‘Cela depend! And is she to be our housekeeper now?’
‘Certainly not! That is to say, she has gone home—her mother was sick and wanted her—’
The countess got off the bed, and going up to her husband, laid her hand upon his mouth,—
‘There, there, that will do,’ she said quietly; ‘don’t soil your soul any more on my account, for it is a matter of the most perfect indifference to me who she was or why she went. There are plenty more housekeepers to be procured, I suppose, in England. But don’t forget what I told you in Malta about the pot that called the kettle black, voila tout!’
She gave him a little kiss to sweeten the unpalatable dose as she concluded, and the ordeal was over—only the earl would rather she had shown a little jealousy on the subject instead. He did not know how much or how little she had overheard of his conversation with Castelton, and he did not like to ask, lest she might blurt out some disagreeable truths in his face. But the circumstance made him think a great deal more of Nell Llewellyn than he would otherwise have done whilst on his wedding tour. He wondered more than once if it were possible that Nell would try to make things unpleasant for him and Nora, or if there were any chance of a rencontre between the two women. Nora might overlook or ignore a liaison of the sort if it were not brought beneath her immediate notice, but he felt sure she would hold her own—perhaps make a public scandal if it became a personal affront. He had heard nothing from Mr Sterndale since a letter in which he had assured him that his instructions regarding Miss Llewellyn should be faithfully carried out, and he could not expect to hear more until he met the solicitor in England. He tried as far as possible to dismiss the idea from his mind for the rest of the voyage, but he became restless and uneasy as they approached the termination of it; and when, towards the end of October, he found himself safely installed with his wife at Thistlemere, the first thing he did was to summon his old friend to render up an account of his stewardship. With the solicitor arrived Mr Portland. Lord Ilfracombe had not advised the countess of his advent. He wanted to give them both a surprise. Perhaps also to find out for himself how far Nora had told the truth concerning her acquaintance with him. Ilfracombe had always been perfectly frank whilst living with Nell Llewellyn. Under the influence of Nora he was beginning to keep back things which, theretofore, he would have never dreamed of concealing. So truly do our intimate companions rule, to a great degree, our characters. We are told that we cannot touch pitch without being defiled. So must we always derive good or evil from those we associate with. But if Lord Ilfracombe fancied he was a match for either his wife or Jack Portland, he was very much mistaken. At any rate, neither he nor anyone could have discovered a domestic plot against his peace from the perfectly natural way in which they met each other, for if anything was apparent, it was an almost unnatural indifference on both sides. The countess was in the drawing-room when her husband entered with both men in his train.
‘Nora,’ he commenced, ‘I bring an old friend of yours to offer his congratulations on your having obtained such a prize as myself.’
Nora glanced at the two gentlemen with affected surprise.
‘Mr Sterndale is an old friend of yours, I know, Ilfracombe,’ she said, sweetly; ‘and, therefore, if he will accept me as such, I trust he will consider me his friend also. But—’ turning to where Jack Portland stood bowing lowly before her, ‘this gentleman—surely I have met him before! Why, of course, it is the very Mr Portland of whom we spoke once on board the Débutante. How are you, Mr Portland? Do you remember me after all this time? Did we not meet at Captain Loveless’s once at a ball? Were you not staying with them?’
‘I was, Lady Ilfracombe. Mrs Loveless is my sister. What a long time ago it seems. How little I imagined, when dear old Ilfracombe here wrote me he was engaged to a Miss Abinger, that it actually was the Miss Abinger with whom I had had the honour of dancing! But there were so many of you!’
‘Dear me, yes—dozens! I have three sisters married besides myself! Perhaps it was Bella or Marion, after all, whom you danced with instead of me. We are considered very much alike.’