The Frobishers/Chapter 25
IN THE OFFICE
Joan summoned Polly Myatt, and the girl with ready good nature agreed to help Cissie Averill with the boy during the day whilst Joan was at her work. The patient had to be made clean, with gentle care and caution; he was placed in Joan's room, as there was none other available; and she surrendered her own bed, and had one extemporised for herself on a sofa that was brought up from the parlour.
Then she made ready to go to the doctor.
"Has my sister come in?" she asked, suddenly noticing that she was still absent.
"She went up to town to change a novel at the library, and to buy some lace," said Cissie. "But—I found this scrap of paper in the grate. I did not know what it was and opened it, and found it is a note from Charlie Mangin—asking her to go to meet him at the office at half-past seven—as he has something particular to say. I don't think she ought to go."
Joan's heart stood still for a moment. She had hoped that the manager's pursuit of Sibyll had been stopped by her interference in the matter of the pantomime tickets, but clearly she had failed. What could she do to protect her sister, if Sibyll was so inconsiderate herself as to suffer communications to pass between them? She who had been most tenacious of being esteemed a lady, was ready to fling aside all the prudence and dignity that went to make up ladylike conduct.
However, she quickly recovered herself, looked at her watch, and found that there was time for her to summon the medical man, and then to reach the office, on her way back, before her sister was due there.
Sibyll assuredly would not think of complying with Mr. Mangin's request, and keeping the appointment. She had been flattered by his attention, and by the assumption of deference, such as sufficed with her to disarm suspicion.
There were periods at which, when the work pressed, the manager had to be at his office till late; and such was the case at present.
It was whispered in the bank that Mr. Mangin was paying his addresses to Miss Fenning, the daughter of the proprietor, and it was supposed that he built his hopes of being taken into partnership in the firm on his bringing the suit to a successful termination.
If this were so, then what was the meaning of his pursuit of Sibyll? Joan recognised, with a sister's pride, that Sibyll was very pretty, and this prettiness was enhanced rather than obscured by the costume adopted by the potters. Moreover, Sibyll could be very engaging in her manner. She did not usually trouble to ingratiate herself with those of her own sex; even from early childhood she had laid herself out to attract the admiration of men, and always with a success that had encouraged her in this course. To draw upon herself the observation of men, to be flattered and made much of, had finally become with her a necessity of existence. She had fallen from her social elevation; but as a change of skies does not change men's minds, neither does an altered condition of life alter the mood.
The advent of Sibyl! in the pot factory had certainly provoked some heart-burning among the girls, for she had drawn the young men about her—but she disdained the "hands," and gave them no encouragement, though not repelling them. The notice of the manager, however, had been accepted greedily, as a homage that was her due.
Joan had not supposed that her sister would so far forget herself as to allow him to propose an appointment; and she could not think that Sibyll would be so lost to all sense of propriety as to accept one when sent to her.
Anyhow, it behoved her to forestall the chance of such a thing.
That Sibyll could care for the man, a man objectionable in many ways, she did not believe.
Unhappily, Sibyll had been made a great deal of by her father, and had been humoured in every way, and not corrected when supercilious or disobedient to her governess and discourteous to visitors—when these latter were of her own sex. Having been allowed to follow her own bent in times past, it was not easy to control her now, and Joan felt that she would have a task as difficult as it was delicate, to maintain Sibyll upright on the slippery ground she elected to tread.
The doctor was not within when Joan called at his surgery, and she left word for him to visit No. 16, by Fennings' bank, in Fennings' Row, as soon as he came home. Then she turned downhill, retracing her steps till she reached the pottery, when she proceeded at once to the office, where a light was burning.
As Joan threw open the swing door, "So, you are come!" exclaimed Mr. Mangin from the farther end. There was but one gas jet burning, and that was above his desk, and some obscurity lingered about the entrance. "I had hardly dared to expect you," he added, as he closed his books.
"Yes, I am come," said Joan, "and come to ask your purpose in sending such an invitation to my sister."
Mr. Mangin fell back disconcerted.
"What! You again?"
"Yes, I again stand forward in my sister's behalf, as her natural protector. I demand an explanation. If you are, as I trust, an honourable man, there is but one explanation that you can give—that you purposed asking Sibyll for her hand. Is that so?"
