Mr Etheridge came to a halt, apparently engaged in deep thought for a few moments before he replied. Then he said, speaking very deliberately: ‘It does perhaps seem a pity, as you say, madam, that Mr Archie should be so infatuated with this young lady, when he might do so very differently, were he so minded.’
‘I was quite sure that you would agree with me,’ returned her ladyship in her most dulcet tones. ‘But no doubt Mr Archie will listen to reason. When Sir William places the matter before him in its proper light, and proves to him how irretrievably he will ruin himself by contracting such an alliance, he will surely see that, in his case at least, inclination must give way to duty, and that his career in life must not be frustrated by the mere empty charms of a butterfly face.’
What her ladyship meant by a ‘butterfly face’ she did not condescend to explain.
‘As to whether Mr Archie will listen to what your ladyship calls reason is a point upon which, as matters stand at present, I am scarcely competent to offer an opinion.’
‘Sly old fox!’ muttered her ladyship. ‘He wasn’t born yesterday. But he doesn’t take me in with his innocent looks.’
She had another arrow left. ‘Then, as regards the sister of Miss Loraine—this Madame De Vigne? A very charming person, no doubt; but that is not everything. I daresay, Mr Etheridge, your experience will tell you that the most charming of our sex are sometimes the most dangerous?’
Mr Etheridge bowed, but did not commit himself further.
‘On all sides I hear people asking, “Who is Madame De Vigne? Where did she spring from? Who was Monsieur De Vigne? What was he, when alive?” Question after question asked, but no information vouchsafed. Ah, my dear Mr Etheridge, where there’s concealment, there’s mystery; and where there’s mystery, there’s—there’s—— Well, I won’t say what there is.’ Possibly her ladyship had not quite made up her mind what there was. ‘In any case, Mr Etheridge,’ she resumed, ‘were I in your position, I should deem it imperative on me to make Sir William acquainted with everything, down to the most minute particulars. You are on the spot; you can see and hear for yourself. Of course, it would be a dreadful thing if, after Mr Archie were married to the young lady, something discreditable were to turn up—some family secret, perhaps, that would not bear the light of day; some scandal, it may be, that could only be spoken of in whispers. For Sir William’s sake, if not for that of our dear, foolish Archie, everything should be made as clear as daylight before it is too late. I hope you agree with me, Mr Etheridge?’
‘Quite, madam—quite.—What a splendid man of business your ladyship would have made, if you will excuse me for saying so. Sir William shall be made acquainted with everything. I will see to that; yes, yes; I will see to that.’
‘He is a spy, then, after all,’ said Lady Renshaw complacently to herself.