Miss Marjoribanks

  _Chapter XIII_

  It was thus that the reign of Miss Marjoribanks became graduallyestablished and confirmed in Carlingford. It would be unnecessary toenter into detail, or to redouble instances of that singular geniuswhich made itself so fully felt to the furthest limits of society, andwhich even indeed extended those limits miraculously beyond the magiccircle of Grange Lane. Lucilla's powers beguiled not only the Powellsand Sir John Richmond's family, who were, as everybody knows, fullyentitled to be called county people, and came only on the Thursdays whenthere was moonlight to light them home, which was not so much to bewondered at, since county society in those parts was unusually heavy atthat period; but even, what was more extraordinary, Miss Marjoribanksmade a lodgment in the enemy's country on the other side, and made acapture, of all people in the world, of John Brown, who lived in hisfather's big old house at the _town_ end of George Street, and hadalways laughed in his cynical way at the pretensions of Grange Lane. Butthen Lucilla had, as all the ladies admitted, an influence over "thegentlemen," of which, as was natural, they were slightly contemptuous,even if perhaps envious, to some extent, of the gift. For everybodyknows that it requires very little to satisfy the gentlemen, if a womanwill only give her mind to it. As for Miss Marjoribanks herself, sheconfessed frankly that she did her best to please Them. "For you know,after all, in Carlingford, one is obliged to take them intoconsideration," she said, with a natural apology. "So many of you poordear people have to go where they like, and see the people they want youto see," Miss Marjoribanks added, fluttering her maiden plumes with acertain disdainful pity in the very eyes of Mrs Centum and Mrs Woodburn,who were well aware, both of them, at the bottom of their hearts, thatbut for Dr Marjoribanks's dinners, their selfish mates would findinfinite objections to the Thursday evening, which was now aninstitution in Carlingford. And Lucilla knew it just as well as theydid, which gave a certain sense of condescension and superiority to herfrankness. "I never pretend I don't try to please them," MissMarjoribanks said; and the matrons found themselves worsted as usual;for, to be sure, it was not for _Them_, but for the good of thecommunity in general, that Lucilla exerted herself so successfully.

  Nothing, indeed, could have proved more completely the disinterestedcharacter of Miss Marjoribanks's proceedings than her behaviour inrespect to Mr Cavendish. After the bold and decisive action taken byLucilla on the first occasion when the flirtation between him andBarbara Lake became apparent, the misguided young man returned to abetter frame of mind; perhaps out of admiration for her magnanimity,perhaps attracted by her indifference, as is the known and ascertainedweakness of the gentlemen. And perhaps also Mr Cavendish was ashamed ofhimself, as, in Mrs Chiley's opinion at least, he had so much reason tobe. Anyhow, whatever the cause, he behaved himself with the profoundestdecorum for several weeks in succession, and treated the contralto withsuch overwhelming politeness as reduced poor Barbara out of hermomentary exultation into the depths of humiliation and despair. MrCavendish was Lucilla's right hand for that short but virtuous period,and fully justified Miss Marjoribanks's opinion, which was founded atonce upon reflection and experience, that to have a man who can flirt isnext thing to indispensable to a leader of society; that is to say, ifhe is under efficient discipline, and capable of carrying out a grandconception. Everything went on delightfully so long as this intervallasted, and Lucilla herself did not disdain to recompense her faithfulassistant by bestowing upon him various little privileges, such asnaturally appertain to a subject whose place is on the steps of thethrone. She took him into her confidence, and made him to a certainextent a party to her large and philanthropic projects, and even now andthen accepted a suggestion from him with that true candour and modestywhich so often accompany administrative genius. While this continued,kind old Mrs Chiley kept caressing them both in her old-womanly way. Sheeven went so far as to call Mr Cavendish "my dear," as if he had been agrandson of her own, and took her afternoon drive in her little broughampast his house with a genial sense of prospective property throughLucilla, which was wonderfully pleasant. To be sure there was not verymuch known in Carlingford about his connections; but then everybody wasaware that he was one of the Cavendishes, and the people who are notcontent with that must be hard indeed to please. As for Mrs Woodburn,she, it was true, continued to "take off" Miss Marjoribanks; but then,as Mrs Chiley justly remarked, she was a woman who would take off theArchbishop of Canterbury or the Virgin Mary, if she had the opportunity;and there was no fear but Lucilla, if once married, would soon bring herto her senses; and then Mr Chiltern grew more and more feeble, and wasscarcely once in a fortnight in his place in Parliament, which was asacrifice of the interests of the borough dreadful to contemplate. Andthus it was in the interests of Lucilla, notwithstanding that ladies arenot eligible for election under such circumstances, that Mrs Chileycarried on a quiet little canvass for the future M.P.

