Part 29 (1/2)
”No, I quite feel that, Frank. I have had enough of soldiering; that one campaign is enough for a life time. I really can hardly make up my mind what to do. Aunt was speaking to me yesterday afternoon when you were out. The dear old soul said that it was nonsense for me to wait for her death, wasting my life here, and that she was anxious to hand me over at once half her money. She said that that would be 10,000, and with the 8,000-my share of father's money-I could then buy an estate.”
”It would be the best thing you could do, Julian, but, of course, there is no hurry about it. What part of the country would you prefer to settle in?”
”I don't know, Frank, I have never thought much about it. I don't think I should choose anywhere near Weymouth, and I would rather go to a flatter country, and a better wooded one. If I bought land, I should like to have land that I could cultivate myself, so as to give me an interest in it, and I should like, after a time, to be on the bench, which would give one a good deal of occupation. I suppose I shall marry some day, and so would prefer to be within reach of a town. I should think, from what you say, the country round Canterbury must be pretty. There is a garrison there, Dover is within reach, and it is a good deal more handy for getting up to town than it is from here. However, as you say, there is plenty of time for me to think about that.”
Mrs. Troutbeck was, as Julian had predicted, astounded upon the arrival of his baggage. ”I never saw such a thing!” she exclaimed, as trunk after trunk was carried into the house. ”That Russian count of yours, Julian, must be a little cracked, I should think. Why, my dear boy, if you were to get stout what in the world would you do with all these things?”
”That is a contingency I have never thought of, Aunt. You quite frighten me. I must go in for a course of severe exercise to prevent the chance of such a thing occurring.”
”You might take to shooting,” Mrs. Troutbeck said doubtfully; ”and I am sure that at present there is not a gentleman round who would not be glad to give you a day's shooting.”
”I have done enough shooting, Aunt,” Julian said gravely. ”It was the means of my getting into a bad sc.r.a.pe here. In Russia it was often part of my duty to shoot dying horses, to say nothing of shooting men, and I have no desire ever to take a gun in my hands again. I have looked up my old friend Bill, and shall take to sailing again, but I will promise you that I will keep clear of smugglers.”
Two days later Frank announced his intention of going up to London for a few days, as he thought he had better offer to be of any a.s.sistance he could at the War Office. He was away for nearly three weeks, and on his return mentioned that he had run down to Canterbury, and had seen some of his old friends at the depot. A fortnight later he received a bulky letter from town, and in the course of the day asked his aunt if she felt equal to taking a journey with him.
”A journey, my dear!” she repeated in surprise. ”Where do you want to go to?”
”Well, Aunt, I want to go to London in the first place; we will travel by post-chaise, so that everything will be comfortable; afterwards we may go somewhere else. I can't tell you anything about it now; it is a little secret. But I do very much want you and Julian to go with me.”
”Then, of course we will, my dear,” the old lady said. ”I should very much like to visit London again, and see the theatres and shows. What do you say, Julian?”
”Of course I will go, Aunt, though I can't think what Frank has got in his head. Still, I am very tired of Weymouth, and it will be a change. I was saying to d.i.c.k Halliburne yesterday that unless I could hit on something to do, I should have to ask them if they would let me go to school again.”
Six days later they drove up in a post-chaise to a fine mansion some three miles from Canterbury. Julian's astonishment at Frank's mysterious proceedings had been growing ever since they left Weymouth.
”Who on earth are we going to see here?” he asked, as they approached the mansion.
”Restrain your impatience for a few minutes longer, Julian, then you shall know all about it. This mansion, I may tell you, belongs to a friend of mine. It is the centre of an estate of some 2,000 acres, and its rent-roll is about 3,000 a year.”
”Very nice indeed!” Julian said. ”Well, I won't ask any more questions till we get there.”
A gentleman appeared at the door as the carriage drove up. He shook hands warmly with Frank, who introduced him to his companions as Mr. James Linton, solicitor to the Russian emba.s.sy. The gentleman led the way to a very handsome drawing-room, then he looked inquiringly at Frank, who nodded. From a mahogany box on the table Mr. Linton produced a large packet of papers.