Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“H’m! That place agrees with most mothers that agrees with their young
daughters,” said she dryly. “And as for Miss Davison’s work, she’s
having a good long holiday, I guess, just now!”
“Doesn’t she come backwards and forwards to town from the Priory?”
“Oh, yes, she does, now and then; but she must be clever if she can do
much work during the short time she’s away! However, I won’t take up
your time, Mr. Buckland, if you’re busy. I’m sorry you can’t say more
to set my mind at rest about the girl. But, anyhow, I hope you’ll come
down and see us again. We’re always glad to see our friends, you know,
and there’s generally a good many of them down there, and we give them
a good time, as you know. Good-bye.”
She shook hands with him and went away, refusing to let him accompany
her as far as the door, where she said that she had a cab waiting.
Her visit made Gerard uneasy, as it confirmed some of his fears. He
felt little doubt that the mother was anxious about her sons’ gambling
propensities, and that her sharp eyes had discovered that there was
some mystery about the woman whom she, at least, looked upon as her
younger son’s fiancée.
The visit of the old lady left him in a state of great confusion of
mind. He did not know quite how things stood at the Priory, whether
the engagement was definite, in spite of Rachel’s promise, or whether
she was waiting, as she had said she would do, for Mr. Van Santen’s
appearance.
And he could not tell how much Mrs. Van Santen really knew about
Miss Davison, and whether she was concealing the full extent of her
suspicions, in order to learn more if she could.
He wished that he could get another opportunity of conversing with
Rachel herself; and he resolved, in spite of his knowledge that he
would find the experience a trying one, upon going down to the Priory
again, as Mrs. Van Santen had invited him to do, on the very next
Sunday.
The weather had changed since his last visit; the evenings had become
chilly; and the card-playing was carried on with more zest than ever in
consequence.
Otherwise the essential features of the hospitality offered were the
same. Cora sang; Delia went from group to group, with ready tact and
charm smoothing over gaps in the conversation, and introducing to each
other such people as she thought would find each other’s conversation
congenial. Mrs. Van Santen was the same homely, dear old soul as
ever, pouring out tea and coffee with energy, and plaintively telling
her sons she wished they had something better to do than play cards
morning, noon, and night. While the brothers played poker and bridge
assiduously, and Rachel, as handsomely dressed as ever, but with a
face paler than before, took rather a background position, and seemed
listless and languid, and anxious to avoid Gerard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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