The Talisman Ring

“But I thought it would be a very good thing to pretend to Basil that you still wished to marry me, and so, you see, you cannot come to his house with us. I perceive now that it is a pity that I said it, perhaps, but one cannot always look far enough ahead.”

“On the whole,” said Shield, “I am inclined to think that you did right. I must, after all, have some excuse for visiting this inn so often. I will join your party at the Dower House, and you may counterfeit all the disgust you please.”

Miss Thane nodded approvingly. “I

see! You will arrive upon some pretext, just in time to rescue Mr Lavenham from my importunities. Eustacie having signified her desire to hold private speech with him, he will hail your arrival with joy. I shall have to be a very stupid sort of a woman, and ask a great many questions. Tell me something to say about his house.”

“Comment enthusiastically upon the silver-figured oak wainscoting in the dining-room,” said Sir Tristram.

“Also the strap-and-jewel work overmantel in the drawing-room,” struck in Ludovic. “Sylvester used to say it was devilish fine; that I do remember.”

“Strap-and-jewel work,” repeated Miss Thane, committing it to memory.

“Dutch influence,” said Sir Tristram. “Detect the school of Torrigiano in the library.”

“Is it there?” inquired Ludovic, vaguely interested.

“Heaven knows. Basil won’t, at any rate. Say that it is a pity the muntins are not covered by pilasters. Talk of cartouches, and caryatids, and scratch-mouldings. Ask for the history of every picture, and discover that the staircase reminds you of one you have seen somewhere else, though you cannot immediately recall where.”

“Say no more! I see it all!” declared Miss Thane. “Heaven send he does not fob me off on to the housekeeper!”

Fortunately for the success of her plot the Beau’s manners were far too polished to permit of his resorting to this expedient. According to a carefully-laid plan, the two ladies set out upon the following morning in Sir Hugh’s chaise, and drove at a sedate pace to the Dower House, which was situated on the northern side of Lavenham Court, about five miles from Hand Cross. It was a sixteenth-century house of respectable size, approached by a short carriage-sweep. Its gardens, which were separated from the Park by a kind of ha-ha, were laid out with great propriety of taste, and some very fine clipped yews, flanking the oaken front door, at once met with Miss Thane’s approbation.

They were admitted into the house by a town-bred and somewhat supercilious butler, and led through the hall to the drawing-room. This was an elegant apartment, furnished in the first style of fashion, but Miss Thane had no time to waste in admiring what were obviously quite up-to-date chairs and tables. Her attention was fixed anxiously upon the overmantel.

The Beau joined his guests in a very few minutes. If he felt any surprise at a somewhat vague engagement having been kept with such promptness, no trace of it appeared in his countenance. He greeted both ladies with his usual grace, feared they must have been chilled during their drive in such hard weather, and begged them to draw near the fire. Eustacie, whose cheeks were rosy where a nipping east wind had caught them, promptly complied with the suggestion, but Miss Thane was unable to tear herself from the contemplation of the overmantel. She stood well back from it, assuming a devout expression, and breathed: “ Such exquisite strap-and-jewel work! You did not tell me you had anything so fine, Mr Lavenham! I declare, I do not know how to take my eyes from it!”

“I believe it is considered to be a very good example, ma’am,” the Beau acknowledged. “The late Lord Lavenham was used to say it was finer than the one up at the Court, but I am afraid I am not a judge of such things.”

But this Miss Thane would not allow to be true. No protestations that he ‘could make succeeded in shaking her belief that it was his modesty which spoke. She launched forth into a sea of talk, in which Dutch influence, the style of the Renaissance, the inferiority of Flemish craftsmanship, and the singular beauty of the Gothic jostled one another like rudderless boats adrift in a whirlpool. From the overmantel she passed with scarcely a check to the pictures on the walls. She detected a De Hooge with unerring judgment, and was at once reminded of a few weeks spent in the Netherlands some years ago. Her reminiscences, recounted with a vivacious artlessness which made Eustacie stare at her in rapt admiration, were only put an end to by the Beau’s seizing the opportunity afforded by her pausing to take breath to propose that they should step into the dining-parlour for some refreshment.