“Well, Kitty, I have had a good many heartaches all winter about my girl. And I have made up my mind, if I die for it, that there shall be no more whispering and wondering about your relationship to Piers Exham. Now don’t fret till you know you have a reason. Piers has a deal of power over the Duke. He will win his way–if he wants to win it. Then I will have a business talk with both men, and your engagement and marriage will be square and above-board, and no nodding and winking and shrugging about it. You are Kate Atheling, and I will not have you sought in any by-way. Before God, I will not! Cry, if you must. But I think better of you.”
“Oh, Mother! Mother! Mother!”
“Yes! you and your mother have brought all this on, with your ‘let things alone, be happy to-day, and to-morrow will take care of itself’ ways. If you were a milk-maid, that plan might do; but a girl with your lineage has to look behind and before; she can’t live for herself and herself only.”
“I wish I was a milk-maid!”
“To be sure. Let me have the lover I want, and my father, and my mother, and my brother, and my home, and all that are behind me, and all that are to come after, and all honour, and all gratitude, and all decent affection can go to the devil!” and with these words, the Squire lifted his hat, and went passionately out of the room.
Though he had given Kate the hope that Piers would influence his father, he had no such expectation. There was a very strained political feeling between the Duke and himself; and, apart from that, the Squire had failed to win any social liking from the Richmoors. He was so independent; he thought so much of the Athelings, and was so indifferent to the glory of the Richmoors. He had also strong opinions of all kinds, and did not scruple to express them; and private opinions are just the one thing not wanted and not endurable in society. In fact, the Duke and Duchess had both been subject to serious relentings for having any alliance, either political or social, with their opinionated, domineering neighbour.
And Piers, driven by the anguish of his unexpected calamity, went into his father’s presence without any regard to favourable circumstances. Previously he had considered them too much; now he gave them no consideration at all. The Duke had premonitory symptoms of an attack of gout; and the Duchess had just told him that her brother Lord Francis Gower was going to Germany, and that she had decided to accompany his party. “Annabel looks ill,” she added; “the season has been too much for a girl so emotional; and as for myself, I am thoroughly worn out.”
“I do not like separating Piers and Annabel,” answered the Duke. “They have just become confidential and familiar; and in the country too, where Miss Atheling will have everything in her favour!”
“Annabel is resolved to go abroad. She says she detests England. You had better make the best of the inevitable, Duke. I shall want one thousand pounds.”
“I cannot spare a thousand pounds. My expenses have been very great this past winter.”