Richard was away from home all next day, and his wife had plenty of time in which to meditate upon her situation. She had quite come to the conclusion that she must elope with Lovelace, and was only waiting for to-night to tell him so. She would never, never ask Richard to let her stay with him now that she knew he loved another. Truly a most trying predicament. The Carstares were going to-night to Drury Lane to see Garrick play one of his most successful comedies: the Beaux' Stratagem. The monde that would flock to see the inimitable Archer was likely to be a very distinguished one, especially as the cast held the added attraction of Mrs. Clive, and ordinarily Lady Lavinia would have looked forward with much excitement to seeing the piece. To-day, however, she felt that she would far rather go to bed and cry. But Lovelace had to be answered, and besides that, she had invited two cousins, new come from Scotland, to accompany her, and she could not fail them.
So that evening saw her seated in her box, wonderfully gowned as usual, scanning the house. Behind her stood her husband-when she thought that this was the last time she would ever go with him to the theatre she had much ado to keep from bursting into tears before them all-and in the chair at her side was the cousin, Mrs. Fleming. Mr. Fleming stood with his hands behind his back, exclaiming every now and then as his kinsman, young Charles Holt, pointed out each newcomer of note. He was a short, tubby little man, dressed in sober brown, very neat as regards his wrists and neckband, but attired, so thought Lavinia, for the country, and not for town. His dark suit contrasted strangely with Mr. Holt's rather garish mixture of apple-green and pink, with waistcoat of yellow, and Richard's quieter, but far more handsome apricot and silver. His wig, too, was not at all modish, being of the scratch type that country gentlemen affected.
His wife was the reverse of smart, but she was loud in her admiration of her more affluent cousin's stiff silks and laces.
She had married beneath her, had Mrs. Fleming, and the Belmanoirs had never quite forgiven the shocking mésalliance. William Fleming was nought but a simple Scotsman, whose father-even now the family shuddered at the thought-had been a farmer!
Lavinia was not over-pleased that they should have elected to visit London, and still less pleased that they should evince such an affection for the Hon. Richard and his wife.
"Well, to be sure, Lavvy, 'tis pleasant to sit here and admire all the people!" exclaimed Mrs. Fleming, for perhaps the twentieth time.