With this he stretched out a hand for the book that was lying open on a table, and immediately became absorbed in it, while Venetia, amused by his detachment and a little envious of it clipped her pen in the ink again, and resumed her letter to Mrs. Hendred.
XII
Venetia awoke on the following morning conscious of a feeling of oppression which was not lightened by the discovery, ‘presently, that her sole companion at the breakfast-table was Mrs. Scorrier. Charlotte being still in bed, and Aubrey having told Ribble to bring him some coffee and bread-and-butter to the library. Mrs. Scorrier greeted her with determined affability, but roused in her a surge of unaccustomed wrath by inviting her to say whether she liked cream in her coffee. For a moment she could not trust herself to answer, but she managed to overcome what she told herself was disproportionate fury, and replied that Mrs. Scorrier must not trouble to wait on her. Mrs. Scorrier, momentarily quelled by the sudden fire in those usually smiling eyes, did not persist, but embarked on an effusive panegyric which embraced the bed she had slept in, the view from her window, and the absence of all street noises. Venetia responded civilly enough, but when Mrs. Scorrier expressed astonishment that she should permit Aubrey to eat his breakfast when and where it pleased him, the tone in which she replied: “Indeed, ma’am?” was discouraging in the extreme.
“Perhaps I am old-fashioned,” said Mrs. Scorrier, “but I believe in strict punctuality. However, I can well understand that you must have found the poor boy a difficult charge. When Sir Conway comes home, no doubt he will know how to manage him.”
That made Venetia laugh. “My dear Mrs. Scorrier, you speak as if Aubrey were a child! He will soon be seventeen, and since he has managed himself for years it would be quite useless to interfere with him now. To do Conway justice, he wouldn’t attempt to.”
“As to that, Miss Lanyon, I shall venture to say that I should be greatly astonished if Sir Conway permitted Aubrey to order meals to be sent to him on trays without so much as a by your leave, now that Undershaw has a mistress, for it is not at al] the thing. You will forgive my plain speaking, I am sure!”
“Certainly I will, ma’am, for it enables me to do a little plain speaking myself!” promptly replied Venetia. “Pray abandon any notion you may have of trying to reform Aubrey, for neither you nor your daughter has the smallest right to meddle in his affairs! They are his own concern, and, to some extent, mine.”
“Indeed! I seem to have been strangely misinformed, then, since I believed him to be Sir Conway’s ward!”
“No, you have not been misinformed, but Conway would be the first to tell you to leave Aubrey to me. It is only right that I should warn you, ma’am, that while Conway deeply pities Aubrey for his physical disability he stands in absurd awe of his mental superiority. Furthermore, although he has many faults, he is not only excessively goodnatnred, but has a sort of chivalry besides, which would make it impossible for him to be anything but indulgent—perhaps foolishly!—were Aubrey ten times as vexatious as he is. That is all I have to say, ma’am, and I hope you will forgive my plain speaking as I have forgiven yours. Pray excuse me if I leave you now. I have a good deal to do this morning. I have desired Mrs. Gurnard to hold herself at Charlotte’s disposaclass="underline" will you be so good as to tell Charlotte that she has only to send a message to the housekeeper’s room when she is ready?”
She left the parlour without giving Mrs. Scorrier time to answer her, but although she knew that Powick must already be awaiting her in the estate-room she did not join him there for some twenty minutes. She was dismayed to find herself so much shaken by her anger: before she could face the bailiff without betraying to him her agitation a period of quiet reflection was necessary. This enabled her to regain command over herself; but in no way helped her to regard the immediate future with anything but foreboding. She blamed herself for having allowed Mrs. Scorrier to goad her into retort, yet felt that sooner or later she must have been forced into taking a stand against a woman whose passion for mastery must, if unchecked, set the whole household by the ears. She entertained no hope that Mrs. Scorrier would not bear malice: she had seen implacable enmity in that lady’s eyes, and knew that she would lose no opportunity now to hurt and to annoy.
It was past noon when she left Powick. A morning spent in the company of that dour and phlegmatic Yorkshireman did more to restore the balance of her mind than any amount of reflection, be it never so calm; and the study of accounts exercised over her much the same sobering effect as did the study of Plato over Aubrey.
There was no sign of Charlotte or her mother in the main part of the house, but Ribble, coming into the hall just as Venetia was about to go out into the garden, disclosed that both these ladies were inspecting the kitchen-wing, under the guidance of Mrs. Gurnard,. He gave Venetia a sealed billet, which the undergroom sent over to Ebbersley earlier in the day had brought back with him; and waited while Venetia read its message. It was short, a mere acknowledgement of her own letter, but written in affectionate terms. Lady Denny would not keep the messenger waiting, but begged Venetia to come to Ebbersley as soon as might be. She added in a postscript that she was busy packing for Oswald, who was leaving Ebbersley on the following day, to visit his uncle, in Rutlandshire.
Venetia looked up, and met Ribble’s eyes, fixed anxiously on her countenance. For a moment she did not speak, but presently she said ruefully: “I know, Ribble, I know! We are in the suds—but we shall come about!”
“I trust so, miss,” he said, with a deep sigh.
She smiled at him. “Have you fallen under her displeasure? So have I, I promise you!”
“Yes, miss—as I ventured to say to Mrs. Gurnard. If she had heard the things I have heard she would know where the blow has fallen hardest. If I may say so, it was as much as I could do, last night, to keep from boiling over! Oh, Miss Venetia, what can have come over Sir Conway? Undershaw won’t ever be the same again!”
“Yes, it will, Ribble: indeed it will!” she said. “Only wait until Conway comes home! To you I needn’t scruple to own that we are in bad loaf, and Mrs. Scorrier a detestable woman, but I believe—oh, I am certain!—that you will very soon grow to be as fond of Lady Lanyon as—as you are of me!”
“No, miss, that couldn’t be. Things will be very different at Undershaw, and I fancy her ladyship will be wishful to make changes. Very understandable, I’m sure. I’m not as young as I was, and I don’t deny it, and if her ladyship feels that—”
She interrupted quickly: “She does not! Yes, I know exactly what you are about to tell me, and a great goose you are! How can you suppose that my brother could ever wish for another butler in place of our dear, kind Ribble?”
“Thank you, miss: you’re very good!” he said, a little tremulously. “But we were hoping, Mrs. Gurnard and I, that if you are meaning to set up your own establishment, with Master Aubrey, like you always said you would, you might like us to go with you, which we would be very pleased to do.”
She was a good deal moved, but she said in a rallying tone: “Oh, no, no! How could they manage at Undershaw without you? How could I be so shocking as to steal you from my brother? I won’t think of such a thing! And however happyI might be in such circumstances, you would be wretched, away from Undershaw. I know that, and you know it too.”
“Yes, miss, and indeed I never thought to leave it, nor Mrs. Gurnard neither, but we don’t feel we could stay, not with Mrs. Scorrier. Nor we don’t feel that—Well, miss, to speak plainly to you, if you’ll pardon the liberty, anyone can see which way the wind’s blowing, and we wouldn’t wish to be turned off with a Scarborough warning, not at our time of life, and that’s what might happen, before ever Sir Conway shows his front, as he would say. I’m too old to learn new ways, and when it comes to being told I’m not to take orders from Master Aubrey without her ladyship agrees to it—well, miss, one of these days I won’t be able to keep the words from my tongue, and that, I know well, is just what that Mrs. Scorrier hopes for, so that she can work on her ladyship to send me packing!”