But Richmond, his grandfather’s darling, after one thoughtful glance cast under his lashes at that uncompromising countenance appeared to lose himself in his own reflections. Some pickled crab, which he had not touched, had been removed with a damson pie; and his sister saw, peeping round the massive silver epergne that almost obscured him from her view, that he had eaten no more than a spoonful of this either. Since he had partaken quite liberally of two of the dishes that had made up the first course, she was undismayed by anything other than her grandfather’s failure to notice his present abstention. In general, Lord Darracott would have bullied Richmond into eating the pie, imperfectly concealing his anxious affection for the youth, whose earlier years had been attended by every sort of ailment, under a hectoring manner, to which Richmond, docile yet unafraid, would submit.
As little as Charles the footman did Anthea, or Mrs. Darracott, or even Richmond understand the cause of his lordship’s brooding ill-humour; rather less than Charles did any one of these three believe that it sprang from grief at the death of his eldest son.