“Why so proud and particular? They won’t all be Miss Parretts!”
“Oh, you women are so irregular, unpunctual, and undecided—yes, and nervous. Even Miss Susan clawed me by the arm when we took a sharp turn.”
“I hope the next year will fly,” said Sir Martin; “I tried my hand on your uncle, you know—did Leila tell you? I have got him to make it eighteen months hard labour—and eighteen months it is.”
“No! I say—that is splendid news! How awfully good of you!”
“I fancy he’s a little bit indulgent now; he finds that you can stick it, and have brought such a magnificent character.”
“Profound regrets,” supplemented Leila, “if not tears. Ah, here is dinner! I don’t suppose you’ve dined since you were here in April; come along, Owen, we are quite alone, and let us drink your health.”
Two days later Wynyard saw his sister and her husband off from Euston by the White Star Express, and felt that his holiday—his breathing time, was over. He must get into harness at once. His one hope, as he wandered about the streets, was that he might catch sight of Aurea. By all accounts, she was staying in Eaton Place; more than once he walked over there, and strolled up and down on the opposite side, and gazed at No. 303 as if he would see through the walls. But it was no use—telepathy sometimes fails; Aurea never appeared, and, had she done so—though he was not aware of the sad fact—she would not have vouchsafed the smallest notice of her aunts’ former employé.
The daily post brought several replies to Owen’s advertisements. When he had looked through and sorted them, he found that, after all, the most tempting was from a woman—a certain Mrs. Cavendish Foote, whose address was Rockingham Mansions, S.W.
The lady announced that she required a really smart, experienced chauffeur for town—she had a new Renault car; he would have to live out, and she offered him four guineas a week, and to find himself in clothes and minor repairs. She wrote from Manchester. He replied, forwarding his references, and she engaged him by telegram, saying she would be back in London the following day, when he was to enter her service, and call to interview her.
It seemed to him that this was good enough! He would rather like a job in town for a change—the more particularly as Aurea and her father were staying with General Morven in Eaton Place, and now and then he might obtain a glimpse of her! He glanced through the other letters before finally making up his mind; one was from a nobleman in the north of Scotland, who lived thirty miles from a railway station. He thought of the bitter Scotch winters, and how he would be cut off from all society but that of the servants’ hall; no, that was no good. Another was from a lady who was going on tour to the south of France and Italy. The terms she offered were low, and she preferred as chauffeur, a married man. There were several others, but on the whole the situation in London seemed to be the best. He debated as to whether he should put on his chauffeur clothes or not, but decided against it, and, hailing a taxi-cab, found himself at Rockingham Mansions in ten minutes.