The Nonesuch

Neither the defective roofs nor the lack of a bailiff was any concern of the old butler’s; but he was a meek, nervous man, and was so much in the habit of bearing the blame for every shortcoming in the establishment that it was several moments before he could believe that Sir Waldo really was smiling. Much relieved, he responded with an answering smile, and said: “The Master got to be very eccentric, sir, if you’ll pardon the expression. Mr Hucking thought there were things that needed doing, but he couldn’t prevail upon the Master to lay out any money, and he quite lost heart. He was used to say that bad landlords make bad tenants, and I’m bound to own—Well, sir, I daresay you’ll see for yourself how things are!”

“I’ve already seen enough to prove to me that I shall be kept pretty busy for the next few weeks,” said Sir Waldo, rather grimly. “Now I should like to discuss with Mrs Wedmore what are the most pressing needs here: will you desire her to come to me, if you please?”

“Waldo, you’re never going to lay out your blunt, bringing this rackety place into order?” demanded Lord Lindeth, as Wedmore departed. “I may be a green ’un, and I know I haven’t sat in my own saddle for very long yet, but I’m not a widgeon, and only a widgeon could fail to see that this old lickpenny of a cousin of ours has let the estate go to rack! It’s true we haven’t had time to do more than throw a glance over it, but don’t you tell me that old Joseph ever spent a groat on his land that wasn’t wrenched from him, or that he hasn’t let out the farms on short leases to a set of ramshackle rascals that dragged what they might from the land, and never ploughed a penny back! I don’t blame them! Why—why—if one of my tenants was living in the sort of tumbledown ruin I saw when we rode round the place yesterday, I’d—I’d—lord, I’d never hold up my head again!”

“Very true: I hope you wouldn’t! But with good management I see no reason why the estate shouldn’t become tolerably profitable: profitable enough to pay for itself, at all events.”

“Not without your tipping over the dibs in style!” countered Julian.

“No, Master Nestor! But do you imagine that I mean to throw the place on the market in its present state? What a very poor opinion you must hold of me!”

“Yes!” Julian said, laughing at him. “For thinking you can gammon me into believing you mean to bring the place into order so that you may presently sell it at a handsome profit! Don’t throw your cap after that one: I know you much too well to be bamboozled! You are going to bring it into order so that it will support some more of your wretched orphans. I daresay it may, but I’d lay you long odds that it won’t also give you back what you’ll spend on it!”

“If only old Joseph had known how much after his own heart you were, Julian—!” said Sir Waldo, shaking his head. “No, no, don’t try to mill me down! You know you can’t do it—and we shall have Mrs Wedmore upon us at any moment! Take comfort from the thought that I haven’t yet decided whether the place is what I want for my wretched orphans: all I have decided is that it would go too much against the pluck with me to shrug off this—er—honeyfall!”

“Honeyfall? An obligation, more like!” exclaimed Julian.

“Just so!” agreed Sir Waldo, quizzing him. “You’ve nicked the nick—as usual, of course! No,you pretentious young miller! Most certainly not!”

Lord Lindeth, his spirited attempt at reprisals foiled, said hopefully: “No, but I dashed nearly popped in a hit over your guard, didn’t I?”

“Country work!” mocked Sir Waldo, releasing his wrists as the door opened. “Ah, Mrs Wedmore! Come in!”

“Yes, sir,” said the housekeeper, dropping a curtsy. “And if it is about the sheet which his lordship put his foot through last night, I’m very sorry, sir, but they’re worn so thin, the linen ones—”

“About that, and a great many other things,” he interrupted, smiling reassuringly down at her. “Why didn’t you confess like a man, Lindeth? Afraid to give your head to Mrs Wedmore for washing, no doubt! Go away, and I’ll try what I can do to make your peace with her!”

“Oh, sir—!” protested Mrs Wedmore, much flustered. “As though I would think of such a thing! I was only wishful to explain to you—”

“Of course you were! It’s quite unnecessary, however. What I wish is that you will tell me what must be purchased to make this house habitable, and where it may be most quickly obtained.”

Mrs Wedmore could not remember when more welcome words had fallen on her ears. She gave a gasp, and said in a strangled voice that quite failed to conceal her emotions: “Yes, sir! I shall be most happy to—if you mean it, sir!” She read confirmation in his face, drew a deep breath, and launched into a catalogue of her more pressing needs.