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Updated: June 14, 2025
Courtenay tossed her head, bit her lip, and rustled out of the room in a huff. She reported her ill-success with 'Maryllia Van' to her husband, who, in his turn, reported it to Lord Roxmouth, who straightway conveyed these and all other items of the progress or retrogression of his wooing to Mrs. Fred Vancourt.
I can get a paid companion and go travelling, but, oh dear, I've had so much travelling! or I can own myself in the wrong to Aunt Emily, and marry that wretch Roxmouth, Oh, no! I COULD not! I WILL not!" She gave an impatient little stamp with her foot, and anon surveyed the old house with affectionate eyes.
She stood with patience while Sir Morton Pippitt, over-excited by the presence of the various 'titled' personages in his house, guffawed and blustered in her face over the 'little surprise' he had prepared for her in the unexpected appearance of Lord Roxmouth; she listened to his "Ha!-ha!-ha! My dear lady! We know a thing or two! Handsome fellow, handsome fellow!
But he was intensely weary of Sir Morton's 'fine jovial personality' he hated his red face, his white hair, his stout body, his servile obsequiousness to rank, and all his 'darling old man' ways. Darling old man he might be, but he was unquestionably a dull old man as well. So much so, indeed, that when at luncheon on the day now named, his lordship Roxmouth, as Mr.
That lady, however, felt so perfectly confident that Roxmouth would, with the romantic surroundings of the Manor, and the exceptional opportunities afforded by long afternoons and moonlit evenings, succeed where he had hitherto failed, that she almost selected Maryllia's bridal gown, and went so far as to study the most elaborate designs for wedding-cakes of a millionaire description.
Courtenay rose from her chair with a bounce "You have become so rude lately, Maryllia, -you really have! Your aunt is quite right! But I'm glad you have asked Roxmouth to dine to-night that is at least one step in the right direction! I'm sure if you will let him say a few words to you alone " Maryllia lifted her eyes. "I have already asked you to drop this subject," she said.
The parson has nothing whatever to do with me, why, this is the first Sunday I have ever been to his church, you know I never go to church." Lady Beaulyon looked at her narrowly, unconvinced. "What have you left your aunt for?" she asked. "Simply because she wants me to marry Roxmouth, and I won't!" said Maryllia, emphatically. "Why not?"
"A thousand!" he answered, thinking what a pretty little woman she was, as he spoke. "Well don't even if they want you to do so, don't bring Lord Roxmouth or Mr. Marius Longford back to the Manor. They are Sir Morton Pippitt's friends and guests they are not mine!" A faint flicker of surprise passed over the aristocratic motor- driver's features, but he made no observation.
And in less than forty-eight hours' time there was no name too bad for the absent Maryllia; she was 'mixed up' with John Walden, she had 'tried to entangle him' there had been 'a scene with him at the Manor, she was 'forward, 'conceited' and utterly lost to any sense of propriety. Why did she not marry Lord Roxmouth? Why, indeed! Many people could tell if they chose!
Roxmouth must really think me a perfect idiot if he dreams that I would accept such a story as that she was 'surprised and disturbed' at receiving the box of peacock's feathers. Aunt Emily was never 'surprised' or 'disturbed' at anything in her life, I am sure!
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