A rather mischievous smile lit the Duke’s eyes: he looked under his lashes at his uncle, and replied: “I think it was perhaps because I have wanted very often to play cricket there myself.”
“Yes! and you would thank me for it today, I daresay, had I allowed you and Gideon to ruin one of the finest pieces of turf in the country!” said his lordship.
Miss Scamblesby having by this time disposed of her portion of the Gateau Mellifleur, Lady Lionel heaved herself up out of her chair. The Duke picked up such small articles as she dropped, the doors were held open, and both ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their wine.
The covers having been removed, the cloth, swept away, and decanters set upon the table, the servants left the room, and Lord Lionel settled down to enjoy his port in what he termed comfort, and his nephew thought great discomfort. The fire behind him was beginning to be unpleasantly hot, the ornate carving of his chair made leaning back in it a penance, and he was not fond of port.
Lord Lionel began to talk of some improvements to one of the Duke’s estates, which the agent-in-chief thought might be advantageous. “You should see Scriven yourself, Gilly,” he said. “You know, you must not forget that in less than a year now you will have the management of everything in your own hands. I am very anxious you should acquaint yourself with all the business of your estates.”
“Dear me, yes!” said Mr. Romsey, sipping his wine delicately. “It is very true, though I may scarcely credit it! My dear lord, you will indeed be twenty-five next year! Yet it seems only yesterday that I was so fortunate as to be chosen to be your chief guide and preceptor!”
“I have never had the least doubt that I made a wise choice,” said his lordship graciously, “but what I am saying is that my nephew must not look to be guided for many months more. You have a thousand amiable qualities, Gilly, but you lack decision of character!”
The Duke did not deny the accusation. He felt it to be true, but he could scarcely repress a shudder at the thought of the painful scenes that must have taken place at Sale had he been endowed with the same forceful personality that distinguished his uncle. His cousin Gideon had it in some measure, and had certainly won his father’s respect with it; but Gideon had always been a robust and pugnacious boy, and was quite untroubled by sensitive nerves. He had cared for being thrashed as little as for being rated. The Duke had never known which of the two fates he dreaded most. Fortunately for him, Lord Lionel had used him with far more gentleness than he showed his son, so that he was not really at all afraid of him. But a naturally sweet disposition, a dislike of quarrelling, and of loud, angry voices, combined with a rueful appreciation of the very real devotion to his interest and welfare that inspired his uncle’s strict rule made him submit docilely where his cousin would have flamed into revolt.
“You are the head of the family, Gilly,” Lord Lionel said. “You must learn to assert yourself. I have done all that a man may to train and educate you for the position you must occupy, but you are by far too diffident.”
Mr. Romsey shook his head reminiscently. “Indeed, there are few young men today who can boast of my lord Duke’s advantages,” he said. “But I for one feel sure, sir, that he will prove himself worthy of your unremitting solicitude.”
The Duke thought of the period of his boyhood, spent largely at his house near Bath, so that he might derive the benefit of the waters there; of three trammelled years at Oxford; of two more trammelled years upon the Continent, with a military gentleman added to his entourage, to teach him horse-manage, and manly sports; and suddenly he made up his mind to assert himself, even if only in a small matter. He pushed back his chair, and said: “Shall we join my aunt now?”
“Really, Gilly, you must see that I have not yet finished my glass!” said Lord Lionel. “Do not, I beg of you, get into a scrambling way of doing things! You should always make sure that the company is ready to rise before you give the signal.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the Duke, abandoning the attempt to assert himself.
Chapter II
When the gentlemen at last joined the ladies, they found them established before the fire in the Crimson Saloon, one of a handsome suite of reception rooms on the first floor. Lady Lionel had sent for some working-candles, and her embroidery-frame, upon which latter Miss Scamblesby was engaged in setting stitches in various coloured silks. Her ladyship rarely occupied herself with anything more fatiguing than the knotting of a fringe, but by constantly desiring to have her embroidery brought to her, choosing the silks, and criticizing the design, she was easily able to persuade herself that she was an indefatigable worker, and would receive compliments upon her skill with perfect complaisance.
Mr. Romsey went over to Miss Scamblesby’s side, to observe what progress she had made; and while Lady Lionel informed him for perhaps the tenth time that the work was destined to form an altar-cloth for the Chapel, her husband gave Gilly the letter from his younger uncle, and waited expectantly for it to be handed over to him when Gilly had finished his perusal of it.
Gilly read it in some little surprise. Lord Henry, who was of a saving turn of mind, had managed to avoid the cost of an enclosure by compressing the intelligence he wished to convey on a single, crossed sheet. He wrote to inform his nephew of a very desirable connection he was about to form, through the betrothal of his eldest daughter to a scion of a distinguished family. He contrived to squeeze a number of details into his single sheet, and ended by expressing the hope that the proposed alliance would meet with his nephew’s approval.
The Duke gave up this letter to Lord Lionel in a mechanical way, and his lordship, casting his eye over it, said: “Ha! I suspected as much! Yelverton’s son, eh? Pretty well for a chit not out of the schoolroom!”
“I cannot conceive why he should write to tell me of it,” remarked the Duke.
Lord Lionel looked up from the letter to direct an admonishing frown at him. “Naturally he would do so! It is a very proper letter. You will write your felicitations, of course, and say that you are very well pleased with the connection.”
“But he will not care a button whether I am pleased or not,” objected the Duke, with a touch of impatience.
“Pray do not let me have these odd humours!” begged his lordship irascibly. “One would suppose you do not attend to anything that is said to you, Sale! I have been telling you for ever that you are the head of the family, and must learn to take your place as such, and now you talk rubbishing stuff to me of your uncle’s not caring a button for your approval! If you are so lost to the sense of what is due to your position, you must perceive that he is not! A very pretty letter he has written you: expresses himself just as he ought! I must say, I had not thought he would have contrived such an eligible match for that girl—not but what it is not precisely what I should have cared for myself.”
“No,” agreed Gilly, taking his letter again. “My cousin is not yet seventeen, and I am sure Alfred Thirsk must be forty if he is a day.”
“Well, well, that need not signify!” said Lord Lionel. “The thing is that I have never fancied that brood of Yelverton’s. There is a damned vulgar streak in them all; came into the family when the old man—Yelverton’s father, I mean: you would not recall—married some rich Cit’s heiress. However, it is none of my business!”
The Duke said a little impishly: “Very true, sir, but if it is mine I think I should inform my uncle that I do not like the match. Poor Charlotte! I am sure she cannot wish for it!”
Lord Lionel audibly drew a breath. In the voice of one restraining himself with a strong effort, he said: “You will not, I trust, be guilty of such a piece of impertinence, Sale! Pray, what should a young man of your age know about the matter?”