Millie joined in the aspiration, liking to remember what her mother said of Fanny’s quick penetration, and forgetting that here only a part had been offered for her inspection. Such as it was it gave an interest to Norway which their visitor might not otherwise have felt, and Millie was ready, not only to harp on the theme, but to play as many variations as she pleased. The weather changed to wet; in London this is scarcely a drawback, but it may be turned into an excuse. Millie made it an excuse. Her mother grew uneasy at such want of energy; where was the use of imbibing draughts of Norwegian air if the after-results came to no more? Lady Fanny pleaded for indulgence in laziness, the most fascinating pursuit in the world, when you gave yourself up to it.
“Give yourself up to it when you are as old as I am,” cried Mrs Ravenhill, provoked, only to be told that nothing could be thoroughly mastered which was not learnt young.
Lady Fanny, indeed, had by this time gathered more than Millie suspected. She had been sharp enough to note a change, and once that had struck her, would not rest until she had got to the bottom of it. When she expressed a wish to see Mr Wareham, whose novels she liked, Millie remarked indifferently that he had talked of calling while he was in London, and the hint was responded to by a fervent hope that they might not have such ill-luck as to miss him.
“I dare not tell your mother, she would despise my weakness. Support me, dear, when I protest against being trotted out. London is unwholesomely stuffy, the only fresh air to be met with in August is in one’s own house, and I can’t live without fresh air.”
She was more open in her confidences than her friend, and enlivened the time by description of more than one admirer. According to her, she had met with instances when their affections had shot up with a growth as amazing as that of Jack’s beanstalk. One meeting sufficed, then the proposal followed like a flash, with not even a decent interval for appearances’ sake.
“Milborough thinks they are afraid of losing a dividend.”
“And you have learnt all this at twenty!” groaned Mrs Ravenhill. But she had to own that Lady Fanny’s warm-heartedness had not suffered. What was most to be feared was that experience would have wrecked her faith in genuine liking, and that the jests she caught up for defence would be turned against her own heart.
Millie believed that her penetration would extract the real from the counterfeit.
“For another,” Mrs Ravenhill agreed. But she feared horror of shams would make her suspicious where her affections were concerned. An old playmate would have the best chance, or possibly a man like Mr Wareham, who, she was ready to allow, had sterling qualities.
“Perhaps they will meet,” said Millie demurely. “He spoke of coming here.”