“You will drive me mad, Miss Lucy, before you have done!” cried the excited executor, “all for this woman, this young fellow’s mother, this object of your— And you go and borrow from another man, borrow, actually—money—from another man, you, an unmarried girl! Oh, this is too much! I must put your affairs in Chancery! I must wash my hands of you! borrow money—from a man!”
“But I don’t know who else I—could have borrowed it from. Sir Thomas is not just a man; he is a friend. I like him very much, there is nobody so kind. If I had asked Lady Randolph she would have insisted upon knowing everything; but Sir Thomas understands me—a little,” Lucy said.
“Understands you—a little? Well, it is more than I do,” cried her guardian; but when he came to think of it, this complication silenced him, for if the young fellow at Hampstead had been the object of any childish infatuation Sir Thomas could not have been brought into it in this way; and if she had a fancy for Sir Thomas, it was clear the young fellow at Hampstead must be out of it. She could not possibly, at her age, be playing off the one against the other. So Mr. Chervil concluded, having just as little confidence in the purity and simplicity of Lucy’s motives, as everybody else had; and he gave the check with groans of suppressed fury, yet bewilderment. “You don’t know the world, Miss Lucy,” he said, “though you are very clever. I advise you not to borrow from gentlemen; they are apt to fancy, when a girl does that sort of thing— And I will not have it!” he added, with some violence. “You are my ward and under age, notwithstanding that mad codicil. If it were not that a great part of the money would go to your little brother in case we broke the will, by George, I should try it!” the outraged executor said.
“Would it—to Jock? Oh, that would be a blessing!” cried Lucy, clasping her hands; then she added, the light fading from her face, “But that would be to go against everything papa said, for Jock is no relation to my Uncle Rainy. Of course,” said Lucy, with delightful inconsistency, “when I can do what I like, in seven years’ time, Jock shall have his full share, and if I were to die he would be my heir; you said so, Mr. Chervil, that made my mind quite easy. But I shall not be able to borrow from Sir Thomas again,” she added, with a laugh, “because he will not be here.”
What could the guardian do more? There was no telling what might happen in seven years; before seven years were over, please God, she would be married, and trust her husband to guard against the dividing of the fortune! It would be better, Mr. Chervil concluded, to put up with the loss of a few thousand pounds than to risk the cutting up of the whole property, and the alienation of a great part of it from poor Rainy’s race. Besides, the executor knew that to break the will would not be an easy matter. The codicil might be eccentric, but old Trevor was sane enough. He growled, but he wrote the check, and submitted to everything, though with an ill grace. Lady Randolph offered luncheon to the gentleman from the city, and was pointedly ceremonious, though civil.
“Miss Trevor is rather too young to have such lengthened conferences with gentlemen,” she said, “though I have no doubt, Mr. Chervil, I can trust you.”
“Trust me, my lady! Why, I am a man with a family!” cried the astonished executor. “I have daughters as old as Miss Lucy.” He was confused when Sir Tom’s large laugh (for Sir Tom was here again, much amused with the little drama, and almost making his aunt angry by the devotion with which he carried out her scheme) showed him the folly of this little speech, and added awkwardly, “I don’t suppose she will come to any harm in your hand, but she’s a wild madcap, though she looks so quiet, and as obstinate—”
“Are you all that?” Sir Thomas said, looking at Lucy with the laugh still in his eyes. “You hide it under a wonderfully innocent exterior. It is the lion in lamb’s clothing this time. I think you must require my help, aunt, to manage this dangerous young lady.”
“Oh, I can dispense with your help,” Lady Randolph said, with a little flush of irritation. Decidedly things were going too fast and too far; under the very nose of the executor, too, who, no doubt, kept a most keen outlook upon all who surrounded his precious ward. “I am not afraid of Lucy, so long as she is let alone and left to the occupations suitable to her age.” And with this her ladyship rose from the table, and with some impatience bade her young companion get ready for their drive; though, as everybody could see, even through the closed blinds which kept the dim dining-room cool, it was hours too early for any drive.
“Just, a word to you, Sir Thomas, if you’ll permit me,” Mr. Chervil said. “That dangerous young lady, as you call her, will run through every penny she has, if she is allowed to have her own way. If you would be so kind as to not encourage her it would be real friendship, though she mightn’t think so. But as long as any one backs her up—”