Spring came at last. The privileged classes came back to their country houses and soon the happy day arrived, that Miss Jane Worrall was to return to her father’s country seat. The lovers now had every opportunity to meet. A week after Jane’s return they spent a long day together, walking and talking in the woods. They exhorted each other to have patience. Philip, happy as can be, for she still loved him, returned to his father’s house.

  “Viscount,” said the lord, plunging headlong into the topic, which was nearest to his heart, “I have found a rich wife for you and in two months you will marry her.”

  Philip couldn’t have been startled any less had the ground opened up and swallowed him up hide and hair. The old man took no notice of his son’s agitation and carelessly he continued, “My son, I think it’s hardly necessary for me to tell you that the young lady’s name is Miss Renee of Harcourt. She’s very pretty, very tall and has a fine figure. You must’ve seen her at Mass sometime. Not bad, huh?”

  “Not bad?” mumbled Philip.

  “Enough!” replied the old gentleman. “You’re old enough to use your eyes, so use them. And look here, Viscount, you really must give more care to your choice of style of dress. We will go to Nottingham tomorrow and have one of the tailors there make you some clothes, which are more suitable to your rank. After all you don’t wish to alarm your future wife by the uncouthness of your appearance. What do you say?”

  “Father…”

  “Wait a moment, son. I will open up a suite of rooms for you and your bride here in the house. You two can pass your honeymoon here. Just take care you don’t prolong it for too long a time. When it’s over, we can teach the young woman our ways.”

  “But suppose,” interrupted Philip hastily, “I don’t fancy the lady?”

  “So what?”

  “Suppose I beg you to not ask me to marry a woman I know I will not be happy with?”

  The lord shrugged his shoulders. “Son, you’re not a little boy no more. These are childish thoughts,” he said. “This marriage is a good one.”

  “But, father,” interrupted Philip again.

  “Are you opposing my will?” asked his father angrily.

  “No,” answered Philip coldly, for there was no question of a choice, “No!”

  “Good! What reason could you have not to marry her? A poor man can consult his heart, when he takes a woman for his wife, but with us, men of rank and station it’s certainly a whole different matter. For us a marriage should be looked at as a mere business transaction. Listen to me, son, I’ve made excellent arrangements for you. The count will give you two, two-thirds of his fortune, that’s three million shilling, just think of that and when we get that money, we will be able to earn more and save more. Think of the restoration of our House to its rightful place and the immense fortune that our descendants will one day inherit. Do you realize now the beauty of a life of self-denial?”

  While the lord was raving, he was pacing up and down the room. Suddenly he stopped in front of his son.

  “Tomorrow Nottingham,” he said, breathless. “Sunday we dine at the house of your future father-in-law.”

  Though inside he was trembling in fear for his father, Philip didn’t give in.

  “Father,” he said, “I have no wish to go to Nottingham.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I mean that as I will never love Miss Harcourt, she will never be my wife.”

  The lord had never foreseen the chance of rebellion on the part of his own son. He couldn’t bring his mind to understand what had brought it about.

  “You’re mad,” he said at last.

  The lord used all his will-power to restrain his ordinarily violent temper.

  “Do you imagine,” he answered with hate in his eyes, “that I will subject the future of our House to the whims of a boy? Do you think I will ever be satisfied with this kind of answer? Boy, I hope that you will submit to my wishes as the head of this family, because I will crush anyone, who dares to come in the way of my plans, no matter who it is.”

  “Father,” answered Philip, “it’s no boyish whim that makes me reject your wish. Please father, tell me, have I ever been anything, but a dutiful son to you? Have I ever refused to do what you ordered me to do? No.”

  “Good! Because now I order you to marry Miss Harcourt.”

  “No! I don’t love her and I will never love her. Do you want my whole life to be one of misery? Please, father, I beg you to spare me this sacrifice!”

  There was silence for a moment. Both parties seemed to catch their breath and to retreat into their fortified defenses.

  “I gave you my orders. You must obey!”

  “No, father,” answered Philip quietly, “I will not obey.”

  A red mist passed across the lord’s eyes, but it faded away.

  “The Deuce take you, you ungrateful son!” he said in a voice, which would make Philip cower at one time, but not this time. “Where do you get the audacity to even try to object to my orders?”

  “I’m in the right.”

  “Since when is it right for children to disobey their parents’ orders?”

  “Since parents began to issue unjust orders.”

  These words of total disrespect brought the red mist back before the lord’s eyes. He roared in rage. He took a step across the room, towards his son, raising the stick that he usually carried high in the air. For a moment it looked as if he would murder his son with one blow of the stick, but he didn’t. He threw it in a corner and exclaimed, “I won’t strike a Swaffham.”

  Philip had not moved a muscle. He stood still, with his arms folded and his head held high.

  “I will not put up with your disobedience,” exclaimed the old man in a voice full of anger. “Go to your room! You have twenty-four hours to change your mind and accept the wife that I’ve chosen for you.”

  “I’ve already decided on that point,” answered Philip quietly.

  The lord didn’t reply. He left the room and slammed the door shut, which was of massive oak.

