"O dear, yes, of course. It's my dressing-room furniture. I hate that walnut-wood, it looks so brittle; and I was quite delighted with Lady Kilmantan's rooms; so I am going to have just the same. They will be charming, with a conservatory and an aviary thrown out on the western side--just the aspect, you know."
"But your present conservatory is a splendid one, Kate, to say nothing of your acre of glass at the gardens."
"But I don't care for that great show thing; I want one of my own, that no one can go into except I specially invite them, and where I can choose the flowers myself, and put common flowers in if I please, and not be dictated to by the gardeners. See, here are the plans; charming, are they not? Here's to be a delicious little fountain, and the floor is to be white marble."
"Very pretty, Kate; but also very expensive. Don't think me intrusive, dear, or impertinent, if I say again I think you spend a very great deal of money. Mr. Streightley is very rich, I believe; do you know how rich?"
"N-not exactly," said Kate hesitatingly. "I know nothing about his income, except that he tells me to do just as I like. People talk of him to me as a 'City magnate,' and as if there were no end to his money."
"Have you any idea how much you spend yourself, Kate, in a year?"
"No, I have not. Every thing of this kind"--and she waved her hand, to indicate the room in which they were sitting, with its luxurious appointments--"Mr. Streightley arranges for. I have nothing to do with money except for my private expenses, dress, and that; and I have not had any bills yet."
"I fancy they will surprise you when they arrive, Kate. But if Mr. Streightley has said nothing, I am perhaps taking fright unnecessarily." And then Mrs. Stanbourne rather abruptly turned the conversation to her approaching departure from England. She was to winter at Rome with her daughter and her son-in-law; and she and Katharine indulged in talking about a proposed plan for the Streightleys joining the party there. It did very well to talk about, if nothing more came of it; and the vague prospect softened the pain with which Katharine bade her friend adieu a few days later.
The alterations at Middlemeads went on briskly, and, like all alterations, exhibited a tendency to extend their scope and increase their variety. The dull wintry weather had come now, and the comfort of the luxurious house was somewhat interfered with by the presence of workmen and the disarrangement of some of the rooms. Under a momentary impression created by what Mrs. Stanbourne had said, Katharine had spoken to her husband about the cost of her intended improvements, which had now extended far beyond the narrow sphere of her own apartments. It was the first time the subject of money had been mooted between them; and Katharine's manner was slightly constrained, her pride slightly touched. She shrank from the least possibility of a rebuke, from the shade of an imputation that she had interpreted the carte-blanche which her husband had given her too liberally. A different and more painful kind of embarrassment possessed Robert; and his over-eagerness to hide it from his wife, his stern resolution to carry out to the letter the tacit contract between them, induced him to reassure her with so much vehemence, that Katharine never gave the subject another thought, but plunged into her plans with fresh vigour and heedless extravagance.
Mrs. Streightley found the distance from London inconvenient, when each day required her to pronounce a judgment upon some new pattern in furniture or hangings, or to decide for or against some piece of virtù or ornament of a rare and costly description. The season was dull down in Buckinghamshire; and though London was in a certain sense, the fashionable one, dull also, it would at least offer that dear delight to all who lead such lives as hers--a change. So she assented very gladly to a proposition which Robert made to her at the beginning of November, that they should remove to the house in Portland Place for a month. The reason he assigned for this arrangement, on his own part, was the plea of "business," which Katharine never inquired into; and in a few days, with the ease and celerity with which rich people make even the most out-of-the-way arrangements, Katharine found herself settled in her town-house, if not with all the luxury and completeness of "the season," in very perfect comfort. She had not thought it necessary to apprise Mr. Guyon of her intention of coming up to town; nor did she let him know immediately that she had done so. On the second afternoon after her arrival in London she called at his house, but without any expectation of finding him at home. She was, however, shown into the dingy dining-room--more dingy than ever; and there her father joined her after a few minutes. He expressed all the fit and appropriate sentiments on beholding her, with his usual fluency; but he did not express surprise quite successfully. This did not strike Katharine at the time; but as she drove back to Portland Place, having invited her father to dinner on the following day, she thought of it, and felt sure that he had not been surprised,--in fact, that he knew she was in town.