She smiled at this, but said: “I am not deceived, sir. I must be grateful to my aunt for her exceeding kindness, but I know that she brought me here to serve—oh, a foolish end! I have told her that I shan’t do so, and I can assure you that I shan’t let myself be coaxed, or bullied. So pray don’t tease yourself any more! I am very well able to care for myself.”
He looked relieved, and proposed a rubber of piquet. It was plain that whatever he might guess he shrank from having his suspicions confirmed, and would not willingly intervene in his wife’s schemes. Kate liked him too well to despise him, but she was forced to realize that there was a milkiness in his character which did indeed make him appear ignoble. It was possible that his health was responsible for his reluctance to face a difficult situation, but she could not help feeling that he had probably chosen, all his life, to look the other way when in danger of being faced with anything unpleasant. She made no attempt to embroil him with his wife, but received his invitation to play cards with every appearance of cordiality. In fact, she had hoped to have escaped one of these sessions, and to have had an opportunity to retire early to her bedchamber, not because she wished to go to bed, but because she had as yet had no opportunity to think over all that had occurred during the most eventful day of those she had spent at Staplewood. The extraordinary happenings had begun with Torquil’s disquieting behaviour in the park; this had been followed by the astonishing news that Mr Nidd was in Market Harborough; and the climax had been reached when she had received an offer of marriage from Mr Philip Broome. This, not unnaturally, had cast everything else into the background; and she was honest enough to admit to herself that very little of the period of reflection which she had so earnestly desired would be wasted in consideration of any other problem. She felt that her mind was in turmoil, making it impossible for her to concentrate on the play of her cards. And, strangely enough, it was not the chief problem which teased her: whether or not to accept Philip’s offer: but a host of minor difficulties, which her experience of the male sex led her to think that Philip would dismiss as frivolities. But they were not frivolous, nor would the Broomes think them so. When she left Staplewood, she would leave also everything that Lady Broome had given her, and how, with barely enough in hei purse to bestow vails on Ellen, and on Pennymore, was she to purchase her bride-clothes? And from whose house was she to be married? And who would give her away, in her father’s place? These details might seem unimportant to Philip, but they would not seem unimportant to his relations; and although he might say that he didn’t care a pin for their opinions he would be a very odd man if he did not wish his bride to present a creditable appearance. A bride who was unattended by relations of her own, and came to Church from a carrier’s yard, would inevitably earn the contempt, and perhaps the pity, of the Broomes, and that would gall Philip past endurance.
She wondered if this had occurred to him, and whether he might already be regretting his rash proposal; and, if so, whether he would find an excuse to cry off, or put a brave face on it. She felt that she could bear it best if he were to cry off, but she also felt that he was not the kind of man to play the jilt, and became so lost in these melancholy reflections that Sir Timothy asked her if she was tired.
Could she have but known it, Philip was not regretting it in the least; and none of the difficulties which she perceived had occurred to him. Nor would they have dismayed him had they done so. Oh the contrary, he would have welcomed them as heaven-sent excuses to escape from the fashionable wedding so much more desirable to women than to men. Had he been asked what kind of a wedding he would like to have, he would have replied without an instant’s hesitation that he would much prefer a private ceremony, with no guests invited, except a groomsman to act as his best man, and Sarah Nidd to give Kate away.
In point of fact, he was not, at that moment, thinking about weddings. On arrival at Freshford House he had driven his curricle to the stables, and had handed his horses over to Mr Templecombe’s head-groom. Halfway to the house, he was met by his host, who greeted him by demanding, in incredulous accents, if her ladyship was trying to discourage his visits to Staplewood by refusing to house his groom.
“That’s it,” replied Philip cheerfully.
“Well, I thought that must be the reason why you tipped me the office to bite my tongue! Coming it strong, ain’t she? I’ve heard of hosts who make it a rule not to house their guest’s postilions or cattle—some of ’em stipulate that only one servant is allowed!—but I call it the outside of enough to tell you she won’t have your groom! Next she’ll be asking you not to bring your valet!”
“Oh, she didn’t say she wouldn’t have my groom! She merely suggested that his presence added unnecessarily to the expenses of maintaining the establishment, and hinted that some unlucky investments had made it imperative for my uncle to retrench. As for Knowle, she has no need to ask me not to bring him! From the moment that the servants at Staplewood discovered that he was not so much a gentlemans’ gentleman as a general factotum they treated him—even Pennymore!—with an hauteur which made him so uncomfortable that he begged me not to bring him here again! Tenby looks after me—and, since I don’t belong to the dandy-set, and am perfectly able to dress myself without assistance, that doesn’t impose a very arduous task upon him!”
“I wonder that Sir Timothy should permit such a thing!” Mr Templecomble blurted out.
“He doesn’t know it,” said Philip curtly. “And he won’t know of it from me! He is far from well—seems to have aged overnight! He lives in his own wing of the house for the most part of the day. When I remember—” He broke off, clipping his lips together.
“Very distressing,” agreed Mr Templecombe sympathetically. “Haven’t seen him riding out this age. I know he don’t hunt nowadays, but he was used to hack round his estates until he had that nasty attack last year. Didn’t seem to pluck up after it. Think he’s had notice to quit, dear boy?”
“I don’t know. He is so much changed! He seems to be content to let all go as it will—wishes only to be left in peace! I suppose, looking back, he always had too gentle a disposition—no stomach for a fight! But in those days, while my aunt lived, he was not put to the test: they were in perfect accord!”
Mr Templecombe tactfully refrained from any other comment than an inarticulate murmur of assent; but after a decent interval had elapsed, he coughed, and ventured to ask: “What does that oily scoundrel say of him?”
Philip had no difficulty in recognizing Dr Delabole in this description. “What you might expect! He sees no cause for immediate alarm—must remind me that my uncle is an old man, and has a weak heart! He impresses upon me that he must not be agitated, and hedges me round with a host of medical terms, when I ask for a more precise diagnosis. He is Minerva’s creature, but—” He paused, his brows drawing together as he considered the matter. A wry smile twisted his mouth; he said: “I must do him the justice to own that he is very attentive to my uncle, and very quick to apply restoratives when my uncle suffers one of his spasms.”