Having completed the action to his own satisfaction, he continued the conversation. “It will be interesting to hearwhat news he brings from town,” he said. “It is sodifficult here to be up to the minute on what styles andfabrics are currently in fashion. Mr. Bartlett, did you nottell me that black had become an almost acceptable colorfor evening wear? I can scarcely conceive of such a thing.Black!” He shuddered delicately.
“Beau Brummell started the fashion, my lord,” Mr. Bartlett replied, “though at the time it seemed just apersonal eccentricity. Yet now one sees the style with fairfrequency. Of course, all men of any distinction of looksand bearing—like yourself, my lord, if I may be permittedto say so—still prefer more palatable colors.”
The baron nodded affably to show that his guest was indeed permitted to say so.
“We must invite Mr. Sinclair to dinner within the week,” Harriet said, as always oblivious to the fact that she wasno longer mistress of the house. “But will that meanhaving to invite the whole family, Papa?”
“It will be a pleasure to have them all," Maude said. “It is some time since we gave a dinner party. Do you notagree, my lord?” she asked, glancing with hasty selfconsciousness at her husband.
“Oh, quite so, quite so,” he agreed.
“I hope Mr. Sinclair makes an effort to appear to advantage with his family,” Mr. Bartlett added, smilinggraciously at Harriet. “They are worthy and likable people.”
Harriet raised her eyebrows and looked back at him, all attention. Rebecca, too, looked sharply across at him.
“Why would he not appear to advantage?” Harriet asked.
“Pardon me,” Mr. Bartlett replied, serious for once. “There is nothing unacceptable in his manner by someLondon standards. If he is rather a spendthrift, one at leastcannot say that he is so with anyone else’s money than hisown now. And if he is something of a rake, one can saythe same of many other men of rank in town.”
Maude got to her feet and gathered together the embroidery that she had earlier set down beside her. “I am sure that Mr. Sinclair will know how to behave when he ishere, Stanley,” she said matter-of-factly. “Harriet, shallwe go to my sitting room and make some plans for thedinner party?”
“Oh,” replied Harriet, “I already have it all arranged in my mind, Maude. You do not need to worry about it.”
“Then you shall tell me what you have planned,” Maude said with quiet persistence, and she preceded her stepdaughter from the room.
The baron too retired to his room in order to rest before beginning the exertions of evening dinner and a hand ortwo of cards in the drawing room afterward.
Rebecca also rose to leave the room. She planned to have a leisurely bath after the hours spent teaching in awarm schoolroom and the hot, dusty walk to and from thevillage.
“You must have known Mr. Christopher Sinclair before his marriage, Miss Shaw,” Mr. Bartlett said in his friendlyway. He was smiling at her. “Though I believe he must beconsiderably older than you.”
“Only a few years, sir,” Rebecca replied. “And, yes, I knew him. It is impossible in a small place like this not toknow one’s neighbors.”
“Tell me,” he said, looking at her candidly, “was he always such an unprincipled man? I must confess that nowI have made the acquaintance of the Sinclairs, I find itdifficult to understand how he has become the way he is. Isuppose that in most families there has to be one blacksheep.”
Rebecca sat down again. “Unprincipled in what way?” she asked guardedly.
“Perhaps he was a close friend, Miss Shaw?” Mr. Bartlett added, looking at her searchingly. “I would notwish to ruin your memories of him.”
Rebecca made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “It is many years since I have even seen him, sir,” she said.
“I knew his wife,” he said. “She was a friend. A delightful creature, though not by any means a beauty.And many people despised her because her father was inbusiness and not, strictly speaking, a gentleman at all.Sinclair married her for her money, of course. And Iwould not stoop to blame him for that. Many a gentlemanwith pockets to let has been forced to do as much.”
Rebecca lowered her eyes to the hands in her lap. Perhaps she ought not to be listening to this. It was noneof her affair, after all. But she could not help herself. It issometimes too delicious to hear evil of a person one hasdespised for many years. She had not been mistaken, then.
“I could certainly have forgiven him for marrying my friend for her money,” Mr. Bartlett continued, “had hetreated her with proper respect thereafter.”
“And he did not?” Rebecca prompted, raising her eyes unwillingly to his.
“The Sinclairs seem a humble enough family,” Mr.Bartlett said. “And that makes it all the more surprising that Sinclair himself is so insufferably high in the instep.He treated her with the utmost contempt, Miss Shaw. Henever took her about with him, and he flaunted his mistresses before her most shamefully.”
“Poor lady,” Rebecca murmured, feeling sympathy for the late Mrs. Sinclair for the first time.
“Perhaps the situation would not have been so tragic had she not doted so much on him,” Mr. Bartlett continued. “She lived with the hope that perhaps the child wouldbring him closer to her. Her death was tragic, yet underthe circumstances perhaps for the best. She would havebeen disappointed, I am sure.” His tone had becomealmost vicious.
“I do not find your story impossible to credit, sir,” Rebecca said, her voice strained. “Yet I believe it wouldbe as well to keep it to yourself. I would not wish to seehis family hurt.”
“Indeed, ma’am,” he assured her earnestly, “I would not dream of breathing a word to anyone else. I would nothave said anything to you either, but you seem to me to bea lady of sense. And I fear that perhaps Sinclair will not,after all, behave as he ought here. He has lived for toolong a life of self-indulgence and depravity. I wish tosuggest, Miss Shaw, with all due respect, that you keepcareful watch over your cousin. She is a lovely and impressionable young lady and wealthy enough, I believe, toattract a fortune hunter.”
