The Twickenham Peerage Part 34

'You must excuse me saying, miss, that I can't help what you fancy.

May I ask what you know about my husband?'

'I?'

'Yes, miss--you!'

She looked at me as if my question had startled her. Then she laughed; it seemed to me not quite a natural laugh; as if she wanted to appear at her ease when she wasn't.

'Mary, I'll be frank with you. I came this morning because I wanted to find out how much I really do know about him.'

'I don't understand.'

'If I knew him----'

'If? You said just now you did.'

'The only thing which makes me doubt is what you say about his health.

The person I knew was an invalid; so great an invalid that his life was despaired of.'

'That's not my James. How long ago is it since you knew him?'

'How long? Oh'--she was tapping the table again with the corner of one of his photographs--'fifteen years.'

'Fifteen years? Why, that's before I knew him--I was only in short frocks. I've come into his life since that. He may have been ill then, and all you say. If he was, then marrying me has done him good. You'd never have thought it if you'd known him as I have these six years. Do those children look as though they had a sick father? No!--they're like him--strong as strong. I tell you, my James is as sound and healthy a man as there is in England; and if you ever see him you won't need for him to tell you so himself to know it.'

She looked at me, I couldn't help thinking, a little queerly, half laughing, half solemn.

'Mary, any one would think I'd been traducing your husband's character in suggesting that he might be an invalid.'

'Well, I don't like to hear any one keep saying he's weak when I know he's not.'

'Then he's not. He's as strong as a cart-horse--or two, if you prefer it--and always shall be; and there's an end.' She changed her tone all of a sudden and became quite brisk. 'My dear child, I'm afraid that by this unconsciously long visit of mine I'm hindering you in your household duties. Is there anything that you might be wanting to do?'

'Well, I did want to put the rice in soak; I'm going to make a pudding.'

'A pudding? Then the rice shall be put in soak. Come along, little lady; and you, young man.' She caught up Pollie, and took Jimmy by the hand. 'Let's go and see mother put that rice in soak.'

I hardly knew what to make of it. I didn't want to have a real lady in my little kitchen watching me make a small rice pudding. But she never gave me a chance to say so, she carried things off with such an air.

She marched out of the room in front of me, Pollie in her arms, and Jimmy holding her hand. And, of course, like the little goose he was, he must lead her straight to where I didn't want him. So that there she was in the kitchen almost before I knew it. As I have said, I didn't know what to make of her at all--she did carry on in such a fas.h.i.+on, talking about all sorts of things at once; pretending to be interested in the pudding; playing such pranks with the children--they were in raptures. And she dressed that beautiful--a queen in her robes couldn't have looked better. Altogether she reminded me of Mr.

FitzHoward the night before; playing, as it were, the fool, to hide what she was thinking of. Though what that was--or what she was doing in my house at all--was beyond me altogether.

Just as she was at the height of her capers there came a knocking at the front door.

'There!' she cried. 'Now, mother, go and open the door, and I'll be nurse to the children. So, Mistress Mary, off you go.'

And off I did go, feeling pretty muddled at being ordered about in my own house like that, and hoping to goodness that those two wouldn't spoil all her lovely things before she'd done with them.

You can imagine my feelings--or, rather, n.o.body ever could, because they were beyond my own imagining--when, on opening the door, I saw, standing on the step, the Honourable Douglas Howarth. It isn't often I'd had visits from the gentry, but now they'd once started it seemed as if they were going to keep on. There was Miss Desmond, as she said her name was, helping me make a rice pudding--as if she herself had ever seen one made in all her life before!--and carrying on with my two youngsters in the kitchen, just as much at her ease, for all I could see, as if children and kitchens were what she always had been used to; and now, if I could believe my eyes, was an Earl's son, come, as it seemed, to keep her company. I hoped that he wouldn't want to lend a hand at the pudding too.

CHAPTER XV

THE NEW PEER: AND HIS MOTHER

One thing I saw at once; that he wasn't anything like so much at his ease as the lady was. Perhaps he wasn't much used to dropping down promiscuous-like on folks like me. I felt fuddled enough, I will admit; and was beginning to wonder if I was standing on my head or heels. But then I'm not used to high society; and it doesn't take much to upset a silly thing like me. He seemed even more fuddled than I was--I was conscious of so much, at any rate--and stood there, staring, on the doorstep as if his tongue was tied. And what there was about me to tie his tongue, or anybody else's, was what I couldn't think. Only his behaving like that made me worse; so that the only thing I could do was to keep on rubbing my hands together as if I was half-witted.

At last he did manage to say something.

'Can I speak to you, Mrs. Merrett, in private?'

It reminded me of what he had wanted to do the day before. But this time I didn't know how to refuse. I don't believe that I had sense enough.

'If you'll walk in, sir.'

He did walk in. Now as soon as you step into my pa.s.sage, there's the parlour door upon the left. And as it was standing open, without waiting to be invited he walked right in. I meant to tell him about Miss Desmond being in the kitchen; but I felt that stupid that I didn't know how to say it. He upset me much more than he had done the day before.

To begin with, I couldn't imagine what he was at. He was all of a fidget. And he being so big, and all the gentleman, it did seem so ridiculous. First he put his hat upon the table, with his umbrella alongside of it. Then he took up his hat, and began to brush it with his sleeve. Then he took up his umbrella, and sticking the point into my carpet, leaned upon the handle. Then he appeared to make up his mind that perhaps, after all, they might both of them be safe, so back again he laid them. Then he started rubbing his gloves together, and putting his hands in front of him and behind. Then he got as far as a remark.

'May I ask you, Mrs. Merrett, to sit down for a few minutes?'

'If you don't mind, sir, I'd rather stand.'

My answer seemed at once to disconcert him and to make him pull himself together. He went and leaned against the mantelshelf; as I've noticed men, whether they're gentlemen or not, seem fond of doing.

It's like a looking-gla.s.s to some women. I'm sure Mr. FitzHoward is standing in front of a fireplace most of the time there's one about for him to stand in front of. Directly Mr. Howarth felt that mantelpiece in the small of his back, he began to seem more at his ease.

'I was sorry to hear yesterday that you have had no news of your husband lately.'

'Were you indeed, sir?'

'I cannot imagine what possible grounds you have for a.s.sociating me with his absence.'

'Whether that is true or not, sir, you know better than I do.'

'I understand that these absences of his are by no means infrequent.'

'That is so. Sometimes he has been away from me for months together.'

'Then why, in this particular case, should you suggest that I have been inciting him to desert his wife and home?'

'I suggest nothing, sir. It is you who are suggesting.'

'I may as well tell you that during my very brief acquaintance with your husband, I was very much struck by what I saw of him.'

'I hope, sir, that he was equally struck by you.'