What Lady Aurelia thought of my lord no one knew, for she had been reared in the belief that the head of a family was entitled to every observance of civility. So far as outward appearances went, she was a dutiful daughter-in-law, neither arguing with his lordship, nor encouraging Matthew to rebel against his autocratic commands. Simple-minded persons, such as Mrs. Rupert Darracott, were continually astonished by Matthew’s divergence, on all important issues, from his father’s known prejudices; but Lord Darracott was not a simple-minded person, and he was well-aware that however politely Lady Aurelia might defer to him, it would be her dictates Matthew would obey in major matters. In consequence, he held her in equal respect and dislike, and never lost an opportunity to plant what he hoped would be a barb in her flesh.
According to Granville, whose own son had found little favour in his grandfather’s eyes, it was with this amiable intention that my lord encouraged Vincent in a career which his parents were known to think ruinous. More charitable persons suspected that in Vincent my lord saw a reflection of his own youth; but, as Granville once bitterly remarked, it was strange, if that were so, that my lord’s feeling for him fell far short of the doting fondness he lavished on Richmond.
It must have been apparent to the most casual observer that Matthew Darracott was labouring under a strong sense of ill-usage. He was rather a stout man, not quite as tall as his father, or any of his brothers, and with a chubby countenance. When he was pleased he looked what nature had intended him to be: a placid man with a kindly, easy-going disposition; but when harassed his expression changed to one of peevishness, a frown dragging his brows together, and a pronounced pout giving him very much the look of a thwarted baby.
As he climbed down from the carriage, he saw that Chollacombe was waiting by the open door of the house. Leaving James, the footman, to assist Lady Aurelia to alight, he trod up the shallow terrace-steps, exclaiming: “This is a damned thing, Chollacombe! Where’s my father?”
“His lordship went out with Mr. Richmond, sir, and is not yet come in,” replied the butler.
“Has that fellow—I don’t know what he calls himself!—Has he arrived here?”
“No, sir. You are the first to arrive. As you no doubt know, Mr. Matthew, we are expecting Mr. Vincent and Mr. Claud also, but—”
“Oh, them!” said Matthew, dismissing his sons with an impatient shrug.
By this time he had been joined by his wife. She never reproved him in public, and she did not now so much as glance at him, but said majestically: “Good-day, Chollacombe. I hope I see you well?”
“Very well, thank you, my lady. Mrs. Darracott is in the Green Saloon, I fancy. Perhaps your ladyship would—”
He broke off, for at that moment Mrs. Darracott came hurrying across the hall. “Oh, Matthew! My dear Aurelia! How glad I am to see you! I did not expect you would be so early—but so delightful!”
“We lay at Tonbridge,” said Lady Aurelia, presenting her cheek to her sister-in-law. “I do not care to travel above thirty or forty miles at a stretch: it does not agree with my constitution.”
“No, it is very disagreeable!” agreed Mrs. Darracott. “The road from Tonbridge, too, is so horribly rough! I am—”
“Elvira!” interrupted Matthew, thrusting his hat into James’s hand, “what do you know about this appalling business?”
“Oh, my dear Matthew, nothing! That is, only—But won’t you come into the Green Saloon? Unless you would wish to take off your bonnet and pelisse, Aurelia? I will take you upstairs—not that there is any need to escort you, for you must feel yourself to be quite as much at home as I am.”
This, however, her ladyship disclaimed, saying graciously that she considered herself a guest in the house, her sister-in-law being its unquestionable mistress. Mrs. Darracott, though privately thinking that there was a good deal of question about it, accepted this, and the two ladies went upstairs, leaving Matthew to get what information he could from Chollacombe. But as the butler knew very little more than he did, the only tidings he was able to glean were that the heir was not expected to arrive until the following day, and that my lord was (if Chollacombe might venture to say so) a trifle out of humour.
“Ay, I’ll be bound he is!” said Matthew. “Well, it is enough to put a saint out of temper! What’s more, I shouldn’t wonder at it if the fellow’s an impostor!”
Chollacombe thought it prudent to return no answer to this; so, after fidgeting about the hall for a few moments, Matthew took himself off, saying that if my lord was out riding with Mr. Richmond he might as well go down to the stables to meet him on his return.
In the event, he reached the main stableyard to find that his father had already returned, and in time to see the two sturdy coach-horses being taken out of the shafts of Matthew’s travelling-carriage. He himself was bestriding a neatish bay cover-hack, but Richmond, as his uncle resentfully perceived, had just dismounted from the back of a high-bred hunter which had probably cost my lord anything from three to five hundred guineas.
“So you’ve arrived, have you?” said my lord, by way of paternal greeting. “I might have known this paltry turnout was yours! What did you give for that pair of commoners?”
“I don’t recall—but they are not commoners, sir! Purebred Welsh, I assure you!” responded Matthew, nettled.
“Cleveland machiners!” said his lordship, with a bark of sardonic mirth. “You’ve been burnt, my boy! If ever I knew such a slow-top!” He pointed his whip at Richmond’s hunter. “Now, there’s a horse of the right stamp! Breed in every inch of him, perfect fencer, flying or standing!”
“Hardly the right stamp for carriage-work, sir!” said Matthew. “A good-looking horse, however, and carries a good head.” He held out his hand to Richmond, adding kindly: “Well, my boy? And how are you?”
“Pretty stout, sir, thank you,” replied Richmond, shaking hands with him. “I hope you are well? And my aunt, of course. Is my cousin with you?”
The note of eagerness did not escape Matthew; he smiled faintly. “No, neither of them. I collect, though, that you meant Vincent: I expect he will arrive presently.”
“You may be sure that he will!” interpolated his lordship, dismounting, and handing over his bridle to the waiting groom. He then looked his son over, remarked that he was becoming as fat as a flawn, and strode off towards the house, imperatively commanding Richmond to follow him.
But Richmond, who disliked being made to stand by in acute embarrassment while my lord insulted his son, had already slipped away into a wing of the stables, and it was Matthew who, swallowing his resentment, caught up with my lord. “Father, I must ask you—indeed, I must insist—”
My lord stopped, and turned, his grasp on his riding-whip tightening. “Oh? So you must insist, must you? Go on!”
“Well, I must say that I think you owe me—well, that an explanation is due to me!” amended Matthew sulkily.
“If you think you’ll get an explanation out of me, other than what I choose to tell you, muffin-face, you’re a bigger clunch than I knew! What I choose to tell you I have told you, and it’s all that concerns you!”
“No, sir!” said Matthew resolutely. “That don’t fit! You don’t like me; you didn’t wish for me to step into your shoes; but when—after what happened in June—I was your heir: no question about it!”
“You were not.”
“No! As it now appears, and if this fellow who has sprang out of nowhere is not an impostor! And that, sir, is something even you will own I’ve a right to ask!”
“He is not an impostor.”