clear for her stunning, her
invincible effect. Then, in some moment of pause, of expectancy----
Odd that Straker, who was so used to it, who knew so well how she
would do it, should feel so fresh an interest in seeing her do it
again. It was almost as if he trembled for her and waited, wondering
whether, this time, she would fail of her effect, whether he would
ever live to see her disconcerted.
Disconcerting things had happened before now at the Brocklebanks',
things incongruous with the ancient peace, the dignity, the grand
style of Amberley. It was owing to the outrageous carelessness with
which Fanny Brocklebank mixed her house parties. She delighted in
daring combinations and startling contrasts. Straker was not at all
sure that he himself had not been chosen as an element in a daring
combination. Fanny could hardly have forgotten that, two years ago,
he had been an adorer (not altogether prostrate) of Miss Tarrant,
and he had given her no grounds for supposing that he had changed
his attitude. In the absence of authentic information Fanny could
only suppose that he had been dished, regularly dished, first by
young Reggy Lawson and then by Mr. Higginson. It was for Mr.
Higginson that Philippa was coming to Amberley--this year; last year
it had been for Reggy Lawson; the year before that it had been for
him, Straker. And Fanny did not scruple to ask them all three to
meet one another. That was her way. Some day she would carry it too
far. Straker, making his dilatory entrance, became aware of the
distance to which his hostess had carried it already. It had time to
grow on him, from wonder to the extreme of certainty, in his passage
down the terrace to the southwest corner. There, on the outskirts of
the group, brilliantly and conspicuously disposed, in postures of
intimate communion, were young Laurence Furnival and Mrs. Viveash.
Straker knew and Fanny knew, nobody indeed knew better than Fanny,
that those two ought never to have been asked together. In strict
propriety they ought not to have been at Amberley at all. Nobody but
Fanny would have dreamed of asking them, still less of combining
them with old Lady Paignton, who was propriety itself. And there was
Miss Probyn. Why Miss Probyn? What on earth did dear Fanny imagine
that she could do with Mary Probyn--or for her, if it came to that?
In Straker's experience of Fanny it generally did come to that--to
her doing things for people. He was aware, most acutely
|