Chapter Fourteen #4
She was very much touched, but he would not permit her to express the sense of her obligation.
Setting the tips of his bony fingers together, and speaking with measured severity, he said: ‘You are aware, I don’t doubt, my dear Venetia, of what my sentiments have always been.
I hope it is not necessary for me to add that both your aunt and I hold you in affection and esteem.
Hyperbole is foreign to my nature, but I don’t hesitate to tell you that your conduct, distinguished as it has always been by good sense and upright principles, is such as must command respect.
In fact, my dear niece,’ he added, warming to this theme, ‘you are a very good girl, and have been shabbily used by those who should have made your comfort their first concern! Let me assure you that it will give me a great deal of pleasure to do whatever may be in my power to recompense you for the years you have sacrificed to what you saw to be your duty!’ She made a gesture of protest, but he merely frowned at her, and said with asperity: ‘Allow me to be plain with you, I beg! Reluctant as I am to open my lips to you on the subject of your late father’s peculiarities I believe it to be proper for me to say that although I do not deny that he was in many ways an estimable man his behaviour upon the unhappy event which occurred during your childhood seemed to me to be as selfish as it was ill-judged.
He was aware of my sentiments: more I will not say, except that I could not but acknowledge the propriety of a daughter’s submitting to a parent’s will.
When, upon his sudden demise, you felt it to be your duty to remain here during the then unavoidable absence of your elder brother, I could not deny the force of your arguments, or think it right to press you.
Nor did I renew my persuasions when it became apparent that Conway, instead of returning to set you free from the responsibilities you had been so unselfish as to have taken upon your own shoulders, had no notion of consulting anything but his own pleasure, for I was well aware that it would be useless, since you could be depended on to find excuses for him.
When, however, I was made aware of the contents of the letter you wrote to your aunt – Venetia, I do not scruple to say that I have seldom been more shocked, or that I consider Conway’s conduct in thrusting upon you in such a fashion not only his wife, but also her mother, is outrageous, and such as to release you from all obligation to continue at Undershaw! ’
‘Of course it is!’ she agreed, a good deal amused.
‘I don’t scruple to say so either! But I have never believed it to be my duty to stay here on his account, you know.
I remained for Aubrey’s sake – and pray don’t imagine that the least sacrifice was entailed, my dear sir!
He and I are the best of good friends, and have kept house very comfortably together, I assure you. ’
He regarded her with bleak approval, but said, in his dryest voice: ‘You will hardly do so now that Mrs Scorrier has quartered herself upon you, however.’
‘No, indeed we shan’t! I had already realised that the sooner I make other arrangements for us both the better it will be. I fancy Mrs Scorrier has shown you her most conciliating face, so that you might find it impossible to believe how odious I find her!’
‘My dear Venetia, you have no need to tell me, for I am well-acquainted with her sort! A very pushing, overbearing female, who wants both conduct and manner. Depend upon it, the unseemly haste of this marriage may be laid at her door! A very good match for her daughter she has contrived, upon my word! I am excessively displeased that Conway should have had no more sense than to shackle himself to such a dab of a girl, who has nothing to recommend her but a pretty face and an amiable temper. Her birth is no more than respectable, and as for fortune, I should doubt of her having above a thousand pounds settled upon her, and very likely less, for the Scorriers are not wealthy, and her father, besides, was a younger son.’
This circumstance seemed to increase his disgust, and for several minutes he was unable to dismiss it from his mind.
But when he had delivered himself of sundry pungent observations, and moralised briefly on the evils of impetuosity and improvidence he returned to the object of his visit, and in a manner that showed him to have formed the fixed resolve of removing Venetia from Undershaw immediately.
‘I do not wish to put you to inconvenience, Venetia, but it would be very agreeable to me if you could be ready to go with me tomorrow morning.’
‘But I could not! Even if – Dear sir, you must allow me time to think! There are so many considerations – Aubrey – Undershaw – Oh, sometimes I think I shall be obliged to remain here until Conway returns, for heaven only knows what that woman might not do if she were left in command here!’
‘As to that, it will not be in her power to overset your arrangements, my dear. I do not doubt that she has every disposition to do so, and so I thought it prudent to inform her that since Lady Lanyon has neither the authority nor the experience to assume the government of her husband’s affairs, all such power will be left in Mytchett’s hands.
Indeed, I have already spoken to Mytchett, and all that remains to be done is for you to put him in possession of the necessary information, and to give him whatever directions you think right.
I ventured to tell him that I hoped to bring you to his place of business tomorrow, on our way to London.
For Aubrey, I should have explained to you that my invitation was naturally meant for him as well as for you. ’
She pressed a hand to her brow rather distractedly, for she really knew not what to say, or even what to do.
To the objections she raised he returned calm answers that demolished them; and when she confided to him her scheme of setting up her own establishment he said, after a moment’s silence, that he would be happy to discuss future plans with her when she was living under his roof.
He then told her kindly that he regretted to be obliged to hurry her so uncomfortably, but was persuaded that when she had considered the matter for a little while her good sense would enable her to perceive the wisdom of withdrawing from Undershaw, and under his protection.
‘I shall leave you now,’ he announced, rising to his feet.
‘I am, as you know, an indifferent traveller, and can never go above a short distance without bringing on my tic. Lady Lanyon will, I must hope, excuse me if I retire to my bedchamber until dinnertime. No, do not put yourself to the trouble of accompanying me, my dear niece! I know my way, and have already desired your excellent housekeeper to send up a hot brick when I ring my bell. A hot brick to the feet, you know, will frequently alleviate cases of severe tic.’
She knew him well enough not to persist, and he went away, leaving her to try to collect her scattered wits.
It was no easy task, and after a very few moments the only clear thought in her head was that before trying to reach a decision she must see Damerel.
This put her in mind of his promise to visit her as near noon as might be, and made her look quickly at the clock.
It wanted only a few minutes to one o’clock.
She thought he might already be awaiting her in the library, and went there immediately.
He was not there. She hesitated, and then, on a sudden resolve, left the house by the garden-door, and went swiftly back to the stables.