under her husband’s very nose!”
“Who was she?” interrupted Venetia curiously. “What became of her?”
“I don’t know that, but she was one of the Rendlesham girls—there were three of them, and all great beauties, which was fortunate, because Rendlesham was as poor as a church mouse, and yet they all made good marriages! Not that I mean to say that one prospered, and for my part I shouldn’t have liked it for one of my daughters, even if Sir John were as monstrously in the wind as they say Rendlesham was. Well, for one thing he had the most peculiar name: Vobster !I believe he came into the world hosed and shod, as the saying is, but his father was a shocking mushroom, and as for his grandfather I’m sure no one ever knew who he was! The on-dit was that he owned a two-to-one shop—at least, so my brother George was used to say!—but I daresay that was nothing but a Banbury story. At all events, Gregory Vobster was as rich as Midas, which was what made him acceptable to Lord Rendlesham. He was used to play off all the airs of an exquisite, I recall, but when the pinch came he was not at all up to the rig. Nothing would prevail upon him to consent to a divorce! He behaved very shabbily, just wishing to be revenged, you know, and if he hadn’t broken his neck, overturning his curricle on the Newmarket road, that wretched female would be still married to him! But the thing is, my dear, that that happened not three years after the break-up of the marriage, and though I don’t know why, I do know that she didn’t marry Damerel, which everyone expected she would, of course. Which gives me a very poor notion of him, and makes me excessively reluctant to receive him in my house! What’s more, if he hoped, by abandoning Lady Sophia, to become reconciled with his own family he was well-served, for they utterly cast him off, and it wasn’t until Lady Damerel died that he came back to England. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for his having inherited an independence from old Matthew Stone—he was his godfather, and what they call a chicken-nabob—I daresay he must have been reduced to absolute penury—let alone not being able to run off with Lady Sophia in the first place! Which all goes to show what folly it is to endow young men with fortunes.”
“Cast him off!” Venetia exclaimed. “They would have done better to have cast themselves off!”
“Cast themselves off?” repeated Lady Denny.
“Yes, for having done so ill by him as to let him make a cake of himself over this Lady Sophia! It happened when he was twenty-two, didn’t it? Well, then! I dare swear she was older than he, too. Was she?”
“She was a few years older, I fancy, but—”
“Then you may depend upon it that it was a great deal more her fault than his, ma’am! And although I suppose he ought to have married her in the end I can’t help thinking that she only came by her deserts when he didn’t. In fact, I begin to feel almost sorry for the Wicked Baron. Does he mean to make a long stay in Yorkshire? Shall we be obliged to recognize him?”
“ I must do so, if we should chance to meet, but I am determined it shan’t go beyond a civil bow; and as for inviting him to dine with us in a formal way, I have begged Sir John not to ask it of me! ‘And, pray, which of our acquaintance would you have me invite to meet him?’ I said. ‘The Yardleys? the Traynes? Poor Mrs. Motcomb? Or have you our sweet Venetia in your mind?’ I am happy to say that he saw that it would be quite improper. It is a fortunate circumstance, since I don’t mean to be drawn into the slightest intimacy, that Damerel is a bachelor. If the gentlemen choose to visit him they may do so: he cannot invite ladies to his parties.”
On this triumphant conclusion Lady Denny departed, leaving her young friend to await events with such mixed feelings that she could not have told whether she wished Damerel to find some way of seeing her again, or whether she would be
“Who was she?” interrupted Venetia curiously. “What became of her?”
“I don’t know that, but she was one of the Rendlesham girls—there were three of them, and all great beauties, which was fortunate, because Rendlesham was as poor as a church mouse, and yet they all made good marriages! Not that I mean to say that one prospered, and for my part I shouldn’t have liked it for one of my daughters, even if Sir John were as monstrously in the wind as they say Rendlesham was. Well, for one thing he had the most peculiar name: Vobster !I believe he came into the world hosed and shod, as the saying is, but his father was a shocking mushroom, and as for his grandfather I’m sure no one ever knew who he was! The on-dit was that he owned a two-to-one shop—at least, so my brother George was used to say!—but I daresay that was nothing but a Banbury story. At all events, Gregory Vobster was as rich as Midas, which was what made him acceptable to Lord Rendlesham. He was used to play off all the airs of an exquisite, I recall, but when the pinch came he was not at all up to the rig. Nothing would prevail upon him to consent to a divorce! He behaved very shabbily, just wishing to be revenged, you know, and if he hadn’t broken his neck, overturning his curricle on the Newmarket road, that wretched female would be still married to him! But the thing is, my dear, that that happened not three years after the break-up of the marriage, and though I don’t know why, I do know that she didn’t marry Damerel, which everyone expected she would, of course. Which gives me a very poor notion of him, and makes me excessively reluctant to receive him in my house! What’s more, if he hoped, by abandoning Lady Sophia, to become reconciled with his own family he was well-served, for they utterly cast him off, and it wasn’t until Lady Damerel died that he came back to England. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for his having inherited an independence from old Matthew Stone—he was his godfather, and what they call a chicken-nabob—I daresay he must have been reduced to absolute penury—let alone not being able to run off with Lady Sophia in the first place! Which all goes to show what folly it is to endow young men with fortunes.”
“Cast him off!” Venetia exclaimed. “They would have done better to have cast themselves off!”
“Cast themselves off?” repeated Lady Denny.
“Yes, for having done so ill by him as to let him make a cake of himself over this Lady Sophia! It happened when he was twenty-two, didn’t it? Well, then! I dare swear she was older than he, too. Was she?”
“She was a few years older, I fancy, but—”
“Then you may depend upon it that it was a great deal more her fault than his, ma’am! And although I suppose he ought to have married her in the end I can’t help thinking that she only came by her deserts when he didn’t. In fact, I begin to feel almost sorry for the Wicked Baron. Does he mean to make a long stay in Yorkshire? Shall we be obliged to recognize him?”
“ I must do so, if we should chance to meet, but I am determined it shan’t go beyond a civil bow; and as for inviting him to dine with us in a formal way, I have begged Sir John not to ask it of me! ‘And, pray, which of our acquaintance would you have me invite to meet him?’ I said. ‘The Yardleys? the Traynes? Poor Mrs. Motcomb? Or have you our sweet Venetia in your mind?’ I am happy to say that he saw that it would be quite improper. It is a fortunate circumstance, since I don’t mean to be drawn into the slightest intimacy, that Damerel is a bachelor. If the gentlemen choose to visit him they may do so: he cannot invite ladies to his parties.”
On this triumphant conclusion Lady Denny departed, leaving her young friend to await events with such mixed feelings that she could not have told whether she wished Damerel to find some way of seeing her again, or whether she would be
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