“Drusilla, is this so indeed? And you said nothing?”

“I do know the cause of the accident,” she replied calmly. “His lordship desired me to hold my peace, however, and I have done so, because I think him very well able to conduct his own affairs without my interference.”

“None better!” said the Viscount. “Never knew anyone with a better understanding! He ain’t the man to be taken-in by a hoax, and if he don’t see that all this brotherly love that whelp is showing him is too smoky by half, he ain’t such a deep ‘un as I’ve always thought!”

“Remember, though you may know Gervase, I have reason to know Martin!” Theo said. “I must continue to hold by my opinion! I don’t deny that I have been made to feel a greater degree of uneasiness than perhaps you have any idea of, but events have so turned out that I begin to think that I shall be able to leave Stanyon with a quiet mind presently.”

“Leave Stanyon? Do you mean to do so?” asked the Viscount, surprised.

“Oh, not for ever! Merely, I ought, a week ago, to have set forth on my travels, and have postponed my journey. I am my cousin’s agent, you know, and at this season I, in general, spend some days at his various estates.”

“Ay, do you so? And why have you postponed your journey?” demanded the Viscount.

Theo laughed. “Yes, yes, you have me there! But that is to be a thing of the past, if you please! If Martin’s passions have led him to play some dangerous pranks on his brother, he will do so no more! See if I am not right!”

Martin himself seemed anxious to reassure his cousin. His reason for doing so was not far to seek, and he stated it bluntly, saying: “You need not spy on me, Theo! I know you think I may play some trick on St. Erth, but I shall not!”

“My dear Martin!”

“Well, you do think it!” Martin insisted. “Merely because I didn’t warn him about that bridge! Such a kick-up as you made!”

“Are you surprised?”

“Oh, well! I own I shouldn’t have cared if he had fallen into the river, then; but I have come to think he is not such a bad fellow — if only one knew how to take him!”

“Is it so difficult?”

“It may not be for you, because he likes you.”

“He has given you little cause to suppose that he does not like you,” Theo said, in a dry tone.

“You may as well say that I gave him cause not to like me, for that’s what you mean, I collect!” said Martin rather angrily. “I don’t know what you think I may do to tease him, but I wish you will stop hovering about me, as though you were my gaoler, or some such thing!”

“This is fancy, Martin!”

“No, it ain’t. Why did you choose to go with us, when I took Gervase round the new coverts?”

“Good God! Why should I not go with you?”

“That wasn’t the only time, either!” pursued Martin. “I suppose you thought, when I challenged him to shoot against me, I might fire my pistol at him instead of the mark, unless you were there to watch us?”

“No, Martin: in spite of what occurred when you tried to match him with foils, I did not think that.”

Martin flushed hotly. “That was an accident!”

“No accident that you did not get out of distance when you saw that the button was off your foil.”

“If you mean to throw it up at me for ever that I lost my temper — Besides, he is a much more skilful fencer than I am! I could never have touched him!”

“I beg your pardon! I had no thought of throwing it up at you, until you began on this nonsense. You had better put it out of your head. You will not be burdened with my presence for a while: I am off to Evesleigh, and then to Maplefield, in a day or two.”

When the Earl heard of these plans, he showed how well-aware he was of having been kept under protective surveillance by laughing, and asking, at his most demure, if Theo thought that he would be safe without him. He was playing chess with Miss Morville, in the library, when Theo informed him what his movements would be, and he did not scruple to add: “I go on very well with Martin, and shall go on better still when I have no watch-dog. I am much obliged to you, Theo, but I fancy your care of me has not gone unobserved, and has done little to endear me to Martin. It is your move, Miss Morville.”

“I know it, but I think you have laid a trap for me,” she responded, frowning at the board. “I have noticed, my lord, that whenever you make what seems to me to be a careless move I immediately find myself in difficulties.”

“What an unhandsome fellow!” said Theo, smiling. “I had not thought him capable of duplicity!”

“Strategy, not duplicity, Theo!”

“I stand corrected. I wish my own efforts in strategy equalled yours, but they seem to be sadly deficient in subtlety. You are right, Gervase: I have been taken to task by Martin for having accompanied you both on your various expeditions, and will mend my ways.”

“Yes, pray do so: I don’t need a bodyguard. But must you go to Evesleigh? Can your business there not be done from Stanyon? It is only ten miles distant, is it not?”

“A little more than that. I find it is always better if I spend a day or two on the premises. The question is whether, this year, I should go to Studham. I must ask Martin if he wishes it.”

“Ask Martin if he wishes what?” demanded Martin, who had entered the room in time to overhear this.

“Studham. Do you mean to be your own agent, or shall I act for you?”

“Lord, I’d forgotten that! I wouldn’t above half mind managing the place myself, if it were mine!”

Theo looked amused. “If it were not for one circumstance, I should suggest that you accompany me there,” he said. “As it is, if you go, you go alone! I shall not readily forget your last encounter with its present occupant.”

“Is it possible that Martin does not care for Aunt Dorothea?” asked the Earl, moving one of his knights to protect a threatened pawn.

Martin grinned, but it was Theo who answered: “It is a case of mutual dislike. It has been my unhappy fate to act as mediator in several skirmishes, and it is my firm resolve not to be present at their Waterloo!”

“I’ll tell you what, St. Erth!” said Martin. “You should go to Studham with Theo!”

“I can perceive not the smallest reason why I should do anything of the sort.”

“To pay your respects to my aunt, of course! If you will invite her to live here, dash it, I will go and live at Studham!”

“Thank you, Martin, I prefer your company to Aunt Dorothea’s.”

“Why, how is this? I had thought you liked her! You threatened to bring her here, didn’t you?”

