Wareham was an early riser; he went out to take a look at Thorpe before
others were stirring. The house was a large block, flanked, except on
one side, by four corner towers, each finished by a cupola dome. On the
differing side an addition had been built out beyond the towers. A dome
resembling those at the corners sprang from the original centre of the
house. The windows were square Tudor. A large projection marked the
porch, entered by carriages under an arch; a background of fine trees,
their foliage thinned but gorgeous, made a fitting setting for a stately
building. Wareham pushed his researches into the park. The morning
glittered with frost and keen beauty, the air was still and clear, a
white sky overhead, and blue distances disclosing; after a time he
reached a wood, civilised by a well-kept path running through it; seeing
a gleam of water beyond, he told himself that he would come there the
next morning, and went back to the house, braced by the fresh air after
a somewhat wakeful night.
He had finished his breakfast by the time the ladies appeared, and had
no more than a greeting from Anne before the shooting party set off.
This, judgment told him, was well, since certain restive impulses of his
heart warned him of danger.
The home coverts were to be shot, and before starting Lord Milborough
gave some emphatic directions to his sister. She nodded impatiently--
"Oh, I understand, I understand. Mil, you never will give me a word."
"Is this the time for it?"
"Your time is never! You don't consider that I am breaking my heart. I
declare if you are not quick, I'll stand up when dinner is going on, and
insist upon an answer."
"And you're capable of it," he said, with a laugh. "Well, I'll tell you
this, Fan. You're nothing short of a goose, but if I get what I want,
you shall have what you want. There?" She shook her head dubiously.
"If you don't?"
"I am serious this time, and I mean to. Help me, and the better for
you." He was gone.
"And for Millie," Lady Fanny reflected with a sigh. She had read danger
in Anne's manoeuvre of the night before. And she already knew enough of
the world to gauge pretty accurately the power of Anne's charm. Spirits
bubbled too persistently with her to be checked, and she had nothing to
cause her serious uneasiness as to her choice of John Elliot, but she
wanted every one dear to her to be happy, to which end it appeared that
Anne's marriage with Lord Milborough would most effectually minister.
Her present task was to induce Anne to go out with the luncheon for the
shooters.
"Bring as many as you can," had been her brother's directions, so
unwonted, that she perceived he feared too general a buzzing round Anne.
She went in search of her aunt, Mrs Harcourt, Irish, impracticable,
and witty; but she would have none of it, and shivered at the very idea
of the neighbourhood of wet turnips.
"As if you were afraid of turnips, Aunt Kathleen!"
"English ones, my dear, and chilly. Take that Mrs Martyn."
"You don't like her?"
"No better than the turnips, and for the same reason."
Others were not so impracticable, Lady Dalrymple agreeing with alacrity,
Anne too; in all, six or eight met in the hall when the time for
starting came. A pony had gone on with the provisions, and when they
reached the spot, the gentlemen were there, and luncheon spread. The
neighbourhood of a wood-shed had been chosen; faggots and logs formed
seats, servants were on the watch to anticipate every want. Lord
Milborough fastened on the place next Anne, Wareham sat where he could
see her. He noticed that she was silent, though smiling. What he
failed to see was the quiet ingenuity with which she baffled Lord
Milborough's attempts to draw her away from the others when the luncheon
was over. She was assured that the finest view in the county lay within
twenty yards of where they were standing, a whispered entreaty implored
her to let him show it to her. Anne refused, laughing.
"Our part is done, we vanish!" she cried. "I hope I have been better
brought up than to interfere with that more important part of creation
which was provided for men to shoot. Go to your birds."