She would not go near her mother, lest she should give her aunt the pleasure of hearing where he was gone; but as she was coming down, dressed for dinner, she met her father in the hall, uneasily asking a servant whether Mr. Martindale was come.
‘Arthur’s wife has sent him with a message to Rickworth,’ she said.
‘John? You don’t mean it. You have not seen him?’
‘No; he went round that way, and sent Brown home. He said he should be here by dinner-time, but it is very late. Is it not a strange proceeding of hers, to be sending him about the country!’
‘I don’t understand it. Where’s Brown?’
‘Here’s a fly coming up the avenue. He is come at last.’
Lord Martindale hastened down the steps; Theodora came no further than the door, in so irritated a state that she did not like John’s cheerful alacrity of step and greeting. ‘She is up to-day, she is getting better,’ were the first words she heard. ‘Well, Theodora, how are you?’ and he kissed her with more warmth than she returned.
‘Did I hear you had been to Rickworth?’ said his father.
‘Yes; I sent word by Brown. Poor Violet is still so weak that she cannot write, and the Brandons have been anxious about her; so she asked me to let them know how she was, if I had the opportunity, and I came round that way. I wanted to know when they go to London; for though Arthur is as attentive as possible, I don’t think Violet is in a condition to be left entirely to him. When do you go?’
‘Not till the end of May—just before the drawing-room,’ said Lord Martindale.