Ravenshoe

  CHAPTER XL.

  A DINNER PARTY AMONG SOME OLD FRIENDS.

  Lady Hainault (_nee_ Burton, not the Dowager) had asked some one todinner, and the question had been whom to ask to meet him. Mary had beencalled into consultation, as she generally was on most occasions, andshe and Lady Hainault had made up a list together. Every one hadaccepted, and was coming; and here were Mary and Lady Hainault dressedfor dinner, alone in the drawing-room with the children.

  "We could not have done better for him, Mary, I think. You must go in todinner with him."

  "Is Mary going to stop down to dinner?" said the youngest boy; "what ashame! I sha'n't say my prayers to-night if she don't come up."

  The straightforward Gus let his brother know what would be theconsequences of such neglect hereafter, in a plain-spoken way peculiarlyhis own.

  "Gus! Gus! don't say such things," said Lady Hainault.

  "The hymn-book says so, aunt," said Gus, triumphantly; and he quoted acharming little verse of Dr. Watts's, beginning, "There is a dreadfulHell."

  Lady Hainault might have been puzzled what to say, and Mary would nothave helped her, for they had had an argument about that same hymn-book(Mary contending that one or two of the hymns were as well left alone atfirst), when Flora struck in and saved her aunt, by remarking.

  "I shall save up my money and buy some jewels for Mary like aunt's, sothat when she stays down to dinner some of the men may fall in love withher, and marry her."

  "Pooh! you silly goose," said Gus, "those jewels cost sixty millionthousand pounds a-piece. I don't want her to be married till I grow up,and then I shall marry her myself. Till then, I shall buy her a yellowwig, like grandma Hainault's, and then nobody will want to marry her."

  "Be quiet, Gus," said Lady Hainault.

  It was one thing to say "be quiet Gus," and it was another thing to makehim hold his tongue. But, to do Gus justice, he was a good fellow, andnever acted "_enfant terrible_" but to the most select and privateaudience. Now he had begun: "I wish some one would marry grandma," whenthe door was thrown open, the first guest was announced, and Gus wasdumb.

  "General Mainwaring." The general sat down between Lady Hainault andMary, and, while talking to them, reached out his broad brown hand andlifted the youngest boy on his knee, who played with his ribands, andcried out that he would have the orange and blue one, if he pleased;while Gus and Flora came and stood at his knee.

  He talked to them both sadly in a low voice about the ruin which hadcome on Lord Ascot. There was worse than mere ruin, he feared. He fearedthere was disgrace. He had been with him that morning. He was a wreck.One side of his face was sadly pulled down, and he stammered in hisspeech. He would get over it. He was only three-and-forty. But he wouldnot show again in society, he feared. Here was somebody else; they wouldchange the subject.

  Lord Saltire. They were so glad to see him. Every one's face had a kindsmile on it as the old man came and sat down among them. His own smilewas not the least pleasant of the lot, I warrant you.

  "So you are talking about poor Ascot, eh?" he said. "I don't knowwhether you were or not; but, if you were, let us talk about somethingelse. You see, my dear Miss Corby, that my prophecy to you on theterrace at Ravenshoe is falsified. I said they would not fight, and lo,they are as good as at it."

  They talked about the coming war, and Lord Hainault came in and joinedthem. Soon after, another guest was announced.

  Lady Ascot. She was dressed in dark grey silk, with her white hairsimply parted under a plain lace cap. She looked so calm, so brave, sokind, so beautiful, as she came with firm strong step in at the door,that they one and all rose and came towards her. She had always beenloved by them all; how much more deeply was she loved now, when herbitter troubles had made her doubly sacred!

  Lord Saltire gave her his arm, and she came and sat down among them withher hands calmly folded before her. "I was determined to come and seeyou to-night, my dear," she said. "I should break down if I couldn't seesome that I loved. And to-night, in particular" (she looked earnestly atLord Saltire). "Is he come yet?"

  "Not yet, dear grandma," said Mary.

  "No one is coming besides, I suppose?" asked Lady Ascot.

