Lord Monmouth, however, brushed aside his grandson’s objections.

“You are certainly still young; but I was younger by nearly two years when I first went in, and I found no difficulty.  As for your opinions, you have no business to have any other than those I uphold.  I want to see you in parliament.  I tell you what it is, Harry,” Lord Monmouth concluded, very emphatically, “members of this family may think as they like, but they must act as I please.  You must go down on Friday to Dartford and declare yourself a candidate for the town, or I shall reconsider our mutual positions.”

Coningsby left Monmouth House in dejection, but to his solemn resolution of political faith he remained firm.  He would not stand for Dartford against Mr. Millbank as the nominee of a party he could not follow.  In terms of tenderness and humility he wrote to his grandfather that he positively declined to enter parliament except as the master of his own conduct.

In the same hour of his distress Coningsby overheard in his club two men discussing the engagement of Miss Millbank to the Marquess of Beaumanoir, the elder brother of his school friend, Henry Sydney.

Edith Millbank, too, had heard news at a London assembly of wealth and fashion that Coningsby was engaged to be married to Lady Theresa Sydney.

So easily does rumour spin her stories and smite her victims with sadness.

V.—­Lady Monmouth’s Departure

It was Flora, to whom Coningsby had been always kind and courteous, who told Lucretia that Lord Monmouth was displeased with his grandson.

“My lord is very angry with Mr. Coningsby,” she said, shaking her head mournfully.  “My lord told M. Villebecque that perhaps Mr. Coningsby would never enter the house again.”

Lucretia immediately dispatched a note to Mr. Rigby, and, on the arrival of that gentleman, told him all she had learnt of the contention between Harry Coningsby and her husband.

“I told you to beware of him long ago,” said Lady Monmouth.  “He has ever been in the way of both of us.”

“He is in my power,” said Rigby.  “We can crush him.  He is in love with the daughter of Millbank, the man who bought Hellingsley.  I found the younger Millbank quite domiciliated at the castle, a fact which of itself, if known to Lord Monmouth, would ensure the lad’s annihilation.”

“The time is now most mature for this.  Let us not conceal it from ourselves that since this grandson’s first visit to Coningsby Castle we have neither of us really been in the same position with my lord which we then occupied, or believed we should occupy.  Go now; the game is before you!  Rid me of this Coningsby, and I will secure all that you want.”

“It shall be done,” said Rigby, “it must be done.”

Lady Monmouth bade Mr. Rigby hasten at once to the marquess and bring her news of the interview.  She awaited with some excitement his return.  Her original prejudice against Coningsby and jealousy of his influence had been aggravated by the knowledge that, although after her marriage Lord Monmouth had made a will which secured to her a very large portion of his great wealth, the energies and resources of the marquess had of late been directed to establish Coningsby in a barony.