The Semi-detached House/Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII.
When Captain Hopkinson returned late from town, he found an argument raging between his wife and daughters—she declining to go to the dinner at Pleasance, and they declaring they would not go without her.
"I am glad you are come, papa," said Janet, "here is mamma setting up a will of her own, and talking such nonsense that if it were Charlie she would be ashamed of him. Will you be so good as to speak to her?"
"She is really getting beyond our management," added Rose, "and does not mind us even when we speak peremptorily to her."
"My dears," said Mrs. Hopkinson, her face radiant with delight, "you make me angry, you really are very disrespectful, and your papa will be quite displeased. It is all about this dinner at Pleasance, John. The girls want me to go, and I mean to stay at home, and so we are playing a game at cross purposes."
"Then the girls have certainly won," said John, "for you are certainly going, I promised Arthur that I would bring you."
"Oh, John! how could you? I can't dine out, I'm so fat."
"Well, my dear, you can hardly expect to be as slim as you were at seventeen, but you are not half the size of your friend the Baroness; and this one dinner, unless you eat very voraciously, will not make you much fatter."
This idea threw Mrs. Hopkinson into one of her most comfortable fits of laughter. "You know that is not what I mean—but there is the butler, and all those footmen, they put me out; and they will snatch away my plate before I have finished; and there will be strangers who will be sure to wonder where Lord and Lady Chester picked up such a vulgar old woman; and then my face will become quite red. Why, goodness me! It is very silly; but I do believe I am shy like a young girl, so I had rather stay at home."
"But you will go to oblige me," said John, taking her hand kindly. "Lord and Lady Chester quite overrate the care I took of him in his illness; to be sure I never saw any one recover from such an attack, but that was owing to his high spirits. However, they fancy I helped, and they seem to take pleasure in shewing us attention, so don't let us thwart them. They have made the party on purpose—just a very few friends whom you know—Lady Sarah Mortimer."
"Well, I do not mind her—such a nice old lady—always netting and talking sense."
"Colonel Hilton."
"To be sure, I ought not to mind him, because he never takes his eyes off Miss Grenville."
"Sir William and Lady Eleanor de Vescie."
"Oh, my dear, I never saw them, I really can't go; and indeed, I don't think the blonde on my cap is quite fresh."
"They are only Lord Chester's brother and sister, mamma, so they cannot be called company; and Rose and I have made your cap a perfect model of fashion," said Janet.
"Then you will like to meet Greydon; and there is nobody else but young Grenville and one or two of his friends?"
"Yes, young officers, full of jokes and quizzing. However, I don't mind being laughed at by them,"
"Lord Chester did hint that perhaps his father might come," added John falteringly. "Lord Chesterton was so good as to say he wished to see me; but you would not mind him, my dear."
"Lord Chesterton of all people—a Cabinet Minister, and I, who cannot read the 'Times,' and should not know a Reform Bill from a Budget, if you were to pay me for it; and I don't even know if I have a new pair of gloves in the house. Oh, John, John, this all comes of your letting the 'Alert' catch a fever on board. Girls, what is to be done about my gloves?"
"There is a new pair all ready trimmed, mamma, and your grey brocade looks so imposing, so come and be dressed like a darling as you are."
"And will this be of any use?" said John, producing, according to custom, an attractive looking parcel, which proved to be a splendid lace mantilla. "There was a Mrs. Barlow on board who thought of nothing but finery. I believe if the ship had been going down, she would have stepped into her cabin to put on a becoming drowning dress. When we put in at Funchal she was wild to have this thing, and as her husband would not let her, I secured it for you, and she went into hysterics."
"Poor woman!' said Mrs. Hopkinson, "there is nothing like a glass of cold water for hysterics; but to be sure, such lace as this is not often to be seen, I own I do love a bit of good lace,"
"And these mantillas are all the fashion. It is just what we wanted for her, thank you, papa; this is the best venture you have ever made."