  Philip went to his room, locked his door and sat down on his bed. He gazed around. Apart from the door, the only other exit from the room was by means of a window some forty feet from the ground. The young man touched the sheets on his bed. They were made of cheap, but sturdy material. He could tie them together and if necessary escape through the window. He might not be able to see Jane immediately, but he could easily hide at Newton’s cottage and he would find a way to send her a message, informing her of what had happened between him and his father at the Manor. Having worked out his escape plan, he threw himself on his back and looked at the ceiling. His mind was more at ease than it had been for many months past. He had taken the most decisive step any young man could take. He had declared his independence from his father. He had clearly defined the relationship between himself and his father. Whatever was before him, to him it seemed as nothing compared to what he had just achieved.

  When the lord, as usual, took his place at the table, at which the farm laborers ate their meals, none of them had the courage to say a single word. Everyone knew a serious row had taken place between father and son and each one was devoured by curiosity to know more about it.

  As soon as the meal had been eaten and all had left, the lord called a trusted footman, who had been in his employment for many years.

  “James,” he said, “your young master is in his room. Take him something to eat.”

  “By your command, Milord.”

  “Wait a minute. You will spend the night in his room and keep a strict watch on him. He may try to leave during the night. If he attempts it, restrain him, if necessary, by force. If he fights you, call me. I will be in my room. I will come to your aid.”

  This unexpected precaution on his father’s part upset Philip’s plans. He tried to persuade James to allow him to stay in his room alone. The footman sat on a chair near the bed and stayed there with his arms crossed.

  Had the young man looked out of the window, he would have seen his father pacing angrily up and down the courtyard. His feet felt the anger and frustration at the thought that perhaps after all the years of diligent work his plans might yet come to nothing.

  “There is a woman at the bottom of this,” he said to himself. “He wouldn’t have dismissed her out of hand, if he had not set his eyes on another woman. It has to be another woman. Only a woman’s cunning could change a man’s attitude so completely in such a short amount of time. Who is she?”

  He knew it would be absurd to ask Philip. He passed the night walking over his fields, bemoaning the possible end of the House of Swaffham. Towards morning, he saw Philip’s dog Luke walk around the stables aimlessly. Probably wondering why his master had not called him to go hunting.

  “Luke,” he exclaimed. “The dog will show me the way. He will lead me to the woman, who has bewitched my son.”

  The brilliant idea soothed his anxiety. We went to bed and slept a few hours.

  At one o’clock, when the farm workers ate their lunch, he took his seat as usual at the head of the table. He ordered food to be taken up to Philip, but he told James to stay in the room and not to allow his son to leave.

  After dinner he went outside and called Luke. The dog rarely followed him, yet in the absence of his master, he was happy to accompany the lord down to the front gates. The lord stopped. Three roads branched off from there. The dog didn’t hesitate for a moment and took the one to the left. It remembered the path it normally took. As the lord kept silent, Luke went ahead. For nearly half an hour he led the way, until he reached the spot where Jane had met with her little accident. He ran through the bushes, but finding nothing and smelling no one, he sat down.

  “So this is the place he goes to,” mumbled the lord, looking intently at the dog. “And he waits for her? Very well, let’s wait and see what the cat will drag in.”

  The path was a lonely one, which was not often used. As the spot was on the top of a small hill it commanded a view of the surrounding countryside.

  The lord noticed this and took up a position where the trunk of a giant tree hid him from anyone coming up the hill. He was delighted at his ingenuity. He had almost regained his good humor. The more he thought of the setback his son had presented him with, the less of an obstacle it seemed to be. The more he thought about it the more it seemed to him that his unsophisticated son had probably lost his heart to some pretty, little farm maid, who, thinking that the young man was an easy dupe, had tried to convince him to marry her. The lord was almost ready to laugh off his son’s recent behavior. As these thoughts passed through the Lord’s mind, Luke gave a delighted bark.

  “Here she is,” he mumbled.

  He emerged from his hiding place at the exact moment Jane Worrall made her appearance. As soon as she saw the lord, she cried out. She was inclined to turn around and run, but her strength failed her. She extended her hands and grasped the branches of a tall tree to prevent herself from falling. The old man was just as surprised as the young lady. He had expected to see a poor farm maid, but here he could see the fine frame of the daughter of his friend Lord Worrall. He had nothing to fear from a farmer’s daughter, but the daughter of Lord Worrall would make for a different enemy. He couldn’t rely on her family to help him, because as far as he knew, they might be in on it.

  “Well, my dear child,” he said, “you don’t seem very happy to see me.”

  “Lord Swaffham.”

  “Yes, I know, when you come all this way to meet the son, it’s annoying to see the father. I assure you, it’s not Philip’s fault.”

  Though Miss Worrall had been startled at first, her will was very strong. She breathed in and out a couple of times without saying a word. This exercise allowed her to regain her composure.

  “You’re right,” she responded. “I came here to meet your son. As he is not here, you will pardon me, if I take my leave of you.”

  With a deep curtsy she turned around to walk away, but the lord grasped her arm tightly.

  “Permit me, my child,” he said, trying hard to fake a kind and paternal tone, “to say a few words to you. Do you know why Philip wasn’t here to meet you?”

