CHAPTER II. In which Harry has to pay for his Supper
Colonel Esmond's grandson rang for a while at his ancestors' house ofCastlewood, before any one within seemed inclined to notice his summons.The servant, who at length issued from the door, seemed to be verylittle affected by the announcement that the visitor was a relation ofthe family. The family was away, and in their absence John cared verylittle for their relatives, but was eager to get back to his game atcards with Thomas in the window-seat. The housekeeper was busy gettingready for my lord and my lady, who were expected that evening. Only bystrong entreaties could Harry gain leave to see my lady's sitting-roomand the picture-room, where, sure enough, was a portrait of hisgrandfather in periwig and breastplate, the counterpart of their picturein Virginia, and a likeness of his grandmother, as Lady Castlewood, in ayet earlier habit of Charles II.'s time; her neck bare, her fair goldenhair waving over her shoulders in ringlets which he remembered to haveseen snowy white. From the contemplation of these sights the sulkyhousekeeper drove him. Her family was about to arrive. There was my ladythe Countess, and my lord and his brother, and the young ladies, and theBaroness, who was to have the state bedroom. Who was the Baroness? TheBaroness Bernstein, the young ladies' aunt. Harry wrote down his nameon a paper from his own pocket-book, and laid it on a table in the hall."Henry Esmond Warrington, of Castlewood, in Virginia, arrived in Englandyesterday--staying at the Three Castles in the village." The lackeysrose up from their cards to open the door to him, in order to get their"wails," and Gumbo quitted the bench at the gate, where he had beentalking with old Lockwood, the porter, who took Harry's guinea, hardlyknowing the meaning of the gift. During the visit to the home of hisfathers, Harry had only seen little Polly's countenance that wasthe least unselfish or kindly: he walked away, not caring to own howdisappointed he was, and what a damp had been struck upon him by theaspect of the place. They ought to have known him. Had any of themridden up to his house in Virginia, whether the master were present orabsent, the guests would have been made welcome, and, in sight of hisancestors' hall, he had to go and ask for a dish of bacon and eggs at acountry alehouse!
After his dinner, he went to the bridge and sate on it, looking towardsthe old house, behind which the sun was descending as the rooks camecawing home to their nests in the elms. His young fancy pictured toitself many of the ancestors of whom his mother and grandsire had toldhim. He fancied knights and huntsmen crossing the ford;--cavaliersof King Charles's days; my Lord Castlewood, his grandmother's firsthusband, riding out with hawk and hound. The recollection of his dearestlost brother came back to him as he indulged in these reveries, andsmote him with a pang of exceeding tenderness and longing, insomuch thatthe young man hung his head and felt his sorrow renewed for the dearfriend and companion with whom, until of late, all his pleasures andgriefs had been shared. As he sate plunged in his own thoughts, whichwere mingled up with the mechanical clinking of the blacksmith's forgehard by, the noises of the evening, the talk of the rooks, and thecalling of the birds round about--a couple of young men on horsebackdashed over the bridge. One of them, with an oath, called him a fool,and told him to keep out of the way--the other, who fancied he mighthave jostled the foot-passenger, and possibly might have sent him overthe parapet, pushed on more quickly when he reached the other side ofthe water, calling likewise to Tom to come on; and the pair of younggentlemen were up the hill on their way to the house before Harry hadrecovered himself from his surprise at their appearance, and wrath attheir behaviour. In a minute or two, this advanced guard was followed bytwo livery servants on horseback, who scowled at the young travelleron the bridge a true British welcome of Curse you, who are you? Afterthese, in a minute or two, came a coach-and-six, a ponderous vehiclehaving need of the horses which drew it, and containing three ladies, acouple of maids, and an armed man on a seat behind the carriage. Threehandsome pale faces looked out at Harry Warrington as the carriagepassed over the bridge, and did not return the salute which, recognisingthe family arms, he gave it. The gentleman behind the carriage glared athim haughtily. Harry felt terribly alone. He thought he would go back toCaptain Franks. The Rachel and her little tossing cabin seemed a cheeryspot in comparison to that on which he stood. The inn-folks did not knowhis name of Warrington. They told him that was my lady in the coach,with her stepdaughter, my Lady Maria, and her daughter, my Lady Fanny;and the young gentleman in the grey frock was Mr. William, and he withpowder on the chestnut was my lord. It was the latter had sworn theloudest, and called him a fool; and it was the grey frock which hadnearly galloped Harry into the ditch.