"Ah, they don't know yet about the Cashmire shawls; won't they be delighted?" thought Captain Hopkinson, as the girls carried their mother off to her toilette.
The result was most successful; the lace mantilla was, as Mrs. Hopkinson said, such a lady-like disguise, that she made her entry at Pleasance without becoming unusually red in the face, and the quiet kindness with which she was greeted, and the unaffected gaiety of her hosts, put her quite at ease. Seated at dinner next to Lord Chester, who exerted himself to amuse her, Baxter and the footman lost their terrors, and her delight was great when Dr. Ayscough glided into the chair at her side. "I really think it is high time John should begin to be jealous of that man," she told her daughters afterwards. "Of course I did not mention Charlie, it would have been presuming; but he began talking of him directly, and when I said how wonderfully the child had improved, he said I should live to see him as fine a looking man as his grandfather; not that John is his grandfather, but he is a fine looking man all the same, And it seems there is such a grand murder in the paper, you must find it and read it to me, girls; a whole family poisoned by the father, just think of John poisoning us at breakfast, or indeed of his meddling with my tea-pot; and Lord Chester and Dr. Ayscough said such clever things about poisons, I thought I would remember them for fear of accidents; but I am not quite certain whether I have not forgotten part. However, I know it is not wholesome to take strichnine in any great quantity, so mind that, girls; arsenic, which is very apt to get into puddings and gruel, should be avoided, and you should take something after it, if you do swallow any—but I forget what. It was really very interesting, and I like a good murder that can't be found out; that is, of course, it is very shocking, but I like to hear about it. Then I thought I would take a hint about diet, by watching what the Doctor ate. You know he told us, about Charlie, that all young meat, and pork, and raw vegetables, and sweet things, and pastry were bad; and, my dear, he dined on veal cutlets and roast pork, salad, and jam tarts, and plum-pudding. I suppose doctors cure themselves when they get home after they have dined out, and I am so partial to him that he should have been welcome to my veal cutlet, though it was deliciously tender, and I also think we might manage that tomata sauce at home, it sets off veal. They talked a great deal too about Berlin, and the palace our Princess is to have; altogether I was very much pleased, though I had a sad fright about my mantilla, when a great gold tag that footman had hanging from his shoulder—I wonder why—caught in it, but there was no harm done."
The dinner gave general satisfaction. Blanche who was seated between Lord Chesterton and Captain Hopkinson, was gratified to see how well they amalgamated; how Lord Chesterton began by formal, though genuine expressions of gratitude for the kindness shewn to his son, and how this gradually expanded into curiosity as to the details of the late events in the East, and how he was evidently struck by the accuracy and observation which characterised Captain Hopkinson's remarks. Janet had contrived to sit next to her father, and as Mr Greydon had taken her in to dinner, he too joined in the conversation at that end of the table; Janet's unaffected manner, her attention to her father, the intelligence with which she listened to what was passing, struck him, and for the first time it occurred to him that she was different from most of the young ladies he met at Dulham. He found himself watching for her opinions, entering into her jests with her father; trying to catch her eye when any amusing anecdote was related, and when the ladies rose to retire, the look with which he returned to her her gloves and handkerchief, for which he had had of course to dive under the table, was a look of much meaning, one to be remembered for life. The great parasol day sank into insignificance.
Of course, before the first course was over, Blanche had composed a three volume novel of which Greydon was the hero, and Janet the heroine. Pleasance was to be the scene at which interesting meetings were to take place; she was to be the confidante of both parties, a living was to be found which should have every possible recommendation of situation, tithes, parsonage, &c., and finally a model clergyman was to be made happy with a model clergywoman. "Even Aunt Sarah herself must own that it requires no imagination to foresee all this," she thought, as she followed her guests out of the drawing-room; and as she passed her hand through Janet's arm, the warm pressure with which it was met, indicated a flow of happiness which could only expend itself in affection.
