Lord Lionel opened his mouth to utter a blistering reproof, recollected himself, shut it again, and, after a slight pause, said: “Well, it is your lawn, and you may do as you wish with it, but I own I cannot conceive what you were about to give permission!”
A rather mischievous smile lit the Duke’s eyes: he looked under his lashes at his uncle, and replied: “I think it was perhaps because I have wanted very often to play cricket there myself.”
“Yes! and you would thank me for it today, I daresay, had I allowed you and Gideon to ruin one of the finest pieces of turf in the country!” said his lordship.
Miss Scamblesby having by this time disposed of her portion of the Gateau Mellifleur, Lady Lionel heaved herself up out of her chair. The Duke picked up such small articles as she dropped, the doors were held open, and both ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their wine.
The covers having been removed, the cloth, swept away, and decanters set upon the table, the servants left the room, and Lord Lionel settled down to enjoy his port in what he termed comfort, and his nephew thought great discomfort. The fire behind him was beginning to be unpleasantly hot, the ornate carving of his chair made leaning back in it a penance, and he was not fond of port.
Lord Lionel began to talk of some improvements to one of the Duke’s estates, which the agent-in-chief thought might be advantageous. “You should see Scriven yourself, Gilly,” he said. “You know, you must not forget that in less than a year now you will have the management of everything in your own hands. I am very anxious you should acquaint yourself with all the business of your estates.”
“Dear me, yes!” said Mr. Romsey, sipping his wine delicately. “It is very true, though I may scarcely credit it! My dear lord, you will indeed be twenty-five next year! Yet it seems only yesterday that I was so fortunate as to be chosen to be your chief guide and preceptor!”
“I have never had the least doubt that I made a wise choice,” said his lordship graciously, “but what I am saying is that my nephew must not look to be guided for many months more. You have a thousand amiable qualities, Gilly, but you lack decision of character!”
The Duke did not deny the accusation. He felt it to be true, but he could scarcely repress a shudder at the thought of the painful scenes that must have taken place at Sale had he been endowed with the same forceful personality that distinguished his uncle. His cousin Gideon had it in some measure, and had certainly won his father’s respect with it; but Gideon had always been a robust and pugnacious boy, and was quite untroubled by sensitive nerves. He had cared for being thrashed as little as for being rated. The Duke had never known which of the two fates he dreaded most. Fortunately for him, Lord Lionel had used him with far more gentleness than he showed his son, so that he was not really at all afraid of him. But a naturally sweet disposition, a dislike of quarrelling, and of loud, angry voices, combined with a rueful appreciation of the very real devotion to his interest and welfare that inspired his uncle’s strict rule made him submit docilely where his cousin would have flamed into revolt.
“You are the head of the family, Gilly,” Lord Lionel said. “You must learn to assert yourself. I have done all that a man may to train and educate you for the position you must occupy, but you are by far too diffident.”