Volume I Part 36 (1/2)
”I should not take the trouble,” he said, with careless hauteur.
”Ah!”--Letty's vanity winced under his involuntary accent of relief--”I see your husband and Lady Maxwell.”
Marcella and George came towards them. They were strolling along a broad flowery border, which was at the moment a blaze of paeonies of all shades, interspersed with tall pyramidal growths of honeysuckle. Marcella was loitering here and there, burying her face in the fragrance of the honeysuckle, or drawing her companion's attention in delight to the glowing clumps of paeonies Hallin hovered round them, now putting his hand confidingly into Tressady's, now tugging at his mother's dress, and now gravely wooing the friends.h.i.+p of a fine St. Bernard that made one of the party. George, with his hands in his pockets, walked or paused as the others chose; and it struck Letty at once that he was talking with unusual freedom and zest.
Yes, it was true, indeed, as Harding said--they had made friends. As she looked at them the first movement of a jealous temper stirred in Letty.
She was angry with Lady Maxwell's beauty, and angry with George's enjoyment. It was like the great lady all over to slight the wife and annex the husband. George certainly might have taken the trouble to come and look for her on their return from church!
So, while Ancoats talked stiffly with Marcella, the bride, a few paces off, let George understand through her bantering manner that she was out of humour.
”But, dear, I had no notion you would be let out so soon,” pleaded George. ”That good man really can't earn his pay.”
”Oh! but of course you knew it was High Church--all split up into little bits,” said Letty, unappeased. ”But naturally--”
She was about to add some jealous sarcasm when it was arrested by the arrival of Sir Philip Wentworth and Watton, whose figures appeared in a side-archway close to her.
”Ah! well guessed,” said Sir Philip. ”I thought we should find you among the paeonies. Lady Tressady, did you ever see such a show? Ancoats, is your head gardener visible on a Sunday? I ask with trembling, for there is no more magnificent member of creation. But if I _could_ get at him, to ask him about an orchid I saw in one of your houses yesterday, I should be grateful.”
”Come into the next garden, then,” said Ancoats, ”where the orchid-houses are. If he isn't there, we'll send for him.”
”Then, Lady Tressady, you must come and see me through,” said Sir Philip, gallantly. ”I want to quarrel with him about a label--and you remember Dizzy's saying--'a head gardener is always opinionated'? Are you coming, Lady Maxwell?”
Marcella shook her head, smiling.
”I am afraid I hate hothouses,” she said.
”My dear lady, don't pine for the life according to nature at Castle Luton!” said Sir Philip, raising a finger. ”The best of hothouses, like the best of anything, demands a thrill.”
Marcella shrugged her shoulders.
”I get more thrill out of the paeonies.”
Sir Philip laughed, and he and Watton carried off Letty, whose vanity was once more happy in their society; while Ancoats, glad of the pretext, hurried along in front to find the great Mr. Newmarch.
”I believe there are some wonderful irises out in the Friar's Garden,”
said Marcella. ”Mrs. Allison told me there was a show of them somewhere.
Let me see if I can find the way. And Hallin would like the goldfish in the fountain.”
Her two companions followed her gladly, and she led them through devious paths till there was a shout from Hallin, and the most poetic corner of a famous garden revealed itself. Amid the ruins of a cloister that had once formed part of the dissolved Cistercian priory on whose confiscated lands Castle Luton had arisen, a rich medley of flowers was in full and perfect bloom. Irises in every ravis.h.i.+ng shade of purple, lilac, and gold, carpets of daffodils and narcissus, covered the ground, and ran into each corner and cranny of the old wall. Yellow banksia and white clematis climbed the crumbling shafts, or made new tracery for the empty windows, and where the ruin ended, yew hedges, adorned at top with a whole procession of birds and beasts, began. The flowery s.p.a.ce thus enclosed was broken in the centre by an old fountain; and as one sat on a stone seat beside it, one looked through an archway, cut through the darkness of the yews, to the blue river and the hills.
The little place breathed perfume and delight. But Marcella did not, somehow, give it the attention it deserved. She sat down absently on the bench by the fountain, and presently, as George and Hallin were poking among the goldfish, she turned to her companion with the abrupt question:
”You didn't know Ancoats, I think, before this visit, did you?”
”Only as one knows the merest acquaintance. Fontenoy introduced me to him at the club.”
Marcella sighed. She seemed to be arguing something with herself. At last, with a quick look towards the approaches of the garden, she said in a low voice:
”I think you must know that his friends are not happy about him?”