“Revenge, Lord Shelmerdine!” said Caledonia’s daughter.
“She is not received in the Family at present, and we get this stab in the back in consequence.”
Two persons round the opposition mahogany were as grim as griffins. One was Father and the other was Mother. For the rest of the company it would be unsafe to answer.
“Why isn’t she received in the Family?” said Caledonia’s daughter, as blunt a woman as you would find in a long day’s journey.
“He married contrary to the wishes of his parents,” said Mother, preening her plumage at the hostess in a way which said quite clearly that she would thank her to be careful, as the ground was rather delicate. “Old-fashioned ideas, perhaps, but such marriages can only end in a general weakening of responsibility.”
“I am out of my depth,” said the plaintive Mr. Vandeleur. “But the position as I envisage it, is this: Your son’s wife, out of favor at Court, plots against the dynasty. The dynasty trembles—”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Vandeleur, it does nothing of the kind,” said a very significant factor in the dynasty.
“Metaphorically, of course, Lady Shelmerdine. I speak in metaphor. The dynasty trembles because a bombshell has been thrown in the country—nothing less than a bombshell, as I unhesitatingly affirm—and to avert ruin one course only appears to be open to it.”
“What is that course, Mr. Vandeleur?” said Lady Shelmerdine.
“To compose this internecine quarrel, and avert a further sanguinary conflict,” said Mr. Vandeleur.