Song’, ‘On the Deathbed of Wallace’, ‘To my Brother’, etc., which he did with his usual appreciation of her genius. Altogether his outlook on life became far more cheerful and optimistic than it had been before he went to see Amabelle Fortescue.
Alas, how dashed were his hopes when the letter for which he had been so eagerly waiting was found to contain the following abrupt refusal in the third person:
‘Compton Bobbin,
‘Compton on the Wold,
‘Gloucestershire.
‘Lady Bobbin regrets that she is unaware of the existence of any documents at Compton Bobbin which could interest Mr. Fotheringay. She cannot enter into further correspondence on this subject.’
Paul was stunned by this blow.
‘And then,’ he said to Amabelle, to whom he had gone immediately for consolation, ‘it is so rude and horrid, I feel terribly snubbed.’
‘From what I’ve always heard of that woman I’m not in the least surprised,’ said Amabelle. ‘I don’t want to be gov-ernessy,darling, but I do think it was a mistake for you to write off in such a very violent hurry. It would have been more sensible to find out what sort of person she was first, and what was likely to be the best method of approach.’
‘Yes, I see that now. But I was so excited when I thought of the journal in fourteen volumes that my one idea was to get hold of it as soon as I possibly could.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t consult me, you know. Little Bobby Bobbin (Sir Roderick) is a great buddy of mine, and I’m sure he could have fixed it for you easily. After all, the journal belongs to him, doesn’t it?’
‘You don’t think he could smuggle it out of the house for me?’
‘He’d never dare to now, it wouldn’t be safe. You see, Lady Bobbin is in a very strong position as far as he is concerned because she has every penny of the money, and he’s terrified of getting into her bad books. She was a great heiress, a Miss Swallowfield (tea), and if old Hudson Bobbin hadn’t married her the place would have gone long ago, I believe. But surely you know Bobby, don’t you? Why didn’t
you
ask him about it?’
‘D’you mean that comic child from Eton who’s always here? Of course I know him quite well, but how could I have guessed his other name was Bobbin? It’s unnatural, Bobby Bobbin. Oh, dear, I do feel wretched.’
‘Poor old boy, it is boring for you.’
‘It’s far worse than boring,’ said Paul vehemently, ‘it’s the end of my literary career. From now onwards I am condemned to the life of a social parasite. If I can’t write the life of Lady Maria I shall never set pen to paper again. She is not only my favourite poetess, but my affinity, my period, my ideal heroine. I understand her mentality, I could write the most beautiful life of her. Oh, it is too hard to bear. I tell you that since I had this idea I have thought of nothing else night and day, not even of Marcella. However, I can’t despair yet, it means too much to me.I shall get inside Compton Bobbin by hook or by crook, even if I have to disguise myself as a housemaid to do it.’
Amabelle looked at him thoughtfully. There was nothing in the world she enjoyed so much as getting herself involved in other people’s affairs, and she was beginning to see here a good chance to indulge in this hobby.
‘Are you quite serious, Paul?’
‘Yes, Amabelle. More serious than you would believe. I honestly think I could write a first-class book on Lady Maria, and I want to do it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.’
‘Really and truly?’
‘I promise you.’
‘In that case, my dear, and especially if it’s going to cure you of that dreary little Marcella, I think I must try to help you. I’ll go down to Eton at once and call on Bobby, I expect that between us we could think out some scheme for getting you into Compton Bobbin.’
‘Oh, Amabelle, if only you could,’ said Paul, but he went away feeling