It suited her to deny all knowledge, thinking it strengthened her position.
"That would be quite useless. The claims of the next heir are perfectly sound."
"It is sheer robbery! It is scandalous, outrageous! I will go and see Lord Essendine myself."
"Pardon me, madam; I fear that is out of the question. He is in Scotland, living in retirement. Lady Essendine's health has failed greatly under recent afflictions."
"He must and shall know how I am situated."
"You may trust me to tell him, madam, at once; and, although I have no right to pledge his lordship, I think I can safely say that he will meet you in a liberal spirit."
So it proved. Lord Essendine, after a short interval, wrote himself to Mrs. Wilders a civil, courtly letter, in which he promised her a handsome allowance, with a substantial sum in cash down to furnish a house and make herself a home.
Although still bitterly dissatisfied with her lot, she was now not only fortified against indigence, but could count on a life of comfort and ease. She established herself in a snug villa down Brompton way—a small house with a pretty garden, of the kind now fast disappearing from what was then a near suburb of the town. It was well mounted; she kept several servants, a neat brougham, and an excellent cook.
There she prepared to wait events, trusting that Russian bullet or Benito's Spanish knife might yet rid her of the one obstacle that still stood between her son and the inheritance of great wealth.
It was with a distinct annoyance, then, while leading this tranquil but luxurious life, that her man-servant brought in a card one afternoon, bearing the name of Hobson, and said, "The gentleman hopes you will be able to see him at once."