Chapter XXV: Pleasant Meetings at Sorrento

The Duc de Luna was not yet able to walk, but Doctor Nelson considered that change of scene might be beneficial, if Mr. Chandos and his family would go with him; therefore, a comfortable travelling-carriage was engaged for the Duke, and the whole party started for Sorrento.

Mr. Chandos had ascertained that a large villa was to be had there, in a beautiful spot near the seashore, not far from Mrs. Vivian’s house, and Valentino was despatched to engage it and see that it was fit for their reception. In order to make short days’ journeys, they stopped the first night at Capua, and the next at Castellamare, only stopping an hour at Naples on the way.

On their arrival at Sorrento, they found, to the great surprise and the delight of all the family except Mrs. Chandos, that Lady Horatia Somerton had just taken a house there. Her little girl, Brownie, had been very ill, and she was advised to try a southern climate; and most of her friends wondered that a so-called gay lady had not chosen Naples, instead of such a quiet place as Sorrento. But she explained, as if half ashamed of choosing a dull place, that she thought it would be better for Brownie, and that she would be able to attend more to her; and now there was no chance of being dull, as Norah and her father were there, and the dear little Hetty, who would be such a delightful companion for Brownie; and that most handsome and fascinating of Dukes, who had passed two London seasons under her protection.

“Yes, protection, my dear,” she repeated to Norah, “for I helped to keep him out of the worst gambling set. I did indeed; and now that he has been so dangerously ill, and has had such a miraculous escape, I hope you will be able to reform him. Do you know, I am getting quite good. I am becoming _devote_, as Madame de R---- said, when she was getting tired of the world, or the world was getting tired of her. And then the beautiful Contessa Vivian--that wonderful girl Constance’s mother--thrives so on her devotions, and looks so young and lovely, that it makes one in love with her religion. But what a contrast she is to her daughter in all except her extraordinary beauty!”

This was said by Lady Horatia to Norah the morning after their arrival, when she called on the new-comer, and found Norah in the garden in front of the Villa Palmiero. She would not go in to see the rest of the party till she had taken Norah to one of the shady seats at the end of the terrace, and had drawn from her an account of all that had happened since she came to London last season to nurse her friend with infectious fever.

Norah did not tell her much in words, but the quick-witted lady soon made out the exact state of the case. She had heard of Sir Alfred’s mysterious disappearance, and when Norah told her what Prince D---- said about him and Lady Selina, she felt sure that the Prince was right.

“And you think you saw him land in the moonlight at Gaeta?--and the next day Lady Selina went off to that mad aunt of hers among the mountains? Depend upon it, she has heard something of him, and she is the most mischievously persevering person I ever met with. And you still care a little for Sir Alfred? I see you do. That fascinating Duke has not--darling, don’t look so miserable and angry. I am sure it would be very natural. Sir Alfred behaved so shamefully. Ah, that is little Hetty, is it?” she said, as the child ran bounding down the terrace towards them. “Now, then, I will go in and see the others--you are all here together--well, there is plenty of room--I suppose the Duke has a suite of rooms to himself?”

“Yes, my father acceded to his earnest wish that he should remain with us till he had quite recovered; and the doctor was most anxious, too, that he should; but--”

“Ah, yes, there is a but,” added Lady Horatia, as they entered the house; “well, we shall see; your new mother improves, I suppose,” she whispered, as they crossed the entrance-hall.

Mrs. Chandos had never seen Lady Horatia, but from all she had heard before her marriage of the great lady, she had always dreaded meeting her, and, above all, being introduced to her. She was upstairs with the children when she heard Lady Horatia’s name announced, and she ran to the glass to see if her dress was properly arranged, and her hair in some degree of order, for her baby had been playing with it.

While her trembling fingers were trying to remedy the mischief, Norah came to the rescue, and not only put it to rights, but begged that she would bring down the baby, as Lady Horatia was dying to see it; “it is dressed quite nicely enough.”

This idea was a great relief to Mrs. Chandos, for she was never so happy, or thought so little about herself, as when people were admiring her baby.

Norah was fully aware of this, and also of her dread of Lady Horatia, so she tried, as they went downstairs, to convince her that she would really like Lady Horatia very much.

“Ah, but she will not like me,” said Mrs. Chandos, in a despondent tone.

“Yes, that she will; and she will, besides, be enchanted with that lovely baby.”

At first, after they entered the room, Mrs. Chandos could see nothing but her child, but she felt her hand was taken, not shaken, but held for a moment with a gentle pressure, which soothed her nerves; and then a voice, which said the single words, “I am very glad to see you at last,” sounded most cheeringly sincere.

Then she ventured to look up, and saw Lady Horatia’s beautiful face and speaking eyes turned towards her with an approving smile of welcome. The baby was taken from her arms, and Lady Horatia danced and admired and talked to it with a kind of homely heartiness which surprised and delighted the young mother, and made her forget that this was really the formidable great London lady, the bugbear of her imagination.

“How proud you must be of the darling child, Mr. Chandos!” she said, turning to the father. “I really think it will be the handsomest of all your children--not even excepting my beautiful Norah.”