“I grant, gentlemen of any fashion want a good settlement with their wives, in this age. But consider her beauty:—that is an item on account of which I, for one, would vastly abate my demands—if I were fool enough to marry at all.”
“She wouldn’t have you, fool or no fool. I can see she will be as fastidious when it comes to mating as if she had ten thousand a year. I fear this region will not furnish a man to her liking—I can commend her good taste in that. So heaven knows when I may be rid of her! But enough of the chit: I’m saddled with her, and there’s an end. You must do something for me, George,—you and Lady Strange and her friend.”
“Speaking for myself, I’m entirely at your service.”
“You must make me a visit at Foxwell Court,—now. Yes, you must. Your time is your own, I am sure. It matters not whether you arrive in town this month or the next. While I have you, I will hold you. When we have dined, you will drive on with me, not to London, but to Foxwell Court. You’ll give me a week—nay, a fortnight, at least—of civilized company, for humanity’s sake.”
“Why,” said Rashleigh, “’tis rather a change of plan—though I see nothing against it, for my part. If the ladies are willing—”
“They must be willing,” cried Foxwell. “You must persuade them:—if naught else will do, you must be taken ill and be unable to go on to London. Egad, I’ll poison you all with the bad wine they keep here, ere I let you escape me!”
“Nay, let me try persuasion first. I can commend you to them as a host—I know of old that you’ll stop at nothing that has promise of amusement in it.”
“I’ll stop at nothing to amuse them as my guests—you may warrant that. As for my house, you will not find it entirely uninhabitable. Some of the company I have kept there of late, though it would amuse you well enough, would scarce be acceptable to my Lady Strange; but fortunately, in view of my niece’s home-coming, I have issued strict decrees of banishment,—so we shall find no rustic rake-hells, drinking parsons, or roaring trollops on the premises. ’Tis in such company I have found solace in my exile—and I’ll do them the justice to say, they are better lovers of wit and real mirth than the booby fox-chasing, dog-mongering, horse-talking, punch-guzzling gentry and their simpering, formal womankind.”
“You are beginning to practise self-denial, Bob,—driving your boon companions away,” said Rashleigh, smiling.
“As a gentleman I could not do otherwise, of course. Since Miss must needs come, they must go. I must learn to seek my amusements, such as they are, out of the house. But I sha’n’t think of that, or of anything to come, while you and these ladies are with me. You see I have set my heart on having you.”