Lassigny was one of those men who appear very English when they are in England and very French when they are in France. He was a handsome man, getting on in the thirties. He had been attached to the French Embassy in London, but had inherited wealth from an American mother, and had relinquished a diplomatic career to enjoy himself, now in Paris, now in London, and sometimes even in his fine château in Picardy, which had been saved for him by his mother's dollars. It was supposed that he was looking out for an English wife, if he could find one to his taste, but his pursuit during many visits to England spread over some years had not been very arduous. He had danced a good deal with Caroline during her two seasons; and her aunt, who had taken her about, as she now took Beatrix, had rather expected that something might come of it. Caroline had always thought she knew better. Her virginal indifference to the approaches of men had not prevented her from appreciating the signs of special devotion, and she had seen none in Lassigny. He had been very friendly, and she liked the friendship of men. It would hardly have been too much to say of her, at the age of twenty-one, and after two full seasons and the months of country house visiting that had passed with them, that she was still in the schoolgirl state of thinking that anything approaching love-making 'spoilt things.' She was rather too experienced to hold that view in its entirety, but it was hers in essence; she had never wanted the signs of attraction in any man to go beyond the point at which they made agreeable the friendship. It was the friendship she liked; the love that might be lurking beneath it she was not ready for, though it might add a spice to the friendship if it were suspected but did not obtrude itself.
It had been so with Francis Parry. They were very good friends, and he admired her; that she knew well enough. But she did not want him to make it too plain. If he had done so she would have had to bethink herself, and she did not want to do that. With Lassigny she had not felt like that. He was older than Francis, and more interesting. Young men of Francis's age and upbringing were so much alike; you knew exactly what to talk to them about, and it was always the same. But Lassigny, in spite of his English appearance and English tastes, had other experiences, and to talk to him was to feel them even if they were not expressed. He had his own way of behaving too, which was not quite the same as that of a young Englishman. It was a trifle more formal and ceremonious. Caroline had the idea that he was watching her, and as it were experimenting with her, under the guise of the pleasant intimacy that had grown up between them. If she proved to be what he wanted he might offer her marriage, perhaps before he should have taken any steps towards wooing her. It was interesting, even a little thrilling, to be on the edge of that unknown. But, unless he was quite unlike other men who had come within her experience, the impulsion from within had not come to him, after two years. She would have known if it had, or thought she would.
The Whitsuntide party mixed well. There were bridges in this family between youth and age, or middle-age; for Sir James Grafton, who was the oldest of them all, was not much over fifty, though he looked older. He was fond of his nieces, and they of him, and he did not feel the loss of his laboratory so acutely when he was in their company. Lord Handsworth was also a banker—a busy bustling man who put as much energy into his amusements as into his work. He was the only one of the party for whom it was quite necessary to provide outside occupation. Fortunately that was to be found on the Sandthorpe links, and he spent his three days there, with whoever was willing to accompany him. The rest 'sat about' in the gorgeous summer weather, played lawn games, went for walks and rides and drives, and enjoyed themselves in a lotus-eating manner. And in the evenings they assembled in the long gallery, played bridge and music, talked and laughed, and even read; for there was room enough in it for Sir James to get away with a book, and enjoy seclusion at the same time as company.
Such parties as these make for intimacy. On Monday evening there was scarcely a member of it who did not feel some faint regret at the breaking up that was to come on the next morning, unless it was Lord Handsworth, who had exhausted the novelty of the Sandthorpe links. Worthing had come to dine, but the only other outside guest had been Bertie Pemberton. It was near midsummer, for Easter had been late that year. Most of them were in the garden, sitting in the yew arbour, or strolling about under a sky of spangled velvet.
Francis Parry was with Caroline. He had been with her a good deal during the last three days, and their friendship had taken a deeper tinge. She was a little troubled about it, and it was not by her wish that he and she found themselves detached from the group with which they had set out to stroll through the gardens.
They had all gone together as far as the lily pond. This was a new bit of garden-planning on a somewhat extensive scale; for Grafton had lost no time in taking up this fascinating country pursuit, and Caroline had busied herself over its carrying out. It was actually an entirely new garden of considerable size carved out of the park. The stone-built lily pond was finished, the turf laid, the borders dug and filled, the yews planted. It had been a fascinating work to carry out, but it had had to be done in a hurry at that time of the year, and hardly as yet gave any of the impression that even a winter's passing would have foreshadowed. It was led up to by a broad flagged path, and when the company had reached the pond most of them turned back and left it again.
But Francis Parry seemed more interested in it than the rest, and stayed where he was, asking questions of Caroline, who had answered most of them during earlier visits.
"I suppose this is really what has kept you down here, isn't it," he asked, "when you ought to have been amusing yourself in London?"
She laughed, and said: "I amuse myself better down here. I love being in the country. I don't miss London a bit?'
"I like the country too," he said, "even in the summer."