Mrs. Houghton at once saw that the field was open to her. She had ventured a good deal, and, knowing the man, had felt the danger of doing so; but she
was satisfied now that she might say almost anything. "But one is bound to think, isn't one? Don't you feel that? It is for the whole family that you have to act."
"What is to be done? I can't go and look up evidence."
"But a paid agent can. Think of Mary. Think of Mary's child,—if she should have one." As she said this she looked rather anxiously into his face, being desirous of receiving an answer to a question which she did not quite dare to ask.
"Of course there's all that," he said, not answering the question.
"I can only just remember him though papa knew him so well. But I suppose he has lived abroad till he has ceased to think and feel like an Englishman. Could anyone believe that a Marquis of Brotherton would have married a wife long enough ago to have a son over twelve months old, and never to have said a word about it to his brother or mother? I don't believe it."
"I don't know what to believe," said Lord George.
"And then to write in such a way about the house! Of course I hear it talked of by people who won't speak before you; but you ought to know."
"What do people say?"
"Everybody thinks that there is some fraud. There is old Mrs. Montacute Jones,—I don't know anybody who knows everything better than she does,—and she was saying that you would be driven by your duty to investigate the matter. 'I daresay he'd prefer to do nothing,' she said, 'but he must.' I felt that to be so true! Then Mr. Mildmay, who is so very quiet, said that there would be a lawsuit. Papa absolutely laughed at the idea of the boy being Lord Popenjoy, though he was always on good terms with your brother. Mr. Houghton says that nobody in society will give the child the name. Of course he's not very bright, but on matters like that he does know what he's talking about. When I hear all this I feel it a great deal, Lord George."