Greville responded in an indistinct murmur. He was undoubtedly relieved to find the indictment no heavier. It might have been one to give a blow to his dreams of quiet settlement.
“So I just upped and said we must part, and, had she shown a spark of good nature, even then might have relented—”
“Excuse me, I see a man I must speak with—urgent business. Return soon!” Greville shot out, and so away with him and left the baronet staring. The more so as he joined no man, but an extremely dignified and beautiful lady of middle age, the famous Duchess of Argyll, formerly Duchess of Hamilton and cousin of Greville’s uncle, Sir William Hamilton. Stars of such magnitude scarcely shone in Sir Harry’s personal heaven, and he looked on a little sourly while Greville, perfectly at his ease, squired the great lady into the dancing room, laughing and talking.
“I wonder now did I make any mess of what I was saying about that little spitfire!” he thought to himself. “I wouldn’t lose Greville’s good word, so I wouldn’t. But I’m glad to be rid of her for all! A man wants a new face about him and must be master and more.”
As I dismiss Sir Harry here, his future fate may be given. A pretty and virtuous girl, the daughter of one of his village labourers, caught his roving fancy next and would have none of his secret approaches. It is possible that Mrs. Hart’s adventures, well known in the village, served as a beacon in dangerous seas. She rebuffed him quietly but firmly, and the more he floundered, the deeper the hook pierced his gills. He was a man who could not endure defeat, but must have the victory however ruinous the cost. His friends watched the struggle with an interest chiefly expressed in heavy wagers, yet even this circumstance, though perfectly well known to him, could not save him from a much happier fate than he deserved. For the girl married him and made him an excellent wife and Lady Fetherstonehaugh, and a sensible, well-conducted mistress of his great house, in breeding and temper matching him far better than a lady of quality. A man who has erred less has often been less happily suited than this gentleman who did not get his deserts.
Greville, however, never used her ladyship as an example of instruction for his Emma, considering that this amazing circumstance might excite hopes of an order the very last he wished to enter her mind, and it was not till many years later she knew the fate of her ancient admirer. She could laugh at it then for reasons Greville could never in his wildest dreams have anticipated.
So events drew on. The “little Emma” was born and despatched to her mother’s distant village of Hawarden for tending, and that her neighbourhood might not inconvenience her young mother’s protector.
And thus Mrs. Hart became Greville’s housekeeper in Edgware Row, with Mrs. Cadogan’s invaluable aid in the background.
CHAPTER IV
PEACE AND CATSPAWS
A more modest, decorous life than that in Edgware Row could scarcely be, setting aside the initial impropriety. The past fell away from her like a nightmare that daylight effaces and a young wife nestling in her husband’s shelter could scarcely be more domestic than Emma. True, there came the reports of the little Emma from Hawarden and there were her small bills to be paid as a reminder, but Greville did this without comment, and who, thought her mother, could feel the existence of that pretty little innocent to be criminal, look at it how you would! That was hardly Greville’s point of view. He was apt to consider any allusion to the child a lapse of taste and to repel it.