The Quiet Gentleman by Georgette Heyer

disposition, you know, and you pay me a handsome wage, besides housing me in the first style of elegance, so that I am not put to the expense of maintaining an establishment of my own!’
    Gervase laughed, but shook his head. ‘You cannot like it!’
    ‘I like it very well indeed, thank you. Stanyon has been as much my home as yours, recollect!’
    ‘Much more,’ said the Earl.
    ‘Yes, unfortunately, but you will forget the past. Do you mean to allow Martin to continue here?’
    ‘I had not considered the matter. Does he wish to?’
    ‘Well, it will certainly not suit him to remove to Studham!’ replied Theo. ‘I do not know how he is to continue hunting with the Belvoir from Norfolk! He would be obliged to put up at Grantham throughout the winter, and I own it would be uncomfortable. There is, moreover, this to be considered: when Cinderford died, your father permitted our aunt to take up her residence there, and it would be hard, I daresay, to prevail upon her to remove.’
    ‘Impossible, I imagine. He may remain at Stanyon, if only he can be persuaded to treat me with the semblance at least of civility. There appears, at the moment, to be little likelihood, however, of his doing so.’
    But when the Earl presently joined the rest of his family in one of the parlours on the entrance floor, where a light luncheon had been set out on the table, he found the Dowager and her son apparently determined to be amiable. That he had been the subject of their conversation was made manifest by the conscious silence which fell upon them at his entrance. The Dowager, recovering first from this, said with the utmost graciousness that she was glad to see him, and invited him to partake of some cold meat, and a peach from his own succession-houses. These, which had been installed at her instigation, were, she told him, amongst the finest in the country, and could be depended on to produce the best grapes, peaches, nectarines, and pines which could anywhere be found.
    ‘The gardens, of course, cannot be said to be at their best thus early in the year,’ she observed, ‘but when you have had time to look about you, I trust you will be pleased with their arrangement. I spared no pains, for I dote upon flowers, and I fancy something not altogether contemptible has been achieved. Indeed, the Duchess of Rutland, a very agreeable woman, has often envied me my show of choice blooms. Martin, pass the mustard to your brother: you must perceive that it is beyond his reach!’
    This command having been obeyed, she resumed, in the complacent tone habitual to her: ‘Unless you should prefer to speak with Calne yourself, St Erth, which I cannot suppose to be very likely (for gentlemen seldom interest themselves in such matters), I shall request him to devise one or two elegant bowls for the State saloons. It is not to be supposed that people will care to be backward in paying their morning-calls, now that it is known that you are in residence; and very few families, you know, have as yet removed to the Metropolis. We must not be found unprepared, and I do not by any means despair of Calne’s achieving something creditable.’
    ‘Am I to understand, ma’am, that I must expect to receive visits from all my neighbours?’ asked Gervase, in some dismay.
    ‘Certainly!’ said the Dowager, ignoring a muffled crack of laughter from her son. ‘It would be very odd in them not to render you the observances of civility. It will be proper for you to hold a few dinner-parties, and now that I have put off black gloves I shall not object to performing my duties as hostess. Stanyon has ever held a reputation for hospitality, and I fancy that my little parties have not been, in the past, wholly despised. I am sure nothing is further from my thoughts than a disposition to meddle, but I would advise you, my dear St Erth, to allow yourself to be guided in these matters by me. You cannot be expected to know who should be honoured by an invitation to dine