Phœbe’s certainty made Robert catch something of her hopes.
‘In that case,’ he said, ‘matters might be soon settled. This fortune of mine would be no misfortune then; and probably, Phœbe, my sisters would have no objection to your being happy with us.’
‘As soon as you could get a curacy! Oh, how delightful! and Maria and Bertha would come too.’
Robert held his peace, not certain whether Lucilla would consider Maria an embellishment to his ideal parsonage; but they talked on with cheerful schemes while descending through the wood, unlocking a gate that formed the boundary between the Holt and the Beauchamp properties, crossing a field or two, and then coming out into the park. Presently they were in sight of the house, rising darkly before them, with many lights shining in the windows behind the blinds.
‘They are all gone up-stairs!’ said Phœbe, dismayed. ‘How late it must be!’
‘There’s a light in the smoking-room,’ said Robert; ‘we can get in that way.’
‘No, no! Mervyn may have some one with him. Come in quietly by the servants’ entrance.’
No danger that people would not be on foot there! As the brother and sister moved along the long stone passage, fringed with labelled bells, one open door showed two weary maidens
still toiling over the plates of the late dinner; and another, standing ajar, revealed various men-servants regaling themselves; and words and tones caught Robert’s ear making his brow lower with sudden pain.
Phœbe was proceeding to mount the stone stairs, when a rustling and chattering, as of maids descending, caused her and her brother to stand aside to make way, and down came a pair of heads and candles together over a green bandbox, and then voices in vulgar tones half suppressed. ‘I couldn’t venture it, not with Miss Juliana—but Miss Fulmort—she never looks over her bills, nor knows what is in her drawers—I told her it was faded, when she had never worn it once!’