The Eldest Son Part 23

The Squire found this att.i.tude right, and soothing besides. "Well, of course, it's an impossible idea," he said. "I shan't give in about it.

Have you seen this woman, by the by?"

"I saw her last night," said Lady Aldeburgh, "and of course I've heard of her. She is not the sort of woman that I should care for a son of mine to marry. She seemed to me an affected, underbred minx."

"You thought that, did you?" exclaimed the Squire, his eyes brightening. "Now it's the most extraordinary thing that the people round here can't see that. Even my cousin, old Humphrey Meads.h.i.+re, seemed to be quite taken in by her."

"Oh, well--men!" said Lady Aldeburgh meaningly.

"Ah, but it isn't only men," said the Squire. "It's the women too.

They're all ready to take her in as if she was one of themselves. Now I saw at once, the first time I set eyes on her, what sort of a woman she was. I don't profess to be more clear-sighted than other people, but--but, still, there it is. You saw it, and of course you go about more than the women do here, most of 'em, and know more of the world."

"I should hope I do, the frumps!" was Lady Aldeburgh's inward comment, but she said, "I know your d.i.c.k--not so well as I do Humphrey, but pretty well--and I say that he is much too fine a fellow to throw himself away like that. Still, if he has made up his mind about it, what can you do?"

He told her what he could do, and to some extent had done--withdraw or threaten to withdraw supplies, and she commended this course warmly.

"That ought to bring him to his senses," she said. "And if it doesn't--well, you have other sons."

The Squire did not quite like this implication. He had never yet faced the question of what he would do after d.i.c.k got married, if he should get married in spite of him. But certainly, the prospect of disinheriting him had never crossed his mind.

"I have never met your second son, I think," said Lady Aldeburgh.

"He's a doctor, isn't he?"

"Oh, that's Walter," said the Squire. "You'll see him this evening.

He's the third. Humphrey comes next to d.i.c.k."

"Oh!" said Lady Aldeburgh, who had the same means of access to works of reference dealing with the County Families of England as other people, and used them not less frequently.

"You know we had to stop the same sort of thing with Clinton a few years ago," said Lady Aldeburgh. "He was wild to marry one of the Frivolity girls--pretty creature she was too, I must admit that, and quite respectable, and it really went to my heart to have to stop it.

But of course it would never have done. And what made it so difficult for a time was that we had no hold over Clinton about money and that sort of thing. He _must_ come in for everything."

"Oh, well," said the Squire airily, "I couldn't cut d.i.c.k out of Kencote eventually, whatever he did. But he wouldn't find things very easy if Kencote were all there was to come into."

Lady Aldeburgh took this, and took it rightly, as meaning that there was a good deal of unsettled property which the Squire could leave as he liked, which may or may not have been what she had wanted to find out. "Then you have an undoubted hold over him," she said. "Of course, I know it must be very unpleasant for you to have to exercise it, but, if I may say so, it seems to me that simply to threaten to withdraw his allowance if he should marry against your wishes won't stop him if he can look forward to having everything by and by."

"He wouldn't have everything, anyhow," said the Squire.

"Well, whatever he is going to have besides the place. You don't mind my talking of all this, do you? I've not the slightest desire to poke into affairs that don't concern me."

"Very good of you to take such an interest in it all," said the Squire.

"I don't mind telling you in the least--it's quite simple. Kencote has always been entailed, but there's a good deal of land and a considerable amount of other property which doesn't go with it. d.i.c.k won't be as well off as I was when I succeeded my grandfather, because there was n.o.body but me, except some old aunts, and I've got a large family to provide for. Still, he'll be a good deal better off than most men with a big place to keep up, and there'll be plenty left for the rest."

"That's if he does as you wish," said Lady Aldeburgh.

"Well, I hadn't thought of it in that way," admitted the Squire.

"But, my dear man," she exclaimed, "you are not using your best weapon--your only weapon. If he is infatuated with this woman do you think he will be prevented from marrying her by your stopping his allowance? Of course he won't. He can get what money he wants for the present, and she has some, I suppose. He only has to marry and sit down and wait."

"Then what ought I to do?" asked the Squire grumpily. He knew what she meant, and hated the idea of it.

