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Updated: May 13, 2025
Aunt Charlotte turned round, looking slightly dazed. "Going to lunch with whom?" she asked. "With Mr St Aubyn. You know he lives at Moorcombe Court. I met him in the woods and had a long talk with him, and now he's going to show me all his pictures and his engravings and his wonderful orchids and things. I'm to spend all the afternoon with him. Isn't it splendid!
A somewhat incongruous object, amid that rural scene, and not a very prepossessing one; but apparently a gentleman, though scarcely of the stamp of St Aubyn. At last he came quite near, and Austin moved as though to let him pass. "Don't trouble yourself, young gentleman," said the newcomer, in a good-humoured, offhand way. "Can you tell me whether I'm anywhere near a place called Moorcombe Court?"
His aunt's demeanour imparted an air of reserve even to the description he gave her of the attractions of Moorcombe Court. Perhaps the good lady was a trifle sore at never having been invited there herself. One never knows. At any rate, her attitude was chilling. So as regarded the incident in the Banqueting Hall he preserved entire silence. Her scepticism was too complacent to be attacked.
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