The Nonesuch

He looked up, to find that Waldo was watching him, the faintest hint of a question in his eyes. He reddened, saying roughly: “No, I don’t want Broom Hall, and I hope I know better than to waste my time recommending you not to drop your blunt providing for a parcel of paupers who won’t thank you for it, and, you may depend upon it, won’t grow up to be the respectable citizens you think they will, either! But I must say I do wonder what made that old miser leave his money to you!”

Sir Waldo could have enlightened him, but thought it more tactful to refrain from divulging that he figured in his eccentric relative’s Will as “the only member of my family who has paid no more heed to me than I have to him.”

“Well, for my part I think it very unsatisfactory,” said Lady Lindeth. “And not at all what poor Cousin Joseph would have wished!”

“You do mean to do that, Waldo?” Julian asked.

“Yes, I think so, if I find the place at all suitable. It may not be—and in any event I don’t want it prattled about, so just you keep your tongue, young man!”

“Well, of all the abominable injustices—! I didn’t prattle about your horrid brats: it was George! Waldo, if you mean to go north, may I go with you?”

“Why, yes, if you wish, but you’ll find it a dead bore, you know. There will be a good deal of business to be settled with Cousin Joseph’s attorney, which will keep me busy in Leeds; and whatever I decide to do with Broom Hall I must look into things there, and set about putting them in order. Dull work! In the middle of the Season, too!”

“Much I care! That’s what I think a dead bore: going from one horrible squeeze to another; doing the pretty to people I’d as lief never see again; showing-off in the Grand Strut—”

“You know, you’re spoilt, Julian!” interrupted George severely.

“No, I’m not. I never did like going to parties, and I never shall—not these insipid ton parties, at all events. I like living in the country. I say, Waldo, I wonder if there’s any fishing to be had near Broom Hall?” He saw that Sir Waldo was looking at Lady Lindeth, and added: “Oh, Mama don’t object! Do you, Mama?”

“No,” she answered. “You must do as you please—though it seems a pity you should go out of town just now. There’s the Aveburys’ Dress-party, and—However, if you prefer to go to Yorkshire with Waldo I am sure I have nothing to say!”

There was a good deal of reluctance in her voice, which one at least of her audience recognized and appreciated. She was a devoted but not a foolish parent; and while, on the one hand, she was bent on thrusting her son into the heart of the ton, and (if possible) arranging an advantageous marriage for him; on the other, she had far too much wisdom either to try to drive him against his inclination, or to cast the least rub in the way of his allegiance to his cousin Waldo. It stood greatly to her credit that almost from the hour of her widowhood she had made up her mind that she must never keep Julian tied to her apron-strings. But although she had adhered strictly to this resolve she had suffered many qualms, fearing that the very sweetness of his disposition might be his undoing. He was a handsome boy, and one who had come into the world hosed and shod, as the saying was; and her dread was that he might be flattered and coaxed into such company as Laurence kept, with disastrous results. With Waldo he was not only safe but fortunate as well, since Waldo, taking him into his own circle, was introducing him to men of the first rank and character. That most of these gentlemen were addicted to the more dangerous, and (in her view) more degrading forms of sport, she did not allow to weigh with her. It was incomprehensible to her why any man should wish to risk his neck in the hunting field, or in a curricle race: or should derive the smallest satisfaction from planting a flush hit in the face of some unoffending acquaintance, encountered in Jackson’s Boxing Saloon; but she was fortified in her acceptance of these peculiar activities by the knowledge that no female was fitted to be a judge of such matters; and by the realization that nothing was farther from her ambition than to see her son joining the ranks of those who abjured violent sports. Furthermore, however many pangs of jealousy she might have been made to suffer when, having failed to turn Julian from some adolescent and ill-judged start, she had seen Waldo blight it by the mere lifting of an eyebrow, she could still be thankful to him. His ideas might not coincide with hers; she might resent Julian’s devotion to him; but while she knew his influence over her darling to be strong no maternal apprehensions seriously troubled her.

She met his eyes, and saw the understanding smile in them. He said: “I know, ma’am—but where’s the use? I’ll take good care of him!”