The Quiet Gentleman

On the following day, both Miss Morville and Miss Bolderwood received missives from their mamas, Miss Bolderwood’s having been brought over by a groom from Whissenhurst. Lady Bolderwood was able to leave her room again, and was anxious to have her daughter restored to her; and it seemed, from the contents of two closely-written sheets from Mrs. Morville, that Drusilla too would soon be leaving Stanyon. The Lakeland scenery was very fine, but Greta Hall was rather too full of Coleridges, Mrs. Coleridge and her interesting offspring having apparently taken up permanent residence with the Southeys. Mrs. Morville wrote that a scheme was afoot to place poor Mr. Coleridge in the care of a gentleman living in Highgate. Mr. Southey had disclosed that his unfortunate brother-in-law had been consuming as much as two quarts of laudanum a week over the past couple of years. He gloomily believed that the charge of the children must fall upon his shoulders. He was already paying for Hartley’s University career, and had sent Derwent to a private school at Ambleside. Sara, the youngest of the trio, was precocious, Mrs. Morville considered; and there was too much reason to fear that Hartley had inherited his father’s instability of character. Mr. Morville, wrote his wife, was grieved to discover how far Mr. Southey had receded from his earlier and nobler ideals; for her part, Mrs. Morville could not wonder at it: she could only marvel at his being able to continue in the profession of author in the midst of such a household.

The Dowager expressed a gracious regret that they must bid farewell to Marianne that very day; at the prospect of soon losing Miss Morville’s companionship she evinced a flattering concern, reiterating with unwearied frequency her conviction that Mrs. Morville could not possibly wish for her daughter’s return to Gilbourne House.

To all her representations of the superior attractions of Stanyon over Gilbourne House Miss Morville returned civil but firm answers. Lord Ulverston begged to be granted the honour of escorting Miss Bolderwood to her own home, and upon Martin’s saying hastily that he had the intention of performing this office, became afflicted with a deafness much more distressing to Martin than himself. Marianne blushed, thanked, and looked uncertain; after allowing the Dowager time to announce that she would herself drive to Whissenhurst with her young guest, Miss Morville said that she would like the drive. The Dowager had no objection to put forward to this, and the end of it was that the two ladies occupied the barouche, while Ulverston and St. Erth rode behind.

Arrived at Whissenhurst Grange, Marianne begged her three companions to enter the house, and to partake of refreshment there. The Earl demurred at this, thinking that the invalids might not wish for such an invasion, but while Marianne was assuring him that Mama would be disappointed if he did not come in to pay his respects to her, Sir Thomas was seen standing at the window of one of the front parlours, waving and beckoning. They all went into the house, therefore, and Lord Ulverston was made known to the Nabob and his lady. Wine and cakes were sent for, and while the Earl enquired after the state of Sir Thomas’s health, Marianne, standing a little apart, beside the Viscount, said shyly that she supposed he would be leaving Stanyon very soon too. But it seemed that the Viscount had no immediate intention of leaving Stanyon. Marianne was surprised, and said, looking innocently up into his face: “I quite thought that you stayed only for the ball!”

“No — oh, no!” Ulverston responded. “Don’t quite know how long I shall be fixed at Stanyon!”

“Shall you be in town when we give our ball?” asked Marianne.

“Yes,” replied his lordship promptly. “Will Lady Bolderwood send me a card?”

“Oh, yes! I hope you will be able to come to it!”

“Not a doubt of it, Miss Bolderwood: I shall most certainly come to it! When do you remove to London?”

“I believe, in a fortnight’s time — if Papa’s illness has not overset our plans.”

“A fortnight? Just when I shall be going to London myself!” he said.

“But you said you did not know when you should be going!” she pointed out, laughing a little.

“Quite true! I didn’t! You had not told me then how long you would be remaining in Lincolnshire.”

She looked charmingly confused, her art of coquetry deserting her, and could only blush more than ever, and pretend to be busy with the retying of one of the knots of ribbon which adorned her dress.

Sir Thomas, meanwhile, who had been persuaded to resume both his seat by the fire and the plaid shawl which had been draped round his shoulders, said to the Earl: “Who is this young fellow, eh, my lord? What did you say his name was?”

“Ulverston: he is Wrexham’s eldest son, and, like myself, has lately sold out of the Army.”

“H’m!” Sir Thomas’s shrewd gaze dwelled for a minute on the Viscount and Marianne. “I like the cut of his jib,” he decided.

“He is the best of good fellows.”