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Updated: August 14, 2024
It was grief, too, to think that after Hector the title would go to Evermond Le Mesurier, the unmarried and dissolute uncle, if he survived his nephew, and then would die out altogether. There would be no more Baron Bracondales of Bracondale, unless Hector chose to marry and have sons. Oh, life was a topsy-turvy affair at the best of times, she sighed to herself.
The two men were waiting for them Lord Bracondale and the French Count her father and Mrs. McBride had not yet appeared. Theodora introduced them to her husband, and Lord Bracondale said: "Mrs. McBride is always late. I have found out which is your father's table; don't you think we might go and sit down?" And they did.
Theodora got well into the corner of the velvet sofa, the Count on one side and Lord Bracondale on the other, with Josiah beyond the Count. They made conversation. The Frenchman was voluble and agreeable, and the next ten minutes passed without incident. Josiah, not quite at ease, perhaps, but on the whole not ill-pleased with his situation.
The Lamonts went abroad that night, and stayed there for quite six months, during which time Anne mended her broken heart and saw the folly of her ways. Hector and she had never alluded to the matter all these years, only they were intimate friends and understood each other. Lady Bracondale adored Hector and was fond of Anne, but had no comprehension of either.
Do you advise me just to let the thing drop, then?" "No; be as kind as you like only don't assist them to destruction." "She goes into the country on Saturday for Whitsuntide, as we all do. Hector is going down to Bracondale alone." "That looks desperate. I shall see Hector, and judge for myself." "You must be sure to go to the ball at Harrowfield House to-night, then," Anne said.
"Hector is with the American I told you about in Paris. Do you see, going down to supper. Oh, isn't she pretty! and what jewels look!" And Lady Bracondale had moved forward in a manner quite foreign to her usual dignity to catch sight of them. "It is the same woman he talked to at the opera last night," she said. "She is not an American, but a Mrs.
The same thought came to her that was conjuring the brain of Lord Bracondale: would there be a chance to speak to-night, or must they each go their way in silence? He meant to assist fate if he could, but having Monica Ellerwood there was a considerable drawback.
"Ah, there is my mother!" he exclaimed, at last, with such evident relief that Morella began to feel spiteful. They made their way to where Lady Bracondale was standing. She beamed upon them like a pleased pussy-cat. It looked so suitable to see them thus together! "Dearest," she said to Morella, "is not this a lovely ball? And I can see you are enjoying yourself."
After all, he wished to spend Whitsuntide with her, and this anxiety to find Lady Bracondale had been all on that account. Lady Bracondale, who was acquainted with Miss Winmarleigh's plans, made the same interruption, and joy warmed her being. She was only too pleased to do whatever he wished. And the affair was soon accomplished.
For with such a mother what perfect children they would be! This was always her final reflection. At twelve o'clock punctually Lord Bracondale was ushered into Mrs. McBride's sitting-room at the Ritz, the day after her dinner-party at Armenonville.
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