“It might have saved a great deal of bother if her father had lived.”
“Aye, so it might. They had their eye on a marquess for her. My own papa was an earl. But Louise was always headstrong and stubborn. With Pierre dead, she got the bit in her teeth and Max could not rule her. I have a little of the same stubbornness myself. Harold didn’t fancy my coming here, but here I am, and here I mean to stay. I hope my staying works out as well as my marriage. These arranged affairs work out as well as the other in the long run. I have been happy with Harold. Well, content, which is what we usually mean when we say happy. He does not set his back up against most of the things I want to do, and when he does, I pay him no heed. A husband who can be ignored is a great blessing, Delsie. Let the youngsters prate of love as they please. Look at where it dumped Louise and Bobbie.”
Delsie cast a commiserating look on her unromantical friend. Jane was regarding her quizzically. The old lady’s eyes held a light, making her aware that this was more than a mere philosophical discussion of marriages in general. “I could never be married to a dictator like that Pierre, and Max is similar, but not quite as bad. Still, if you were his wife instead of only his brother-in-law’s widow, you’d be locked in a room at the Hall this night, doing as he said.”
“Let us hope he finds a biddable wife for himself,” Delsie answered, but her mind was elsewhere. She is hinting me away from Max! Is it possible she thinks I want to marry him? She felt a sudden spurt of dislike for kindly Lady Jane.
“Ah, well, there’s the mischief in it. Those dictators want a girl with a strong backbone, so they’ll have the pleasure of breaking her spirit. A milksop would not do for Max in the least. He’ll go on pulling crows with me and you if he marries someone with no spirit. I mean to see that doesn’t happen. I am too old to be forever at daggers drawn with him. Between the two of us, we’ll find him a proper lady with the fortitude to stand up to him.” The cunning eyes regarded Mrs. Grayshott closely, observing the little stiffening of her spine, the sparkle of anger that entered her eyes.
“I have a certain Miss Haversham in my eye,” she continued blandly. “I’ll make you acquainted with her one of these days, and you can tell me what you think.”
Delsie suddenly found herself taking an unaccountable disliking to the name Haversham, but her reply was, “I shall look forward to it, milady. I agree with you that we shall not be bothered with his overbearing ways. We must find him a full-time sparring partner.”
The dame nodded her head in satisfaction. “I’m done in,” was her next statement. “I’ll amble on up to bed, but be sure to rouse me when you hear the fellows in the orchard. I don’t want to miss out on the fun.”
Delsie sat on alone, going over the conversation. She was not surprised to learn plans were afoot to find deVigne a wife. For several years this matter had been spoken of in the village as inevitable. She wondered that Lady Jane had undertaken to speak of it to her on this particular occasion. Had she taken the idea that she had set her cap at him? Going over her own behavior, she conceded it had been perhaps too free. She had slipped too easily into a sort of intimacy with deVigne. Naturally the family would dislike to see him make such an uneven match. Her lips curved in a soft smile as she considered the scene likely to ensue if anyone attempted to hint to the Dictator where he ought to look for a wife. She did not think Miss Haversham’s chance for success very great if she counted on Lady Jane’s persuasions to do the job for her.
As the hour grew later, and as she thought her rest might well be disturbed with company, she decided to retire. She went to have a last word with the footmen, who were stationed at the kitchen window, with all lights extinguished. There were taking turns about, one resting while the other watched. At any sign of action, they were to use the Chinese gong in the dining room to arouse the ladies. They deemed the hour early enough to risk having a lamp lit while Mrs. Grayshott made them coffee to help pass the time, before going up to her room.
Sleep was slow in coming, with the excitement of an invasion to look forward to. When the hands of the clock pointed to one, she had still not closed an eye. At that hour, she went to the window and stood looking into a motionless orchard for some fifteen minutes. This vigil tired her, and she went back to bed to sleep through an uninterrupted night.
“What a take-in,” Lady Jane declared the next morning, disgruntled. “A night spent on a lumpy mattress in a strange room, all to no avail. There is no point in my hanging about here all day long. I’ll go over to see how Harold does, and return to you for dinner this evening, but I shall leave the footmen, just in case. Those two are to be trusted completely. Dissenters, both of them. They will not take so much as a glass of small ale, let alone approve of brandy.”
“I must be home in case creditors come. Perhaps Miss Milne will bring Bobbie to visit me. There can be no danger in the middle of the day.”
“I’ll send Harold over to entertain you later on. Just ask him what he thinks of Pliny, and that will set him off.”
This sounded more tedious than being alone, but Delsie was too polite to request that Jane keep her boring husband at home, and said she would be happy to see him.
“Happier to see him go,” was the knowing answer. Lady Jane managed to be content with very little, in her friend’s view. Even a refractory husband would be better than a Harold.
Sir Harold did indeed call that same morning, confirming the opinion that he must have provided the lively Lady Jane an unsatisfactory companion all these years. As he found the lady of the house with an apron wrapped around her skirt, busily polishing her own windows, he did no more than sit for fifteen minutes watching her, and uttering a few comments on the invention of glass, the difference it had made to civilization, and how it had eventually been taxed, as might be expected.
Miss Milne did not bring Roberta, but at three deVigne dropped around, looking heavy-eyed, grouchy, and holding his head at an odd angle.
“You mean to continue with this nonsense?” he asked in a surly tone, taking up a post at the fireplace and declining a seat, to indicate that his call was a courtesy merely.
“Certainly I do,” he was told by a good-natured widow, much easier in her mind since her action had the approval of Lady Jane.
“It would serve you well if they came in force,” he answered.
“I hope they may. We had a flat time of it yesterday, and Lady Jane assures me they are not at all a bad lot who bring in the brandy these days. She feels a tap on the head is the worst we have to look forward to.”
“I might have known there would be no counting on her to act with propriety when it was necessary.”
“I think it very bad of you to be picking on Lady Jane. She has Sir Harold to contend with, and that is enough for one woman.”
“There is half the trouble! Harold has never controlled her as he ought.”
“You forget she is of the same blood as yourself, quite set on having her own way.”
He glared belligerently at this speech, then began pacing the room. Delsie smiled to see him perform exactly as had been described. “How does my stepdaughter go on?” she asked, to divert him.
“Miss Milne has taken her over to the Dower House for luncheon. They worked upstairs in the nursery this morning.”
“Which she could have done with perfect safety here. What is the matter with your neck? Have you got a crick in it?” He held it to the left.
“Yes, I must have slept with it at an odd angle last night.”