“Who is Lady Jean?”
“Oh, she is the Earl’s sister; old, and not pretty, and not married. I don’t know why they make such a fuss about her. There’s no interest in a person like that.”
“Don’t you think you might let somebody get in a word from time to time,” said Rowland; “I have heard nothing but your little voice since ever we arrived.”
“Well, I hope my little voice is better than nothing, papa. And you will not hear very much from Archie. He is just as sulky as he can be about Aunty Jane. He thinks she should have come down here with us, to see us settled, and make acquaintance with mamma, and all that. The very idea! but boys have so little sense. That is not what Aunty Jane cares so much about herself. She is more concerned in her mind about what she is to do next.”
“Is Aunty Jane the lady who brought you up? Indeed, then, I do think, James, that she has not been very nicely treated. She has been so devoted to the children. It was the least thing you could do to ask her to bring them home, and let me show how we appreciated her goodness and affection. You must give me the address, Marion, and I will write to-morrow.”
“Oh,” said Marion with a gasp, raising herself bolt upright, “that’s not necessary—that’s not at all necessary. Aunty never expected——”
“I am afraid I must take upon myself to be the judge of what is necessary,” said Mrs. Rowland with the sweetest smile in the world. Her soft peremptoriness was for her husband as well as for his daughter. For Rowland, too, had responded with a gasp to the suggestion of inviting Jane, and his wife’s gentle assumption of supreme authority took him as much by surprise as it did Marion. He began, too, with an anxious “But——,” but got no farther. Jane at Rosmore was something which his imagination could not reach.
“But is not a word which exists in autocratic countries,” said Evelyn laughing. “Constitutional surroundings alone encourage such expressions, and I’ll have no dissent in Rosmore. Didn’t you hail me Lady as we came over that glorious Firth?”—Evelyn would not perhaps have used the words had she not meant to reduce her husband to instantaneous submission. She thought, indeed, that the Firth was very fine, but her usual principles were against hyperbole. It would be hard, however, to refuse to a good woman the legitimate use of certain weapons because they are used to a large extent by women who are not good. And the “glorious Firth” and his wife’s smile together were far more than James Rowland could make head against. I do not think indeed that such artillery was needed. He had not the least objection, but on the contrary, the greatest pride and pleasure in thinking of her as the autocrat and supreme mistress of Rosmore, to ask any splendid visitor she liked, even Royalty, should it cost him half his fortune. It was, however, a little bewildering when it was not Royalty but Jane Brown.
“But I don’t think she can come,” said Marion’s little monotonous voice coming in, “so you may put your mind at rest, papa, for she would not like to leave the house with just Bell in it. She is thinking of selling the things, for she will not want to keep up a big house like that when there is nobody but herself, and no allowance; but she will have to take care of them all the more not to let them be spoiled by a servant-lass. And she will think she has not good enough clothes——.” Marion here made a very perceptible examination of Mrs. Rowland’s dress, which was not “a silk” nor “a satin,” but simple grey stuff and made in the most unassuming way: “I don’t see that,” she continued with an obvious comparison, “for she has some very nice silks, and she might come very well, so far as that goes. But for another thing, she could not spend the money. When it was for us, she never minded; but she always grudges a railway ticket for herself.”
“What do you mean about selling her things, and no allowance?” said Rowland hastily; but he added, “We need not discuss that here. But of course, my dear, what you decide upon must be done.”