‘I question whether they are so destructive as people suppose,’ remarked Theo.
‘Good God, if we were to have a pair of them breeding in the West Wood we should not have a pheasant or a partridge chick left!’ Martin exclaimed.
‘I fancy you would find, if you could observe them closely, that they subsist mostly on field-mice. Had you said sparrow-hawks, now – !’
In refuting this heresy, and in recalling to Theo’s memory various incidents which seemed to support his own theory, Martin for a little while forgot his care, and talked with an animation which would not have led anyone to suppose that he was suffering all the more severe pangs of unrequited love. He looked as though he had not slept well, but he ate a large breakfast, and only towards the end of it remembered that his affections had been blighted, and that his arch-enemy sat opposite to him, unconcernedly consuming cold beef. The cloud descended again on to his brow, and he relapsed into silence; but when he rose from the table, and the Earl called after him: ‘Keep your eyes open for anything that might suit me at Roxmere!’ he paused in the doorway, and replied quite cordially: ‘If you wish it, but I don’t think Helston has much to show me but young ’uns.’
‘I don’t mind that. A good three-year-old, Martin, not too short in the back, and well ribbed-up! But you know the style of thing!’
Martin nodded. ‘I’ll see,’ he said.
He did not return to Stanyon until noon, and by that time the Viscount had driven himself over to Whissenhurst. Martin walked into one of the saloons just as his mother, Miss Morville, and Gervase were sitting down to partake of cold chickens and fruit. He brought with him two letters, which had been fetched up from the receiving-office. ‘One for you, Drusilla, and one for you, St Erth. From Louisa,’ he added. ‘Lay you a pony she wants you to invite them all to Stanyon in June!’
‘From Louisa?’ said the Dowager. ‘Why should Louisa be writing to St Erth? Depend upon it, you are mistaken! It cannot be from her!’
‘Well, it’s Louisa’s writing, and Grampound franked it,’ said Martin, displaying the letter, which was directed in large, sloping characters, and stamped Free.
The sight of Lord Grampound’s signature, scrawled across one corner, convinced the Dowager that the letter was indeed from her daughter; and after satisfying herself that Martin had not misread The Right Honourable the Countess for The Right Honourable the Earl, she reluctantly allowed her stepson to assume possession of his property. While he broke the wafer that sealed it, and read its two crossed sheets, she maintained an unbroken flow of comment, surmise, and astonishment. ‘I do not understand what Louisa can mean by sending a letter to St Erth,’ she said. ‘What can she possibly have to say to him? Why has she not written to me? Are you sure there is not a letter for me, Martin?’
‘Of course I am, ma’am!’ he said impatiently. ‘The rest are for Theo, but he has gone off somewhere with Hayle.’
‘It is most extraordinary!’ she said, in a displeased tone. ‘I should have been very glad to have had a letter from Louisa.’
‘My dear ma’am, you might have this one with my good-will,’ said Gervase, perusing the crossed lines through his quizzing-glass. ‘In fact, you shall have it, for I find Louisa’s writing quite baffling.’
The Dowager had no hesitation in taking the sheets from him. ‘Louisa’s writing is particularly elegant,’ she said. ‘I do not find it at all difficult to read. She would have done better to have directed her letter to me.’
‘Does she want to come here?’ demanded Martin.
‘No, something about double-doors at Kentham, and Pug.’
‘That creature!’ ejaculated Martin, with a look of disgust. ‘What the devil has Pug to do with you?’
‘Too much, I fear. Well, ma’am? What is it precisely that Louisa feels I can have not the least objection to doing for her? I fear the worst, and beg you won’t keep me in suspense!’
‘You will be very happy to render Louisa your assistance,’ stated the Dowager, in a voice that did not admit of argument. ‘Poor Louisa! But I told her how it would be, for I am sure there was never anyone more disobliging than Mrs Neath, and now, you see, she will not answer above half the questions Louisa has addressed to her. It is all of a piece! She behaved in a very unhandsome way to Mrs Warboys about a poultry-woman once, and when I heard Grampound had the intention of hiring Kentham I advised him rather to come to Stanyon, for, depend upon it, I said, you will not like to hire Mrs Neath’s house, for she is a very disagreeable woman. You see what has come of it! Louisa cannot recall whether the two saloons can be thrown into one, or how many beds they are able to make up, and so St Erth is obliged to drive there to discover how it may be! It is a great deal too bad of Mrs Neath, and I should not be at all surprised if she has neglected to reply to Louisa’s questions on purpose to drag St Erth into her set! She is a very encroaching woman, and I have never invited her to Stanyon, save on Public Days. If you do not care to put yourself in her way, Gervase, Theo may go in your stead.’
‘My dear ma’am, Theo is going in the opposite direction to Kentham!’
‘It cannot signify to him, if he goes first to Kentham. However, I daresay she will more readily accede to your requests than to his. He is not at all conciliatory – not that I should wish to conciliate Mrs Neath, but how shocking it would be if she refused to permit poor little Pug to go to Kentham!’
‘Are you going all that way to beg favours for Pug?’ demanded Martin scornfully.
‘I suppose so. Something tells me it would be the wisest course. I may as well drive over to Kentham this afternoon, for I have nothing else to do – unless I go with you, after these kestrels of yours.’
‘Oh – ! If you choose! But I daresay I shan’t get a sight of them,’ Martin replied ungraciously. ‘You will be wasting your time, I expect – and I may stay out later than you would like, on the chance of a rabbit or two.’
‘Then I had better go to Kentham,’ said the Earl placidly. ‘I will pull up at the Wickton cross-road on my way back, in case you should still be out, and wish to be driven home.’
‘No need: I’d as lief walk. It would fret me to know that you might be waiting for me.’
‘As you please,’ the Earl said, shrugging. ‘What had Helston to show you?’
‘Nothing you would care for. At least, there was one bay I liked. He is not up to my weight, but I daresay he might suit you.’
The Dowager, having finished with her daughter’s letter, now had leisure to turn her attention to Miss Morville, who was slipping her own letter into her reticule; and to enquire with a regal condescension which almost robbed her question of its impertinence who was her correspondent. Upon learning that Mrs Morville had written to inform her daughter that she and Mr Morville expected to return to Lincolnshire in the following week, she fell into a complaining mood, which had the effect of speedily breaking up the nuncheon-party. Martin went off to change his riding-dress for a shooting-jacket; Miss Morville escorted the Dowager upstairs to the Italian Saloon, where she very soon fell asleep on one of the sofas; and the Earl strolled down to the stables, to take a look at Cloud’s forelegs.
He found Theo there, giving some directions to his groom, who was to bring his riding-horse over to Evesleigh on the following day, when a cast shoe should have been replaced. He burst out laughing when he heard whither the Earl was bound that afternoon, but said: ‘You will not go!’