His second sister, Maria, who, with her own come-out in view, was quite as indignant as Jane, was unable to contain herself, but barely waited for him to come to the end of his measured speech before demanding why he talked such gammon. “More enjoyable to hold a nip-farthing ball here, with no more than fifty persons invited, than to make her first appearance at Alverstoke House? You must be all about in your head!” she told his lordship. “It will be the shabbiest affair, for you know what Mama is! But if my uncle were to give a ball, only think how magnificent it would be! Hundreds of guests, and all of the first consequence! Lobsters, and aspic jellies and — and Chantillies, and creams — ”
“Invited to the ball?” interpolated Carlton, with ponderous humour.
“And champagne!” struck in Jane, paying no heed to him. “And I should have stood at the head of the great staircase, with Mama, and my uncle, in a white satin gown, trimmed with rosebuds, and pink gauze, and a wreath!”
This beautiful vision caused tears to well into her eyes, but failed to arouse enthusiasm in either Maria or in Carlton, Maria objecting that with her freckles and sandy hair she would look like a quiz; and Carlton saying that he wondered at it that his sisters should think so much of worldly trumpery. Neither thought it worth while to reply to this; but when he added that for his part he was glad Alverstoke had refused to give the ball, they were quite as much incensed as had been their mama, and far more vociferous. So he went away, leaving his sisters to deplore his prosiness, quarrel about rosebuds and pink gauze, and agree that while their uncle was detestable it was probably Mama’s fault, for setting up his back, which neither damsel doubted for an instant that she had done.
II
When the Marquis entered his house, some time later, one of the first things that his eyes alighted on was a letter, lying on one of a pair of ebony and ormolu pier tables. Its direction was written in large and flourishing characters, and the pale blue wafer which sealed it was unbroken, Mr Charles Trevor, the Marquis’s excellent secretary, having recognized at a glance that it emanated from one or other of the frail beauties temporarily engaging his lordship’s erratic attention. Relinquishing his hat, his gloves, and the lavishly caped driving-coat which had excited Miss Kitty Buxted’s admiration, into the hands of the footman waiting to receive them, he picked up the letter, and strolled with it into the library. As he broke the wafer, and spread open the crossed sheet, an aroma of ambergris assailed his fastidious nostrils. An expression of distaste came into his face; he held the letter at arm’s length, and groped for his quizzing-glass. Through this, he scanned the missive in a cursory way, before dropping it into the fire. Fanny, he decided, was becoming an intolerable bore. A dazzling creature, but, like so many prime articles, she was never satisfied. She now wanted a pair of cream-coloured horses to draw her barouche; last week it had been a diamond necklace. He had given her that, and it would serve for a farewell gift.
The sickly scent with which she had sprinkled her letter seemed to linger on his fingers; he was carefully wiping them when Charles Trevor came into the room. He glanced up, and seeing the look of surprise on that young gentleman’s face very kindly explained to him that he disliked ambergris.
Mr Trevor offered no comment, but comprehension was writ so large upon his face that Alverstoke said:
“Just so! I know what you are thinking, Charles, and you are perfectly light: it is time I gave the fair Fanny her congé.” He sighed, “A nice bit of game, but as birdwitted as she’s avaricious.”
Again Mr Trevor offered no comment. He would have been hard put to it to have made one, for his thoughts on the delicate subject were tangled. As a moralist, he could only deplore his employer’s way of life; as one deeply imbued with chivalrous ideals, he pitied the fair Fanny; but as one who was fully aware of the extent of his lordship’s generosity towards the lady, he was obliged to own that she had no cause for complaint.
Charles Trevor, one of the younger members of a large family, owed his present position to the circumstance of his father’s having been appointed, when newly ordained, to the post of tutor and general mentor to the present Marquis’s father, accompanying him on a protracted Grand Tour. A comfortable living was not his only reward: his noble pupil remained sincerely attached to him; stood as godfather to his eldest son; and reared his own son in the vague belief that the Reverend Laurence Trevor had a claim upon his patronage.
So, when the Reverend Laurence had ventured to suggest to the present Marquis that Charles was a suitable candidate for the post of secretary, Alverstoke had accepted him with far more readiness than Charles had felt in becoming a member of his household. Charles had no desire to enter the Church, but he was a young man of serious mind and unimpeachable morals, and nothing he had heard of Alverstoke led him to expect that his appointment would prove to be anything but a mortification of the flesh. But as he had, besides commonsense, a good deal of filial affection, and knew that to a clergyman of moderate substance it was no easy task to provide for a sixth son, he kept his misgivings to himself, assured his father that he would do his best not to disappoint his expectations, and derived what consolation he could from the reflection that when he was an inmate of Alverstoke House he must surely find it easier to discover and to grasp a golden opportunity than while he kicked his heels in a country parsonage.
Since his taste ran to politics, the golden opportunity had not so far offered itself, the Marquis not sharing his ambition, and consequently making infrequent appearances in the Upper House; but he was allowed to write such brief speeches as his patron felt that it behooved him to utter, and even, now and then, to favour him with his own political convictions.
Furthermore, he had found it quite impossible to dislike Alverstoke. While he was given no reason to suppose that Alverstoke was interested in his concerns, he found him to be as unexacting as he was amiable, and never disagreeably high in the instep. Comparing notes with a college-friend, in a similar situation, whose employer appeared to regard him as a cross between a black slave and an upper servant, Charles knew himself to be fortunate. Alverstoke could give an annihilating snub to some encroaching mushroom, but if his secretary erred he raked him down in a manner which was unexceptionable, since it conveyed no suggestion of social superiority. Charles’s friend had curt commands flung at him; Charles received civil requests, generally accompanied by one of his lordship’s more attractive smiles. Try as Charles would, he could not resist Alverstoke’s charm, any more than he could withhold admiration for his horsemanship, and his proficiency in a great many sporting activities.
“I collect,” said the Marquis, faint amusement in his eyes, “from your hesitant air and sheepish demeanour, that you feel it to be your duty to put me in mind of yet another obligation. Take my advice, and don’t do it! I shall take it very unkind in you, and very likely fly up into the boughs.”
A grin dispelled the gravity of Mr Trevor’s countenance. “You never do, sir,” he said simply. “And it isn’t an obligation — at least, I don’t think it is! Only I thought you would like to know of it.”
“Oh, did you? In my experience, whenever those words are uttered they are the prelude to something I would liefer not know.”
“Yes,” said Mr Trevor ingenuously, “but I wish you will read this letter! As a matter of fact, I promised Miss Merriville that you would!”