She went on talking about her nephew for a while, explaining, by the way, how it was she had come to make her first call at Halswood in so informal a fashion.
“I am staying at Stebbing Rectory for a day or two,” she said. “A young cousin of mine is the wife of Mr Mervyn, the clergyman there. She has just got her first baby—a little girl;” she paused for an instant; “such a nice baby, and I came over to look after her a little. She has no mother. Hearing how very near I was to you, I thought I would not miss the opportunity of seeing you so easily. It is a long drive from Marshlands here. When you come to see me it must not be only for a call.”
She did not tell that the calling on the new Mrs Chancellor, which had been a vague and indefinite intention in her mind before coming to Stebbing, had taken active form, from hearing from her cousin some of the local gossip about the stranger—that she was pretty, but so stiff and reserved that no one could get on with her; that some people called her awkward and underbred, others suspected that she was not happy (Mrs Mervyn’s own opinion), but that from one cause or another her life bid fair to become a lonely and isolated one. And the sight of Eugenia’s face rewarded the old lady for the kindly effort she had made. It was not so much her beauty, though Lady Hereward loved to see a pretty face; it was her sweet, bright, yet wistful expression, that straightway touched the maternal chord in her visitor’s heart. Possibly, too, contradiction had something to do with the interest Eugenia at once awakened.
“Underbred, indeed!” she said to herself, contemptuously. “I wish I could teach some people I know, what good breeding really is. As to her being unhappy, I can’t say. I must see more of her.”
She acted at once on this determination, for, before she left, she invited her new young friends to spend three days of the next week but one at Marshlands. There was a particular reason for fixing this time; “George” was coming, and would be delighted to meet Captain Chancellor again.
“I would give you a choice if I could,” she went on, fancying that she perceived a slight hesitation in Mrs Chancellor’s manner, “for I really do want you to come. But I fear I cannot. We are going away the end of the same week to Hereward, for some time. We old people need a breath of sea air now and then.”
“It is exceedingly kind of you. I should have liked very much to go to you the week after next,” began Eugenia, looking as if she meant what she said. “It is so unlucky—but I am afraid we must decline. We are engaged for the whole of that week at home. You remember, Beauchamp? I heard this morning that—”
“I think you have made a confusion between the week after next and the week after that,” said Captain Chancellor, blandly. “I don’t know of anything to prevent our accepting Lady Hereward’s invitation. We did expect some friends; but, don’t you remember, Eugenia, that Colonel Masterton put off his visit for a week?”
“Yes,” said Eugenia, quietly; “I remember.”
“Then may I hope to see you,” asked Lady Hereward, feeling a little puzzled, “on Tuesday?—that will be the 22nd. George comes the same day.”