Cressida by Clare Darcy Page B

said, achieving with some difficulty a dignified tone, “is quite  unworthy of you, Octavius!”
    “On the contrary, my dear, it is quite unworthy of you, if it is true. It’s not like you to bear malice—”
    “I am not bearing malice! It is only that—that I don’t want him to have Calverton Place!” Cressida said, with a sudden rather horrid feeling that Sir Octavius was quite right, and that if it had been anyone but Rossiter who wished to buy Calverton Place she would not have been nearly so angry about it.
    Unfortunately, as is the case with most people, knowing that she was in the wrong did not make her any more reconciled to the situation, and when she took her leave of Sir Octavius shortly afterwards she was still quite unregenerate in her resolution to go to Gloucestershire at once and see what could be done in the matter of wresting Calverton Place from Rossiter’s grasp.
    It did occur to her to wonder, as she was driving back to Mount Steet, why Sir Octavius had made such a point of seeing to it that she was made aware of Rossiter’s intention to purchase it, particularly as he appeared to feel that any interference in the transaction on her part would be not only ill-judged but unavailing as well. But she had no time to go into that matter now, her mind being entirely preoccupied with plans for arranging a journey to Calverton Place at the earliest possible moment.
    On arriving back in Mount Street, she had the intention of putting those plans into effect at once by ordering her travelling-chaise to be made ready, instructing Moodle to pack up a suitable selection of clothes and other necessaries for the journey, and despatching an army of messengers to carry her excuses for all the social events to which she had accepted invitations for the next several days. But to her annoyance she was met at the front door by Harbage, with the news that Lord Langmere had called to see her a few minutes before and was awaiting her return in the drawing room.
    “Bother!” she exclaimed under her breath, and walked into the drawing room at once, where she found Lord Langmere looking through a copy of one of Mr. Southey’s recent poems, The Curse of Kehama, with an expression of entirely lukewarm interest upon his face.
    “Well, Leonard? What is it?” she enquired, dispensing with formal greetings as she came forward towards him across the floor.
    He rose, putting the book aside, and with the expression of slight surprise that had appeared upon his face at the sound of her rather impatient tone deepening as he took in her heightened colour.
    “Is anything amiss?” he countered. “You seem disturbed—”
    “Well, I am!” Cressida admitted frankly, stripping off her gloves and flinging herself into a chair. “Would you believe it, Leonard?—that odious Rossiter is arranging to buy Calverton Place from my uncle! The entail is to be broken—I daresay you are not acquainted with my cousin, Walter Calverton, who is the heir, but he is as improvident a creature as Uncle Arthur, whom you do  know, and far more feckless—and Rossiter, of all men, is bargaining to buy the place! Of course I shall not allow it.”
    “I am going to Gloucestershire at once to put matters to rights.”
    “To Gloucestershire?” Lord Langmere sat down again, looking slightly staggered by this sudden announcement. “But, my dear Cressy, in the middle of the Season—is this really necessary?” he asked. “Surely your solicitors can handle the matter.
    “My solicitors,” said Cressida, “cannot handle Uncle Arthur. I can. This will not do, you know, Leonard— Rossiter to have Calverton Place! It is quite unthinkable! If Uncle Arthur has come to any sort of agreement with him, it will simply have to be set aside. ”
    Lord Langmere, perceiving by these words that there was more to the matter than had at first appeared, began to look serious.
    “Has an agreement been reached between them?” he