Sir Frederick changed colour. He had not expected so decided a rebuff. He bowed gravely. ‘May I be permitted to hope that your decision is not irrevocable—that it is open to reconsideration?’
‘Being a woman, I change my mind about many things; but I shall never change it about this.’
At this moment a childish voice was heard calling: ‘Aunty Laura—Aunty Laura, where are you? How tiresome of you to run away!’
Lady Dimsdale rose. ‘One of my tyrants is calling me, and I must obey. You will excuse me, Sir Frederick, I am sure.’
Again came the voice: ‘Aunty Laura, where are you?’
Lady Dimsdale drew a child’s trumpet from her pocket and blew a few notes on it. A moment later, Sir Frederick found himself alone.
‘Hum, hum. Rejected—and for the second time,’ he muttered to himself. He was excessively chagrined. After the fashion of other men, having failed to obtain the object of his desires, he appraised it at a higher value than he had ever done before. ‘There must be another man in the case. She would never have refused Sir Frederick Pinkerton and six thousand a year, unless there were another man in the case. Who can he be?’
He strolled slowly in the direction of the house. He would have a word with Captain Bowood, and then he would take his leave. He entered through the open French-windows, but the room was empty. A moment later the door was opened noisily, and Miss Elsie Brandon burst into the room.
She was a tall slim girl, with very bright eyes, and features that were instinct with vivacity. She gave the promise of considerable beauty in time to come. Her hair, cut nearly as short as a boy’s, was a mass of tiny yellow curls. She wore a pinafore, and a frock that scarcely reached to her ankles—her aunt, Miss Hoskyns, had worn a pinafore and a short frock at her age; consequently, they were the proper things for young ladies to wear nowadays.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Sir Frederick, but I thought that perhaps Charley might be here.’