  “I’m sure he has some very good reason.”

  “My son is in his room and my servants have been given the strictest orders to prevent him from leaving the house.”

  “Poor fellow!”

  The lord was surprised by her light-hearted tone of voice.

  “I will tell you,” he said, getting angry, in spite of himself, “why I treat my son, my heir this way.”

  Jane looked around as if she was hardly interested in any part of the conversation.

  “Don’t let me stop you. Pray go on.”

  “Well then, listen to me. I’ve chosen a wife for Philip. She is young, beautiful, intelligent and rich.”

  “You forget of aristocratic birth, sir.”

  The sarcasm hidden in her reply was not lost on the nobleman.

  “Three million shilling coming into the family outweighs any coat of arms, even an oak spliced in two by lightning.” The lord stopped to see the impact his allusion to the Worrall family coat of arms made on the young woman. Her facial expression didn’t change. He continued, “And yet my son is mad enough to refuse the hand of this rich heiress.”

  “If you think this marriage will bring your son happiness, you’re right in continuing your present course.”

  “Happiness! Why do you speak of happiness? It will add to the aggrandizement of our House and our good name. I’ve made up my mind. Philip will marry this woman. I have given my word. I never break my oath.”

  Jane was near fainting, but her pride held her up. Her confidence in Philip was so deep that she had the courage to ask the angry man in front of her, “What did Viscount Philip say to that?”

  “When he’s removed from the malignant influence, which has surrounded him lately, he will accept the proposal,” answered the lord fiercely.

  “Indeed.”

  “Young lady, my son is young and naïve, but I know the world. I will tell him what I think of you, you poverty-stricken adventuress of high birth. Your only weapon is your youth and beauty and you think that you can win a rich husband by going after my son. I will prove to him that it is only your ambition, which assumes the disguise of love. I will show him that though he may not value his name and position, others do and you are not worthy of being Lady Swaffham.”

  “Continue, sir,” interrupted Jane, haughtily, “to insult a defenseless woman. It’s a noble act and one worthy of a high-born gentleman like yourself!”

  “I’m addressing, you,” said the lord, “as the woman whose advice has led my son astray, whose scheming has led my son to break with me.”

  She didn’t reply. She lowered her head and looked at Luke.

  “You see?” continued the lord, feeling vindicated. “I’m right. If you continue to act as you have done, I will be justified in retaliating against you. You have now been warned. Carry on this intrigue at your peril.”

  He placed such an insulting emphasis on the word “intrigue” that Jane’s anger jumped to boiling point. Forgetting all prudence, she let her mask of affected indifference fall and with her eyes flashing furious fires and her cheeks burning red-hot, she screamed, “Listen to me. I, too, have sworn an oath and it’s that Philip will be my husband. Let me tell you right now that he will be so. If I tell him to he will resist your will to the bitter end. I will never yield. I will be a member of your family. You better think, before you attack me again.”

  Before the old man could respond, Jane removed his hand from her arm and was far down the path on her way home. He burst out in a wild storm of threats and insults. He thought that he was alone. He was mistaken. The scene had a silent witness and that witness was Newton.

  He had heard of the huge row, which had taken place at the Manor between father and son from one of the servants. As usual his first thought was how to better his prospects in view of this new information. His first thought was to inform Jane of the row. He saw no means of doing this, however. He didn’t dare to go to Worrall Manor himself and experience had taught him never to put pen to paper. He decided to meet her at the place, where he knew the two lovers met regularly and wait for Jane there. By the time he arrived at the spot, the lord was already there. Newton hid himself and waited for him to leave. Luke had found him, but as he knew him, he had merely licked his hand and left again. He had seen Jane walk up the path. He was delighted at the fury of the lord, whom he hated with cold fury. Jane’s courage filled him with admiration and hope. He wished her to be his ally. He wished her to aid him in his scheme of revenge against the haughty lord. He knew that the young woman would feel vulnerable after exposing her innermost thoughts to a man like Lord Swaffham. She would need advice and support and maybe even someone to comfort her and keep her on track. He was sure she would call on him, before she returned home.

  Without a moment’s delay, he rushed through the woods, trying to arrive at his cottage before the young woman. The rustling in the bushes caught the lord’s eye.

  “Who goes there?” he cried, moving towards the spot. There was no reply. He called Luke and tried to put him on the scent, but the dog showed no interest in following whoever had been there. He sniffed around for a while and lingered near some fresh footsteps. The lord moved towards them and could see two distinct impressions of two boots on the ground.

  “Someone has been eavesdropping,” he mumbled, angry, but also worried at his discovery. “Who can it be?”

  As he walked home and crossed the courtyard, he called one of the footmen to him.

  “Where is my son?” he asked.

  “In his room, Milord,” was the answer.

  The lord breathed more freely. As Philip was still in the house, he therefore couldn’t have been the person, who had been eavesdropping.

  “But,” added the footman, “the young master is beside himself with anger.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he said that he wouldn’t stay in his room any longer. James called for help, because the young master is awfully strong and it took six of us to hold him down. He demanded we let him go as his honor and life were involved.”