“Will she be happy here in this quiet back-water?”
“Tchah! My son’s wife—when I’m gone—will live where it’s her duty to live—amongst her husband’s people.”
“Perhaps. Master Lionel takes after my lady. He’s incapable of unkindness or selfishness.”
“Thank you, Ben. I’m allowing you great latitude. Go on! Take advantage of it!”
“If Master Lionel married Lady Margot, he would try to make her happy. He would live most of the year in London. He would share her life, and that life is one of constant excitement and change. She has been happy here for three weeks, because this is a change. Would she ever take my lady’s place? Never!”
He spoke with fire. The Squire lay back in his chair, gently twiddling his thumbs. In his opinion no woman could take his wife’s place, but what of that? None the less, mention of Lady Pomfret smoothed out some wrinkles. He smiled beatifically, lifted above himself.
“Who could? My lady is unique. Why make these foolish comparisons? As for London——Well, well, I should like to see the boy in Parliament. Let him march with these cursed democratic times, and strike a shrewd blow for his order, a blow for the next generation.”
Fishpingle played his trump card.
“The next generation? Lady Margot has no love of children.”
“What d’ye mean? How dare you say that? How on earth do you know?”