“Quality, indeed!” echoed her friend. “Fine airs, upon my word. Miss Emmeline was as good as Lord Fitzhenry any day in the year, I am sure. I should like to know who had the most money, and the best of the bargain? Poor thing! she is much changed; and when she said to me, ‘How do you do, Warren?’ I could plainly see that all was not right between her and Lord Fitzhenry. You know I was always against the match.”
The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Brown, who came to enquire whether any thing was wanted in the rooms.
“Nothing ma’am, thank you,” said Warren dryly, endeavouring to throw into her manner that dignity which Jenkins said she was determined to keep up till Lord Fitzhenry was a better husband, and which Warren, as her sworn ally, thought it right to adopt also. And then pretending to be busily occupied, she took no notice of Mrs. Brown. Warren’s behaviour was so different from what it had been when they had parted at the tea table, that the consequential housekeeper guessed directly to whose influence the change was owing. She said nothing; but settling the shawl that was pinned on her shoulders, and casting an angry glance at Jenkins, she bustled out of the room, saying, she would send the housemaid to attend upon them; and resolving to be revenged on the two friends.
“You have affronted Mrs. Brown finely,” said Jenkins, as soon as she had, with somewhat of a jirk, closed the door after her; “but I am glad of it, for really that is the only way to mend matters, and I feel it my duty to my lady, to quarrel in a manner with Mrs. Brown, though, as far as I am myself concerned, I am, as you know, the most good naturedest of people, and willing to live in peace and harmony with every one.”
“That you are,” replied Mrs. Warren; for, at that moment, she thought it good policy to forget, as well as Mrs Jenkins did, the many regular pitched battles they had fought, when the latter was simple Susan, and nominally under Warren’s controul.
The result of this conversation was a mysterious and sorrowful expression on Warren’s countenance when she attended her lady, Mrs. Benson, at bed-time; and a significantly melancholy tone of voice when she said, “I hope you find Lady Fitzhenry pretty well, ma’am?”
“Quite well,” said Mrs. Benson. “She has not been ill that I know of. Susan does not say she has been unwell, does she?”
“Oh no; Mrs. Jenkins says her ladyship’s health is wonderfully good, considering,” replied Warren.
“Considering what?” said Mrs. Benson, turning quickly round, and looking her in the face, “What do you mean by considering?”
“I mean? dear me, how should I mean any thing?”