This was the first domestic discussion upon Besworth.  The visit to Richford had produced the usual effect on the ladies, who were now looking to other heights from that level.  The ladies said:  “We have only to press it with papa, and we shall quit this place.”  But at the second discussion they found that they had not advanced.  The only change was in the emphasis that their father added to the interrogations already uttered.  “What does it lead to?  What’s to come after?  I see your object.  But, am I to go into a new house for the sake of getting you out of it, and then be left there alone?  It’s against your interests, too.  Never mind how.  Leave that to a business man.  If your brother had proposed it...but he’s too reasonable.”

The ladies, upon this hint, wrote to Wilfrid to obtain his concurrence and assistance.  He laughed when he read the simple sentence:  “We hope you will not fancy that we have any peculiar personal interest in view;” and replied to them that he was sure they had none:  that he looked upon Besworth with favour, “and I may inform you,” he pursued, “that your taste is heartily applauded by Lady Charlotte Chillingworth, she bids me tell you.”  The letter was dated from Stornley, the estate of the marquis, Lady Charlotte’s father.  Her ladyship’s brother was a member of Wilfrid’s Club.  “He calls Besworth the most habitable place in the county, and promises to be there as many months out of the twelve as you like to have him.  I agree with him that Stornley can’t hold a candle to it.  There are three residences in England that might be preferred to it, and, of those, two are ducal.”

The letter was a piece of that easy diplomacy which comes from habit.  The “of those, two are ducal,” was masterly.  It affected the imagination of Brookfield.  “Which two?” And could Besworth be brought to rival them?  Ultimately, it might be!  The neighbourhood to London, too, gave it noble advantages.  Rapid relays of guests, and a metropolitan reputation for country attractions, would distinguish Besworth above most English houses.  A house where all the chief celebrities might be encountered:  a house under suave feminine rule; a house, a home, to a chosen set, and a refreshing fountain to a widening circle!

“We have a dispute,” they wrote playfully to Wilfrid “a dispute we wish you or Lady Charlotte to settle.  I, Arabella, know nothing of trout.  I, Cornelia, know nothing of river-beds.  I, Adela, know nothing of engineering.  But, we are persuaded, the latter, that the river running for a mile through Besworth grounds may be deepened:  we are persuaded, the intermediate, that the attempt will damage the channel:  we are persuaded, the first, that all the fish will go.”

In reply, Wilfrid appeared to have taken them in earnest.  “I rode over yesterday with Lady Charlotte,” he said.  “We think something might be done, without at all endangering the fish or spoiling the channel.  At all events, the idea of making the mile of broad water serviceable for boats is too good to give up in a hurry.  How about the dining-hall?  I told Lady Charlotte you were sure to insist upon a balcony for musicians.  She laughed.  You will like her when you know her.”