"Oh, it’s grand to have you home again", he said. "I’ve been saving up things to tell you but now they’ve gone right out of my head and I can only be glad".
"You have nothing to tell but mischief", said his father, "and devilment and slyness from morning to night. You have one child, Captain Whiteoak. Stop there and have no more! For it’s children that are bringing my red hairs in sorrow to the grave".
Lady Honoria interrupted him with solicitude for the travellers. She herself led them to the rooms which had been prepared for them. They bathed and changed their travel-worn garments and descended to the drawing-room.
A married son who lived at some distance arrived in time for dinner. He was a dark, handsome young man and rode a horse he had purchased that very day and intended entering for the Dublin Races. Everyone crowded out to see the new horse and was delighted by its appearance. This son was evidently Renny Court’s favourite of the moment. He could not make enough of him and praised his skill as a rider and perspicacity as a buyer.
There was a certain grandeur in the dining-room and dinner was served by two footmen in livery. The food and the wine were good and, as the meal progressed, Philip felt more at ease with his new relatives. They talked and laughed a great deal. Even the two youths forgot their position of disgrace and raised their voices excitedly. But when their father would cast a piercing look on them they would instantly subside and for a few moments be silent. An old gentleman named Mr. O’Regan appeared at table, spoke little but drank a good deal. Adeline told Philip afterward that he was an old friend of the family who had once lent a large sum of money to them and, as it was impossible to collect the debt, had come to live with them. Mr. O’Regan wore a glum yet rather calculating expression, as though he watched with morbid interest the decrease, year by year, of Renny Court’s debt to him. Renny Court, on his part, treated his guest with a kind of grim jocularity, pressed him to eat and drink more and enquired solicitously after his health. Mr. O’Regan seemed to resent this and would give no more definite answer than, — "Oh, I’m well enough. I think I’ll last-" Though till what, he did not explain.
Renny Court was no absentee landlord, living in England on the rents from a neglected tenantry. He employed no callous bailiff, but himself attended to the business of his estate and knew every man, woman and child on it.
The Whiteoaks’ visit there passed amiably with the exception of a few fiery encounters between Adeline and her father. In truth, they could not be together for long without their wills opposing. She was the only one of his children who did not fear him. Yet she loved him less than did the others. It was to her mother she clung and from whom she dreaded to part. Lady Honoria could not talk of the departure for Canada without weeping. As for Renny Court, he poured out his full contempt on the project.
"What a life for a gentleman!" he would exclaim. "What will you find out there? Nothing but privation and discomfort! What a place for a fine girl like Adeline!"
"I’m willing to go", she interrupted. "I think it will be glorious".
"What do you know about it?"
"More than you, I’ll be bound", she retorted. "Philip has had letters from his uncle describing the life in Quebec and he knows a Colonel Vaughan who lives in Ontario and loves it!"
"Lives in Ontario and loves it!" repeated her father, fixing her with his intense gaze. "And has Colonel Vaughan of Ontario told Philip what the roads are like there? Has he told him of the snakes and mosquitoes and the wild animals thirsting for your blood? Why, I know a man who stopped in one of the best hotels there and there was a mud puddle in it, and a frog croaking all the night through by a corner of his bed. And this man’s wife was so frightened that the next child she had had a face like a frog on it! Now what do you think of that, Adeline?" He grinned triumphantly at her.
"I think if it’s Mr. McCready you’re quoting", she retorted, "his wife had no need to go all the way to Ontario to have a frog-faced child. For Mr. McCready himself-"
"Was as fine a figure of a man as there was in all County Meath!"
"Father, I say he had the face of a frog!"
Philip put in: "Adeline and I are bound for the New World, sir, and no argument will talk us out of it. As you know, my uncle left me a very nice property in Quebec. I must go out there to look after it and, if what he said was true, there is a very respectable society in the town. And, in the country about, the finest shooting and fishing you can imagine".
"You will be back within the year", declared Renny Court.
"We shall see", answered Philip stubbornly. His blue eyes became more prominent as he flashed a somewhat truculent look at his father-in-law.
The two boys, Conway and Sholto, were fired by a desire to accompany the Whiteoaks to Canada. The thought of a wild life in a new country, far from parental authority, elated them. They could talk of little else. They would cling to Adeline on her either side and beg her to let them throw in their lot with hers. On her part, she liked the idea. Canada would not seem so remote if she had two of her brothers with her. Their mother surprisingly did not oppose the idea. She had borne so much dissension because of these two that the thought of parting with them did not distress her greatly. They promised to return home within the year. Renny Court was willing enough to be rid of the nuisance of them. Philip did not relish the idea of such a responsibility but to please Adeline he agreed. He felt himself capable of controlling Conway and Sholto much more efficiently than their parents could. He thought, with a certain grim pleasure, of the discipline that would make men of them.
Even little Timothy talked of emigrating to the New World but this could not be considered. Timothy spoke with a strong Irish accent, from being so much with his old nurse who had brought him up from delicate babyhood. He had a beautiful yet strange face and was demonstratively affectionate to an extent that embarrassed Philip. A stern word from his father would apparently terrify him, yet the very next moment he would be laughing. His hair was sandy-he was freckled and had beautiful hands which Philip discovered were decidedly light-fingered. He missed his gold studs, he missed his best silk cravats, his pistols inlaid with mother-of-pearl, his gold penknife. Each of these articles was in turn retrieved from Timothy’s bedroom by Adeline. She made light of it. She declared that Tim could not help it but it made Philip angry and uncomfortable.
In truth, the longer he stayed with Adeline’s family the less congenial they were to him, with the one exception of Lady Honoria. He felt that Renny Court, for all his devotion to his land and his tenantry, mismanaged them both. Far too much money and time were spent on steeplechasing. As for politics, they hardly dare broach the subject, so violently were their views opposed. But Renny Court would encourage Mr. O’Regan to hold forth on the theme of British injustice to Ireland. Philip was unable to defend his country because the old gentleman was too arrogant and also too deaf to listen to any views but his own. He would sit close to the blazing fire, his florid face rising above his high black stock like an angry sun above a thunder-cloud, while words poured forth in a torrent.
What with one thing and another the atmosphere became too tense to be borne. Philip and Adeline accepted an invitation to pay a short visit to Corrigan Court, a cousin who lived ten miles away. They rode over there one fine spring morning, leaving Augusta, her ayah and Bonaparte in the care of Lady Honoria. Renny Court accompanied them on a skittish grey mare who danced her way over the muddy roads and did her best to induce misbehaviour in the other horses.
A long driveway flanked by a double row of linden trees led to the cousins’ house, rather an imposing place with an ivy-covered turret at either end. Its many windows glittered in the spring sunshine. Corrigan Court and his wife were waiting on the terrace to greet them. The pair were cousins but bore no resemblance to each other, he being dark with arched brows and a languid supercilious air; she ruddy, fair and full of energy. They had been married some years but still were childless. They hoped for a son. Bridget Court embraced Adeline warmly when she alighted from her horse.