“Well, Bonsor, I can see by your face that you have something unpleasant to tell me.”
“You promised to let me have those estimates for the drainage of the water meadows.”
“Um! Fishpingle has them. They shall be sent up this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Sir Geoffrey. The coal has been ordered, a truck. Can you tell me what was paid for the last delivery, per ton?”
“One more matter, Sir Geoffrey. The bill for the chancel repairs is heavier than I expected. If you could go over the accounts with Mr. Hamlin——”
“That is all, I think, for this morning.”
He rose, smiling, bobbed again, and went out. Sir Geoffrey raised hands and eyes to the ceiling.
“Why, Mary, do I have such a lot of chuckle-headed ignoramuses in my employ? I ask you—why?”
“Because, dear, you love to have your own people about you, which is so nice and endearing of you.”
“Thankless swine! I feel a draught. Is a window open? Yes. Who opened it?”
He shut the window and returned to the sofa upon which Lady Pomfret was sitting. He sat beside her, took her hand in his, and patted it gently.
“Now, Mary, I sent for you because I want you to see Ben and bring him to his senses.”
“I am prepared to be magnanimous. I must make allowance for poor Ben’s irritability and quick temper. I have no doubt whatever that he is thoroughly ashamed of himself. And well aware as I am of his shortcomings, I have never questioned his devotion to you. Will you see him?”
“I do wish it. You can tell him that I am prepared to accept an apology. I make this concession for your sake, my dear.”
She smiled at him, with a lift of her delicate brows.
“Not at all. God knows that I’m perfectly content with bread and cheese and a glass of ale, but I have to think of you and Margot. It is most unfortunate that our servants should have chosen such a moment to defy me. As for Lionel, I cannot trust myself to speak of him to you.”
Lady Pomfret attempted no defence of her son. And the thought of the approaching interview with Fishpingle was distressing her. What could she say to Ben? What would he say to her? Her attention was distracted, however, by the appearance of Margot, evidently clothed for the road, and looking more than ordinarily alert and sprightly. Somehow she gave the impression of speed, whenever she donned her motoring kit, of excess speed. Lady Pomfret, looking up at her, said to herself, “We could never have kept up with her.”