“So far from that,” said Georgina, warmly, “he told me Bernais did everything—engaged and discharged servants, changed furniture, rearranged rooms, and, in fact, managed little daily ‘surprises’ for him, that, as he said, compensated for much of the solitude in which he lived.”
“But why does he live in solitude? Why not go back to the life and the places that habit has endeared to him?”
“He told me to-day that he intended to do so; that he is only waiting for the visit of a certain relative, Mr. Ladarelle; after which he means to set out for Italy.”
“Ladarelle is the great banker, and, if I mistake not, his heir.” “Yes. Sir Within says that they scarcely know each other, and have all that dislike and distrust that usually separate the man in possession and the man in expectancy.”
“One can fancy how distasteful his heir must be to a man like Sir Within Wardle,” said Lady Vyner.
“To any man, sister,” broke in Georgina—“to any man who only knows the person as the inheritor of his fortune. I declare I think Sir Within spoke of the Ladarelles with much forbearance, aware, as he is, that they are coming down here to see in what state of repair the castle is, and whether the oaks are being thinned more actively than a mere regard for their welfare would exact.”
“Did Sir Within say that?” asked Lady Vyner, with a laugh. “No; but I guessed it!” “Well, he supplied the text for your theory?” “In a measure, perhaps. It was when you went with Groves to look at the large cactus he told me this, and mentioned that, by a singular provision, though the estate is strictly entailed, he could charge the property to any extent with jointure if he married; and perhaps, said he, my worthy relatives are anxious to satisfy themselves that this event has not, nor is very likely to occur.”
“Not now, certainly?” said Lady Vyner, with a saucy laugh. “I don’t know. There are many women well to do, and well off, would marry him.”
“That is to say, there are a considerable number of women who would sacrifice much for money.”
Miss Courtenay was silent; when she next spoke, it was about the evening—the air was growing fresh, and the twilight deepening. “I wonder in what mood we are to find Mr. M’Kinlay—if we are to find him at all.”