  "No one; we are waiting for him."

  The door was opened once more, and they all looked curiously round. Thistime the servant announced, perhaps in a somewhat louder tone thanusual, as if he were aware that they were more interested,

  "Mr. Ravenshoe."

  A well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man came into the room, bearing sucha wonderful likeness to Charles Ravenshoe, that Lady Hainault andGeneral Mainwaring, the only two who had never seen him before, started,and thought they saw Charles himself. It was not Charles, though; it wasour old friend whilom pad-groom to Charles Ravenshoe, Esquire, nowhimself William Ravenshoe, Esquire, of Ravenshoe.

  He was the guest of the evening. He would be heir to Ravenshoe himselfsome day; for they had made up their minds that Cuthbert would nevermarry. Ravenshoe, as Cuthbert was managing it now, would be worth ten ortwelve thousand a year, and, if these new tin lodes came to anything,perhaps twenty. He had been a stable-helper, said old LadyHainault--the companion of the drunken riots of his foster-brotherimpostor, and that quiet gentlemanly creature Welter. If he entered thehouse, she left it. To which young Lady Hainault had replied that someone must ask him to dinner in common decency, if it was only for thesake of that dear Charles, who had been loved by every one who knew him.That she intended to ask him to dinner, and that, if her dearmother-in-law objected to meet him, why the remedy lay with herself.Somebody must introduce him to some sort of society; and Lord Hainaultand herself had made up their minds to do it, so that further argumenton the subject would be wasted breath. To which the Dowager replied thatshe really wished, after all, that Hainault had married that pretty chitof a thing, Adelaide Summers, as he was thinking of doing; as she, theDowager, could not have been treated with greater insolence even by her,bold as she was. With which Parthian piece of spite she had departed toCasterton with Miss Hicks, and had so goaded and snapped at thatunfortunate reduced gentlewoman by the way, that at last Hicks, as herwont was, had turned upon her and given her as good as she brought. Ifthe Dowager could have heard Lady Hainault telling her lord the wholebusiness that night, and joking with him about his alleged _penchant_for Adelaide, and heard the jolly laugh that those two good souls hadabout it, her ladyship would have been more spiteful still.

  But, nevertheless, Lady Hainault was very nervous about William. WhenMary was consulted, she promptly went bail for his good behaviour, andpled his case so warmly, that the tears stood in her eyes. Her oldfriend William! What innocent plots she and he had hatched togetheragainst the priest in the old times. What a bond there was between themin their mutual love for him who was lost to them.

  But Lady Hainault would be on the safe side; and so only the party namedabove were asked. All old friends of the family.

  Before dinner was announced, they were all at their ease about him. Hewas shy, certainly, but not awkward. He evidently knew that he was askedthere on trial, and he accepted his position. But he was so handsome(handsomer than poor Charles), he was so gentle and modest,and--perhaps, too, not least--had such a well-modulated voice, that,before the evening was over, he had won every one in the room. If heknew anything of a subject, he helped the conversation quietly, as wellas he could; if he had to confess ignorance (which was seldom, for hewas among well-bred people), he did so frankly, but unobtrusively. Hewas a great success.

  One thing puzzled him, and pleased him. He knew that he was a person ofimportance, and that he was the guest of the evening. But he soon foundthat there was another cause for his being interesting to them all, morepowerful than his curious position, or his prospective wealth; and thatwas his connection with Charles Ravenshoe, now Horton. _He_ was the heroof the evening. Half William's light was borrowed from him. He quicklybecame aware of it, and it made him happy.

  How strange it is that some men have the power of w
inning such love fromall they meet. I knew one, gone from us now by a glorious death, who hadthat faculty. Only a few knew his great worth and goodness; and yet, ashis biographer most truly says, those who once saw his face never forgotit. Charles Ravenshoe had that faculty also, though, alas! his value,both in worth and utility, was far inferior to that of the man to whom Ihave alluded above.[3] But he had the same infinite kindness towardseverything created; which is part of the secret.

