Free The Shocking Miss Anstey by Robert Neill Page B

certain.
    He thought the topic ended when the talk was turned to Altair and the way he had met John Wickham; but later, when the fruits were on the table, the grapes and peaches and nectarines, their host came suddenly back to Hildersham and his dealings with Anice.
    ‘Typical of him,’ was his dry comment. ‘What I think he calls prime style.’
    ‘You know him?’ asked Grant quietly.
    ‘Slightly. I knew his father better. Well . . .’ He leaned forward for a biscuit, which was a signal to the butler that he was ready for the port. ‘Let’s hope he can afford it.’
    ‘Anice? Oh, surely---‘
    ‘It depends on what else he’s been doing. Though I’m told he’s careful at the tables.’ He pushed out his glass as the butler came deferentially with the decanter. ‘Do you play at cards, Grant?’
    ‘Hardly at all’
    ‘Excellent. There’s more ruin in cards than in women.’ He waved his hand gently over the glass for the scent of the wine. ‘At all events, if you must play cards for money, don’t do it after dinner, especially when you’ve liked the wine. There may be someone sitting there who hasn’t.’
    ‘Hasn’t?’
    ‘Dined so well. He’ll have a clearer head. That’s what Hildersham seems to have noticed.’
    ‘A nice point. I hadn’t thought of it.’
    ‘Because you’ve been at sea, where you don’t have gaming tables. A naval upbringing can keep a youngster out of mischief. Some sorts of mischief, at any rate.’
    ‘There’s another side to it, though.’ Grant hesitated, and then decided to press it. ‘I feel at a loss these days, out of soundings, and that’s due to being at sea. I don’t know what is thought, or how people look at things.’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘This Hildersham affair, say, with Anice. How about his wife?’
    ‘Does it concern her at all?’
    ‘I’d have thought if a man goes to Paris with---‘
    ‘My dear Grant . . .’ There was a quick touch of amusement in his tone. ‘It happens, surely?’
    ‘Often enough. But I thought Hildersham a very decent fellow.’
    ‘So he is. And you are therefore surprised that he should leave his wife?’ He spoke steadily now, with the amusement gone. ‘Am I to explain?’
    ‘I’m asking you to.’
    ‘If I can.’ He sat in silence for a moment, and then spoke thoughtfully. ‘He has a great inheritance--estates, high rank, an ancient name--and such things can be a burden. They put duties on a man, and the first duty is to provide an heir. I speak feelingly of that, since I have not done it.’ For an instant he was silent, and then the level tone continued. ‘So he must find a wife, and early. She must be of proper age and health, and of a family that matches his own. A settlement must be made, which can be hard to reach. And I suppose it’s needful that the lady should be willing. In one way and another, you see, it’s difficult. Not many ladies fit requirements, and in the end his choice is small. He must take what wife he can. You could even feel sorry for him.’
    ‘Her also.’
    ‘Certainly. But do you wonder they do not regard the marriage as a thing for themselves? It’s a duty to posterity and is so performed. He’ll expect that his first-born, and perhaps his second-born, shall be faithfully his own, and during that time he may stay with his wife. I believe Hildersham did. But afterwards . . .’ There was a slight shrug of shoulders. ‘Do you see?’ ‘He feels differently?’
    ‘And why should he not? Set it to his credit that he will not usually object if his wife should also look around her. He’d think it highly ill bred to do that. I don’t know how far you can agree?’
    ‘I won’t presume to. I’m merely glad to know. It’s helpful.’
    ‘It may be. But . . .’ Wickham leaned suddenly forward, his hand on the table, and his keen glance took in both of them. ‘Helpful or not, I think we should keep these thoughts quiet in front of Mary. I doubt if she’d sympathize.’
    ‘No-o.’