Lady Fanny heard her in dismayed silence. The affair seemed certainly very serious. Sir Giles Challoner was known to her, and she felt sure that if this girl were in truth his grandchild he would not permit her abduction to pass unnoticed. A quite appalling scandal (if it did not turn out to be worse than a mere scandal) seemed to be brewing, and however waspishly Lady Fanny might have predicted that her nephew would in the end create such a scandal, she was not the woman to sit by and do nothing to prevent it. She had a soft corner for Vidal, and a very real affection for his mother. She had also her fair share of family pride, and her first thought was to apprise Avon instantly of this disastrous occurrence. Then her heart failed her. This was no tale to pour into Avon’s ears, at the very moment when his son had been obliged to leave the country for yet another offence. She had no clear idea of what the outcome of it all would be, or whether it would be possible to hush the matter up, but she determined to send word to Léonie.
She cast an appraising glance at Mrs. Challoner. She was a shrewd woman, and Mrs. Challoner would have been startled had she known how much that she had kept to herself Lady Fanny had guessed.
“I’ll do what I can for you,” Fanny said abruptly. “But you will do well to say nothing of this disagreeable matter to anyone. I shall repeat your very extraordinary story to my sister-in-law. Let me point out to you, ma’am, that if you raise a scandal you will lose the object you have in view. Once your daughter’s name is being bandied from lip to lip I can assure you my nephew won’t marry her. As to scandals, ma’am, I leave it to you to decide who will be most hurt by one.”
Mrs. Challoner hardly knew what to reply. Lady Fanny’s manner awed her; she was uncertain of her ground, for she had expected Lady Fanny to be horrified and alarmed. But Lady Fanny was so calm, so delicately scornful that she began to wonder whether she would be able to frighten the Alastairs with the threat of exposure after all. She wished she had her brother by, to advise her. She said rather pugnaciously: “And if I do keep silent? What then?”
Lady Fanny lifted her eyebrows. “I cannot take it upon myself to answer for my brother. I have informed you that I will tell my sister-in-law your story. If you will have the goodness to leave your address, no doubt the Duchess — or the Duke — will visit you.” She stretched out her hand towards a little silver bell, and rang it. “I can only assure you, ma’am, that if wrong has been done his grace will certainly arrange matters honourably. Permit me to bid you good-day.” She nodded dismissal, and Mrs. Challoner found herself rising instinctively from her seat.
The footman was holding the door for her to pass through. She said: “If I do not hear within a day, I shall act as I think best, my lady.”
“There is not the smallest chance that you will hear within the day,” said her ladyship coldly. “My sister is at the moment quite remote from London. You might perhaps hear in three or four days.”
“Well ...” Mrs. Challoner stood hesitating. The interview had not been conducted as she had planned. “I shall wait on you again the day after to-morrow, ma’am. And you need not think I’m to be fobbed off.” She moved towards the door, but paused before she had reached it, and remembered to give Lady Fanny her direction. She then curtsied and withdrew, feeling a little discomfited and considerably annoyed.
Had she been able to transport herself back into the house five minutes later she would have been somewhat comforted. No sooner had the front door closed behind her than Lady Fanny flew up out of her chair, violently rang her hand-bell, and, upon the footman’s return, sent him to find Mr. John Marling at once.
Mr. Marling entered the room presently to find his mamma in a distracted mood.