The landlord of the Three Castles had shown Harry a bedchamber, buthe had refused to have his portmanteaux unpacked, thinking that, for acertainty, the folks of the great house would invite him to theirs. One,two, three hours passed, and there came no invitation. Harry was fainto have his trunks open at last, and to call for his slippers andgown. Just before dark, about two hours after the arrival of the firstcarriage, a second chariot with four horses had passed over the bridge,and a stout, high-coloured lady, with a very dark pair of eyes, hadlooked hard at Mr. Warrington. That was the Baroness Bernstein, thelandlady said, my lord's aunt, and Harry remembered the first LadyCastlewood had come of a German family. Earl, and Countess, andBaroness, and postillions, and gentlemen, and horses, had alldisappeared behind the castle gate, and Harry was fain to go to bed atlast, in the most melancholy mood and with a cruel sense of neglect andloneliness in his young heart. He could not sleep, and, besides, erelong, heard a prodigious noise, and cursing, and giggling, and screamingfrom my landlady's bar, which would have served to keep him awake.
Then Gumbo's voice was heard without, remonstrating, "You cannot go in,sar--my master asleep, sar!" but a shrill voice, with many oaths,which Harry Warrington recognised, cursed Gumbo for a stupid, negrowoolly-pate, and he was pushed aside, giving entrance to a flood ofoaths into the room, and a young gentleman behind them.
"Beg your pardon, Cousin Warrington," cried the young blasphemer, "areyou asleep? Beg your pardon for riding you over on the bridge. Didn'tknow you--course shouldn't have done it--thought it was a lawyer with awrit--dressed in black, you know. Gad! thought it was Nathan come to nabme." And Mr. William laughed incoherently. It was evident that he wasexcited with liquor.
"You did me great honour to mistake me for a sheriff's-officer, cousin,"says Harry, with great gravity, sitting up in his tall nightcap.
"Gad! I thought it was Nathan, and was going to send you souse into theriver. But I ask your pardon. You see I had been drinking at the Bell atHexton, and the punch is good at the Bell at Hexton. Hullo! you, Davis!a bowl of punch; d'you hear?"
"I have had my share for to-night, cousin, and I should think you have,"Harry continues, always in the dignified style.
"You want me to go, Cousin What's-your-name, I see," Mr. William said,with gravity. "You want me to go, and they want me to come, and I didn'twant to come. I said, I'd see him hanged first,--that's what I said. Whyshould I trouble myself to come down all alone of an evening, and lookafter a fellow I don't care a pin for? Zackly what I said. Zackly whatCastlewood said. Why the devil should he go down? Castlewood says,and so said my lady, but the Baroness would have you. It's all theBaroness's doing, and if she says a thing, it must be done; so you mustjust get up and come." Mr. Esmond delivered these words with the mostamiable rapidity and indistinctness, running them into one another, andtacking about the room as he spoke. But the young Virginian was ingreat wrath. "I tell you what, cousin," he cried, "I won't move for theCountess, or for the Baroness, or for all the cousins in Castlewood."And when the landlord entered the chamber with the bowl of punch, whichMr. Esmond had ordered, the young gentleman in bed called out fiercelyto the host, to turn that sot out of the room.
"Sot, you little tobacconist! Sot, you Cherokee!" screams out Mr.William. "Jump out of bed, and I'll drive my sword through your body.Why didn't I do it to-day when I took you for a bailiff--a confoundedpettifogging bum-bailiff!" And he went on screechin
g more oaths andincoherencies, until the landlord, the drawer, the hostler, and all thefolks of the kitchen were brought to lead him away. After which HarryWarrington closed his tent round him in sulky wrath, and, no doubt,finally went fast to sleep.
My landlord was very much more obsequious on the next morning when hemet his young guest, having now fully learned his name and quality.Other messengers had come from the castle on the previous night to bringboth the young gentlemen home, and poor Mr. William, it appeared, hadreturned in a wheelbarrow, being not altogether unaccustomed to thatmode of conveyance. "He never remembers nothin' about it the next day.He is of a real kind nature, Mr. William," the landlord vowed, "andthe men get crowns and half-crowns from him by saying that he beat themovernight when he was in liquor. He's the devil when he's tipsy,Mr. William, but when he is sober he is the very kindest of younggentlemen."
