CHAPTER VIII.
The Decision
THE duke returned rather late from Bellamont, and went immediately to his dressing-room. A few minutes before dinner the duchess knocked at his door and entered. She seemed disconcerted, and reminded him, though with great gentleness, that he had gone out to-day without first bidding her adieu; she really believed it was the only time he had done so since their marriage. The duke, who, when she entered, anticipated something about their son, was relieved by her remark, embraced her, and would have affected a gaiety which he did not really feel.
‘I am glad to hear that Brace dines here to-day, Kate, for I particularly wanted to see him.’
The duchess did not reply, and seemed absent; the duke, to say something, tying his cravat, kept harping upon Brace.
‘Never mind Brace, George,’ said the duchess; ‘tell me what is this about Tancred? Why is his coming into Parliament put off?’
The duke was perplexed; he wished to know how far at this moment his wife was informed upon the matter; the feminine frankness of the duchess put him out of suspense. ‘I have been walking with Tancred,’ she continued, ‘and intimated, but with great caution, all our plans and hopes. I asked him what he thought of his cousin; he agrees with us she is by far the most charming girl he knows, and one of the most agreeable. I impressed upon him how good she was. I wished to precipitate nothing. I never dreamed of their marrying until late in the autumn. I wished him to become acquainted with his new life, which would not prevent him seeing a great deal of Katherine in London, and then to visit them in Ireland, as you visited us, George; and then, when I was settling everything in the most delightful manner, what he was to do when he was kept up very late at the House, which is the only part I don’t like, and begging him to be very strict in making his servant always have coffee ready for him, very hot, and a cold fowl too, or something of the sort, he tells me, to my infinite astonishment, that the vacancy will not immediately occur, that he is not sorry for it, as he thinks it may be as well that he should go abroad. What can all this mean? Pray tell me; for Tancred has told me nothing, and, when I pressed him, waived the subject, and said we would all of us consult together.’
‘And so we will, Kate,’ said the duke, ‘but hardly at this moment, for dinner must be almost served. To be brief,’ he added, speaking in a light tone, ‘there are reasons which perhaps may make it expedient that Hungerford should not resign at the present moment; and as Tancred has a fancy to travel a little, it may be as well that we should take it into consideration whether he might not profitably occupy the interval in this manner.’
‘Profitably!’ said the duchess. ‘I never can understand how going to Paris and Rome, which young men always mean when they talk of travelling, can be profitable to him; it is the very thing which, all my life, I have been endeavouring to prevent. His body and his soul will be both imperilled; Paris will destroy his constitution, and Rome, perhaps, change his faith.’
‘I have more confidence in his physical power and his religious principle than you, Kate,’ said the duke, smiling. ‘But make yourself easy on these heads; Tancred told me this morning that he had no wish to visit either Rome or Paris.’