Lutwyche was captured and came out. "What was it I was not to have till to-morrow morning, Lutwyche? You know quite well what I mean. What was the letter?"
The waiting-woman had a blank stare in preparation, to prevaricate with, but had to give up using it. "Oh yes—there was a note," she said. "It was only a note. Mrs. Lamprey brought it from Dr. Nash. He wished your ladyship to have it to-morrow."
"I will have it at once, thank you! Have you got it there? Just get it, and bring it to me at once."
"I hope your ladyship does not blame me. I was only obeying orders."
"Get it, please, and don't talk." Her ladyship was rather incensed with the young woman, but not for obeying orders. It was because of the attempt to minimise the letter. It was just like Lutwyche. Nothing would make that woman really truthful!
Lutwyche caught up the party, which had not stopped for the finding of the letter, at the drawing-room door. Gwen opened it as she entered the room, saying, to anyone within hearing:—"Excuse my reading this." She dropped on a sofa at hand, close to a chandelier rich with wax lights in the lampless drawing-room. Percy Pellew and his fiancée stood waiting to share the letter's contents, if permitted.
The world, engaged with its own affairs, took no notice. The Earl and the General were listening to tales of Canada from Sir Spencer Derrick. The Countess was pretending to listen to other versions of the same tales from that gentleman's wife. The others were talking about the war, or Louis Napoleon, or Florence Nightingale, or hoping the frost would continue, because nothing was more odious than a thaw in the country. One guest became very unpopular by maintaining that a thaw had already set in, alleging infallible instincts needing no confirmation from thermometers.
The Countess had said, speaking at her daughter across the room:—"I hope we are going to have some music;" and the Colonel had said:—"Ah, give us a song, Gwen;" without eliciting any notice from their beautiful hearer, before anyone but Miss Dickenson and Mr. Pellew noticed the effect this letter was producing. Then the Earl, glancing at the reader's face, saw, even from where he sat, how white it had become, and how tense was its expression. He caught Mr. Pellew's attention. "Do you know what it is, Percy?" said he. Mr. Pellew crossed the room quickly, to reply under his breath:—"I am afraid it is some bad news of her old lady at Chorlton.... Oh no—not that"—for the Earl had made the syllable dead with his lips, inaudibly—"but an alarm of some sort. The doctor's housekeeper there brought the letter."
The Earl left Mr. Pellew, reiterating what he had said to the General, and went over to his daughter. "Let me have it to see," said he, and took the letter from her. He read little scraps, half-aloud, "'Was much better all yesterday, but improvement has not continued.' ... 'Am taking advantage of my housekeeper's visit to the Towers to send this.' ... 'Not to have it till to-morrow.' ... How was that?" Gwen explained briefly, and he said:—"Looks as if the doctor took it for granted you would come at once."
"Yes," said Gwen, "on receipt of the letter."