‘Don’t say that,’ exclaimed Phœbe, rallying. ‘It must be something shocking, for Sir Bevil thinks so too,’ and the tears sprang forth.
‘He will never think anything unkind of you, my dear,’ said Miss Fennimore, with emphasis.
‘It must be about Mr. Hastings!’ said Phœbe, gathering recollection and confidence. ‘I did not like to tell you yesterday, but I had a letter from poor Lucy Sandbrook. Some friends of that man, Mr. Hastings, have set it about that he is going to be married to me!’ and Phœbe laughed outright. ‘If Juliana has heard it, I don’t wonder that she is shocked, because you know Miss Charlecote said it would never do for me to associate with those gentlemen, and besides, Lucy says that he is a very bad man. I shall write to Juliana, and say that I have never had anything to do with him, and he is going away to-morrow, and Mervyn must be told not to have him back again. That will set it all straight at Acton Manor.’
Phœbe was quite herself again. She was too well accustomed to gratuitous unkindness and reproaches from Juliana to be much hurt by them, and perceiving, as she thought, where the misconception lay, had no fears that it would not be cleared up. So when she had carefully written her letter to her sister, she dismissed the subject until she should be able to lay it before Miss Charlecote, dwelling more on Honor’s pleasure on hearing of Lucy than on the more personal matter.
Miss Fennimore, looking over the letter, had deeper misgivings. It seemed to her rather to be a rebuke for the whole habit of life than a warning against an individual, and she began to doubt whether even the seclusion of the west wing had been a sufficient protection in the eyes of the family from the contamination of such society as Mervyn received. Or was it a plot of Lady Acton’s malevolence for hunting Phœbe away from her home? Miss Fennimore fell asleep, uneasy and perplexed, and in her dreams beheld Phœbe as the Lady in Comus, fixed in her chair and resolute against a cup effervescing with carbonic
acid gas, proffered by Jack Hastings, who thereupon gave it to Bertha, as she lay back in the dentist’s chair, and both becoming transformed into pterodactyles, flew away while Miss Fennimore was vainly trying to summon the brothers by electric telegraph.
There was a whole bevy of letters for Phœbe the following morning, and first a kind sensible one from her guardian, much regretting to learn that Mr. Fulmort’s guests were undesirable inmates for a house where young ladies resided, so that, though he had full confidence in Miss Fulmort’s discretion, and understood that she had never associated with the persons in question, he thought her residence at home ought to be reconsidered, and should be happy to discuss the point on coming to Beauchamp, so soon as he should have recovered from an unfortunate fit of the gout, which at present detained him in town. Miss Fulmort might, however, be assured that her wishes should be his chief consideration, and that he would take care not to separate her from Miss Maria.
That promise, and the absence of all mention of Lucilla’s object of dread, gave Phœbe courage to open the missive from her eldest sister.
‘My dear Phœbe,
‘I always told you it would never answer, and you see I was right. If Mervyn will invite that horrid man, whatever you may do, no one will believe that you do not associate with him, and you may never get over it. I am telling everybody what children you are, quite in the schoolroom, but nothing will be of any use but your coming away at once, and appearing in society with me, so you had better send the children to Acton Manor, and come to me next week. If there are any teal in the decoy bring some, and ask Mervyn where he got that Barton’s dry champagne.
‘Your affectionate sister,
‘Augusta Bannerman.’
She had kept Robert’s letter to the last, as refreshment after the rest.