“Well, it’s Louisa’s writing, and Grampound franked it,” said Martin, displaying the letter, which was directed in large, sloping characters, and stamped Free.
The sight of Lord Grampound’s signature, scrawled across one corner, convinced the Dowager that the letter was indeed from her daughter; and after satisfying herself that Martin had not misread The Right Honourable the Countess for the Right Honourable the Earl, she reluctantly allowed her stepson to assume possession of his property. While he broke the wafer that sealed it, and read its two crossed sheets, she maintained an unbroken flow of comment, surmise, and astonishment. “I do not understand what Louisa can mean by sending a letter to St. Erth,” she said. “What can she possibly have to say to him? Why has she not written to me? Are you sure there is not a letter for me, Martin?”
“Of course I am, ma’am!” he said impatiently. “The rest are for Theo, but he has gone off somewhere with Hayle.”
“It is most extraordinary!” she said, in a displeased tone. “I should have been very glad to have had a letter from Louisa.”
“My dear ma’am, you might have this one with my goodwill,” said Gervase, perusing the crossed lines through his quizzing-glass. “In fact, you shall have it, for I find Louisa’s writing quite baffling.”
The Dowager had no hesitation in taking the sheets from him. “Louisa’s writing is particularly elegant,” she said. “I do not find it all difficult to read. She would have done better to have directed her letter to me.”
“Does she want to come here?” demanded Martin.
“No, something about double-doors at Kentham, and Pug.”
“That creature!” ejaculated Martin, with a look of disgust. “What the devil has Pug to do with you?”
“Too much, I fear. Well, ma’am? What is it precisely that Louisa feels I can have not the least objection to doing for her? I fear the worst, and beg you won’t keep me in suspense!”