Indeed, the Bishop, who had been dismayed at the institution to the family living of another Underwood, and he such a young one, was not a little gratified and surprised at the changes he found going on in Vale Leston—no longer one of the dark hopeless spots of his diocese, though of course the work, both moral and material, was gradual. Felix had done nothing in advance of the means that the great tithes brought into his hands, and had begun with the needful repairs of the cottages on the Rectory property, and the crying needs of Blackstone Gulley; but the Church restoration was gradually going on—the Vicar, Marilda, and John Harewood, all claimed a right to assist, and another year or two of the great tithes would accomplish the full detail of the plan of restoration he had set out with.
Meantime he had made many real friends. The one whom he had reckoned had, however, been disappointing. Captain Audley had exerted himself to leave his cards, but when he had reason to believe no one at home. He was friendly when he encountered Felix, and sometimes on the spur of the moment asked him to dinner; but the ladies he ignored, except that once when Cherry and Angel were driving past his house in a shower, he rushed out and offered an umbrella.
His son, however, soon haunted the Priory, as affording all that home lacked. He was a nice lively lad, dark and brisk, and not the less welcome because there was much to recall the Charles Audley who was striving to bring light to the 'black fellows' of Carrigaboola. He was avowedly Bernard's friend, but he was regularly tame about the house, walking in at all times during his vacations, in a way that could not be grudged to one whose home was so dull. Certainly it was a pleasant house to young men; Wilmet sometimes murmured a little when all Will Harewood's pupils appeared there at luncheon every Sunday of the stay at Penbeacon; and the old ones invariably turned up again, especially Lord Ernest, who had taken a second class and got into a government office, and yet always managed to appear at each Penbeacon pic-nic.
The first shadow which came upon Vale Leston was good Mr. Froggatt's death, a grief really deep to those who owed so much to his kindness. It was a touching thing to see the four fine young men, who looked on him like a kinsman, gathered round his grave. Felix and Lance were far more to the widow than her own nephews; and when married nieces wanted to take her home, and single ones to live with her, she—not without misgivings as to the nature of the attraction—declined all, preferring to face her solitude at Marshlands, in the security that dear Mr. Lancelot would walk out to see her once or twice a week, and that still dearer Mr. Underwood would come out whenever he could.
It ended in Lance doing more than this. He had been a partner ever since he had come to years of discretion, and now found himself the legatee of all Mr. Froggatt's remaining interest in Pursuivant or business. Ernest Lamb had lately lost his father, and having come into possession of a slender capital, was in condition to become one of the house, as indeed he was excellent in whatever regarded the trade, though incapable of more than the most mechanical newspaper work.
The new arrangement of Underwood and Co. had hardly been made than the world was electrified by the announcement of Mr. Lamb's engagement. That Madame Tanneguy had been adored by him ever since her arrival was known to all; but hitherto she had only vouchsafed a distracting smile at long intervals, and had laughed at him with her intimates. Her opportunities were not extensive, but she was as pretty as ever; and she turned the heads of one or two brothers of her pupils, had at one time a promising little flirtation with a sentimental young partner of Mr. Rugg's, and never ceased to dream of an invitation to Vale Leston, which she was quite sure Geraldine alone withheld poor Mr. Underwood from giving. But Gustavus and Achilles were growing rather big for inmates of a young ladies' school, Madame Tanneguy was weary of the drudgery, and no such positive release as Ernest Lamb offered had come in her way. His mother's opposition could be set aside, between coaxing and unwillingness to quarrel; and though he was some years the younger, he did not look it, nor could there be any doubt that he would be the best of husbands, and a kind and conscientious father to the boys; and the aunts, though drawing up their necks a little when they spoke of it in private, could not deny that it was a subject of thankfulness—making their future retirement come within the bounds of possibility.
'Guess the proposal I have had,' quoth Felix, when next he returned from Bexley, and Cherry drove to meet him at the station with the pony she had named Master Ratton, in that sort of tender defiance of painful association found in those who own an exile.
'Eh! You don't look humbly cock-a-hoop, so I gather it was not to stand for the borough.'
'Why don't you say the county at once? No, it was of a less public nature.'
'Oh, then, I know! To give up the house to the happy pair. What? You don't mean that it really was? That beats everything!'