“That, my lord,” said Turvey, relieving him of his shirt, “would no doubt account for the prevailing atmosphere of damp.”
“Very likely!” retorted Gervase. “I infer that Stanyon does not meet with your approval!”
“I am sure, a most interesting pile, my lord. Possibly one becomes inured to the inconvenience of being obliged to pass through three galleries and seven doors on one’s way to your lordship’s room.”
“Oh!” said the Earl, a trifle disconcerted. “It would certainly be better that you should be quartered rather nearer to me.”
“I was alluding, my lord, to the position of the Servants’ Hall. To reach your lordship’s room from my own, it will be necessary for me to descend two separate stairways, to pass down three corridors; through a door permitting access to one of the galleries with which the Castle appears to be — if I may say so! — somewhat profusely provided; and, by way of an antechamber, or vestibule, reach the court round which this portion of the Castle was erected.” He waited for these measured words to sink into his master’s brain, and then added, in soothing accents: “Your lordship need have no fear, however, that I shall fail to bring your shaving-water in the morning. I have desired one of the under-footman — a very obliging lad — to act as my guide until I am rather more conversant with my surroundings.” He paused. “Or, perhaps I should say, until your lordship decides to return to London!”
Chapter 3
Neither the Dowager nor Miss Morville appeared at the breakfast-table next morning; and although a place was laid for the Chaplain, he had not emerged from his bedchamber when Gervase joined his brother and his cousin in the sunny parlour. His entrance disconcerted Martin, who was fairly embarked on a scathing condemnation of the clothing which he apparently considered suitable for country-wear. Since Gervase was impeccably attired in riding-breeches, top-boots, and a serviceable, if unusually well-cut, frockcoat, Martin’s scornful animadversions became, even in his own ears, singularly inapposite. Theo, who had listened to him in unencouraging silence, smiled slightly at sight of the Earl, and said to his younger cousin: “You were saying?”
“It don’t signify!” snapped Martin, glowering at him.
“Good-morning!” said Gervase. “Oh, don’t ring the bell, Theo! Abney knows I am here.”
“I trust no nightmares, Gervase?” Theo said quizzically.