Georgie did not hear this last remark. She was hurrying as quickly as she could towards her own room; and on reaching it she flung herself on a sofa, and burst into tears.
It was the custom at Redmoor to assemble previous to the announcement of dinner in the library,--a large room, rather solemn with its dark oak bookcases, and when lighted only by two or three moderator-lamps, placed on small tables. Such was Sir Charles's whim; he had a notion that the removal from darkness to light awoke a corresponding cheerfulness; and though it had been often combated by Georgie, on this occasion she was grateful for any respite from the public gaze, and every opportunity of recovering her wonted calmness. Clang! goes the gong. "Dinner is served." Through the indistinct gloom Mrs. Hammond is seen sailing away on the arm of Sir Charles. Alsager has the widow for his companion, and feels a thrill run up his coat-sleeve, to which the arm within his coat-sleeve does not respond. There are officers from the garrison, who file off with the Tyrrell girls and with the young ladies, members of the neighbouring families; and the procession is closed by Lady Mitford, escorted by Lord Dollamore, who takes the opportunity of saying, "Charming woman Mrs. Hammond; so frank, ingenuous, and open! So devoted to her poor invalid husband--don't you think so?" And when Lady Mitford responds, "Yes, O yes, quite so," Lord Dollamore lifts the ivory crutch-handle of his Malacca cane to his mouth, and seems whispering to it untellable jokes.
The dinner was very good; but that was more due to Bligh than to any one else, even to Lady Mitford. The chef who had been let to the Mitfords with the house in Eaton Place had stuck to his bargain, and refused to go into the country. He had his club, his menus plaisirs, and he declined to leave them. So the jolly Captain looked about, took Mrs. Austin the housekeeper into confidence, and found out from her that there was a woman who had lived as kitchen-maid in the first families, and who had always thought of bettering herself, but never had the chance, and was then at Sir John Rumbold's, hard by. This person was fetched over, and directed to try her prentice-hand at cooking a steak and a potato for Captain Bligh, that achievement being, as he opined, the great touchstone of the culinary art; and having been thoroughly successful, she was borrowed for a few days and further tried, and finally engaged. The dinner was so good that every one enjoyed it, even poor Percy Hammond, who had roused himself sufficiently to come to table, and whose eyes brightened under the influence of a bottle of the celebrated old Madeira placed at his side. It was not the old Madeira which caused Mrs. Hammond's eyes to brighten, but they had never shone more brilliantly, and her spirits had never been higher. She talked incessantly, addressing her conversation chiefly to her host, on whose right hand she was seated.
"I suppose you have some charming old places about here, Sir Charles?--abbeys, and ruins, and castles," said she after a pause.
"I daresay there are, but as I have only just come here, you know, I can't say. Major Maxse, no doubt, can tell you; they've been quartered in the neighbourhood for the last twelve months, and know every inch of it.--Maxse, Mrs. Hammond asks whether there are any old ruins, castles, abbeys, that sort of thing, in the neighbourhood. I tell her she should inquire of you, a the likeliest person to know."
Major Maxse, the gentleman addressed, a good-looking middle-aged man, replied, "Well, I really think I might earn an honest livelihood by setting up as guide to this region. Though we've been here little more than a twelvemonth, I've been so horribly bored that I think I have explored every nook and corner of the country within a circle of fifty miles; and I am very happy to tell Mrs. Hammond that there are all sorts of ruins for her to choose from, with all sorts of architecture, and all sorts of legends attached. For example, there's Egremont Priory."
"That's Boscastle's place, isn't it?" said Lord Dollamore, from the other end of the table; "who made the legend about that? one of the family probably; for there never was a Boscastle yet who was known to speak truth, even by accident."
"First-rate place for wild-ducks," said Major Winton: "don't send any confounded picnic people there, Maxse; they'll scare the birds."
"Even at the risk of being considered confounded picnic people, if it's a pretty place, and has a good story attached to it, I propose that we make a party and go," said Georgie.
She was a little astonished at herself when she had said this, but she had said it purposely. She was wondering what it was that had attracted her husband in Mrs. Hammond which she herself did not possess; and she thought perhaps it was a certain dash and verve, to which she had never pretended, but which her rival undoubtedly displayed. Poor Georgie felt that perhaps she had been a little too tame and sedate; and this speech was her first attempt in the opposite direction.