In something like a procession they went forth from Selwick Hall. Lady Louvaine first, leaning on Edith and Hans, to whom Aubrey was always ready to resign troublesome duties; then Faith, Temperance, Aubrey, and Lettice.
At the door stood the great coach, painted in dark mulberry-colour and picked out with gilding, the lining and cushions of blue: and harnessed to it were the six great horses, dark roan, with cream-coloured manes, knotted likewise in blue. The servants wore mulberry-coloured livery, corded with blue.
Lady Louvaine took her place on the right hand of the coach, facing the horses, Faith being at her side. Opposite sat Edith, and Lettice by the door.
“Aunt Temperance!” called out Aubrey from the doorstep, “you shall have my horse, if you will; I am going in the caroche.”
“You are what, Sirrah?” demanded Aunt Temperance, with the severity of at least one Lord Chief-Justice.
“I shall ride in the caroche,” repeated Aubrey calmly.
“Northumberland, Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham!” was the awful answer.
The young people knew what that meant. When Temperance said “Dear heart!” she was just a little surprised or put out; when it was “Lancaster and Derby!” she was very much astonished or provoked; but when she supplicated the help of “Northumberland, Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham!” it meant from Aunt Temperance what swearing would from any one else.
“I should like to know, if you please, Mr Aubrey Louvaine, whether you are a king, a sick woman, or a baby?”
“Well, Aunt, I don’t think I am any of them at present.”