Уилки Коллинз - My Lady's Money

Isabel’s guilty color rose. She knew perfectly well that Hardyman’s unconcealed admiration of her was the guiding motive of Lady Lydiard’s inquiries. If she had told the truth, Mr. Troy would have unquestionably returned to the drawing-room, with or without an acceptable excuse for intruding himself. But Isabel was a woman; and her answer, it is needless to say, was “I don’t know, I’m sure.”

In the mean time, the interview between the two ladies began in a manner which would have astonished Mr. Troy—they were both silent. For once in her life Lady Lydiard was considering what she should say, before she said it. Miss Pink, on her side, naturally waited to hear what object her Ladyship had in view—waited, until her small reserve of patience gave way. Urged by irresistible curiosity, she spoke first.

“Have you anything to say to me in private?” she asked.

Lady Lydiard had not got to the end of her reflections. She said “Yes!”—and she said no more.

“Is it anything relating to my niece?” persisted Miss Pink.

Still immersed in her reflections, Lady Lydiard suddenly rose to the surface, and spoke her mind, as usual.

“About your niece, ma’am. The other day Mr. Hardyman called at my house, and saw Isabel.”

“Yes,” said Miss Pink, politely attentive, but not in the least interested, so far.

“That’s not all ma’am. Mr. Hardyman admires Isabel; he owned it to me himself in so many words.”

Miss Pink listened, with a courteous inclination of her head. She looked mildly gratified, nothing more. Lady Lydiard proceeded:

“You and I think differently on many matters,” she said. “But we are both agreed, I am sure, in feeling the sincerest interest in Isabel’s welfare. I beg to suggest to you, Miss Pink, that Mr. Hardyman, as a near neighbor of yours, is a very undesirable neighbor while Isabel remains in your house.”

Saying those words, under a strong conviction of the serious importance of the subject, Lady Lydiard insensibly recovered the manner and resumed the language which befitted a lady of her rank. Miss Pink, noticing the change, set it down to an expression of pride on the part of her visitor which, in referring to Isabel, assailed indirectly the social position of Isabel’s aunt.

“I fail entirely to understand what your Ladyship means,” she said coldly.

Lady Lydiard, on her side, looked in undisguised amazement at Miss Pink.

“Haven’t I told you already that Mr. Hardyman admires your niece?” she asked.

“Naturally,” said Miss Pink. “Isabel inherits her lamented mother’s personal advantages. If Mr. Hardyman admires her, Mr. Hardyman shows his good taste.”

Lady Lydiard’s eyes opened wider and wider in wonder. “My good lady!” she exclaimed, “is it possible you don’t know that when a man admires a women he doesn’t stop there? He falls in love with her (as the saying is) next.”

“So I have heard,” said Miss Pink.

“So you have heard? ” repeated Lady Lydiard. “If Mr. Hardyman finds his way to Isabel I can tell you what you will see . Catch the two together, ma’am—and you will see Mr. Hardyman making love to your niece.”

“Under due restrictions, Lady Lydiard, and with my permission first obtained, of course, I see no objection to Mr. Hardyman paying his addresses to Isabel.”

“The woman is mad!” cried Lady Lydiard. “Do you actually suppose, Miss Pink, that Alfred Hardyman could, by any earthly possibility, marry your niece!”

Not even Miss Pink’s politeness could submit to such a question as this. She rose indignantly from her chair. “As you aware, Lady Lydiard, that the doubt you have just expressed is an insult to my niece, and a insult to Me?”

“Are you aware of who Mr. Hardyman really is?” retorted her Ladyship. “Or do you judge of his position by the vocation in life which he has perversely chosen to adopt? I can tell you, if you do, that Alfred Hardyman is the younger son of one of the oldest barons in the English Peerage, and that his mother is related by marriage to the Royal family of Wurtemberg.”

Miss Pink received the full shock of this information without receding from her position by a hair-breadth.

“An English gentlewoman offers a fit alliance to any man living who seeks her hand in marriage,” said Miss Pink. “Isabel’s mother (you may not be aware of it) was the daughter of an English clergyman—”

“And Isabel’s father was a chemist in a country town,” added Lady Lydiard.

“Isabel’s father,” rejoined Miss Pink, “was attached in a most responsible capacity to the useful and honorable profession of Medicine. Isabel is, in the strictest sense of the word, a young gentlewoman. If you contradict that for a single instant, Lady Lydiard, you will oblige me to leave the room.”

Those last words produced a result which Miss Pink had not anticipated—they roused Lady Lydiard to assert herself. As usual in such cases, she rose superior to her own eccentricity. Confronting Miss Pink, she now spoke and looked with the gracious courtesy and the unpresuming self-confidence of the order to which she belonged.

“For Isabel’s own sake, and for the quieting of my conscience,” she answered, “I will say one word more, Miss Pink, before I relieve you of my presence. Considering my age and my opportunities, I may claim to know quite as much as you do of the laws and customs which regulate society in our time. Without contesting your niece’s social position—and without the slightest intention of insulting you—I repeat that the rank which Mr. Hardyman inherits makes it simply impossible for him even to think of marrying Isabel. You will do well not to give him any opportunities of meeting with her alone. And you will do better still (seeing that he is so near a neighbor of yours) if you permit Isabel to return to my protection, for a time at least. I will wait to hear from you when you have thought the matter over at your leisure. In the mean time, if I have inadvertently offended you, I ask your pardon—and I wish you good-evening.”

She bowed, and walked to the door. Miss Pink, as resolute as ever in maintaining her pretensions, made an effort to match the great lady on her own ground.

“Before you go, Lady Lydiard, I beg to apologize if I have spoken too warmly on my side,” she said. “Permit me to send for your carriage.”

“Thank you, Miss Pink. My carriage is only at the village inn. I shall enjoy a little walk in the cool evening air. Mr. Troy, I have no doubt, will give me his arm.” She bowed once more, and quietly left the room.

Reaching the little back garden of the villa, through an open door at the further end of the hall, Lady Lydiard found Tommie rolling luxuriously on Miss Pink’s flower-beds, and Isabel and Mr. Troy in close consultation on the gravel walk.

She spoke to the lawyer first.

“They are baiting the horses at the inn,” she said. “I want your arm, Mr. Troy, as far as the village—and, in return, I will take you back to London with me. I have to ask your advice about one or two little matters, and this is a good opportunity.”

“With the greatest pleasure, Lady Lydiard. I suppose I must say good-by to Miss Pink?”

“A word of advice to you, Mr. Troy. Take care how you ruffle Miss Pink’s sense of her own importance. Another word for your private ear. Miss Pink is a fool.”

On the lawyer’s withdrawal, Lady Lydiard put her arm fondly round Isabel’s waist. “What were you and Mr. Troy so busy in talking about?” she asked.

“We were talking, my Lady, about tracing the person who stole the money,” Isabel answered, rather sadly. “It seems a far more difficult matter than I supposed it to be. I try not to lose patience and hope—but it is a little hard to feel that appearances are against me, and to wait day after day in vain for the discovery that is to set me right.”