Then she wheeled upon her maid.
“Now, Lydia,” ordered she, “you are not to show your nose till I bid you. I’ll not have you poking it into my arrangements. It’s a deal too sharp and fond of prying, as it is. Ay, I do expect your niece and Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs. And, no, I haven’t told you anything about it. I’m to manage this business or I wash my hands of it. If you goggle your eyes any more, Lydia, they will drop out! Nay, I will not permit you a word with Pamela. Nay, not so much as a look at her. You will keep to your premises till I ring my bell.”
Lydia tossed her head a good deal, and was sure she was very grateful to her Ladyship. And no one could accuse her of wanting to interfere, Heaven knew! And, as for looking at that creature’s bold face again till she was an honest woman, it was enough for her the last time. Heaven was her witness that she’d had a queasiness at the pit of the stomach ever since!
Having issued her instructions, Kitty sailed downstairs, turned the astonished Kilcroney out of his library, which had, she considered, a more judicial appearance than the gold-and-white drawing-room, ordered my Lord, in the determined tone which he never resisted, to his club till dinner-time; rang for a couple of footmen to remove my Lord’s tankard, pipe and other witnesses of loose living from the premises, and sat herself down in a large leather arm-chair to await the sinners.
Three had not yet struck from the grandfather clock in the corner when Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs was announced. He entered with rather less of the conquering air than was his wont. No doubt a very handsome youth, and vastly improved in manners, thought Kitty, noting the exact depth of his bow and the decorous air of homage with which he kissed her extended hand. Attired, too, with a quiet elegance, which, considering that the hand he saluted was the one which had frequently paid his tailor, was, my Lady considered, well chosen.
“Pray sit down, Nephew Jocelyn. I am glad to see you.”
When she had resumed her position in the seat of justice, and he had deferentially placed himself in a high-backed chair—a little too near her, she thought, for proper respect, but some slight familiarity might be pardoned to a relative—he looked at her interrogatively, and there ensued a silence.
It was not Kitty’s policy to put him at his ease by small talk; rather, indeed, through a certain measured severity, to awaken stirs of conscience. And as now his fine brown orbs took the inward roll which she knew betokened self-searching, she kept an immovable countenance, looking down at her brocade lap and smoothing a fold here and there with delicate, be-ringed fingers. She had considerable knowledge of the world, this spoilt, pretty child of fortune!
“I’ll wager,” thought she, “he’s counting up his debts, and wondering which I’ve heard of, and never giving a thought to his horrid immorality.”
Mr. Bellairs cleared his throat, glanced uneasily at his hostess, began a sentence on the subject of the weather, broke off in the middle and said, with a plunge: