“Such a scheme as Sir Brook has discovered!—such an ignoble plot against my poor dear father!” said Lendrick. “Tell her—tell her the whole of it.”
In a very few words Sir Brook recounted the story of Sewell's interview with Balfour, and the incident of the stolen draft of the Judge's writing bartered for money.
“It would have killed my father. The shock would have killed him,” said Lendrick. “And it was this man,—this Sewell,—who possessed his entire confidence of late,—actually wielded complete influence over him. The whole time I sat with my father, he did nothing but quote him,—Sewell said so, Sewell told me, or Sewell suspected such a thing; and always with some little added comment on his keen sharp intellect, his clear views of life, and his consummate knowledge of men. It was by the picture Sewell drew of Lady Trafford that my father was led to derive his impression of her letter. Sewell taught him to detect a covert impertinence and a sneer where none was intended. I read the letter myself, and it was only objectionable on the score of its vanity. She thought herself a very great personage writing to another great personage.”
“Just so,” said Fossbrooke. “It was right royal throughout. It might have begun 'Madame ma soeur.' And as I knew something of the writer, I thought it a marvel of delicacy and discretion.”
“My father, unfortunately, deemed it a piece of intolerable pretension and offensive condescension, and he burned to be well enough to reply to it.”
“Which is exactly what we must not permit. If they once get to a regular interchange of letters, there is nothing they will not say to each other. No, no; my plan is the best of all. Lionel made a most favorable impression the only time Sir William saw him. Beattie shall bring him up here again as soon as the Chief can be about: the rest will follow naturally. Lucy agrees with me, I see.”
How Sir Brook knew this is not so easy to say, as Lucy had turned her head away persistently all the time he was speaking, and still continued in that attitude.
“It cannot be to-night, however, and possibly not tomorrow night,” said Fossbrooke, musing; and though Lucy turned quickly and eagerly towards him to explain his words, he was silent for some minutes, when at length he said, “Lionel started this morning by daybreak, and for England. It must have been a sudden thought. He left me a few lines, in pencil, which went thus,—'I take the early mail to Holyhead, but mean to be back to-morrow, or at farthest the day after. No time for more.'”
“If the space were not brief that he assigns for his absence, I 'd say he had certainly gone to see his father,” said Lendrick.
“It's not at all unlikely that his mother may have arranged to meet him in Wales,” said Sir Brook. “She is a fussy, meddlesome woman, who likes to be, or to think herself, the prime mover in everything. I remember when Hugh Trafford—a young fellow at that time—was offered a Junior Lordship of the Treasury, it was she who called on the Premier, Lord Dornington, to explain why he could not accept office. Nothing but great abilities or great vices enable a man to rise above the crushing qualities of such a wife. Trafford had neither, and the world has always voted him a nonentity.”