He grinned. “And has your ladyship stopped thinking of it?” he inquired.
“No one,” said her ladyship severely, “can stop thinking of such a sum all in a trice, but I assure you it does not creep into my mind now above once or twice in a day.”
“If I could lay my hands on it, it’s not meself that would be forgetting an old friend,” he observed, watching the fall of his dice.
“I am sure you would not,” replied her ladyship, gratified by this kind thought, “and if I had such a sum I would not forget you. But Deb is determined not to touch a penny of Ravenscar’s money, so there is nothing for us to do but to put it out of our minds.”
“Faith, I’m disappointed in the darlin’!” said Mr Kennet. “I’m thinking I’ll be taking a hand in the game meself.”
“I do not see what you can do,” objected Lady Bellingham. “As soon as he knows that Mablethorpe is safely tied to Phoebe Laxton, there will no longer be the least reason why he should give us any money at all.”
“Well,” drawled Kennet, rising to his feet, and pocketing his dice, “Mablethorpe is not the only weapon to our hands, after all. I’ll be bidding you a very good day, ma’am.”
He went off, leaving her ladyship rather bewildered, but, on the whole, unimpressed.
Mr Ravenscar, in the meantime, had received Miss Grantham’s hurried note, and had read it with some amusement. It was plain that he had taken her by surprise, which was what he had meant to do; and equally plain that she had been thrown into a considerable degree of embarrassment. He more than half suspected her of having told—him that she was going into the country merely to gain time to decide on her next course of action. He wondered what this would be, and, having by this time formed a fairly accurate estimate of the lady’s character, would not have been surprised to have had the bills flung back at him without an instant’s delay on her part.
He folded her letter, and put it away. The various exigencies of the past week had precluded his paying very much attention to his half-sister, but he had noticed a certain saintliness of demeanour about that young lady which he had learnt from experience to mistrust, and thought that it might be as well to devote a little of his time to her. With this end in view, he sent up a message to her, asking whether she cared to drive out with him in the Park.
Upon receiving this message, Miss Ravenscar came down to the library, dressed for walking, and eyed him rather doubtfully. “Why do you want to take me out driving?” she asked.
“Why shouldn’t I want to?” he replied, looking up from the letter he was reading.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Arabella cautiously. “Whenever Aunt Selina invites me to drive out with her, in that stuffy barouche, it is always because she wants to read me a lecture.”
He laughed. “Belle, when have I ever done such a thing?”
“There is no saying when you might take it into your head to do so,” she answered, dimpling.
“It won’t be today. Do you mean to come with me, or not?”
“Well, I had meant to walk in the Park, with my maid, but if you would like me to come with you I will do so,” said Miss Ravenscar handsomely.
He looked at her with a sardonic gleam of comprehension in his eye. “An assignation, Belle?”
Miss Ravenscar said airily: “Oh dear me, no!”
“Little liar,” said Ravenscar, without heat.
She seemed flattered by this, and gave a gurgle.
Ravenscar had had his perch-phaeton brought round to the door, with a showy pair of chestnuts harnessed to it. His sister was delighted to find that she was to drive out in this sporting vehicle and skipped up into it, begging Ravenscar to waste no time in starting, since if her Mama were to look out of the window she would be bound to say that it was too dangerous, and forbid her to go, for fear she might be overturned. Ravenscar took this aspersion on his driving with equanimity, and they drove off in the direction of the Park. As soon as they were within the gates, Miss Ravenscar demanded to be allowed to take the ribbons. Since he had taught her to drive himself; her brother raised no objection to this, and handed them over. Perfect harmony being thus established between them, he felt it safe to ask her whether her affections were irrevocably set on Mr Grantham, of the 14th Foot. Arabella said, in accents of considerable surprise: “Kit Grantham? Good gracious, Max, no! That was a long time ago!”
“So it was,” he agreed. “At least ten days. I met the young gentleman the other night. I am glad you don’t mean to marry him. He would not do for you at all.”
“No, he is far too young,” said Arabella. “I do not think I like very young men nearly as much as older ones. Not too old, of course.”
Mr Ravenscar cast rapidly round in his mind, but was unable to think of any male between the ages of thirty and forty with whom Arabella might have come into contact. He waited hoping for a further clue.
“I like men who have been about the world a little,” said Arabella reflectively. “They are more exciting, if you know what I mean, Max.”
Mr Ravenscar thought gloomily that he knew very well what she meant. “True, but such men do not make good husbands for very young women,” he said.
Arabella turned her innocent eyes upon him. “Why don’t they, Max?”
“Well, they grow old too fast,” he explained. “Think! Before you well knew where you were you would find your husband a martyr to gout, no longer ready to go out to parties, but wanting always to sit at home over the fire.”
Miss Ravenscar looked much struck by this view of the matter. “All of them?” she asked anxiously.
“All of them,” said her brother, with great firmness.
“Oh!” Miss Ravenscar drove on in silence, evidently digesting this dictum. A barouche ahead of her, drawn by two sluggish brown horses, attracted her attention. She said, pouting a little: “Aunt Selina! Shall I go past, and pretend we did not see her?”
“Better not,” he said. “Go past, and draw up by the trees.”
She looped a rein, as he had taught her, and shot past the barouche in a very dashing style, to the evident admiration of a gentleman driving a phaeton towards them.
“I did that well, did I not?” she asked, with naive pleasure in her own skill.
“Very well.”
She drew up by a clump of trees, and waited for the barouche to come alongside. Lady Mablethorpe, impressive in a lavender bonnet, with upstanding plumes, leaned forward to exclaim: “My dear, surely that is a very dangerous carriage for you to be driving! I wonder you will let her, Max!”
“She will come to no harm,” he replied carelessly.
“I suppose you thought the same about Adrian, when you took him racing with you yesterday!” said her ladyship tartly.
His rare smile lighted his eyes suddenly. “Why, yes, ma’am, I did!”
“I think it was abominable of you! He might have been killed! I know what these curricle-races are! Next we shall have him wanting to drive in one himself!”
“I should not be at all surprised. You cannot keep him on leading-strings all his life, you know.”
She sighed. “No, but—Well, it does not signify! I must tell you, Max, that I am in hopes that a certain affair is waning.”
“Indeed! I am very glad to hear it, but what leads you to think so?”
“He has gone off to Tom Waring’s place in Berkshire for some shooting. He was in spirits too; I could see he was glad to be going. You may guess how thankful I feel!”
“He said nothing to me about this when he was with me yesterday,” remarked Ravenscar, looking rather surprised.
“It was settled only this morning. I collect that he met Tom at White’s, or some such place, and Tom asked him then.”
“I had no idea Waring was in town. In fact, I thought he was fixed in Berkshire until next month.”
“I dare say he was obliged to come up to attend to some business. I do not see what concern it is of ours. The main thing is that Adrian has been persuaded-to go out of town for a few days. I regard it as a most encouraging sign!”