  All this lasted, alas! only too short a time. After a while the leveleyebrows and flashing eyes and magnificent voice of Barbara Lake beganto reassert their ancient power. Whatever may be the predisposition ofthe Cavendishes in general, this particular member of the race wasunable to resist these influences. Barbara had managed to persuade Roseto persuade her father that it was necessary for her to have a newdress; and Mr Lake was more persuadable than usual, being naturallypleased to be complimented, when he went to give his lessons, on hisdaughter's beautiful voice. "Her talent has taken another developmentfrom _ours_," he said, with his little air of dignity, "but still shehas the artist temperament. All my children have been brought up to lovethe beautiful;" and this argument had, of course, all the more effectupon him when repeated by his favourite daughter. "And then Barbara hassuch a noble head," said Rose; "when nobody is looking at her she alwaysmakes a fine composition. To be sure, when she is observed she getsawkward, and puts herself out of drawing; but that is not to be wonderedat. I don't want her to be fine, or to imitate the Grange Lane people;but then, you know, papa, you always say that we have a rank of our own,being a family of artists," said Rose, holding up her little head with apretty arrogance which delighted the father both in a paternal and aprofessional point of view. "If one could only have made a study of herat that moment," he said to himself regretfully; and he consented toBarbara's dress.

  As for the contralto, whose sentiments were very different from those ofher father and sister, she watched over the making of the robe thusprocured with a certain jealous care which nobody unacquainted with thehabits of a family of artists could understand. Barbara's talent was notsufficiently developed to permit of her making it herself; but she knewalready by sad experience that Rose's views of what was picturesque incostume were peculiar, and not always successful. And then it was only anew dress to Rose, whereas to Barbara it was a supreme effort of passionand ambition and jealousy and wounded _amour propre_. Mr Cavendish hadpaid a great deal of attention to her, and she had naturally entertaineddreams of the wildest and most magnificent character--of riding in hercarriage, as she would herself have said, and dressing as nobody elsedressed in Carlingford, and becoming the great lady of the town, andeclipsing utterly Lucilla Marjoribanks, who had been so impertinent asto patronise her. Such had been Barbara's delicious dreams for a wholefortnight; and then Mr Cavendish, who had taken her up, put her downagain, and went away from her side, and delivered himself over, heartand soul, to the service of Lucilla. Barbara had no intellect to speakof, but she had what she called a heart--that is to say, a vital centreof inclinations and passions, all of which were set in motion by thatintense force of self-regard which belongs to some of the lowerorganisations. Thus she arrayed herself, not in simple muslin, but inall the power of fascination which a strong will and fixed purpose canadd to beauty. And in her excitement, and with the sense she had thatthis was her opportunity, and that advancement and grandeur dependedupon the result of her night's work, her level eyebrows, and flushingcheeks, and black intense eyes, rose almost into positive beauty. Therewas nobody in the room to compare with her when she st
ood up to sing onthat memorable evening. The Miss Browns, for example, were very pretty,especially Lydia, who was afterwards married to young Richmond, SirJohn's eldest son; and they were much _nicer_ girls, and far moreengaging than Barbara Lake, who was not even a lady, Mrs Chiley said.But then her determination, though it was a poor enough thing in itself,gave a certain glow and passion to her coarser beauty.