As nothing is unknown to writers of biographies of the present kind, itmay be as well to state what had occurred within the walls of CastlewoodHouse, whilst Harry Warrington was without, awaiting some token ofrecognition from his kinsmen. On their arrival at home the familyhad found the paper on which the lad's name was inscribed, and hisappearance occasioned a little domestic council. My Lord Castlewoodsupposed that must have been the young gentleman whom they had seen onthe bridge, and as they had not drowned him they must invite him. Let aman go down with the proper messages, let a servant carry a note. LadyFanny thought it would be more civil if one of the brothers would go totheir kinsman, especially considering the original greeting whichthey had given. Lord Castlewood had not the slightest objection to hisbrother William going--yes, William should go. Upon this Mr. Williamsaid (with a yet stronger expression) that he would be hanged if hewould go. Lady Maria thought the young gentleman whom they had remarkedat the bridge was a pretty fellow enough. Castlewood is dreadfully dull,I am sure neither of my brothers do anything to make it amusing. He maybe vulgar--no doubt, he is vulgar--but let us see the American. Such wasLady Maria's opinion. Lady Castlewood was neither for inviting nor forrefusing him, but for delaying. "Wait till your aunt comes, children;perhaps the Baroness won't like to see the young man; at least, let usconsult her before we ask him." And so the hospitality to be offered byhis nearest kinsfolk to poor Harry Warrington remained yet in abeyance.
At length the equipage of the Baroness Bernstein made its appearance,and whatever doubt there might be as to the reception of the Virginianstranger, there was no lack of enthusiasm in this generous familyregarding their wealthy and powerful kinswoman. The state-chamber hadalready been prepared for her. The cook had arrived the previous daywith instructions to get ready a supper for her such as her ladyshipliked. The table sparkled with old plate, and was set in the oakdining-room with the pictures of the family round the walls. There wasthe late Viscount, his father, his mother, his sister--these two lovelypictures. There was his predecessor by Vandyck, and his Viscountess.There was Colonel Esmond, their relative in Virginia, about whosegrandson the ladies and gentlemen of the Esmond family showed such avery moderate degree of sympathy.
The feast set before their aunt, the Baroness, was a very good one,and her ladyship enjoyed it. The supper occupied an hour or two, duringwhich the whole Castlewood family were most attentive to their guest.The Countess pressed all the good dishes upon her, of which she freelypartook: the butler no sooner saw her glass empty than he filled it withchampagne: the young folks and their mother kept up the conversation,not so much by talking, as by listening appropriately to their friend.She was full of spirits and humour. She seemed to know everybody inEurope, and about those everybodies the wickedest stories. The Countessof Castlewood, ordinarily a very demure, severe woman, and a sticklerfor the proprieties, smiled at the very worst of these anecdotes; thegirls looked at one another and laughed at the maternal signal; the boysgiggled and roared with especial delight at their sisters' confusion.They also partook freely of the wine which the butler handed round, nordid they, or their guest, disdain the bowl of smoking punch, which waslaid on the table after the supper. Many and many a night, the Baronesssaid, she had drunk at that table by her father's side. "That was hisplace," she pointed to the place where the Countess now sat. She sawnone of the old plate. That was all melted to pay his gambling debts.She hoped, "Young gentlemen, that you don't play."
"Never, on my word," says Castlewood.
"Never, 'pon honour," says Will--winking at his brother.
The Baroness was very glad to hear they were such good boys. Her facegrew redder with the punch; and she became voluble, might have beenthought coarse, but that times were different, and those critics wereinclined to be especially favourable.
She talked to the boys about their father, their grandfather--other menand women of the house. "The only man of the family was that," she said,pointing (with an arm that was yet beautifully round and white) towardsthe picture of the military gentleman in the red coat and cuirass, andgreat black periwig.
"The Virginian? What is he good for? I always thought he was good fornothing but to cultivate tobacco and my grandmother," says my lord,laughing.
She struck her hand upon the table with an energy that made the glassesdance. "I say he was the best of you all. There never was one of themale Esmonds that had more brains than a goose, except him. He was notfit for this wicked, selfish old world of ours, and he was right to goand live out of it. Where would your father have been, young people, butfor him?"
"Was he particularly kind to our papa?" says Lady Maria.
"Old stories, my dear Maria!" cries the Countess. "I am sure my dearEarl was very kind to him in giving him that great estate in Virginia."
"Since his brother's death, the lad who has been here to-day is heir tothat. Mr. Draper told me so! Peste! I don't know why my father gave upsuch a property."
"Who has been here to-day?" asked the Baroness, highly excited.
"Harry Esmond Warrington, of Virginia," my lord answered: "a lad whomWill nearly pitched into the river, and whom I pressed my lady theCountess to invite to stay here."
