She had no time to say more, barely to catch sight of the grave expression with which Madelene was listening to her, when she was interrupted by the arrival of other guests.
There was a party of fourteen, all strangers to Ella, though several among them recognised her as the lovely “Miss Wyndham” who had so puzzled everybody at the Manor. Ella’s squire was a man who declared he had not yet recovered from the disappointment of her not having given him a dance on the occasion in question. He was evidently an adept at flirting and seemed very disappointed when a few words from his charming companion proved that that was “not her style.” Not so, Sir Philip, whose dark eyes spoke satisfaction when he overheard the ladylike little snub, for he had arranged with his grandmother that Ella should be his neighbour on the left.
“She will be so much of a stranger; it is really the first time she has dined here properly,” he said, and Lady Cheynes made no difficulty.
That dinner was a very pleasant experience to Ella. Philip’s manner was perfect. He made her feel quite at home, even while taking care that no one present could have suspected such care was required.
“It is the first time I have really felt as if I had not been brought up a stranger to them all,” thought she to herself, and the only thing that in the least marred her complete satisfaction was the catching sight now and then of Madelene’s eyes fixed upon her with an anxious, almost, Ella could have imagined, pitying expression.
“She thinks I am having my head turned,” thought Ella, with a slight involuntary toss of the said head. “And she is pitying me too for imagining that Sir Philip could possibly care about me, when all his devoirs are, or should be, consecrated to Ermine.” And it was with increased determination to resist any attempt at restraint which Madelene might try, that Ella responded in her sweetest and most charming manner to her “step”-cousin’s attentions.
Her godmother was not displeased, thus much was certain. For she called the girl to her in the drawing-room after dinner, to introduce her to her old friend Lady Beltravers, who with her husband made two of the guests, and made her sit beside her while she fondled and petted her.
“I must make much of her, you see,” she said half apologetically to Lady Beltravers. “She has been away from us for so long! It is not like having a godchild of one’s own, never to see her, is it? Did Philip take good care of you at dinner, my dear child?” she went on, turning to Ella. “He would not give you up to any one else, I assure you, though by rights Mrs Monkerton should have been at his left side.”
Lady Beltravers smiled kindly at Ella.
“I wish we had any young people about us,” she said with a little sigh. “My son has no children, you know—and then he is always so busy. Won’t you bring Miss St Quentin—”