The Quiet Gentleman Read online

  ‘Why, how is this? I had thought you liked her! You threatened to bring her here, didn’t you?’

  ‘There was really no danger of my doing so, however.’

  ‘What a hand you are! I must say, I wish my father had not allowed her to settle at Studham, for she is bound to live for ever, only to spite me.’

  ‘You had better give her notice to leave.’

  ‘Well, I would, but the thing is that I don’t know that it would suit me to live there myself,’ said Martin ingenuously. ‘To be at such a distance from Quorndon Hall! I don’t know how I should go on.’ He paused, and added: ‘Of course, if you would like to be rid of me –’

  ‘No, not at all. Check, Miss Morville!’

  ‘Black must resign, I believe. You will chase my King all over the board.’

  ‘Where is Ulverston?’ asked Martin abruptly.

  ‘I fancy he has ridden out.’

  ‘Oh!’ The lowering expression descended on to Martin’s brow. ‘How long does he mean to remain at Stanyon?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘I thought he meant only to stay for a day or two,’ Martin muttered.

  The Earl made no reply. Theo said: ‘Well, if I am to do your business for you, Martin, it will be well if I have your instructions. Are you at liberty? Come to my room!’

  ‘Oh, you will manage better than I should, I daresay!’ Martin said, shrugging, but following him to the door. ‘But I wish you will look into what that stupid fellow Mugginton is about! How my father came to appoint such a saphead as bailiff I don’t know! Why, the last time I was there, he was talking of putting the Long Acre down to wheat! Now, Theo, you know –’

  The closing of the door cut off the end of this sentence. Miss Morville said, as she restored the chessmen to their box: ‘It is a pity that he and Lady Cinderford cannot agree, for he needs occupation, and nothing would suit him so well as to be managing an estate. I believe he knows as well what should be done as your bailiff does.’

  ‘I fancy he will never live at Studham. It is extremely profitable, however, so if he chooses to do so he may buy himself a house in Leicestershire.’

  She considered this, but shook her head. ‘I think he would not be happy there. I daresay you may not have talked with him very much, or he might be shy of confiding in you, but his thoughts are bound up in Stanyon. He loves it, you know.’

  ‘For him it is full of the happiest memories,’ he remarked.

  She raised her eyes to his face. ‘Do you dislike it so very much, my lord?’

  ‘Why, no! I am learning to like it pretty fairly, I think. I imagine it must have every inconvenience known to man, but it might be made tolerably comfortable, if one cared enough to set about the task.’

  ‘Well, I hope you will care enough,’ she said. ‘And, if I were you, my lord, the first thing that I would do would be to make one of the saloons on this floor, which nobody ever uses, into a dining-parlour! Then you might not be obliged to partake of dishes that are cold before ever they reach the table!’

  He laughed. ‘An advantage, I own! When I undertake my improvements, I shall certainly come to you for advice, ma’am!’

  ‘I don’t suppose that you will,’ she replied. ‘You will, instead, place the whole in the hands of some fashionable architect, and he will build you another wing, so that you will find yourself worse off than before.’

  ‘Very much worse off, if I am to employ a fashionable architect! Whom have you in mind? Nash? Beyond my touch, I fear!’

  ‘I don’t think,’ she said seriously, ‘that Mr Nash’s style would be at all suitable for Stanyon.’

  The news that Theo was about to set out, as he had punctually done for several years, on visits to the Earl’s various properties naturally afforded the Dowager with matter for surprise and complaint. She said a great many times that she had had no notion that he had meant to go away; and long before she had reached the end of her objections to the project the uninitiated might well have supposed that Mr Theodore Frant spent the better part of each year in jauntering about the country, while everything at Stanyon was left at a stand. He met her complaints with unmoved patience, only taking the trouble to answer them when she demanded a response from him. From having looked upon any enlargement of the family-party at Stanyon with bitter misgiving, she had now reached the stage of bemoaning its break-up. It occurred to her that with Theo absent her whist-table must depend upon Miss Morville for its fourth; and this circumstance brought to her mind the imminent return of Mr and Mrs Morville to the neighbourhood, and their daughter’s consequent departure from Stanyon. ‘And then, I daresay, you will be going to London, St Erth,’ she said. ‘I am sure I do not know what I shall do, for I have no intention of removing to town until May. London does not agree with my constitution. When Martin goes, he may stay with his sister. She will be very glad to welcome him, I daresay.’

  ‘Stay with Louisa, and that prosy fool of a husband of hers?’ exclaimed Martin. ‘No, I thank you! Besides, I may not go to London at all!’

  ‘Not go to London! You will go to the Bolderwoods’ ball!’

  ‘I don’t know that,’ Martin said sullenly.

  This astonishing announcement set up a fresh train of thought in the Dowager’s mind, even more unwelcome to her audience. She could not imagine what her son could be thinking about, for she was sure that if he had said once that he should go to London when the Bolderwoods left Lincolnshire he had said it a hundred times. No efforts were spared either by Gervase or by Miss Morville to introduce a topic of conversation that would give her thoughts another direction, but they were unavailing: she continued to wonder and to comment until her exasperated son abruptly left the room.

  Her egotism did not permit her often to trouble herself with the concerns of others, but Martin was her darling, and if she did not go to the length of putting his interests before her own convenience, at least she grudged no time spent in discussing his welfare. She feared that a lovers’ quarrel must have estranged Martin from Miss Bolderwood; and when Miss Morville, to whom she confided this solution, ventured to suggest that whatever Martin’s feelings might be Marianne had given no one reason to suppose that she favoured him more than any of her other suitors, she was incredulous. She must think it an absurdity that any young woman should not fall in love with Martin. She had signified her approval of the match, so what could be the hindrance, excepting only some nonsensical tiff? Could it be that the Bolderwoods had not presumed to think her kindness to their daughter a hint that she would not object to receiving her as a member of the family? She believed Sir Thomas to be a very respectable man, who would be anxious not to encroach: she had a very good mind to drive over to Whissenhurst to set his mind at rest on this score.

  Miss Morville was not easily daunted, and although this suggestion might make her blench she contrived to conceal her dismay, and to argue her ladyship out of a decision which could only lead, she believed, to a painful scene with Sir Thomas.

  ‘Can it be,’ demanded the Dowager, suddenly struck by a new idea, ‘that the Bolderwoods are hopeful of drawing St Erth in? Upon my word, that would be a high flight indeed! I had not believed Sir Thomas to be capable of such presumption, for the Earl of St Erth, you know, may look as high as he may choose for a bride, and had there been the least chance of Martin’s succeeding to the title I should not have countenanced the Bolderwood connection for a moment!’

  ‘I do not think, ma’am, that such a thought has entered Sir Thomas’s head. He and Lady Bolderwood consider Marianne to be too young to be thinking of marriage.’

  ‘Depend upon it, my dear, a girl is never too young for her parents to be scheming to make a good match for her,’ said the Dowager. ‘I shall drive over to Whissenhurst, and just drop a hint that an alliance with St Erth would be most unacceptable to me. I assure you, I should oppose it with my dying breath!’