Country homes -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
begun to make the movement to cut it short when Owen stopped her with a
grasp of her arm. "You're surely able to guess," he said, with his voice
dropped and her arm pressed as she had never known such a drop or such a
pressure--"you're surely able to guess the one person on earth I love?"
The handle of the door turned, and Fleda had only time to jerk at him:
"Your mother!"
The door opened, and the smutty maid, edging in, announced "Mrs.
Brigstock!"
XV
Mrs. Brigstock, in the doorway, stood looking from one of the occupants
of the room to the other; then they saw her eyes attach themselves to a
small object that had lain hitherto unnoticed on the carpet. This was
the biscuit of which, on giving Owen his tea, Fleda had taken a
perfunctory nibble: she had immediately laid it on the table, and that
subsequently, in some precipitate movement, she should have brushed it
off was doubtless a sign of the agitation that possessed her. For Mrs.
Brigstock there was apparently more in it than met the eye. Owen at any
rate picked it up, and Fleda felt as if he were removing the traces of
some scene that the newspapers would have characterized as lively. Mrs.
Brigstock clearly took in also the sprawling tea-things and the mark as
of high water in the full faces of her young friends. These elements
made the little place a vivid picture of intimacy. A minute was filled
by Fleda's relief at finding her visitor not to be Mrs. Gereth, and a
longer space by the ensuing sense of what was really more compromising
in the actual apparition. It dimly occurred to her that the lady of
Ricks had also written to Waterbath. Not only had Mrs. Brigstock never
paid her a call, but Fleda would have been unable to figure her so
employed. A year before the girl had spent a day under her roof, but
never feeling that Mrs. Brigstock regarded this as constituting a bond.
She had never stayed in any house but Poynton where the imagination of a
bond, one way or the other, prevailed. After the first astonishment she
dashed gayly at her guest, emphasizing her welcome and wondering how her
whereabouts had become known at Waterbath. Had not Mrs. Brigstock
quitted that residence for the very purpose of laying her hand on the
associate of Mrs. Gereth's misconduct? The spirit in which this hand was
to be laid our young lady was yet to ascertain; but she was a person who
could think ten thoughts at once--a circumstance which, even putting her
present plight at its worst, gave her a great advantage over a person
who required easy conditions for dealing even with one. The very
vibration of the air, however, told her that whatever Mrs. Brigstock's
spirit might originally have been, it had been sharply affected by the
sight of Owen. He was essentially a surprise: she had reckoned with
everything that concerned him but his presence. With that, in awkward
silence, she was reckoning now, as Fleda could see, while she effected
with friendly aid an embarrassed transit to the sofa. Owen would be
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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