The uncomfortable meal dragged on; she rose at last from the table, and was about to retire to the sanctuary of Sir Peter’s room when the hopes she had been cherishing were shattered by the entrance of Winkfield into the room, with a message from his master. Sir Peter, he announced, begged that Mr. Coate would do him the honour of drinking a glass of brandy with him.
Nell gazed aghast at the valet, but he very slightly shook his head. She knew her grandfather well enough to guess that Winkfield judged it to be more dangerous to oppose his will than to permit Coate to be seen by him. She turned her eyes towards Coate, and said as calmly as she could: “I must beg you, sir, not to linger in my grandfather’s room. I need not remind you, I daresay, that he is a sick man.”
“Oh, don’t fear me!” he said, with one of his loud laughs. “I shall be very happy to visit Sir Peter—famous sportsman, wasn’t he? We shall deal capitally!”
In an agony, she watched him precede Winkfield out of the room. Her cousin’s voice broke into her agitated thoughts. “I must say I’m deuced glad the old gentleman’s sent for Nat!” Henry said, refilling his glass. “I wonder he shouldn’t have done so before, for it’s only civil, after all. What’s more, it’ll do him good. He’ll like Nat: you see if he don’t! Nat’s devilish good company—just the man to cheer the old gentleman up!”
“Just the man to kill him!” she said, in a shaking voice. “One look at him will be enough to throw him into a passion! How could you bring such a creature into this house? how could you?”
“Oh, pooh, you know nothing of the matter! My grandfather likes a good sportsman, and Nat’s a buck of the first head! Up to every rig and row in town, too. They’ll go along like winking!”
She could not trust herself to answer him, but hurried out of the room, bent on warning Rose of what might at any moment befall. Her way led her past her grandfather’s apartments, and, after hesitating for a moment, she softly opened the door into the dressing-room, and looked in. Winkfield was there, and greeted her with a smile of reassurance. He said in a low voice: “You need not be afraid, miss. I fancy Sir Peter does not mean to lose his temper with that person. Remarkably calm, he is.”
“It must do harm!” she whispered. “You know how much he dislikes men of Coate’s stamp! I am fearful of what the consequences may be! Could you not have prevented it?”
“It seemed to me, miss, that once the master had formed a determination to see Mr. Coate it would be wiser to do as he bade me. He will not be opposed. And to fob him off with excuses would be to set up the very irritation to his nerves which Dr. Bacup has particularly warned us against.”
She sighed, listening anxiously to the sound of voices in the room beyond. “You will not go out of earshot, Winkfield?”