Sir George Tressady Volume I Part 35

Betty, indeed, regained her composure very quickly, like a stream when the gust has pa.s.sed. They fell into a keen, practical discussion of the affair. Who had influence with Ancoats? What man? Naseby shook his head. The difference in age between Ancoats and Maxwell was too great, and the men too unlike in temperament. He himself had done what he could, in vain, and Ancoats now told him nothing; for the rest, he thought Ancoats had very few friends amid his innumerable acquaintance, and such as he had, of a third-rate dramatic sort, not likely to be of much use at this moment.

"I haven't seen him take to any fellow of his own kind as much as he has taken to George Tressady these two days, since he left Cambridge. But that's no good, of course--it's too new."

The two sat side by side, pondering. Suddenly Naseby said, smiling, with a change of expression:

"This party is really quite interesting. Look there!"

Betty looked, and saw George Tressady, with his hands in his pockets, lounging along a distant path beside Marcella Maxwell.

"Well!" said Betty, "what then?"

Naseby gave his mouth a twist.

"Nothing; only it's odd. I ran across them just now--I was playing ball with that jolly little imp, Hallin. You never saw two people more absorbed. Of course he's _sous le charme_--we all are. Our English politics are rather rum, aren't they? They don't indulge in this amiable country-house business in a South American republic, you know. They prefer shooting."

"And you evidently think it a healthier state of things. Wait till we come to something nearer to _our_ hearths and bosoms than Factory Acts,"

said Betty, with the wisdom of her kind. "All the same, Lord Fontenoy is in earnest."

"Oh yes, Fontenoy is in earnest. So, I suppose, is Tressady. So--good Heavens!--is Maxwell. I say, here comes the church party."

And from a side-door in a venerable wall, beyond which could be seen the tower of a little church, there emerged a small group of people--Mrs.

Allison, Lady Cathedine, and Madeleine Penley in front, escorted by the white-haired Sir Philip; and behind, Lady Tressady, between Harding Watton and Lord Cathedine.

"Cathedine!" cried Naseby, staring at the group. "Cathedine been to church?"

"For the purpose, I suppose, of disappointing poor Laura, who might have hoped to get rid of him," said Betty, sharply. "No!--if I were Mrs.

Allison I should draw the line at Lord Cathedine."

"n.o.body need see any more of Cathedine than they want," said Naseby, calmly; "and, of course, he behaves himself here. Moreover, there is no doubt at all about his brains. They say Fontenoy expects to make great use of him in the Lords."

"By the way," said Betty, turning round upon him, "where are you?"

"Well, thank G.o.d! I'm not in Parliament," was Naseby's smiling reply. "So don't trouble me for opinions. I have none. Except that, speaking generally, I should like Lady Maxwell to get what she wants."

Betty threw him a sly glance, wondering if she might tease him about the news she heard of him from Marcella.

She had no time, however, to attack him, for Mrs. Allison approached.

"What is the matter with her?--with Madeleine?--with all of them?"

thought Betty, suddenly.

For Mrs. Allison, pale and discomposed, did not return, did not apparently notice Lady Leven's greeting. She walked hastily past them, and would have gone at once into the house but that, turning her head, she perceived Lord Fontenoy hurrying towards her from the lime-walk. With an obvious effort she controlled herself, and went to meet him, leaning heavily on her silver-topped stick.

The others paused, no one having, as it seemed, anything to say. Letty poked the gravel with her parasol; Sir Philip made a telescope of his hands, and fixed it upon Maxwell, who was coming slowly across the lawn; while Lady Madeleine turned a handsome, bewildered face on Betty.

Betty took her aside to look at a flower on the house.

"What's the matter?" said Lady Leven, under her breath.

"I don't know," said the other. "Something dreadful happened on the way home. There was a girl--"

But she broke off suddenly. Ancoats had just opened and shut the garden-door, and was coming to join his guests.

"Poor dear!" thought Betty to herself, with a leap of pity. It was so evident the girl's whole nature thrilled to the approaching step. She turned her head towards Ancoats, as though against her will, her tall form drawn erect, in unconscious tension.

Ancoats's quick eyes ran over the group.

"He thinks we have been talking about him," was Betty's quick reflection, which was probably not far from the truth. For the young man's face at once a.s.sumed a lowering expression, and, walking up to Lady Tressady, whom as yet he had noticed no more than civility required, he asked whether she would like to see the "houses" and the rose-garden.

Letty, delighted by the attention, said Yes in her gayest way, and Ancoats at once led her off. He walked quickly, and their figures soon disappeared among the trees.

Madeleine Penley gazed after them. Betty, who had a miserable feeling that the girl was betraying herself to men like Harding Watton or Lord Cathedine,--a feeling which was, however, the creation of her own nervous excitement,--tried to draw her away. But Lady Madeleine did not seem to understand. She stood mechanically b.u.t.toning and unb.u.t.toning her long gloves. "Yes, I'm coming," she said, but she did not move.

Then Betty saw that Lord Naseby had approached her; and it seemed to the observer that all the young man's vivid face was suffused with something at once soft and fierce.

"The thorn-blossom on the hill is a perfect show just now, Lady Madeleine," he said. "Come and look at it. There will be just time before lunch."

The girl looked at him. The colour rushed to her cheeks, and she walked submissively away beside him.

Meanwhile Letty and Ancoats pursued their way towards the greenhouses and walled gardens. Letty tripped along, hardly able to keep up with her companion's stride, but chattering fast all the time. At every turn of the view she overflowed with praise and wonder; nor could anything have been at once more enthusiastic or more impertinent than the questions with which she plied him as to his gardeners, his estate, and his affairs, in the intervals of panegyric.

Ancoats at first hardly listened to her. A perfunctory "Yes" or "No"

seemed to be all that the situation demanded. Then, when he did sufficiently emerge from the tempest of his own thoughts to catch some of the things she was saying, his irritable temper rebelled at once. What had Tressady been about?--ill-bred, tiresome woman!

His manner stiffened; he stalked along in front of her, doing his bare host's duty, and warding off her conversation as much as possible; while Letty, on her side, soon felt the familiar chill and mortification creeping over her. Why, she wondered angrily, should he have asked her to walk with him if he could not be a more agreeable companion?

Towards the end of the lime-walk they came across Mrs. Allison and Lord Fontenoy. As they pa.s.sed the older pair the pale mother lifted her eyes to her son with a tremulous smile.

But Ancoats made no response, nor had he any greeting for Fontenoy. He carried his companion quickly on, till they found themselves in a wilderness of walled gardens opening one into another, each, as it seemed, more miraculously ordered and more abundantly stocked than its neighbour.

"I wonder you know your way," laughed Letty. "And who can possibly consume all this?"

"I haven't an idea," said Ancoats, abruptly, as he opened the door of the tenth vinery. "I wish you'd tell me."

Letty raised her eyebrows with a little cry of protest.

"Oh! but it makes the whole place so magnificent, so complete."

"What is there magnificent in having too much?" said Ancoats, shortly.

"I believe the day of these huge country places, with all their dull greenhouses and things, is done."

Much he cared, indeed, about his gardeners and his grapes! He was in the mood to feel his whole inheritance a burden round his neck. But at the same time to revile his own wealth gave him a pungent sense of playing the artist.

"Have you argued that with Lord Fontenoy?" she inquired archly.