No! Lady Jane was accustomed to leave a favorable impression behind her wherever she went. It was a habit with her to be charming (in widely different ways) to both sexes. The social experience of the upper classes is, in England, an experience of universal welcome. Lady Jane declined to leave until she had thawed the icy reception of the lady of the house.
“I must repeat my apologies,” she said to Mrs. Vanborough, “for coming at this inconvenient time. My intrusion appears to have sadly disturbed the two gentlemen. Mr. Vanborough looks as if he wished me a hundred miles away. And as for your husband—” She stopped and glanced toward Mr. Delamayn. “Pardon me for speaking in that familiar way. I have not the pleasure of knowing your husband’s name.”
In speechless amazement Mrs. Vanborough’s eyes followed the direction of Lady Jane’s eyes—and rested on the lawyer, personally a total stranger to her.
Mr. Delamayn, resolutely waiting his opportunity to speak, seized it once more—and held it this time.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “There is some misapprehension here, for which I am in no way responsible. I am not that lady’s husband.”
It was Lady Jane’s turn to be astonished. She looked at the lawyer. Useless! Mr. Delamayn had set himself right—Mr. Delamayn declined to interfere further. He silently took a chair at the other end of the room. Lady Jane addressed Mr. Vanborough.
“Whatever the mistake may be,” she said, “you are responsible for it. You certainly told me this lady was your friend’s wife.”
“What!!!” cried Mrs. Vanborough—loudly, sternly, incredulously.
The inbred pride of the great lady began to appear behind the thin outer veil of politeness that covered it.
“I will speak louder if you wish it,” she said. “Mr. Vanborough told me you were that gentleman’s wife.”