Lord Wrotham was spending much of his time in Leicestershire too, his last quarrel with Miss Milborne having led to an estrangement between them which was rather skillfully fostered by the Beauty’s hard-headed parent. This lady’s hopes were running very high, Severn’s attentions having become marked enough to have reached his mother’s ears. The Duchess arrived unexpectedly in London, bringing with her a formidable entourage which included her chaplain, housekeeper, steward, and a depressed female of uncertain years and crushed demeanour who appeared to fulfil the functions of a lady-in-waiting. The odds being offered at the clubs against his grace’s coming up to scratch immediately lengthened; but when it was known that the Duchess had called in state in Green Street, those with handsome sums at stake fairly held their breaths. No one, of course, knew what passed during this morning call, but those who were best acquainted with the Duchess described her demeanour towards the Milbornes at the next Assembly night as extremely gracious. George, who was not well-acquainted with her, could detect no trace of affability in her Roman countenance, and considered her bearing to denote nothing beyond pride and self-consequence. His spirits soared, accordingly, but were soon cast down by the incredible news that her grace had invited Mrs Milborne and her daughter to spend Christmas at Severn Towers.
It was too true. The Duchess, finding her usually tractable son displaying an obstinacy which reminded her forcibly of the deceased gentleman to whom she was in the habit of referring as ‘your poor father’, was preparing to make the best of matters. She had indeed been agreeably surprised in Isabella. The most searching of inquiries having failed to bring to light any discreditable circumstance in the Milborne lineage, she permitted herself to describe Isabella as a pretty-behaved young female, an encomium which caused her son to become wreathed in smiles, and to exclaim gratefully: “I was certain you would be vastly taken with her, ma’am!”
When George heard of the projected visit to Severn Towers he lost no time in presenting himself in Green Street. He was fortunate enough to choose a moment when Mrs Milborne was out, and thus gained access to the Beauty. Without preamble, he demanded to be told if the news were true, and, upon Miss Milborne’s admitting that her grace had indeed issued the invitation, conducted himself with so little restraint that Isabella, who had been wavering between a natural desire to make one of a ducal house party and a maidenly disinclination to give Severn the encouragement which an acceptance of the invitation must imply, quite lost her temper, and not only declared her intention of doing precisely as she pleased, but added the rider that her actions were no concern of Lord Wrotham. His lordship then so far forgot himself as to seize her in his arms, enfolding her in a crushing embrace and covering her face with kisses. How Miss Milborne might have reacted to this treatment had her Mama’s butler not chanced at that moment to open the door and to announce the Misses Bagshot no one, least of all herself, could have guessed. In the event, she was furious, and had she not been a very well-brought-up girl she would have slapped George’s face. The violence of his ardour had disarranged her hair, she knew herself to be blushing hotly, realized from the butler’s expression that he had been a witness of George’s passion, and saw that Cassy and Eudora, though they might not have been in time to surprise her in George’s arms, had a tolerably exact notion of what had been going forward. She could have screamed with vexation; and when Mrs Milborne came home she was pleasantly surprised to find that the daughter whom she had left recalcitrant had suddenly become as malleable as the most exacting parent could wish. In fact, Miss Milborne was ready to oblige her Mama by spending Christmas at Severn Towers after all.
Lord Wrotham, dissuaded by his friends from putting a pistol to his head, sought a modicum of relief by quarrelling with the utmost violence with any gentleman obliging or foolhardy enough to join issue with him. He found three. One was Sherry, who succeeded in drawing the distracted lover’s cork during the course of several spirited rounds; another was the Honourable Marmaduke Fakenham, who capped every insult flung at him with zest and aplomb, and then very meanly refused to give poor George the satisfaction he craved; and the third was a total stranger who had the ill fortune to jostle George in a doorway, and who showed himself so ready to take umbrage at George’s subsequent behaviour that it was manifest he had no notion with whom he had to deal. However, Ferdy and the inarticulate Mr Gumley, who happened to be present, hastily drew him aside, and divulged George’s identity before he had had time actually to commit himself.
Baulked of his prey, George retired to his ancestral acres, the general decay of which was exactly suited to his mood. Here he divided his time between being very disagreeable to his Mama and his young sisters, and riding to hounds in a reckless fashion, which led his friends to prophesy that he would end by breaking his neck.
The Sheringhams spent Christmas in Buckinghamshire, at the country seat of the Fakenhams, where they made two of a large and cheerful party of young persons, chaperoned not too strictly by Lady Fakenham, who was of an easygoing disposition that made her immensely popular with the younger set. The visit, which lasted for over a week, was only slightly marred by the ravages committed by Jason upon the moveable properties of his master’s fellow-guests. These depredations took place immediately upon receipt of the timepiece bestowed on the Tiger by Hero, and were tearfully explained by him to be due to the strain placed on him by the past few months of abstinence. His wrathful master refused to accept this explanation, and a painful session in the stableyard seemed inevitable when Ferdy, whose watch no longer held any lure for Jason, intervened on his behalf, pointing out (to the indignation of several gentlemen whose fobs, seals, and purses had been stolen from them) that the circumstance of his being still in possession of his watch showed that the Tiger was morally much improved. An earnest entreaty from Hero settled the matter. The Viscount consented to pardon his shivering henchman, on condition that all the stolen property was restored. This was done, and upon his lordship’s having the happy idea of threatening to send the Tiger back to London if he again allowed his instincts to get the better of him, Jason hurriedly and voluntarily restored to the Honourable Marmaduke a snuffbox which its owner had until that moment believed himself to have mislaid in town.
This affair having been settled to the satisfaction of everyone, nothing else of a like nature occurred to disturb the harmony of the visit. The Festive Season was whiled away in the pursuit of various sports and pastimes, including some pheasant shooting, a ball, and a grand phaeton race between Hero and Ferdy’s sister, Lady Fairford, who was accounted a notable whip, and who gaily challenged the bride to a trial of skill. The gentlemen threw themselves into this with great zest, arguing over the conditions of the race, deciding upon a suitable course, and freely exchanging bets. Lady Fairford was naturally the favourite, but Mr Ringwood, feeling his honour to be at stake, backed his own pupil heavily, and gave her some very sage advice. Lady Fakenham said they were a party of sad romps, but raised no real objection to the encounter. It took place within the extensive grounds of Fakenham Manor, and Hero, obeying Mr Ringwood’s instructions to the letter, won it by several lengths. The Viscount was delighted. He said his Kitten was a regular nonpareil, and could drive to an inch; and when she was toasted in extravagant terms at dinner that evening he looked so proud of her that her heart swelled in her bosom, and she could only blush, and shake her head, and look entreatingly at him. So he laughed, and rose to his feet to reply for her. Lady Fairford, who affected a very mannish diction, said that the shine had been taken out of her indeed; Lord Fakenham gave it as his opinion that Letty Lade in her heyday could not have beaten his young friend’s performance; and Mr Ringwood said simply that his pupil had shown herself at home to a peg.