But here the conversation took an abrupt turn, Sir John’s evil genius prompting him to exclaim that he hoped such a fine-looking girl had more sense than to look twice at the silliest puppy in the county. As he added a rider to the effect that it was high time his wife stopped encouraging Oswald to make a cake of himself with his play-acting ways, Venetia was forgotten in a pretty spirited interchange of conflicting opinions.
None would have denied that Venetia was a fine-looking girl; most would not have hesitated to call her beautiful. Amongst the pick of the débutantes at Almack’s she must have attracted attention; in the more restricted society in which she dwelt she was a non-pareil. It was not only the size and brilliance of her eyes which excited admiration, or the glory of her shining guinea-gold hair, or even the enchanting arch of her pretty mouth: there was something very taking in her face which owed nothing to the excellence of her features: an expression of sweetness, a sparkle of irrepressible fun, an unusually open look, quite devoid of selfconsciousness.
The humorous gleam sprang to her eyes as she glanced at Aubrey, still lost in antiquity. She said: ‘Aubrey! Dear,odiousAubrey! Do lend me your ears! Justoneof your ears, love!’
He looked up, an answering gleam in his own eyes. ‘Not if it is something I particularly dislike!’
‘No, I promise you it isn’t!’ she replied, laughing. ‘Only, if you mean to ride out presently will you be so very obliging as to call at the Receiving Office, and enquire if there has been a parcel delivered there for me from York? Quite asmallparcel, dear Aubrey! not in theleastunwieldy, upon my honour!’
‘Yes, I’ll do that – if it’s not fish! If it is, you may send Puxton for it, m’dear.’
‘No, it’s muslin – unexceptionable!’
He had risen, and walked over the window with his awkward, dragging step. ‘It’s too hot to go out at all, I think, but I will – Oh, I mostcertainlywill, and at once! M’dear,bothyour suitors are come to pay us a morning-visit!’
‘Oh, no!’ exclaimed Venetia imploringly. ‘Not again!’
‘Riding up the avenue,’ he assured her. ‘Oswald is looking as sulky as a bear, too.’
‘Now, Aubrey, pray don’t say so! It is hisgloomylook. He is brooding over nameless crimes, I daresay, and only think how disheartening to have his dark thoughts mistaken for a fit of the sulks!’
‘What nameless crimes?’
‘My dear, how should I know – or he either? Poor boy! it is all Byron’s fault! Oswald can’t decide whether it is his lordship whom he resembles or his lordship’sCorsair. In either event it is very disturbing for poor Lady Denny. She is persuaded he is suffering from a disorder of the blood, and has been begging him to take James’s Powders.’
‘Byron!’ Aubrey ejaculated, with one of his impatient shrugs. ‘I don’t know how you can read such stuff!’
‘Of course you don’t, love – and I must own I wish Oswald had found himself unable to do so. I wonder what excuse Edward will offer us for this visit? Surely there cannot have beenanotherRoyal marriage, or General Election?’
‘Or that he should think we care for such trash.’ Aubrey turned away from the window. ‘Are you going to marry him?’ he asked.
‘No – oh, I don’t know! I am sure he would be a kind husband, but try as I will I can’t hold him in anything but esteem,’ she replied, in a comically despairing tone.
‘Why do you try?’
‘Well, I must marry someone, you know! Conway will certainly do so, and then what is to become of me? It wouldn’tsuit me to continue living here, dwindling into an aunt – and I daresay it wouldn’t suit my unknown sister either!’
‘Oh, you may live with me!Ishan’t be married, and I shouldn’t at all object to it: you never trouble me!’
Her eyes danced, but she assured him gravely that she was very much obliged to him.
‘You would like it better than to be married to Edward.’
‘Poor Edward! Do you dislike him so much?’
He replied, with a twisted smile: ‘I never forget, when he’s with us, that I’m a cripple, m’dear.’
A voice was heard to say, beyond the door: ‘In the breakfast-parlour, are they? Oh, you need not announce me: I know my way!’
Aubrey added: ‘And I dislike his knowing his way!’
‘So do I, indeed! There is no escape!’ she agreed, turning to greet the visitors.
Two gentlemen of marked dissimilarity came into the room, the elder, a solid-looking man in his thirtieth year, leading the way, as one who did not doubt his welcome; the younger, a youth of nineteen, with a want of assurance imperfectly concealed by a slight, nonchalant swagger.
‘Good-morning, Venetia! Well, Aubrey!’ said Mr Edward Yardley, shaking hands. ‘What a pair of slugabeds, to be sure! I was afraid I shouldn’t find you in on such a day, but came on the chance that Aubrey might care to try his luck with the carp in my lake. What do you say, Aubrey? You may fish from the boat, you know, and not suffer any fatigue.’
‘Thank you, but I shouldn’t expect to get a rise in such weather.’
