“I am so glad you like them, mother; I don’t know when I have been so glad; and you can’t think how kind they have been to me.”
“I love them for it,” said Lady Brotherton, “not that I am surprised--for they like you, Lionel, one can see that, and nothing could be more delightful to your mother. Tell me, dear, does poor Lord Eldred come often, or is he forbidden to come? I want to know how far it has gone.”
“How far what has gone?” said Lionel aghast.
“Is it possible you have not noticed? I am sure he made no secret of it, poor fellow; the Duchess saw it well enough. Why, that Lord Eldred is over head and ears, or if there is any stronger expression--deep, deep in the depths of love; and I am mistaken if she does not know as well as I--”
“In love--with--? not Lydia? Lydia!” Lionel cried, as if this were the most astonishing thing in the world.
Lady Brotherton’s back was turned; she did not see his lamentable countenance. She laughed with a tinkling silvery laugh for which she was famous, but which her son at that moment felt to be the harshest and least melodious of sounds. “Who else?” she said; “there is no one but Lydia here capable of being fallen in love with. Not that nice Mrs. Selby, you may be sure, which would not be proper, and is impossible--no, Liddy--I like the name of Liddy. It is quite rural and moorland, like all the rest. Well, don’t you think she knows it too?”
“I shouldn’t say so,” Lionel answered with the greatest gravity. He tried very hard not to be so deadly serious; but he could not smile.
“Well, we shall see, we shall see,” said Lady Brotherton gaily, “of course I shall not interfere. I dare say the Duchess blesses me for taking her out of the way. But if the lover has the courage to follow, nobody need expect me to put obstacles in the course of true love. It shall run smooth for me. Going, Lionel? God bless you, dear; the Fells have agreed with you, you are as brown and strong as you can look, and I must go and see your den to-morrow. Good night, good night, my own boy.”
Lionel went away in a frame of mind very different from that with which he had followed his mother upstairs. He looked into the parlour with a countenance so solemn that the little party assembled there, and congratulating themselves on everything having gone off so well, were entirely chilled. Mrs. Joscelyn, reposing in her chair with her hands clasped, was smiling with relief and pleasure, while Joan described all the pangs with which she had looked forward to the arrival of my Lady. “I thought she would be so stiff and so grand,” said Joan, “Lord, I don’t know what I didn’t think; but she’s as nice a woman as mother or myself, and takes nothing upon her. As long as I live I’ll never be afraid of a fine lady again.” Here Lionel’s solemn voice was heard at the door.