But it was another Philip who came into the hall, put his arm round her, and said — “How’s the old girl? Pretty fit, eh?” he kissed her cheek, on which a few strong hairs grew.
She returned the kiss with a loud smack. “Yes, yes, nothing to complain of. Appetite good. But fussed up a little with all this to-do over the Buckleys and that Court fellow. Why must Molly always want things so spotless?”
“Now, Mamma, you enjoy seeing the old place look trig just as much as anyone.”
She faced him with her underlip protruding. “Of course I do! But I can’t agree that the Buckleys are important. What is he? A third baronet! How did his grandfather get the title? For discovering something about mosquitoes in Brazil. Mosquitoes! Bugs! I call it a lousy title, I do!” She grinned at him triumphantly, feeling that she had obliterated Sir Edwin’s claims to nobility. She had liked him well enough when he had married Augusta. A nice little man with ash-blond side whiskers and an upper lip that nibbled like a rabbit’s at his words. He had taken her daughter out of her way and he had always been deferential to her, laughed moderately at her ribald jokes, even when they were directed at himself. But he showed himself snappy when she jeered at Augusta. He and Augusta had taken their unexpected inheritance of the title and a manor house in Devon modestly, but Adeline could not forgive her daughter for becoming her social superior. She resented the title, never acknowledging that she remembered it, invariably speaking of Augusta as “my daughter, Lady Bilgeley, Lady Bunkum,” or some such name.
Her interest in Malahide Court became even more fervent as the hour for the arrival drew near. She racked her brain to recall the history of his branch of the family, alternately stressing its disgracefulness and the impregnable grandeur of the main stock. Long before the guests were due to arrive she was dressed for their reception in a mulberry-coloured cashmere, trimmed with innumerable puffings and bands of velvet. She wore an enormous brooch, and rubies and diamonds glittered on her handsome old hands. Her cap was a creation of lace and mulberry-coloured ribbons. She presented an impressive picture of a bygone day — formidable, rich-hued, full of a vitality that had something fine in its unquestioning assurance.
The pair of bays flashed along the drive, their hoofs scattering the patterned gravel. Now, through a space in the freshly unfolded leaves, a muscular shoulder was visible for a brief moment or a flank groomed to satin brightness. Hodge, the ruddy coachman, brought up the pair before the door with a flourish. It was high noon. A cool fresh wind blew the branches about, so that the intense shadows on the lawn changed their shape without ceasing.
Nicholas, Ernest, and Philip stood together on the steps of the porch. Hodge jumped down from his seat and went to the horses’ heads. Nicholas opened the carriage door. Augusta, holding up her skirt, descended the steps and was thrice clasped in brotherly arms. Sir Edwin followed and genially shook hands. Then Cousin Malahide gathered up an incredibly long, thin body from a corner of the carriage, and advanced with a sombre smile to meet his hosts. Nicholas’s strong eyebrows rose toward his crest of greying hair. He tugged at his moustache. Ernest answered the smile with a wry movement of his sensitive lips. Philip grasped the hand extended languidly to him.
“Welcome to Jalna,” he said.
“I am sorry to hear,” added Ernest, also shaking hands, “that you have had a rough voyage.”
“A filthy voyage,” replied Malahide Court. His voice was unexpectedly full and deep. His disparaging gaze took in the house, the flower beds with their geraniums just set out, the faces of the three brothers.
“How charming!” he said, addressing Sir Edwin.
“Yes, yes,” Sir Edwin said nervously. “I’ve always loved this place. Shall we go in, Philip? Augusta and I are anxious to see her mother.”
“And Mamma will be eager to see us,” answered Augusta, in her contralto tones.
They mounted the steps, Philip and Sir Edwin coming last.
“Well,” asked Sir Edwin, “what do you think of him?”
Philip answered deliberately — “I can’t make him out. I’m wondering what we should do with such an exotic at Jalna.”
Sir Edwin looked worried. “Well, well, do you really think him so odd? But he has a very good mind. He knows a great deal about ancient Greek sculpture. He and I have had some interesting talks.”
“How did you happen to bring him with you?”
“Really, I don’t quite know. He was paying us a visit and the time went on and — he just came with us.”
“You mean you couldn’t shake him?”
“Just that!”
“But why should he have wanted to come here?”
“I can’t quite make out. I think that things were rather uncomfortable for him in Ireland. An allowance he had from his mother is temporarily cut off, so he cannot live in Paris, where he usually goes when out of Ireland.”
“Well, well, we must make the best of him,” said Philip, philosophically. “Perhaps he will amuse Mamma.”
Mamma was receiving him as they entered, a puzzled grin fixed on her face as she peered searchingly into his.
He was all in black. If her ebony stick with its ivory handle had suddenly betaken itself from her hand and bowed over her rings, it might have made some such figure as Malahide Court. His face had the sallowness of old ivory. His eyes were heavy-lidded and glistening, his chin pointed. His nose, strongly arched, jutted from his narrow face, with a flourish of long, widely flanged nostrils.
“Now, and this is a surprise,” said Adeline. “I’m glad to see you and I’ll be glad to hear news of the family at first hand.” She looked him over and added — “Are you in mourning?”
“Yes.” He laid a hand, from which he had removed the black glove, on his cravat, and passed it down over his waistcoat. “For my lost youth.” The hand might have been used as a model for the hands in portraits by the old masters.
Adeline chose to consider this a joke. She gave a sudden bark of laughter. The noise roused her parrot, Boney, half asleep on his perch behind a fire screen. He rose on his toes, peered over the screen, and broke into a torrent of Hindoo curses.
“Shaitan! Shaitan ka bata! Shaitan ka butcka! Piakur! Piakur! Jab kutr!”
He followed this tirade with loud cackling laughter.
“That’s my parrot,” said Adeline, proudly. “I taught him myself. I’ll wager you didn’t understand a word he said.”
Malahide Court not only understood, but threw back at the bird other Hindoo curses that made Adeline stare admiringly.
The parrot was in a paroxysm of rage. Screaming furiously, he flapped his wings and would have flown into the newcomer’s face but that he was restrained by the slender chain on his leg.
Lady Buckley thought the scene was disgraceful and told her favourite brother, Ernest, so. They stood together, arm in arm, happy in their reunion. At that moment Meg appeared in the doorway, eager to greet the arrivals.
Ernest asked of his sister — “How do you think Mamma looks? You have not seen her for two years.”
“Splendid,” returned Augusta. “I only hope I shall be as exuberant at her age.”
“Then you must soon begin,” returned Ernest, “for you certainly are not now and I don’t know that I should like it. It would not at all suit your style.” He looked at her admiringly.
In truth Augusta had never been so attractive in her life as she now was. Middle age became her. Her Queen Alexandra fringe, of a rich, possibly questionable brown, accentuated the tranquil dignity of her features. She wore too many chains, bracelets, and brooches,