Roma hesitated. She did not feel sure of what Gertrude wished her to do. Just then Mrs Eyrecourt glanced in her direction, and seemed by instinct to understand her perplexity. Beauchamp was beginning to look cross.
“Will you sing, Roma, dear?” said Gertrude, sweetly.
Roma rose at once. “Of course,” muttered Captain Chancellor, loud enough for her to hear, “for any one but me.”
Poor Roma—her position was not a very comfortable one at present. She knew as well as possible what was passing in Gertrude’s mind. Mrs Eyrecourt was proud of her sister-in-law’s singing, and she was pleased to have something so excellent of its kind wherewith to astonish her guests; but she would be very far from pleased, Roma felt certain, should Beauchamp be so ill-judged as to show any marked difference in his manner of comporting himself towards the two fair performers. She resolved on taking the bull by the horns.
“Beauchamp,” she said, coldly, when she was standing by the piano, looking over her songs, “you will oblige me by not standing beside me while I am singing. It fidgets me more than I can tell you.”
Without a word, Beauchamp stalked off. He was deeply offended.
“I have overshot the mark, now, I expect,” thought Roma. “The next thing will be, his forcing me to tell him what made me so cross. And I do dread any approach to an explanation with him. I am very unlucky; but what could I do?”
She felt thoroughly uncomfortable, and somehow—from this cause, probably—she certainly did not sing as well as usual. Every now and then, through the sound of the piano and of her own voice, she overheard Beauchamp’s remarks to Mrs Chancellor, beside whom he had ensconced himself, and that lady’s languid, affected tones in reply. Roma felt a little depressed: it went greatly against the grain with her to say or do anything to chill or alienate Beauchamp, for the old easy brother-and-sister state of things between them had never seemed so attractive to her as now that it was at an end.
“If only he had really been my brother,” she said to herself, with a little sigh, and replied so absently and at random to Mr Chancellor’s civil little speech of thanks for her song, that he did not feel encouraged to remain at his post by her side.
She felt half inclined to betake herself quietly to her own room for the rest of the evening—no one seemed to want her. For almost the first time in her life she felt a stranger in her father’s house; realised, or began to fancy she did, that the tie which bound her to Gertrude was not one of blood. Mrs Eyrecourt seemed already marvellously at home with these hitherto unknown cousins of hers, and as for Beauchamp, whether or not he disliked the daughter, he certainly seemed to find the mother very entertaining!