“There was really no danger of my doing so, however.”

“What a hand you are! I must say, I wish my father had not allowed her to settle at, Studham, for she is bound to live for ever, only to spite me.”

“You had better give her notice to leave.”

“Well, I would, but the thing is that I don’t know that it would suit me to live there myself,” said Martin ingenuously. “To be at such a distance from Quorndon Hall! I don’t know how I should go on.” He paused, and added: “Of course, if you would like to be rid of me — ”

“No, not at all. Check, Miss Morville!”

“Black must resign, I believe. You will chase my King all over the board.”

“Where is Ulverston?” asked Martin abruptly.

“I fancy he has ridden out.”

“Oh!” The lowering expression descended on to Martin’s brow. “How long does he mean to remain at Stanyon?”

“I have no idea.”

“I thought he meant only to stay for a day or two,” Martin muttered.

The Earl made no reply. Theo said: “Well, if I am to do your business for you, Martin, it will be well if I have your instructions. Are you at liberty? Come to my room!”

“Oh, you will manage better than I should, I daresay!” Martin said, shrugging, but following him to the door. “But I wish you will look into what that stupid fellow Mugginton is about! How my father came to appoint such a sap-head as bailiff I don’t know! Why, the last time I was there, he was talking of putting the Long Acre down to wheat! Now, Theo, you know — ”

The closing of the door cut off the end of this sentence. Miss Morville said, as she restored the chessmen to their box: “It is a pity that he and Lady Cinderford cannot agree, for he needs occupation, and nothing would suit him so well as to be managing an estate. I believe he knows as well what should be done as your bailiff does.”

“I fancy he will never live at Studham. It is extremely profitable, however, so if he chooses to do so he may buy himself a house in Leicestershire.”

She considered this, but shook her head. “I think he would not be happy there. I daresay you may not have talked with him very much, or he might be shy of confiding in you, but his thoughts are bound up in Stanyon. He loves it, you know.”

“For him it is full of the happiest memories,” he remarked.

She raised her eyes to his face. “Do you dislike it so very much, my lord?”

“Why, no! I am learning to like it pretty fairly, I think. I imagine it must have every inconvenience known to man, but it might be made tolerably comfortable, if one cared enough to set about the task.”

“Well, I hope you will care enough,” she said. “And, if I were you, my lord, the first thing that I would do would be to make one of the saloons on this floor, which nobody ever uses, into a dining-parlour! Then you might not be obliged to partake of dishes that are cold before ever they reach the table!”

He laughed. “An advantage, I own! When I undertake my improvements, I shall certainly come to you for advice, ma’am!”

“I don’t suppose that you will,” she replied. “You will, instead, place the whole in the hands of some fashionable architect, and he will build you another wing, so that you will find yourself worse off than before.”

“Very much worse off, if I am to employ a fashionable architect! Whom have you in mind? Nash? Beyond my touch, I fear!”

“I don’t think,”she said seriously, “that Mr. Nash’s style would be at all suitable for Stanyon “

The news that Theo was about to set out, as he had punctually done for several years, on visits to the Earl’s various properties naturally afforded the Dowager with matter for surprise and complaint. She said a great many times that she had had no notion that he had meant to go away; and long before she had reached the end of her objections to the project the uninitiated might well have supposed that Mr. Theodore Frant spent the better part of each year in jauntering about the country, while everything at Stanyon was left at a stand. He met her complaints with unmoved patience, only taking the trouble to answer them when she demanded a response from him. From having looked upon any enlargement of the family-party at Stanyon with bitter misgiving, she had now reached the stage of bemoaning its break-up. It occurred to her that with Theo absent her whist-table must depend upon Miss Morville for its fourth; and this circumstance brought to her mind the imminent return of Mr. and Mrs. Morville to the neighbourhood, and their daughter’s consequent departure from Stanyon. “And then, I daresay, you will be going to London, St. Erth,” she said. “I am sure I do not know what I shall do, for I have no intention of removing to town until May. London does not agree with my constitution. When Martin goes, he may stay with his sister. She will be very glad to welcome him, I daresay.”

“Stay with Louisa, and that prosy fool of a husband of hers?” exclaimed Martin. “No, I thank you! Besides, I may not go to London at all!”

“Not go to London! You will go to the Bolderwoods’ ball!”

“I don’t know that,” Martin said sullenly.

This astonishing announcement set up a fresh train of thought in the Dowager’s mind, even more unwelcome to her audience. She could not imagine what her son could be thinking about, for she was sure that if he had said once that he should go to London when the Bolderwoods left Lincolnshire he had said it a hundred times. No efforts were spared either by Gervase or by Miss Morville to introduce a topic of conversation that would give her thoughts another direction, but they were unavailing: she continued to wonder and to comment until her exasperated son abruptly left the room.

Her egotism did not permit her often to trouble herself with the concerns of others, but Martin was her darling, and if she did not go to the length of putting his interests before her own convenience, at least she grudged no time spent in discussing his welfare. She feared that a lovers’ quarrel must have estranged Martin from Miss Bolderwood; and when Miss Morville, to whom she confided this solution, ventured to suggest that whatever Martin’s feelings might be Marianne had given no one reason to suppose that she favoured him more than any of her other suitors, she was incredulous. She must think it an absurdity that any young woman should not fall in love with Martin. She had signified her approval of the match, so what could be the hindrance, excepting only some nonsensical tiff? Could it be that the Bolderwoods had not presumed to think her kindness to their daughter a hint that she would not object to receiving her as a member of the family? She believed Sir Thomas to be a very respectable man, who would be anxious not to encroach: she had a very good mind to drive over to Whissenhurst to set his mind at rest on this score.