  When she stood up to sing, the whole room was struck with herappearance. She had her new dress on, and though it was only whitemuslin like other people's, it gave her the air of a priestess inspiredby some approaching crisis, and sweeping forward upon the victim whowas ready to be sacrificed. And yet the victim that night was far frombeing ready for the sacrifice. On the contrary, he had been thinking itall over, and had concluded that prudence and every other reasonablesentiment were on the other side, and that in many ways it would be avery good thing for him if he could persuade Miss Marjoribanks topreside over and share his fortunes. He had made up his mind to thiswith all the more certainty that he was a man habitually prone to runoff after everything that attracted him, in direct opposition toprudence--an inclination which he shared with his sister, who, aseverybody knew, had ruined poor Mr Woodburn's fortunes by "taking off,"before his very face, the only rich uncle in the Woodburn family. MrCavendish, with this wise resolution in his mind, stood up in the verypath of the contralto as she followed Miss Marjoribanks to the piano,and, confident in his determination, even allowed himself to meet hereye--which was rash, to say the least of it. Barbara flashed upon him asshe passed a blaze of intense oblique lightning from under her levelbrows--or perhaps it was only that straight black line which made itlook oblique--and then went on to her place. The result was such asmight have been anticipated from the character of the man. Barbara wasin richer voice than ever before, and all but obliterated even Lucilla,though she too was singing her best; and thus poor Mr Cavendish againfell into the snare. That very night the flirtation, which had alreadycreated so much talk, was resumed with more energy than ever; andBarbara took Miss Marjoribanks's place at the piano, and sang song aftersong in a kind of intoxication of triumph. This, to be sure, was visibleonly to a small portion of the guests who crowded Lucilla'sdrawing-room. But the result was soon so visible that all Carlingfordbecame aware of it. The hero wavered so much that the excitement waskept up for many weeks; but still from the first nobody could have anyreasonable doubt as to how it was to end.

  And it was while this process of seduction was going on that thecharacter of Miss Marjoribanks revealed itself in all its nativegrandeur. Lucilla had various kind friends round her to advise her, andespecially old Mrs Chiley, whose indignation went beyond all bounds. "Mydear, I would never let her enter my door again--never!" cried the oldlady; "I told you long ago I never could bear her looks--you know Iwarned you, Lucilla. As for her singing, what does it matter? You have amuch prettier voice than she has: everybody knows that a soprano isperfect by itself, but a contralto is only a _second_," Mrs Chiley said,with mingled wrath and satisfaction; "and, my dear, I should never lether enter my house again, if it was me."

  "Dear Mrs Chiley," said Lucilla, who was now, as usual, equal to theoccasion, "it is so nice of you to be vexed. You know I would doanything to please you;--but, after all, there are thousands andthousands of gentlemen, and it is not so easy to find a voice that goeswith mine. All my masters always said it was a quite peculiar second Iwanted; and suppose Barbara is foolish, that is not to say I shouldforget _my_ duties," Miss Marjoribanks added, with a certain solemnity;"and then, you know, she has no mother to keep her right."

  "And neither have you, my poor dear," said Mrs Chiley, kissing herprotegee. As for Lucilla, she accepted the kiss, but repressed theenthusiasm of partisanship with which her cause was being maintained.

  "I have _you_," she said, with artless gratitude; "and then I amdifferent," added Lucilla. Nothing but modesty of the most delicatedescription could have expressed the fact with such a fine reticence. Nodoubt Miss Marjoribanks was different; and she proved her superiority,if anybody could have doubted it, by the most beautiful behaviour. Shetook no more notice of the unprincipled flirtation thus set agoing underher very eyes, than if Mr Cavendish and Barbara Lake had been twofigures in gingerbread. So far as anybody knew, not even a flying femaleshaft from Lucilla's bow, one of those dainty projectiles which the bestof women cast forth by times, had ever been directed against theungrateful young person who had made so unprincipled a use of heradmittance into Grange Lane; and the faithless gallant had not even thegratification of feeling that Lucilla was "cool" to him. Whether thissingular self-denial cost Miss Marjoribanks any acute sufferings, nobodycould tell, but Mrs Chiley still marked with satisfaction that Lucilla,poor dear, was able to eat her dinner, of which she had so much need tosupport her strength; and after she had eaten her dinner MissMarjoribanks would go upstairs and show herself just as usual. She wasin perfect voice, and neither lost her colour, nor grew thin, nor showedany of those external signs of a disappointment in love with which mostpeople are familiar. "It might have been different, you know, if myaffections had been engaged," she said to her sole and sympathisingcounsellor; and Mrs Chiley, who had had a great deal of experience ingirls, became more and more of opinion that such sense was all butsuperhuman.

