When all the guests had departed, a Sunday calm descended on the Court. Mrs. Horne and Roger De Wolfe, still remained; the former as a support and confidante and comfort to her old friend, fatigued by her recent activities, and greatly shaken by Nancy's adventure,—required someone of her own age, into whose ear she could pour her troubles.
The two old ladies wandered about the green lawns, or sat in the shade together, enjoying what is known, as a "good talk." The chief subject of Mrs. De Wolfe's discourse, was Dudley Villars; that catastrophe had dislocated years of happy friendship. "I had hereto always quoted him, believed in him, and look at what he has done!" Mrs. Horne, an unusually noble-minded woman, never attempted to recall their interview, and her warning at Cadenabbia—merely contenting herself with saying, "I never liked Sir Dudley, or trusted him, my dear; but I thought that perhaps, as you were so fond of him, there must be good in him, which I could not discover."
Whilst these two friends enjoyed one another's society, Roger De Wolfe went round the farms, and coverts, with bailiff and keepers, more as agent, for his cousin, than with the eye of a man inspecting his future possessions! He was, as Mrs. De Wolfe had said, a good, single-minded, stupid fellow,—forty years of age, and still unmarried. Even his best friends were bound to admit that Roger was a bore;—a silent bore,—which is one of the most trying description. The type that sits, and sticks, scarcely speaking,—obviously waiting to be entertained; absorbing ideas, like a great sponge.
Nancy liked Roger; at least he was restful; and when his two chief topics were exhausted,—prize retrievers, and carpentering—she suffered him to, so to speak, "stew in his own juice." They played croquet, and the girls from the Rectory came up and made a set at tennis; but as a rule Nancy spent a good deal of time with herself; lounging in a hammock, dipping into a novel, or sitting on the rustic seat, at the end of the long turf walk. The two old ladies went motoring of an afternoon, and Mrs. De Wolfe expressed her intention of calling on Mrs. Bode and thanking her in person.
"I daresay you will like to come too, Nancy," she said.
"On the contrary, I don't think I could endure to see that house again; no I really couldn't face it! I have already written to Mrs. Bode and sent her a present, and if she offers you a blue bowl, please say that I have changed my mind,—but you need not add, that I do not wish for anything to remind me of her abode."
The day following her visit to Mrs. Bode, Mrs. De Wolfe declared, that she must go and look up Richard Mayne. "I fancy he is feeling rather lonely, now that his nephew has departed, and I'll ask him over on a little visit. I must confess, I was greatly affronted with Derek: rushing out of the house before breakfast,—just as if it had been an hotel; it would have served him right, if I had sent a stiff bill after him! However, I had a nice note from him,—a note of apology, telling me, that he had been unable to wait to see me that morning, as urgent business summoned him to London, and he hoped that I would forgive him? I expect he will be down again, before long, for the partridge shooting, and then I shall give him a piece of my mind, for although I like the boy, I don't hold with these casual manners."
Nancy did not accompany the two ladies, she preferred to take the dogs out, and as she was crossing the hall, Sutton approached her with a solemn face, bearing a note on the salver, and said, "I am very sorry, Miss Travers, but this note was given to me for you just a week ago. It happened at an awkward time, before dinner, the night of that big party. I put it inside the wine book, in my pantry, and forgot all about it until now; such an oversight has never happened to me before; but I hope you will excuse me, miss, knowing what a lot I had on my mind, and so many things to see to. I trust the note is of no consequence,—I see it was written in the house."
Yes—there on the flap of the envelope was "Newenham Court."