"You mean that one of the Virginian boys has been to Castlewood, and hasnot been asked to stay here?"
"There is but one of them, my dear creature," interposes the Earl. "Theother, you know, has just been----"
"For shame, for shame!"
"Oh! it ain't pleasant, I confess, to be se----"
"Do you mean that a grandson of Henry Esmond, the master of this house,has been here, and none of you have offered him hospitality?"
"Since we didn't know it, and he is staying at the Castles?" interposesWill.
"That he is staying at the Inn, and you are sitting there!" cries theold lady. "This is too bad--call somebody to me. Get me my hood--I'll goto the boy myself. Come with me this instant, my Lord Castlewood."
The young man rose up, evidently in wrath. "Madame the Baroness ofBernstein," he said, "your ladyship is welcome to go; but as for me, Idon't choose to have such words as 'shameful' applied to my conduct. Iwon't go and fetch the young gentleman from Virginia, and I propose tosit here and finish this bowl of punch. Eugene! Don't Eugene me, madam.I know her ladyship has a great deal of money, which you are desirousshould remain in our amiable family. You want it more than I do. Cringefor it--I won't." And he sank back in his chair.
The Baroness looked at the family, who held their heads down, and thenat my lord, but this time without any dislike. She leaned over to himand said rapidly in German, "I had unright when I said the Colonel wasthe only man of the family. Thou canst, if thou willest, Eugene." Towhich remark my lord only bowed.
"If you do not wish an old woman to go out at this hour of the night,let William, at least, go and fetch his cousin," said the Baroness.
"The very thing I proposed to him."
"And so did we--and so did we!" cried the daughters in a breath.
"I am sure, I only wanted the dear Baroness's consent!" said theirmother, "and shall be charmed for my part to welcome our youngrelative."
"Will! Put on thy patt
ens and get a lantern, and go fetch theVirginian," said my lord.
"And we will have another bowl of punch when he comes," says William,who by this time had already had too much. And he went forth--how wehave seen; and how he had more punch; and how ill he succeeded in hisembassy.
The worthy lady of Castlewood, as she caught sight of young HarryWarrington by the river-side, must have seen a very handsome andinteresting youth, and very likely had reasons of her own for notdesiring his presence in her family. All mothers are not eager toencourage the visits of interesting youths of nineteen in families wherethere are virgins of twenty. If Harry's acres had been in Norfolk orDevon, in place of Virginia, no doubt the good Countess would have beenrather more eager in her welcome. Had she wanted him she would havegiven him her hand readily enough. If our people of ton are selfish, atany rate they show they are selfish; and, being cold-hearted, at leasthave no hypocrisy of affection.
Why should Lady Castlewood put herself out of the way to welcome theyoung stranger? Because he was friendless? Only a simpleton could everimagine such a reason as that. People of fashion, like her ladyship, arefriendly to those who have plenty of friends. A poor lad, alone, from adistant country, with only very moderate means, and those not as yet inhis own power, with uncouth manners very likely, and coarse provincialhabits; was a great lady called upon to put herself out of the way forsuch a youth? Allons donc! He was quite as well at the alehouse as atthe castle.
This, no doubt, was her ladyship's opinion, which her kinswoman, theBaroness Bernstein, who knew her perfectly well, entirely understood.The Baroness, too, was a woman of the world, and, possibly, on occasion,could be as selfish as any other person of fashion. She fully understoodthe cause of the deference which all the Castlewood family showed toher--mother, and daughter, and sons,--and being a woman of great humour,played upon the dispositions of the various members of this family,amused herself with their greedinesses, their humiliations, theirartless respect for her money-box, and clinging attachment to her purse.They were not very rich; Lady Castlewood's own money was settled onher children. The two elder had inherited nothing but flaxen heads fromtheir German mother, and a pedigree of prodigious distinction. Butthose who had money, and those who had none, were alike eager for theBaroness's; in this matter the rich are surely quite as greedy as thepoor.
So if Madam Bernstein struck her hand on the table, and caused theglasses and the persons round it to tremble at her wrath, it was becauseshe was excited with plenty of punch and champagne, which her ladyshipwas in the habit of taking freely, and because she may have had agenerous impulse when generous wine warmed her blood, and felt indignantas she thought of the poor lad yonder, sitting friendless and lonely onthe outside of his ancestors' door; not because she was specially angrywith her relatives, who she knew would act precisely as they had done.
The exhibition of their selfishness and humiliation alike amused her,as did Castlewood's act of revolt. He was as selfish as the rest of thefamily, but not so mean; and, as he candidly stated, he could afford theluxury of a little independence, having tolerable estate to fall backupon.
