you I am! I don’t wish to leave Fontley! I mean to be so busy — and you — know we are to have shooting-parties — and the hunting! You told me you were looking forward to that! Adam — ”

“My dear, if that’s what troubles you there’s not the smallest need! I daresay you’ll grant me leave of absence now and then! I wish we might have stayed here through the winter, but your father won’t hear of it, and — Jenny, think! How can I go against him in a matter which concerns your well-being?”

She pushed her hands away, saying in a trembling voice: “You don’t wish to go against him. You don’t wish me to be here. You never did! You had rather see Fontley fall into ruin than allow me any part of it! You won’t even like to see your son here, because hell be my son too!”

Jenny!

She gave a strangled sob, and fairly ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

For a few minutes hewas furiously angry. They had been going on so comfortably together that he had almost forgotten the time when he had not wanted her at Fontley. Her outburst seemed to him unjust; her final words unpardonable. His heart hardened against her. Then his good sense told him that those words at least had been flung at him merely because she was in an ungovernable rage, and could think of nothing worse to say.

He went out presently into the garden. He supposed that he ought to go in search of Jenny, but his anger still smouldered; and because her words had held so much truth he did not know what he could say to reassure her. She was too acute to be deceived by lip-service, and in his present mood of resentment he knew he would find it hard to offer her even as much as that He crossed the lawn with his slightly halting step, and passed into the rose-garden. Here Jenny found him some minutes later. He was rather absently nipping off the withered blooms, and when he saw her, hesitating under the arch of the yew hedge, he looked gravely at her, saying nothing.

She had seldom appeared less attractive, for her face was swollen with her tears. She said huskily: “I beg your pardon! I didn’t mean it! Forgive me — pray!”

His heart melted. He moved quickly towards her, not thinking that she was plain and commonplace but only that she was in trouble. He said in a light, caressing tone: “As though I didn’t know that! What a shrew I have married! Scolding like a cut-purse merely because your father and I have more regard for your health than you have!”

“It was very bad,” she muttered. “I don’t know what made me — I think it must be my situation!”

“Oh, indeed?” he said. “All the fault of this son whom I shall dislike to see here! Well, if he means to make his mama as cross as a cat I certainly shall dislike to see him here, or anywhere else!”

She hung her head, saying imploringly: “Oh, no, no! How could I say such a wicked thing? I know it wasn’t true!”

He patted her shoulder. “So I should hope! Moreover, Lady Lynton, if you think that I dislike seeing you here you must be even more gooseish than I had supposed — which is not possible!”

She laughed, rather shakily, but said, after a moment’s hesitation: “You don’t wish to go back to London, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’d thought we were snugly settled here for the winter, and came shockingly near to recommending your papa to go to the devil. But there’s no denying that you’re not in high health, Jenny, or that Fontley is rather too remote for either your father’s peace of mind or mine. It may be that you’ll need a more skilled practitioner than old Tilford. It’s a great bore, but we’ll run no stupid risks, my dear.”

“No,” she said submissively. “I’ll do what you think right How soon must we go? Not quite yet — need we?”

“No, not if you go on fairly prosperously. Next month, before the winter begins to set in. And if this top-of-the-trees doctor of your father’s gives you leave, I’ll bring you back again. That’s a promise!”

She began to look more cheerful, though she said wistfully, as they strolled back to the house, her hand tucked into Adam’s arm: “I wanted him to be born here, where you were born.”

“But for anything we know she might prefer to be born in London,” objected Adam provocatively. “You were, after all!”

She?” exclaimed Jenny. “No!”

“I have a great fancy for a daughter,” said Adam.

“Well, I haven’t,” said Jenny, in accents far more like her own. “Not till we’ve a son, that is! If I thought — Good gracious, Papa is right! I will consult his horrid doctor!”

He gave a shout of laughter; and later, when Mr Chawleigh anxiously asked him if he had persuaded Jenny to behave like a sensible woman, replied promptly: “Yes, indeed: like a woman of most superior understanding! I had only to hint that she might present me with a daughter to make her perceive instantly the wisdom of putting herself in the hands of an experienced accoucheur!”

“Now, Adam — !” protested Jenny.