"Now, Mrs. Hopkinson, come and sit by me," said Blanche, when Aunt Sarah had settled her on the sofa. "I don't at all approve of the way in which you go on coquetting with Lord Chester; it is not correct, and it affects my domestic happiness, and you are dressed for conquest. In my life I never saw such beautiful lace, what is it—Spanish?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. Hopkinson, as soon as she could recover from the risible notion of her own coquetry. "It came from Funchal, though where that is I can't say; John gave it to me just before I came out."
"There never was such a John! and he is so agreeable too. I cannot think how you have the heart to go about flirting with other people's Arthurs, when you have such a John of your own. Aunt Sarah, I have been so interested at dinner, it is really refreshing to hear conversation about facts, not about people. Captain Hopkinson told us such curious stories about China, and the nuns at Manilla, and their beautiful work; and a great deal about opium and cotton that was too learned for me, but Lord Chesterton was so much interested in that, and in tariffs and custom duties, that I could not give the conversation a frivolous turn; and besides, I always feel elevated when the conversation of my neighbour at dinner is above my comprehension I always suppose they think me well informed, and I did pick up a great deal of information to-day. Now, tell me, Aunt Sarah, what you have heard."
"Not much, my dear, Mr. Greydon's attention was taken up by the same conversation that you found so interesting."
"Not exactly," said Blanche, smiling.
"And Sir William, who was my other neighbour, was rather annoyed because he has received two letters to-day, one without any postage stamp, and the other with a stamp that did not cover the weight, so he had to pay fourpence for the carelessness of other people."
"Poor man," said Blanche, looking round to ascertain that Lady Eleanor was not within hearing; "that is a serious loss, his limited means considered; he will be obliged to cut down timber, or mortgage the Hall if this sort of pillage goes on. Aunt Sarah, are you laughing?"
"No, my dear, I am netting, the purse is for Sir William; he asked me to net one for him, he is so careless about his money. He says he lost a shilling yesterday when he took some silver out of his waistcoat pocket to pay the omnibus fare, so I promised him a purse."
"And let us all subscribe and make up the shilling and fourpence he has lost, and you can present them to him in the purse; will you, Aunt Sarah?"
"If you continue to wish it, my dear, when my purse is finished."
"I am sure Sir William deserves it," said Mrs. Hopkinson, "I see he has sent £1000 to that Refuge which was on the point of being closed for want of funds."
"There," cried Blanche, "now that is always happening to me; I never take up a judgment against any one for a small fault, that he does not come out with some overpowering merit that I had never foreseen. Aunt Sarah, I withdraw my offer of the one and fourpence, and I allow that I was mistaken in thinking Sir William fond of money."
"You will make a great many mistakes yet, dear child, I hope; for I do not want you to know the world well at eighteen. And I allow you to wonder, as I do, even at my age, why very wealthy men make many others happy by acts of great liberality, and make themselves uncomfortable by small meannesses; but so it is, and we must make the best of it. This orange silk is not a good match, is it?"
Blanche contrived to elicit some Sampson anecdotes from her friends, confirming her in her dislike of the supercilious Baroness, and the very different versions of Rachel given by Mrs. Hopkinson and her daughters interested her.
The girls were full of pity and admiration, and affirmed that when their mother understood Rachel a little better, she would like her. "My dears, I had much better like her at once, if you wish it; for if I wait till I understand her, I shall just be uncharitable for the rest of my days, I never know whether she is talking prose or poetry, or sense or nonsense; but as you say, she is very much to be pitied, I pity her with all my heart. But when she comes to call upon you, I think she had better be shown up to your own room at once."
There was music, of course, in the evening. A duet by Rose and Harcourt that was effective in more ways than one; she accompanied him quite to his satisfaction, and on that point he was hard to please; their voices went well together, and when he suggested what he termed a different interpretation of three or four bars, she was so compliant, that though temper was with him quite a secondary consideration to voice, he thought that it would be very agreeable if Mrs. Harcourt, whoever she might eventually be, had Rose's good humour as well as her fine contralto voice.