  Meantime the tide of public opinion ran very high in Carlingford againstMr Cavendish, who had been so popular a little while before. If it hadbeen one of the Miss Browns, or a niece of the Colonel's, or indeedanybody in Grange Lane, people might have passed over it--but one of MrLake the drawing-master's daughters! The only person indifferent was MrsWoodburn, who ought to have known better; but then she was thoughtless,like her brother, and liked it all the better, on the whole, that heshould transfer those attentions which he had been paying to MissMarjoribanks, and which in that quarter must have come to something, toa little harmless amusement with Barbara, who, after all, was veryhandsome, and had by times a little air of obdurate stupidity whichcaptivated the mimic. As for anything coming of _that_, Mrs Woodburnrejected the idea with a simplicity which was perfectly consistent withher insight into other people's weaknesses. She could put on Barbara'sstolid defiant look, and even make her eyebrows square, and givesomething of an oblique gleam to her eyes, with the most perfect skilland mastery of the character, and at the same time be just as stolid asBarbara in respect to what was going on at her very hand, and to theconsequences which must follow. She did not want her brother to marryMiss Marjoribanks, and yet she could not have said a word against sounexceptionable a match; and accordingly it was quite a satisfaction toher to see him turned aside in so perfectly legitimate a manner. Sheadded to her repertory a sketch of Barbara at the moment when, yieldingto Mr Cavendish's entreaties, she seated herself at the piano "for justone song"; and being perfectly successful in the representation, MrsWoodburn took no further care about the matter. To be sure, the hero wassufficiently experienced in such matters to know how to get out of itwhen it should be the proper time.

  Thus the affair progressed which was to have far more seriousconsequences than these thoughtless persons dreamed of. Barbara ascendedagain to the heights of exultation and enchantment. Perhaps she was evena little in love; for, after all, she was young, and grateful to the manwho thus distinguished her from the world. Yet, on the whole, it is tobe feared that his house and his position in society, and the prospectof unlimited millinery, were more to her than Mr Cavendish. All thesedetails were not perhaps contemplated by himself as he devoted himselfto the handsome contralto. He had not begun to dream, as Barbara haddone for a long time, of the wedding breakfast and the orange blossoms,or even of furnishing a new drawing-room handsomer than MissMarjoribanks's, and giving parties which should be real parties and notmere Thursdays. None of these imaginations occupied Mr Cavendish as hefollowed Barbara's glowing cheeks and flashing eyes to his undoing. Butthen if he did not mean it she meant it; and, after all, there areoccasions in which the woman's determination is the more important ofthe two. So that, takin
g everything into consideration, there can be nodoubt that it was very fortunate that Lucilla's affections were notengaged. She behaved as nobody else in Carlingford was capable ofbehaving, and very few people anywhere, according to Mrs Chiley'sadmiring belief. It was not for a vulgar antagonist like Barbara Lake totouch Lucilla. The way in which she asked her to lunch and went onpractising duets with her was angelical--it brought the tears to MrsChiley's eyes; and as for the domestic traitor whom Miss Marjoribanksthus contrived to warm in her magnanimous bosom, she was sometimes sofull of spite and disappointment that she could neither eat her lunchnor go on with her singing. For, to be sure, the dearest climax of hertriumph was wanting so long as Lucilla took no notice; and so far fromtaking any notice, Miss Marjoribanks was sweeter and more friendly thanusual in her serene unconsciousness. "I am so afraid you have caughtcold," Lucilla would say; "if you don't feel clear in your lower notes,we can pass over this passage, you know, for to-day. You must see papabefore you go away, and he will order you something; but, my dearBarbara, you must take care." And then Barbara could have eaten herfingers instead of the gloves which she kept biting in her vexation.For, to tell the truth, if Miss Marjoribanks was not jealous, thevictory was but half a victory after all.