The Quiet Gentleman

Mrs. Morville, bestowing a brief smile upon Ulverston, then turned her attention to the Earl, shaking hands with him, and expressing the conventional hope that he was recovered from his accident. Since Drusilla had not chosen to describe him to her parents, his fair countenance came as a shock to Mrs. Morville, who had expected to confront an unmistakable Frant. She almost blinked at him, found that he was smiling at her, and instantly understood why her staid daughter had lost her heart to him. Her own heart sank, for she was by no means a besotted mother, and while she truly valued Drusilla she could not find it in her to suppose that it lay within her power to engage the affections of one who, besides being a notable parti,was more handsome than (she felt) any young man had a right to be.

Nothing of this showed, however, in her manner. The Earl was expressing the sense of his obligation to Drusilla: she replied calmly that she was glad Drusilla had found an opportunity to be useful; and, seating herself on the sofa, made a little gesture to the place beside her, saying: “I am persuaded you should not stand, Lord St. Erth.”

The Dowager, who had resumed her own seat by the fire, said: “I assure you, he is perfectly well again, my dear Mrs. Morville. Young men, you know, are amazingly quick to recover from such accidents. I daresay his nerves have suffered less than mine. I have a great deal of sensibility. I do not deny it: I am not ashamed to own the truth. Dr. Malpas has been obliged to visit me every day, and in general I enjoy very good health. I inherit my constitution from my dear father. You were not acquainted with my father, Mr. Morville. I have often been sorry that you were not, for you would have been excessively pleased with one another. My father was a great reader, though not, of course, during the hunting-season.”

Fortunately, the historian was too well-used to having such remarks addressed to him to betray his feelings other than by a satirical look over the top of his spectacles, and a somewhat dryly expressed regret that he had not been privileged to meet the late Lord Dewsbury. Mrs. Morville began to talk to the Earl about his service in the Peninsula; her husband returned to his interrupted conversation with Ulverston, and the Dowager addressed one of her monologues to Sir Thomas, in which her affection for her stepson, her hatred of poachers, and the state of her nerves became inextricably mixed with her conviction that if young persons in general, and St. Erth in particular, had more regard for their elders they would take care not to incur accidents calculated to alarm them. By the time she had recollected two of her deceased parent’s moral reflections upon the selfishness of young people, Sir Thomas discovered that he must carry his daughter back to Whissenhurst. The Dowager, although she had observed with displeasure Lord Ulverston’s attentions to Marianne, had lately had other things to occupy her mind than Martin’s courtship. She said graciously: “Marianne is in very good looks. I am always pleased to welcome her to Stanyon, for she has very pretty manners, and she was most good-natured in playing at spillikins with dear little Harry and John. When I come to London I daresay I shall find her quite the belle of Almack’s — that is, if you have vouchers, and if you have not I shall be happy to procure them for you.”

“Much obliged to you!” said Sir Thomas, anything but gratefully. “No difficulty about that, however! I hope your ladyship will come to London in time to attend Lady Bolderwood’s ball. Don’t mind telling such a kind friend as you that you’ll hear me make an interesting announcement.” He observed, with satisfaction, a startled look on her face, and chuckled. “Ay, that’s the way the wind blows!” he said, with a jerk of his head towards Lord Ulverston. “We said it must remain a secret until after the little puss’s presentation, but, lord! I suppose it must be all over the county by now!”

He then took his leave, and the party broke up. Both St. Erth and Ulverston escorted the visitors downstairs, and while the Morvilles’ carriage was waited for, Sir Thomas, finding himself beside his host, shot one of his penetrating looks at him, and said: “So it was a poacher, was it? H’m! Coming it strong, but I don’t blame you! I shan’t give you my advice, because for one thing it ain’t any of my business, for another you young fellows never listen to advice, and for a third I’ve a notion you’ll manage your affairs very well for yourself. Only don’t take foolish risks, my lord! Where’s your cousin?”

“At Evesleigh,” replied the Earl.

Sir Thomas grunted. “Gone back there, has he? Well! You be careful! That’s all I’ve got to say!”