Volume I Part 21 (1/2)
”Nothing,” exclaimed Mrs. Tempest. ”I have corresponded with n.o.body but my housekeeper while I have been away. I am a wretched correspondent at the best of times, and, after dear Edward's death, I was too weary, too depressed, to write letters. What is the matter with Lady Jane Vawdrey?”
”She died at Florence last November of bronchitis. She was very ill last winter, and had to be taken to Cannes for the early part of the year; but she came back in April quite well and strong, as everyone supposed, and spent the summer at Briarwood. Her doctors told her, however, that she was not to risk another winter in England, so in September she went to Italy, taking Lady Mabel with her.”
”And Roderick?” inquired Vixen, ”He went with them of course.”
”Naturally,” replied Mr. Scobel. ”Mr. Vawdrey was with his mother till the last.”
”Very nice of him,” murmured Mrs. Tempest approvingly; ”for, in a general way, I don't think they got on too well together. Lady Jane was rather dictatorial. And now, I suppose, Roderick will marry his cousin as soon as he is out of mourning.”
”Why should you suppose so, mamma?” exclaimed Violet. ”It is quite a mistake of yours about their being engaged. Roderick told me so himself. He was not engaged to Lady Mabel. He had not the least idea of marrying her.”
”He has altered his mind since then, I conclude,” said Mr. Scobel cheerily--those binoculars of his could never have seen through a stone-wall, and were not much good at seeing things under his nose--”for it is quite a settled thing that Mr. Vawdrey and Lady Mabel are to be married. It will be a splendid match for him, and will make him the largest landowner in the Forest, for Ashbourne is settled on Lady Mabel. The Duke bought it himself, you know, and it is not in the entail,” added the inc.u.mbent, explaining a fact that was as familiar as the church catechism to Violet, who sat looking straight at the fire, holding her head as high as Queen Guinevere after she had thrown the diamonds out of window.
”I always knew that it would be so,” said Mrs. Tempest, with the air of a sage. ”Lady Jane had set her heart upon it. Worldly greatness was her idol, poor thing! It is sad to think of her being s.n.a.t.c.hed away from everything. What has become of the orchids?”
”Lady Jane left them to her niece. They are building houses to receive them at Ashbourne.”
”Rather a waste of money, isn't it?” suggested Violet, in a cold hard voice. ”Why not let them stay at Briarwood till Lady Mabel is mistress there?”
Mr. Scobel did not enter into this discussion. He sat serenely gazing at the fire, and sipping his tea, enjoying this hour of rest and warmth after a long day's fatigue and hard weather. He had an Advent service at seven o'clock that evening, and would but just have time to tramp home through the winter dark, and take a hurried meal, before he ran across to his neat little vestry and shuffled on his surplice, while Mrs. Scobel played her plaintive voluntary on the twenty-guinea harmonium.
”And where is young Vawdrey now?” inquired Mrs. Tempest blandly.
She could only think of the Squire of Briarwood as the lad from Eton--clumsy, shy, given to breaking teacups, and leaving the track of his footsteps in clay or mud upon the Aubusson carpets.
”He has not come home yet. The Duke and d.u.c.h.ess went to Florence just before Lady Jane's death, and I believe Mr. Vawdrey is with them in Rome. Briarwood has been shut up since September.”
”Didn't I tell you, mamma, that somebody would be dead,” cried Violet.
”I felt when we came into this house yesterday evening, that everything in our lives was changed.”
”I should hardly think mourning can be very becoming to Lady Mabel,”
ruminated Mrs. Tempest. ”Those small sylph-like figures rarely look well in black.”
Mr. Scobel rose with an effort to make his adieux. The delicious warmth of the wood-fire, the perfume of arbutus logs, had made him sleepy.
”You'll come and see our new school, I hope,” he said to Violet, as they shook hands. ”You and your dear mamma have contributed so largely to its erection that you have a right to be critical; but I really think you will be pleased.”
”We'll come to-morrow afternoon, if it's fine,” said Mrs. Tempest graciously. ”You must bring Mrs. Scobel to dinner at seven, and then we can talk over all we have seen.”
”You are very kind. I've my young women's scripture-cla.s.s at a quarter-past eight; but if you will let me run away for an hour----”
”Certainly.”
”I can come back for Mrs. Scobel. Thanks. We shall be delighted.”
When he was gone, Violet walked towards the door without a word to her mother.
”Violet, are you going away again? Pray stop, child, and let us have a chat.”