He might have to
pension her off, but that was a light matter. His intention was to speak
to her in a few days' time, allowing an interval to elapse after the
boy's death; but she forestalled the time herself, as Val was soon to
find.
Dinner that evening was a sad meal--sad and silent. The only one who did
justice to it was the countess-dowager--in a black gauze dress and white
crepe turban. Let what would betide, Lady Kirton never failed to enjoy
her dinner. She had a scheme in her head; it had been working there since
the day of her grandson's death; and when the servants withdrew, she
judged it expedient to disclose it to Hartledon, hoping to gain her
point, now that he was softened by sorrow.
"Hartledon, I want to talk to you," she began, critically tasting her
wine; "and I must request that you'll attend to me."
Anne looked up, wondering what was coming. She wore an evening dress of
black crepe, a jet necklace on her fair neck, jet bracelets on her arms:
mourning far deeper than the dowager's.
"Are you listening to me, Val?"
"I am quite ready," answered Val.
"I asked you, once before, to let me have Maude's children, and to allow
me a fair income with them. Had you done so, this dreadful misfortune
would not have overtaken your house: for it stands to reason that if Lord
Elster had been living somewhere else with me, he could not have caught
scarlet-fever in London.
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