I afterwards found that the gentleman they called “Charlie” was Captain Clowes.
“Well, will you come, Miss Christie?”
“No, Tom; Miss Christie is better where she is.”
“She couldn’t be better off than with me,” said he, in a gravely innocent tone.
Everybody laughed.
“Take my part, Mrs. Clowes. Don’t all jump upon me at once when I want to make an impression. Could Miss Christie be safer than with me?”
Everybody glanced rather mischievously at Mrs. Clowes; and I saw a faint color rise in her cheeks.
“Not with Charlie behind,” said she; and everybody laughed more than ever.
I was glad Lady Mills would not let me go, though, for I did not care much about the gentleman they called “Tom,” and Laurence did not like him either. It was about seven miles from Geldham to Denham Court. The drive seemed to me beautiful, though the country was flat; the rains had kept everything very green, and the sinking sun warmed the landscape with a golden tint. I looked about me and listened to the ladies’ talk, but did not say much. Some one said I was silent, and some one else said “Tom” would make me talk; but indeed their conversation was so different from any I had ever heard that I could not have joined in it very well, even if I had known them better. Some of them said things which would have sounded quite wicked if they had said them seriously; but they were all in fun, and they seemed to laugh at everything. They laughed a great deal at Sir Jonas, who was Lady Mills’s husband, and she herself imitated the way he would rub his hands and stare up at the ceiling, and say in little jerks he “hoped they had—enjoyed themselves—fine day. Stupid things, bazaars—but bring young people together.”
“And keep the old ones away,” said Mrs. Clowes, in her sharp tones. And everybody laughed very much.