CHAPTER XII.

Lucy welcomed her sisters home, after an absence of unprecedented duration, with warmhearted pleasure, but Jane went far to extinguish the feeling.

In the heyday of her blooming youth and satisfaction, she was not likely to acquire any tender tact lacking at other times; and an elder sister, mentally set down in her catalogue of old maids, was fair game.

‘Why, Lucy,’ she cried, as they sat together the first evening, herself the only idler of the three, ‘you look as old as George, and about as lively: Miss Drum must be catching.’

‘Do leave Miss Drum alone,’ Lucy answered, speaking hastily from a double annoyance. ‘And if,’—she forced a laugh,—‘surely if my looks recall George to your mind they ought to please you.’

But Jane was incorrigible. ‘My dear, George is Orpingham Place, and Orpingham Place is George; but your looks suggest some distinction between the two. Only think, he expected me to grow dismal at leaving him behind, and I did positively see his red pockethandkerchief fluttering in the breeze as we screamed out of the station. And he actually flattered himself I should not go out much till the wedding is over; catch me staying at home if I can help it! By-the-bye, did you mean a joke by wrapping his photograph up in the ten-pound note? It struck me afterwards as really neat in its way.’

‘Oh, Jane!’ put in Catherine, and more she might have added in reproof; but at that instant the door opened, and Mr. Ballantyne was announced.

Mr. Ballantyne was a solicitor, related to Mrs. Gawkins Drum, and taken into partnership by that lady’s husband shortly before their marriage. Judging by looks, Mr. Ballantyne might have been own nephew to Miss Drum rather than to her sister-in-law, so neutral was he in aspect and manner; if ever any one liked him at first sight, it was because there was nothing on the surface to stir a contrary feeling; and if any one volunteered a confidence to him, it was justified by his habitual taciturnity, which suggested a mechanical aptitude at keeping a secret; yet, however appearances were against him, he was a shrewd man of business, and not deficient in determination of character.

He arrived by appointment to show Miss Charlmont the draft of her settlement on her sister, and take, if need be, further instructions. She was one to see with her own eyes rather than merely to hear with her own ears, and, therefore, retired with the papers to the solitude of her own room, leaving her sisters to entertain the visitor.

Thus left, Mr. Ballantyne took a respectful look at Jane, whose good luck in securing the master of Orpingham Place he considered rare indeed. Looking at her he arrived at the conclusion that Mr. Durham also had been lucky. Jane just glanced at Mr. Ballantyne, mentally appraising him as a nonentity; but in that glance she saw his admiration; admiration always propitiated her, and she deigned to be gracious.

Various maiden ladies in Brompton-on-Sea would have been gracious to Mr. Ballantyne from a different motive. Though still a youngish man he was a widower, already in easy circumstances, and with a prospect of growing rich. His regard for his late wife’s memory was most decorous, but not such as to keep him inconsolable; and his only child, Frank, being no more than five years old and healthy, need scarcely be viewed as a domestic drawback; indeed, certain spinsters treated the boy with a somewhat demonstrative affection, but these ladies were obviously not in their teens.

Mr. Ballantyne meanwhile, though mildly courteous to all, had not singled out any one for avowed preference. Possibly he liked Miss Edith Sims, a doctor’s daughter, a bold equestrian, a first-rate croquet player; she hoped so sincerely, for she had unbecoming carroty hair and freckles; possibly he liked Lucy Charlmont, but she had never given the chance a thought. Of Miss Charlmont, whom he had seen twice, and both times exclusively on business, he stood in perceptible awe.

Catherine, finding nothing to object to in the draft, returned it to Mr. Ballantyne with her full assent. Then tea was brought in, and Mr. Ballantyne was asked to stay. His aptitude for carrying cups and plates, recognised and admired in other circles, here remained in abeyance; Miss Charlmont adhering to the old fashion of people sitting round the tea-table at tea no less formally than round the dining-table at dinner.

A plan for a picnic having been set on foot by the Gawkins Drums, Lucy had been invited, and had accepted before Jane’s engagement was announced. So now Mr. Ballantyne mentioned the picnic, taking for granted that Lucy would join, and empowered by the projectors to ask her sisters also; Jane brightened at the proposal, being secretly charmed at a prospect of appearing amongst her familiar s mistress elect of Orpingham Place; but Catherine demurred,—

‘Thank you, Mr. Ballantyne; I will call myself and thank Mrs. Drum, but Mr. Durham might object, and I will stay at home with my sister. No doubt we shall find future opportunities of all meeting.’

‘Dear me!’ cried Jane; ‘Mr. Durham isn’t Bluebeard; or, if he is, I had better get a little fun first. My compliments, please, and I shall be too glad to come.’

‘Oh, Jane!’ remonstrated Miss Charlmont; but it was a hopeless remonstrance. Jane, once bent on amusement, was not to be deterred by doubtful questions of propriety; and the elder sister, mortified, but more anxious for the offender’s credit than for her own dignity, changed her mind perforce, and, with a sigh, accepted the invitation. If Jane was determined to go, she had better go under a middle-aged sister’s eye; but the party promised to be a large one, including various strange gentlemen, and Catherine honestly judged it objectionable.

Jane, however, was overflowing with glee, and questioned Mr. Ballantyne energetically as to who were coming. When he was gone she held forth to her sisters,—

‘That hideous Edith Sims, of course she will ride over on Brunette, to show her figure and her bridle hand. I shall wear pink, and sit next her to bring out her freckles. I’ve not forgotten her telling people I had no fortune. Don’t you see she’s trying to hook Mr. Ballantyne? you heard him say she has been consulting him about something or other. Let’s drive Mr. Ballantyne over in our carriage, and the baby can perch on the box.’

Lucy said, ‘Nonsense, Jane; Mr. Ballantyne has his own dog-cart, and he is tiresome enough without keeping him all to ourselves.’

And Catherine added, this time peremptorily, ‘My dear, that is not to be thought of; I could not justify it to Mr. Durham. Either you will drive over with Lucy and me, and any other person I may select, or you must find a carriage for yourself, as I shall not go to the picnic.’