"Why, tell him that if he makes this marriage you won't leave him a penny more than you're obliged to."

"If I said that I should commit myself."

"You mean if you threatened it, you'd have to do it. Well, I think you would. Yours--ours, I should say--is one of the oldest families in England, and you are the head of it. You can't see it let down like that."

This was balm to the Squire, but it did not relieve the heaviness of his heart. "I believe I shall have to do something of that sort," he said, "or threaten it anyhow," and having arrived at the place for the next drive, he turned with a sigh to the business in hand.

The short winter day came to an end, and at dusk they found themselves on the edge of the park, after having shot the birds out of the last covert. They strolled home across the frosty gra.s.s, under the darkening sky already partly illumined by a round moon, merry or quiet, pleased or vexed with themselves, according to their several natures and the way they had acquitted themselves in the day's sport, and the warm, well-lighted house swallowed them up.

Joan and Nancy went up to their room. "You haven't been near me all the afternoon," said Nancy. "Here's half a crown from Humphrey. It's disappointing. Did you do any business with Uncle Herbert?"

For answer Joan burst out crying. "I hate all this beastly cadging for money," she said through her tears, "and I won't do it any more."

"Well, don't howl," said Nancy, "or you'll look awful when we go downstairs. What has happened?"

"Mr. Wilkinson gave me ten b--bob," sobbed Joan. "I didn't ask him for it. And then poor old Colonel Stacey thought he must do the same, so he took out a sh-shabby old purse and offered me another one, and I believe it was the only one in it. And I wouldn't take it."

"Do pull yourself together, old girl," entreated Nancy. "Well, if he's so hard up, I think it was rather a delicate action."

Joan turned on her, and her tears were dried up by the heat of her indignation. "You're always talking about your brains," she said, "and you can't see anything. Of course, I should have felt a beast anyhow, but I feel much more of a beast for taking Mr. Wilkinson's tip and refusing his."

"Why?" asked Nancy.

"Because he'd know I thought he was too poor," said Joan, her tears breaking out afresh.

Nancy considered this. "I dare say he didn't think much about it," she said. "But why didn't you go and make up to him afterwards, if you felt like that? Do leave off blubbering."

Joan took no heed of this advice. A physically tiring day and the distress she had kept down during the afternoon had been too much for her, and now she was lying on her bed sobbing unrestrainedly. "I w-would have gone to stand with him," she said. "P-poor old d-darling, he looked so lonely standing there all by himself, for no one went near him, except m-mother, once. B-but I thought he'd think I wanted the t-tip after all, so I d-didn't. Here's Mr. Wilkinson's half-sovereign.

You can take it. I don't want it."

"Well, if you don't, I don't," said Nancy, picking up the coin which Joan had thrown on to the floor, nevertheless, and putting it on to the dressing-table. "I don't know why you're always trying to make me out more hard-hearted than you are. Shall I fetch mother?"

"N-no. Y-yes," said Joan.

So Mrs. Clinton was fetched, and heard the story, sitting on the bed, while Joan sobbed on her shoulder. Nancy leant on the rail and helped to explain matters. She now felt like crying herself. "We have a sort of joke with the boys," she said. "They understand it all right, but, of course, we wouldn't go asking everybody for money, mother."

"I think you are getting rather too old to accept money presents from any one outside the family," Mrs. Clinton said, "although it was very kind of Mr. Wilkinson to give you one, and I don't mind your having taken it in the least. And I'm sure Colonel Stacey didn't think anything of your refusing, Joan dear. So I shouldn't worry any more about that; and I think you had better have some tea up here and lie down till dinner-time."

So Joan's tender heart was comforted, and Colonel Stacey kept his half-sovereign, which if he could not have afforded to lose he would never have thought of offering.

CHAPTER XVI

THE MONEY QUESTION

Walter Clinton, with his wife and two little girls, arrived at Kencote an hour or so before dinner-time, and the Squire instantly seized upon him for a confabulation. "George Senhouse is in my room," he said, "and the rest are playing pool. Come into the smoking-room. I want to speak to you."

Walter followed him through the baize door and down the stone pa.s.sage.