Part 44 (1/2)
”What do you mean, d.i.c.k?” cried her ladys.h.i.+p sharply.
”That's what has brought me up to town. Lady Littletown has been stealing a march on you, and is trying to egg him on to propose elsewhere.”
”The wretched scheming creature! Oh! No, no, it is impossible. You are mistaken, my boy.”
”Oh no, I'm not. The old chap is quite on there at Hampton Court. But of course he has no chance.”
”Stop! At Hampton Court? Who is the lady?”
”One of the Miss Dymc.o.xes' nieces, living with her aunts in the Palace.”
”Philippa Dymc.o.x's niece?”
”Yes.”
”Not a Miss Riversley?”
”That's the name, mamma.”
”How horrible!--Riversleys! Why, they are connected with the Huishes.
That Mr John Huish's father married a Miss Riversley.”
”Very likely,” said d.i.c.k Millet coolly. ”That's the lady, all the same--Miss Dymc.o.x's niece.”
”The Dymc.o.xes! the paupers! Lady Littletown's doing! Oh, that woman!”
”You don't like her, then, mamma?”
”Like her? Ugh!” exclaimed Lady Millet in tones of disgust; ”I can soon put a stop to that, my son.” Her ladys.h.i.+p compressed her lips. ”But it is all Gertrude's fault, behaving so ridiculously about that John Huish.
I don't know what she may not have said to Lord Henry the other night.
He was almost at her feet, and now he shall be quite. John Huish indeed!--a man going hopelessly to the bad,” Her ladys.h.i.+p rang. ”There is no time to be lost. I must act at once. Lord Henry Moorpark must be brought back to his allegiance. Send Miss Gertrude's maid to ask her to step down here,” continued her ladys.h.i.+p to the servant who answered the bell.
”What are you going to do?”
”Arrange for invitations to be sent out at once. Oh, d.i.c.k, my boy, the stories I have heard lately about Mr Huish's gambling and dissipation are terrible! Gertrude has had a marvellous escape. It is very shocking, for your uncle and father have known the Huishes all their lives. Well?”
”Richards says, my lady, that Miss Millet went out an hour ago.”
”Out? Gone out?”
”Yes, my lady; and Richards found this note left on the dressing-table, my lady, stuck down on the cus.h.i.+on with a pin.”
”Great heavens!” cried Lady Millet, s.n.a.t.c.hing the note from a salver; ”there, leave the room.”
The man bowed and moved to the door, in time to open it for Sir Humphrey, who stood beaming at his son, while her ladys.h.i.+p tore open the letter and read:
”Dear Mamma,--_I cannot marry Lord Henry Moorpark. Good-bye_.”
”That's all!” cried her ladys.h.i.+p in a perfect wail. ”What does it mean?”