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Updated: June 17, 2025
Wrotham and Brookfield were always seen together, they were brothers in every sort of social iniquity and licentiousness, and an attempt on Brookfield's part to borrow some thousands of pounds for his "lordly" patron from Helmsley, had resulted in the latter giving the would-be borrower's go-between such a strong piece of his mind as he was not likely to forget.
"It says wait a minute! it says 'Society will be plunged into mourning for Lord Wrotham, who was one of the most promising of our younger peers, and whose sporting tendencies made him a great favourite in Court circles."
"One of them's a lord, too," she added. "Quite a young fellow, just come into his title, I suppose." And referring to her day-book, she ran her plump finger down the various entries. "I've got his name here Wrotham, Lord Reginald Wrotham." "Wrotham? That aint a name known in these parts," said the man in corduroys. "Wheer does 'e come from?" "I don't know," she replied.
Brookfield, has got nearly all the pictorials under his thumb, and he'll put your portrait in them as 'The Beauty of Somerset, won't you, Brookfield?" Brookfield laughed, a pleased laugh of conscious power. "Of course I will," he said. "You have only to express the wish and the thing is done!" Wrotham twirled his moustache again.
My Lord Wrotham was a great friend of the august family of Savile House, who knew and esteemed his many virtues. Now, of all living men, my Lord Wrotham knew and loved best his neighbour and old fellow-soldier, Martin Lambert, declaring that the world contained few better gentlemen.
"Well, then, it must be later and with someone who has a great deal of money. We are quite badly enough off as it is." "You and I could go away again on our own," suggested Mabel, "you know you said the other day that Wrotham was getting on your nerves." "Don't be ridiculous," snapped Mrs. Grant, "I should like to know what you think we should live on once Dick has a wife.
"No, thanks I'd rather not. I'll stand just here." She gave him the brandy he had asked for. He sipped it slowly, and, pushing his cap further off his brows, turned his dark eyes, full of smouldering fire, upon Lord Wrotham and his friend, both of whom had succeeded in getting up a little conversation with the hostess's younger daughter, the girl named Grace.
The dinner-party, specially arranged by Mrs. Grant for Dick's benefit, consisted of a Mr. and Mrs. Bevis, who lived in a large new house on the other side of the park, their two daughters, Dr. English, who had taken Dick's place at Wrotham, and a young man from Sevenoaks itself. "Someone in a bank," as Mrs. Grant described him.
Beyond the well-kept lawn at the back of the house the fields stretched away till they reached the fringe of the forest, and above the trees again rose the chalk hills that lay, he knew, just behind Wrotham. He was thinking vaguely of many things as he stood there; first of Mabel and the new happiness shining in her eyes.
"From what I remember of travelling companies, Wrotham is better without them." Despite all Swetenham's praise and the Miss Bevis' enthusiastic anticipation Dick settled into his seat in the fourth row of the so-called stalls with the firm conviction that he was going to be thoroughly bored.
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