‘Richard thinks they all want him for his money,’ ventured George.
‘I dare say they may. What has that to say to anything, pray? I imagine you do not mean to tell me that Richard is romantic!’
No, George was forced to admit that Richard was not romantic.
‘If I live to see him suitably married, I can die content!’ said Lady Wyndham, who had every expectation of living for another thirty years. ‘His present course fills my poor mother’s heart with foreboding!’
Loyalty forced George to expostulate. ‘No, really, ma’am! Really, I say! There’s no harm in Richard, not the least in the world, ’pon my honour!’
‘He puts me out of all patience!’ said Louisa. ‘I love him dearly, but I despise him with all my heart! Yes, I do, and I do not care who hears me say so! He cares for nothing but the set of his cravat, the polish on his boots, and the blending of his snuff!’
‘His horses!’ begged George unhappily.
‘Oh, his horses! Very well! Let us admit him to be a famous whip! He beat Sir John Lade in their race to Brighton! A fine achievement indeed!’
‘Very handy with his fives!’ gasped George, sinking but game.
‘Youmay admire a man for frequenting Jackson’s Saloon, and Cribb’s Parlour!Ido not!’
‘No, my love,’ George said. ‘No, indeed, my love!’
‘And I make no doubt you see nothing reprehensible in his addiction to the gaming-table! But I had it on the most excellent authority that he dropped three thousand pounds at one sitting at Almack’s!’
Lady Wyndham moaned, and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Oh, do not say so!’
‘Yes, but he’s so devilish wealthy it can’t signify!’ said George.
‘Marriage,’ said Louisa, ‘will put a stop to such fripperies.’
The depressing picture this dictum conjured up reduced George to silence. Lady Wyndham said, in a voice dark with mystery: ‘Only a mother could appreciate my anxieties. He is ata dangerous age, and I live from day to day in dread of what he may do!’
George opened his mouth, encountered a look from his wife, shut it again, and tugged unhappily at his cravat.
The door opened; a Corinthian stood upon the threshold, cynically observing his relatives. ‘A thousand apologies,’ said the Corinthian, bored but polite. ‘Your very obedient servant, ma’am. Louisa, yours! My poor George! Ah – was I expecting you?’
‘Apparently not!’ retorted Louisa, bristling.
‘No, you weren’t. I mean, they took it into their heads– Icouldn’t stop them!’ said George heroically.
‘I thought I was not,’ said the Corinthian, closing the door, and advancing into the room. ‘But my memory, you know, my lamentable memory!’
George, running an experienced eye over his brother-in-law, felt his soul stir. ‘B’gad, Richard, I like that! That’s a devilish well-cut coat, ’pon my honour, it is! Who made it?’
Sir Richard lifted an arm, and glanced at his cuff. ‘Weston, George, only Weston.’
‘George!’ said Louisa awfully.
Sir Richard smiled faintly, and crossed the room to his mother’s side. She held out her hand to him, and he bowed over it with languid grace, just brushing it with his lips. ‘A thousand apologies, ma’am!’ he repeated. ‘I trust my people have looked after you – er –allof you?’ His lazy glance swept the room. ‘Dear me!’ he said. ‘George, you are near to it: oblige me, my dear fellow, by pulling the bell!’
‘We do not need any refreshment, I thank you, Richard,’ said Louisa.
The faint, sweet smile silenced her as none of her husband’s expostulations had ever done. ‘My dear Louisa, you mistake – I assure you, you mistake! George is in the most urgent need of – er – stimulant. Yes, Jeffries, I rang. The Madeira – oh, ah! and some ratafia, Jeffries, if you please!’
‘Richard, that’s the best Waterfall I’ve ever seen!’ exclaimedGeorge, his admiring gaze fixed on the intricate arrangement of the Corinthian’s cravat.
‘You flatter me, George; I fear you flatter me.’
‘Pshaw!’ snapped Louisa.