"Is not that the young fellow we saw trying to drown himself the other day?" said Captain Hopkinson to Lord Chester, "and yet in a room he does not look like a fool, and he sings well. That duet was not amiss, though I say it that should not. The girls have improved in their singing."
"I hope they will not improve any more," said Blanche, "it is perfect as it is, in that simple touching style."
Captain Hopkinson tried to say something disparaging of his daughters' performances, but failed completely. He was rather absorbed in watching Mr. Harecourt's manner to Rose, he did not like to own it to himself, but the young gentleman of the out-rigger seemed more devoted to his daughter than was pleasant. Captain Hopkinson had no wish to have his family circle broken up, just as he had come home to enjoy himself, and, moreover, he distrusted an individual who owned such an absurd boat. He did not observe another adversary; Mr. Greydon had come to that stage of admiration, in which he fancied that everybody was watching him, that if he spoke to Janet, all the bystanders would believe he was in love, which really would be too ridiculous; she was pretty, certainly, and an excellent girl, most useful in the village, and there could be no doubt that she sung better than her sister—but the idea of his falling in love! Too absurd! and so instead of walking boldly up to the singers with the other gentlemen, he coasted round the room, took a survey of the pictures on the wall, and the books on the table, and so finally landed at the pianoforte, having, as he hoped, proved to himself and the bystanders that it was the last place in the apartment which presented any attraction to him.
Poor Greydon! when he went home that evening to his small room over the grocer's shop, where the one-eyed awkward shop-girl had forgotten to place his candles, and had carefully closed his windows to ensure a due amount of fustiness; where the furniture looked dusty, and where everything proclaimed "cheap lodgings for a single man without encumbrances," he sat down in a disconsolate state of mind. He longed for "encumbrances," he despised single men and cheap lodgings, he wished for a living; and above all, he determined to go himself the following morning with a book that he had promised to lend Captain Hopkinson. He really rather liked that family, and he could imagine that girls brought up as they had been, might make excellent wives to men who could afford to marry. He should not be surprised if Harcourt married one and Grenville the other.
The next morning he sallied forth with a very tiresome book on storms and currents in his pocket, and though Captain Hopkinson could not remember having expressed any wish to borrow it, he believed Mr. Greydon's assertion that he had—received him cordially, asked him to stay to luncheon, and after a visit that lasted two hours, the single man walked home to the cheap lodgings, not so certain as he had been that Janet should marry Grenville, Harcourt was quite welcome to Rose. He fairly owned to himself that he was in love, and being of a hopeful turn of mind, began to think that somebody—he did not know who—might, some day—he did not know when—give him a living, he did not know where, and that Janet should habitually wear a blue muslin like that she had worn to-day. And just as this blissful vision was complete, the one-eyed maid knocked at the door with, 'Please, Sir, missus sends the weekly bills." If he had had Rachel's turn for quotation, he could not have helped saying:
He had always disliked this particular Gulnare, who passed in ordinary life by the appellation of Keziah Briggs; but to-day she was unusually homicidal. And then those red books, with the odour of fat meat, stale fish and rancid butter, that always steams up from them, he looked over them in despair. Janet, of course, would not eat much, but even an extra mutton chop, and French roll, and pat of butter would tell on the daily expenses; and besides, she was used to every comfort at home. The luncheon at the cottage was a feast compared to his ordinary dinner. He put aside the red books and took up the 'Times,' with a vague hope, of finding a very unusual advertisement of wanted, A Vicar for a good living &c., but found nothing more than a request from a poor curate with nine children, for cast-off clothes and postage stamps. The notion of marrying Janet on a settlement of twelve stamps, and the reversion for himself of another man's coat and waistcoat! and could it be expected that those whom Providence had blest with the extreme of affluence, should send Janet, in her utmost need, a light blue muslin with three flounces made in the last fashion? No, it would be madness to think of her, and that being established as a fact, he thought of nothing else during the hours—they were but few—in which he was not occupied in the high duties of his calling.