It bored her, but he never knew it. As she had an exuberant vitality, it did not tire her, although she sometimes felt very nervous. She marvelled at the greatness of the masculine mind which could master such details and find them interesting, and wondered if she were a real politician after all. Somewhat to her amusement, she found herself looking forward with pleasure to the sporting season; it would be an interval of comparative liberty and rest. She enjoyed the sensation of being useful to her husband, and the increased companionship; but it was trying to spend so much of the morning indoors, and to sit up by herself copying, when she preferred being in bed, or reading such novels as were clever enough to satisfy a mind now quite tuned to serious things. The theatre was neglected during the last two months of the Session, for Cecil grew busier and busier, and worked late on his off nights. Occasionally he examined his wife’s lovely face anxiously to see if she were losing her colour, or acquiring any little fine lines, and when he could discover no outward symbol of injured health he begged her to tell him if she were really equal to the strain. When she assured him that she was profoundly interested, and had never felt better, he assured her in return that she was, indeed, a wife of whom any man might be proud. Sometimes she wished, with a sigh, that his wants were more spiritual. She might revive her enthusiasm if he had need of sympathy and solace, but the world was treating him very well, and he was satisfied and happy. She wondered if he had ever been anything else; he certainly seemed one of the favoured of earth.
CHAPTER XII
A DAY or two before the end of the season Lee received a letter from Mrs. Montgomery which suggested another variation in the autumn programme. That lady and Randolph were leaving France for England, and after a brief visit to Tiny they hoped to be welcome at Maundrell Abbey. The junior Gearys, who were taking a belated honeymoon (Mr. Geary had died a week after the wedding), would arrive in England in the latter part of August.
Lee had seen nothing of her old friends since her departure from California. Lord Arrowmount had amused himself with a ranch until a month ago, when he had returned to England with his family, and gone straight to his place in the Midlands. Mrs. Montgomery had remained in California with them for two years, and spent the last year with Randolph, who had bought a château in Normandy and seemed to be devoting himself to the pleasures of the chasse. For two years he had sauntered leisurely about the world, and had finally made his home in France, as the sky and air reminded him of California and the life did not. He had written Lee a brief note occasionally, in which he said little about himself, and gave no indication that his sentiments towards her were other than fraternal. Nor could she guess what changes might have been wrought in him, although he remarked once that the longer he remained away from America the less he ever wanted to see it again. Out of the chaos of Mrs. Montgomery’s letters Lee gathered that he was improved; but she hoped that he was not too much changed, for with the prospect of her old friends’ advent came a lively desire for something like a renewal of old times. To her letter in behalf of Maundrell Abbey he had never alluded, and she had not revived the subject, for she had expected him to appear at any moment.
She went at once to the house in Upper Belgrave Street, and asked her mother-in-law to invite the entire party to the Abbey for two or three weeks in August and September. Lady Barnstaple happened to be in a particularly gracious humour.
“I shall be delighted to see some new faces,” she announced. “One gets sick of the same old set year after year. I quite liked Lady Arrowmount, what little I saw her—rather prim and middle-classy, but, enfin, quite convenable; one must not expect too much of the ancient aristocracy of San Francisco. You’ve improved so much, dearest. You never look shocked any more, and you’ve quite lost your provincialisms. When you came you were like a sweet little wild flower that had got lost in a conservatory. Now you are tout à fait grande dame, and it is quite remarkable, as you go out so little. But you always could dress, and the Society papers actually mention your frocks, which is also remarkable. As a rule one has to be en évidence all the time to retain any sort of interest. But you are pretty, and Cecil is so clever—a selfish beast, though. How long are you going to keep this thing up?”
“Oh, I am a mere creature of habit now. Who else is going down for the twelfth?”
“Mary Gifford—couldn’t you marry her to Randolph Montgomery? It’s really tragic the way she hangs on!”
“Her sisters have married, so I suppose she could. I don’t think she wants to marry. Under all her loudness she’s a queer porcelain-like creature, and rather shrinks from men.”
“Fiddlesticks! She’s waiting for eighty thousand a year! And she’s quite right. Whether she’ll get it or not——she’s a real beauty, and the way she keeps on looking just eighteen! Well, let me see: there will be the Pixes——Mr. Pix has really consented to come at last; never breathe it, but he’s been taking private lessons and has actually learned how to shoot as straight as anybody. I think Mary has her eye on him, but she’d better not!”