The mere thought of confiding in Lord Selsey was at once soothing and bracing. He was a widower with no children, and Cecil was by way of being his heir. Since the death of his wife he lived in a kind of cultured retirement in a large old house standing a little by itself in Cambridge Gate. He used to declare that this situation combined all the advantages of London and the country, also that the Park that was good enough for the Regent was good enough for him. He had a decided cult for George IV; and there was even more than a hint of Beau Brummel in his dress. The only ugly thing in the house was a large coloured print of the pavilion at Brighton.
In many ways Lord Selsey was Cecil's model; and unconsciously, in his uncle's suave presence, the young man's manner always became more expressive and his face more inscrutable.
Lord Selsey was remarkably handsome; the even profile, well-shaped head, and blond colouring were much the same in uncle and nephew, the uncle's face having, perhaps, a more idealistic cast. The twenty years' difference in age had only given the elder man a finer, fairer, more faded look, and the smooth light hair, still thick, was growing grey.
Cecil was not surprised to find his uncle sitting in his smoking-room, smoking, and not reading the morning paper. He was looking over his collection of old coins. At a glance he saw by Cecil's excessive quietness that the boy, as he called him, was perturbed, so he talked about the coins for some minutes.
Cecil made little attempt to conceal that fact that Things bored him.
'Well, what is it?' said Lord Selsey abruptly.
Cecil couldn't think of anything better by way of introducing the trouble than the vaguely pessimistic statement that everything was rather rotten.
'You don't gamble, you're not even very hard up…. It's a woman, of course,' said Lord Selsey, 'and you want to marry, I suppose, or you wouldn't come to me about it…. Who is she?'
Cecil gave a rough yet iridescent sketch of Mrs Raymond.
'Of course she's older than I am, but it doesn't make the slightest difference. She's been a widow ever since she was twenty. She's very hard up, and she doesn't care. She's refused me, but I want to make her come round…. No, she isn't pretty, not very.'
Lord Selsey put his old coins away, and leant back in his chair.
'I should like to see her,' he said thoughtfully.
'I'm sure of one thing, uncle you could never have any vulgar, commonplace ideas about her—I mean, she's so peculiarly disinterested, and all that sort of thing. You mustn't fancy she's a dangerous syren, don't you know, or…. For instance, she doesn't care much for dress; she just sticks up her hair anyhow, and parts it in the middle.'
'Then it would certainly be difficult to believe anything against her,' said Lord Selsey.
'Besides, she really wants me to marry someone else.'
'She's always trying to persuade me to propose to Hyacinth Verney … you know, that pretty girl, old Cannon's ward…. She is awfully pretty, of course, I know.'
'I should like to see her,' said Lord Selsey.
Cecil smiled. It was well known that Lord Selsey was a collector. Though no-one could have less of the pompous, fatuous vanity of the Don Juan, beauty had always played, and always would play, a very prominent part in his life. It was, in fact, without exception, his greatest pleasure, and interest—even passion. The temperament that gave to beauty and charm a rather inordinate value had, no doubt, descended to his nephew. But Cecil was, in that as in everything else, much less of a dilettante.
'You actually want me to advise you to persuade Mrs Raymond to marry you? My dear boy, how can I?'
'How is it you don't say she's quite right not to?' asked Cecil curiously.
'From her point of view I think she's quite wrong. As you're both practically free and you would marry her tomorrow—or this afternoon for choice—if she cared for you she would probably do it. Where I think she's wrong is in not caring for you…. Who is it?'
'I don't believe it's anyone. Eugenia's peculiar; she's very independent, very fantastic. She likes to do whatever comes into her head. She's very fascinating … but I shouldn't be at all surprised if she's absolutely cold; I mean, really never could care for any man at all.'
'I should like to see her,' repeated Lord Selsey, his eyes brightening.
'It's most awfully good of you, Uncle, the way you take it. I mean to say, I'm afraid I'm not at all asking your consent, you know, or anything of that sort, as I ought.'
'You're asking my advice, and it's about the only thing most men of my age enjoy giving. Well, really, Cecil, and frankly, I think it's a dismal little story. It would be humbug if I pretended I was sorry about Mrs Raymond's—a—attitude, and I quite see its absolute genuineness But, if you'll excuse my saying so, what price the other girl?'
'She likes you,' said Lord Selsey acutely.
'Because otherwise you wouldn't be so cool about her. You're a little too frightened of being obvious, Cecil. I was like that, too. But don't give way to it. Hyacinth Verney—what a charming name! … What would old Cannon say?'
'I don't think he seems particularly keen on me,' said Cecil frankly.
'That's odd. Then he must be very ambitious for her, or else be in love with her himself … probably both.'
'Oh, I say, Uncle Ted! Why, there's Lady Cannon! She's a very handsome, gigantic woman, and they have a daughter of their own, a girl called Ella, at school in Paris. She's pretty, too, only a flapper, you know, with a fair plait and a black bow.'
'I should like to see her; what delightful families you get yourself mixed up with, Cecil! If I were you I should certainly cultivate the Verney girl. I know it's no use telling you to do the contrary, as I should if you weren't in your present frame of mind.'
'I should very much like you to meet Eugenia,' said Cecil.
'Yes. How shall we arrange it? A dinner at the Savoy or something?'
'No. Somehow that isn't the kind of thing she'd like,' said Cecil.
'I thought not. But if I suddenly go and call on her, even with you, wouldn't it make it too much of a family affair? And I should be so afraid of having the air of trying to persuade her to give you up. I don't want to make a fool of myself, you know.'
Cecil seemed a little stung, though he smiled.
'If she knew you, perhaps it would make her more interested in me!'
'Do you think she'd come and hear some music here,' said Lord Selsey, 'if I wrote and asked her?'
'Yes, I think she might. There's no nonsense about her—about etiquette and things of that sort, I mean.'
'Then that's settled. You tell her about it, and I'll write. On Thursday afternoon. The two young pianists, George Ranger and Nevil Butt, are coming, and the little girl, the new Russian singer.'
'A juvenile party?' asked Cecil, laughing.
'No, only two or three people.'
'Two or three hundred, I suppose. Well, I'll get Mrs Raymond to come.
Thanks so much.'
They shook hands with more than cordiality. As Cecil went out his uncle said—
'You've been most interesting this morning. But the other girl's the one, you know. Don't neglect her.'
He laughed, for he saw the young man was rather flattered at the notion.
Evidently, Mrs Raymond was worth knowing.