“And what then?” I inquired perversely, assuming a languid manner. “I don’t suppose he will have any particular objection to a grey dress more than anybody else.”
“But, Kitty, you don’t understand, he is an earl, and he has never been here before; and of course we must all look our best. You know what an earl is, I suppose?”
“I hope so,” I replied grimly; “but I am obliged to ask who this particular earl is, to have so much fuss made over him.”
“Why, Lord Westbrook—the patron of uncle Armytage’s living, and the squire of Westbrook. His seat is within a mile or two of the rectory. He met uncle Armytage quite unexpectedly at his club this afternoon, and your father was there too, and it seems he has known your father before, though I’m sure I’m puzzled to see how. And while they were talking together papa joined them, and somehow it ended in papa asking him to come and dine with us to-night. And he said he would. He is only in London for a few days; he is on his way to fetch Lady Westbrook home. She has been in Rome, and he has been—I don’t know where—travelling about by himself.”
“Rather a singular arrangement between married people,” said I, at which they both giggled in an ecstasy of amusement, and then informed me that Lady Westbrook was his mother, and that he had as yet no wife.
“That is what surprises everybody,” said Bella; “for he is not so very young.”
“What is he like?” I inquired, beginning to feel interested.
They had never seen him, they replied; all they knew was that he was very grand, and very rich, and very fond of going about the world; that he had a big house in Grosvenor Square, and great shootings in Scotland, and a lovely yacht, and racing stables, and a coach, and a perfect national gallery of pictures. As it happened he possessed none of these things, barring the house, which was let to strangers more often than not. He had an encumbered estate, which had been at nurse since the death of a gambling father a few years before; and he was no more “grand” than other people, and perhaps not so much. There was some truth in the pictures, about which my cousins were coolly and disparagingly critical, having heard that they represented modern schools that either were out of fashion, or had never come in. I was quite sure that they did not know one old master from another, any more than I did; but I did not say so; and it did not in the least matter to me whether Lord Westbrook’s taste in art was orthodox or not.
“Now, Bella,” said Bertha, jumping up, “we really must go and dress. I have my hair to curl all over again, and so have you. And, Kitty, make yourself nice, and put on your emeralds, for the credit of the family, there’s a dear. And don’t fret yourself any more about that Star and Garter business. I don’t suppose you met anybody we knew, and, if you did, they’ll remember you have just come from Australia, and make allowances.”
With which well-meant effort to console and encourage me, they hurried away to their rooms; and Eleanor, always more than punctual, presently came to me, ready dressed, with her gloves and handkerchief in her hand.