Grey, nodding pleasantly to Lucy. “Nursing to-day, lessons to-morrow.”
Captain Chesney went out with him, and linked his arm within his. A rare condescension for the captain, and one that proved he had taken a fancy to Mr. Grey.
“She will do well, Captain Chesney, and I am glad I happened to be passing. It might have been an awkward accident.”
“Sir, I thank you,” said the captain; “and sir, I see that you are a gentleman, and a man to be esteemed. And I can only regret one thing.”
“What is that?” inquired Mr. Grey.
“That I ever took up with that fool of a Carlton, I dislike him, sir, and he shall never darken my doors again; he has proved himself anything but a gentleman. He’s not fit to tie your shoes, socially, Mr. Grey, I can tell you that; and I don’t suppose he is, professionally.”
John Grey laughed, said a word to the captain to set him right as to Mr. Carlton’s professional skill, which was really superior, ascended to his gig amidst the pelting rain, and drove away.
Lucy meanwhile was giving her opinion in-doors as to the relative merits of the two medical men. “How glad I am it was Mr. Grey to do my hand and not Mr. Carlton!” she exclaimed.
Laura fired at the remark. “Has Jane been setting you against Mr. Carlton?” she resentfully asked.
Lucy lifted her eyes in surprise. “Jane has never set me against Mr. Carlton. I don’t like Mr. Carlton, Laura. He frightened me one day; it was the day I was drawing, when I asked him about that dead lady. He was angry with me, and his face looked so that it frightened me; but I did not like him before that. Judith, you like Mr. Grey, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, miss,” replied Judith, who was on her knees washing the stain from the carpet. “I have seen a good deal of the two Mr. Greys, and I like them both.”
“And do you like Mr. Carlton?”
“I can’t say I do, Miss Lucy, what little I have seen of him. But I have not seen him many times.”
Laura flung her head back with a haughty gesture and quitted the room in displeasure. She believed they had leagued themselves together to speak against Mr. Carlton; she never believed it possible that the dislike they expressed was genuine.
The day went on. The evening post brought another letter for the Earl of Oakburn, though the day had failed to bring the earl himself. They dined at five as usual, and afterwards Captain Chesney went into the town to meet the omnibus from Great Wennock, thinking it night possibly bring the earl, or news of him. It was after his departure that this second letter came, and Jane saw that it bore the London postmark. Mr. John Grey, who had not been able to get up before, called in towards dusk.
As he stood at the table, talking to Jane, Lucy sitting in an easy chair at the fire, his eye happened to fall on the letter that lay there, directed to the Earl of Oakburn.
“Do you know the earl?” he exclaimed, the remark appearing to escape him involuntarily.
“Yes,” replied Jane; “we are related to him.”
“Then perhaps you can tell me how he is?”
“I suppose he is well. We have been expecting him here all day.”
“Expecting him here all day!” repeated Mr. Grey in an accent of astonishment. “I beg your pardon, Miss Chesney, I believe I cannot have caught your meaning.”
“We have been expecting Lord Oakburn here since the morning,” resumed Jane, “and we still expect him here to sleep. This letter and another have come to await him.”
“You must, I fancy, be labouring under an error,” returned Mr. Grey, in a tone that seemed to say he did not fully comprehend Miss Chesney. “Lord Oakburn is dangerously ill; ill almost to death. Two days ago very slight hopes indeed were entertained of him.”
“What is the matter with him?” exclaimed Jane, puzzled in her turn, and looking as if the letter must contradict Mr. Grey’s assertion. “Is he at Chesney Oaks?”
“He is lying at Chesney Oaks, ill of typhus fever. I know it in this way. The day before yesterday I had to go fifteen miles from this, to meet a physician from Pembury: we were to meet half way. He did not come, but sent a friend, another medical man, who explained to me that the first was detained by the alarming illness of Lord Oakburn. He has been staying at Chesney Oaks since the funeral of the countess, went into a house where the fever was raging, and caught it. On the day I met this gentleman he told me that a few hours would probably terminate his life.”
Jane was silent, silent from positive bewilderment. Lucy spoke up from her chair.
“But, Mr. Grey, if Lord Oakburn should not be coming why should he have his letters sent here?” Lucy felt disappointed, she had been anticipating great pleasure from the visit of Lord Oakburn.