"You are premature," said the manager, recovering himself, and biting his lip. "One would reasonably desire to make acquaintance with a girl before committing oneself."
"And yet," exclaimed Joan passionately, "you think nothing of committing her. Could you expect her to respond to your invitation without doing so? If you have become attached to her, and she is a girl who is winsome, then know that we live in No. 16 of Fennings' Row. Call there, and we shall be pleased to see you."
"A proper proposal! I should have every window thrown open, and a head thrust out of each to observe me, and comment on my visit."
"Why not? If you mean honestly, I say why not? Then you can conduct Sibyll to Lavender Lodge to call on your mother."
"Preposterous! You!—you, a pot-hand, dictate conditions to me! An upside-down world indeed where this is the order."
"The world needs turning upside down when a man, the manager of a large business, takes advantage of his position and authority to disgrace a feeble girl in his employ."
"Fiddlesticks! I had no ulterior object. I meant no wrong."
"Is it no wrong inducing her to come to you after hours, when the establishment is almost deserted, deserted wholly save by such as are in attendance on the ovens, to seek you here in your office? This must and shall come to an end."
"Indeed! You lay down rules for me!"
"I do, although I am only a pot-hand. I will not suffer this sort of thing to proceed any further. My sister is under age, and thoughtless. I am her guardian."
"And what if I say I shall do as I choose?"
"I reply that you shall not."
"What can you do to hinder me?"
"I shall appeal directly to Mr. Fenning."
The manager stared at her stonily.
"You shall be turned out of the bank," he said savagely, after a long pause.
"Then Sibyll shall accompany me. But, mind you, Mr. Mangin, I shall not go until I have laid the whole case before Mr. Fenning. He no more desires this establishment to be a seed-bed of scandals than do you that it should be known as a nursery of leaded paralytics."
Mr. Mangin uttered an oath, turned his back on her, and seated himself at his desk. He threw open his book with an angry gesture, and began to write.
Joan waited a moment, and then, seeing that he was in no mood for further conversation, and regarded the interview as at an end, passed through the swing door and descended the steps.
Outside she was grasped by the arm, and Sibyll, in a voice quivering with anger, burst forth with—
"How dare you meddle in my affairs? You have spoiled everything."
"Sibyll! I am grieved to see you here."
"You need not. I know what I'm about. I am sick of work, sick of association with operatives. I hate it all. I had Mangin on a string, and he was ready to marry me."
"I asked him his intentions. I invited him to call on you at our house, and to take you to his mother at Lavender Lodge, and he refused point blank."
"You have no right to interfere; you are like a bull in a china shop. The man is madly in love with me."
"He is false. He has no intention whatever of marrying you. He is likely to become engaged to Miss Fenning."
"Oh, that is potbank gossip."
"It may be so; at any rate, he declined to proceed fairly with you. I am sure, Sibyll, you do not in your heart care for him."
"I don't care for anybody, but I want to get away out of this pottery, away from the smoke and the hateful surroundings, and I am prepared to marry anyone who will make me comfortable, give me nothing to do, and allow me to spend my time in amusement. And, let me tell you, Joan, that matters have now reached a climax. I went back to No. 16 to put down some books and things I had brought, and I found that you had introduced that horrible child, that little fiend—and he in a raging fever; infectious I do not doubt, scarlet or typhoid—one or the other."
"No, he has congestion of the lungs."
"It is all the same. There is a limit even to my endurance, and I have been most forbearing. This comes on the top of your meddling in my matter with Mr. Mangin—which I am quite positive I would have brought to a successful issue. Bless me, Joan! you do not know how to lime your twigs. And now, I will stand this no longer, no, not another week. I shall look out for suitable and respectable lodgings where I can be my own mistress. I will not live in a fever hospital. I will not be walked about with leading strings. Now listen to me! Here is my ultimatum. Imprimis: Turn that odious little brat out of the house at once. He or I go. Secundo: Cease to interfere with my proceedings. Let me go unrebuked my own way. Now you know my last word. Submit to these conditions and I will stay. Refuse—and I go elsewhere next week."