“I recollect, at the time when I was dangling after Lady Frances—there’s good in every thing—just before we went down to Falconer-court, her ladyship, who, you know, has always some reigning fancy, was distracted about what she called bread-seals. She took off the impression of seals with bread—no matter how, but she did—and used to torment me—no, I thought it a great pleasure at the time—to procure for her all the pretty seals I could.”
“But, surely, you did not give her Lord Oldborough’s?”
“I!—not I!—how could you imagine such a thing?”
“You were in love, and might have forgotten consequences.”
“A man in love may forget every thing, I grant—except his fidelity. No, I never gave the seal; but I perfectly recollect Lady Frances showing it to me in her collection, and my asking her how she came by it.”
“And how did she?”
“From the cover of a note which the duke, her uncle, had received from Lord Oldborough; and I, at the time, remembered his lordship’s having written it to the Duke of Greenwich on the birth of his grandson. Lord Oldborough had, upon a former occasion, affronted his grace by sending him a note sealed with a wafer—this time his lordship took special care, and sealed it with his private seal of honour.”
“Well! But how does this bring the matter home to Mrs. Falconer?” said Alfred.
“Stay—I am bringing it as near home to her as possible. We all went down to Falconer-court together; and there I remember Lady Frances had her collection of bread-seals, and was daubing and colouring them with vermilion—and Mrs. Falconer was so anxious about them—and Lady Frances gave her several—I must see Lady Frances again directly, to inquire whether she gave her, among the rest, Lord Oldborough’s—I’ll go to Lady Jane Granville’s this evening on purpose. But had I not better go this moment to Lady Trant?”
Alfred advised, that having traced the matter thus far, they should not hazard giving any alarm to Lady Trant or to Mrs. Falconer, but should report to Lord Oldborough what progress had been made.