Madam Bernstein was an early woman, restless, resolute, extraordinarilyactive for her age. She was up long before the languid Castlewoodladies (just home from their London routs and balls) had quitted theirfeather-beds, or jolly Will had slept off his various potations ofpunch. She was up, and pacing the green terraces that sparkled with thesweet morning dew, which lay twinkling, also, on a flowery wildernessof trim parterres, and on the crisp walls of the dark box hedges, underwhich marble fauns and dryads were cooling themselves, whilst a thousandbirds sang, the fountains plashed and glittered in the rosy morningsunshine, and the rooks cawed from the great wood.
Had the well-remembered scene (for she had visited it often inchildhood) a freshness and charm for her? Did it recall days ofinnocence and happiness, and did its calm beauty soothe or please,or awaken remorse in her heart? Her manner was more than ordinarilyaffectionate and gentle, when, presently, after pacing the walks for ahalf-hour, the person for whom she was waiting came to her. This was ouryoung Virginian, to whom she had despatched an early billet by one ofthe Lockwoods. The note was signed B. Bernstein, and informed Mr. EsmondWarrington that his relatives at Castlewood, and among them a dearfriend of his grandfather, were most anxious that he should come to"Colonel Esmond's house in England." And now, accordingly, the lad madehis appearance, passing under the old Gothic doorway, tripping down thesteps from one garden terrace to another, hat in hand, his fair hairblowing from his flushed cheeks, his slim figure clad in mourning. Thehandsome and modest looks, the comely face and person, of the young ladpleased the lady. He made her a low bow which would have done creditto Versailles. She held out a little hand to him, and, as his own palmclosed over it, she laid the other hand softly on his ruffle. She lookedvery kindly and affectionately in the honest blushing face.
"I knew your grandfather very well, Harry," she said. "So you cameyesterday to see his picture, and they turned you away, though you knowthe house was his of right?"
Harry blushed very red. "The servants did not know me. A young gentlemancame to me last night," he said, "when I was peevish, and he, I fear,was tipsy. I spoke rudely to my cousin, and would ask his pardon.Your ladyship knows that in Virginia our manners towards strangers aredifferent. I own I had expected another kind of welcome. Was it you,madam, who sent my cousin to me last night?"
"I sent him; but you will find your cousins most friendly to you to-day.You must stay here. Lord Castlewood would have been with you thismorning, only I was so eager to see you. There will be breakfast inan hour; and meantime you must talk to me. We will send to the ThreeCastles for your servant and your baggage. Give me your arm. Stop, Idropped my cane when you came. You shall be my cane."
"My grandfather used to call us his crutches," said Harry.
"You are like him, though you are fair."
"You should have seen--you should have seen George," said the boy, andhis honest eyes welled with tears. The recollection of his brother,the bitter pain of yesterday's humiliation, the affectionateness of thepresent greeting--all, perhaps, contributed to soften the lad's heart.He felt very tenderly and gratefully towards the lady who had receivedhim so warmly. He was utterly alone and miserable a minute since, andhere was a home and a kind hand held out to him. No wonder he clung toit. In the hour during which they talked together, the young fellowhad poured out a great deal of his honest heart to the kind new-foundfriend; when the dial told breakfast-time, he wondered to think how muchhe had told her. She took him to the breakfast-room; she presentedhim to his aunt, the Countess, and bade him embrace his cousins. LordCastlewood was frank and gracious enough. Honest Will had a headache,but was utterly unconscious of the proceedings of the past night. Theladies were very pleasant and polite, as ladies of their fashion knowhow to be. How should Harry Warrington, a simple truth-telling ladfrom a distant colony, who had only yesterday put his foot upon Englishshore, know that my ladies, so smiling and easy in demeanour, werefurious against him, and aghast at the favour with which Madam Bernsteinseemed to regard him?
She was folle of him, talked of no one else, scarce noticed theCastlewood young people, trotted with him over the house, and told himall its story, showed him the little room in the courtyard where hisgrandfather used to sleep, and a cunning cupboard over the fireplacewhich had been made in the time of the Catholic persecutions; drove outwith him in the neighbouring country, and pointed out to him the mostremarkable sites and houses, and had in return the whole of the youngman's story.
This brief biography the kind reader will please to accept, not inthe precise words in which Mr. Harry Warrington delivered it to MadamBernstein, but in the form in which it has been cast in the Chaptersnext ensuing.