  The first hint that William had, as to how deeply important a personCharles was among the present company, was given him at dinner. Varioussubjects had been talked of indifferently, and William had listened,till Lord Hainault said to William--

  "What a strange price people are giving for cobs! I saw one sold to-dayat Tattersall's for ninety guineas."

  William answered, "Good cobs are very hard to get, Lord Hainault. Icould get you ten good horses, over fifteen, for one good cob."

  Lord Saltire said, "My cob is the best I ever had; and a sweet-temperedcreature. Our dear boy broke it for me at Ravenshoe."

  "Dear Charles," said Lady Ascot. "What a splendid rider he was! Dearboy! He got Ascot to write him a certificate about that sort of thing,before he went away. Ah, dear!"

  "I never thought," said Lord Saltire, quietly, "that I ever should havecared half as much for anybody as I do for that lad. Do you remember,Mainwaring," he continued, speaking still lower, while they all sathushed, "the first night I ever saw him, when he marked for you and meat billiards, at Ranford? I don't know why, but I loved the boy from thefirst moment I saw him. Both there and ever afterwards, he reminded meso strongly of Barkham. He had just the same gentle, winning way withhim that Barkham had. Barkham was a little taller, though, I fancy," hewent on, looking straight at Lady Ascot, and taking snuff. "Don't youthink so, Maria?"

  No one spoke for a moment.

  Lord Barkham had been Lord Saltire's only son. He had been killed in aduel at nineteen, as I have mentioned before. Lord Saltire very rarelyspoke of him, and, when he did, generally in a cynical manner. ButGeneral Mainwaring and Lady Ascot knew that the memory of that poor boywas as fresh in the true old heart, after forty years, as it was on themorning when he came out from his dressing-room, and met them carryinghis corpse upstairs.

  "He was a good fellow," said Lord Hainault, alluding to Charles. "He wasa very good fellow."

  "This great disappointment which I have had about him," said LordSaltire, in his own dry tone, "is a just judgment on me for doing agood-natured and virtuous action many years ago. When his poor fatherDensil was in prison, I went to see him, and reconciled him with hisfamily. Poor Densil was so grateful for this act of folly on my part,that I grew personally attached to him; and hence all this misery.Disinterested actions are great mistakes, Maria, depend upon it."

  When the ladies were gone upstairs, William found Lord Saltire besidehim. He talked to him a little time, and then finished by saying--

  "You are modest and gentlemanly, and the love you bear for yourfoster-brother is very pleasing to me indeed. I am going to put it tothe test. You must come and see me to-morrow morning. I have a greatdeal to say to you."

  "About him, my lord? Have you heard of him?"

  "Not a word. I fear he has gone to America or Australia. He told LordAscot he should do so."

  "I'll hunt him to the world's end, my lord," said true William. "AndCuthbert shall pray for me the while. I fear you are right. But we shallfind him soon."

  When they went up into the drawing-room, Mary was sitting on a sofa byherself. She looked up to William, and he went and sat down by her. Theywere quite away from the rest, together.

  "Dear William," said Mary, looking frankly at him, and laying her handon his.

  "I am so glad," said William, "to see your sweet face again. I was downat Ravenshoe last week. How they love you there! An idea prevails amongold and young that dear Cuthbert is to die, and that I am to marry you,and that we are to rule Ravenshoe triumphantly. It was useless torepresent to them that Cuthbert would not die, and that you and I mostcertainly never would marry one another. My dearest Jane Evans wastreated as a thing of nought. You were elected mistress of Ravenshoeunanimously."

  "How is Jane?"

  "Pining, poor dear, at her school. She don't like it."

  "I should think not," said Mary. "Give my dear love to her. She willmake you a good wife. How is Cuthbert?"

  "Very well in health. No more signs of his heart complaint, which neverexisted. But he is peaking at getting no tidings from Charles. Ah, howhe loved him! May I call you 'Mary'?"

  "You must not dare to call me anything else. No tidings of him yet?"

  "None. I feel sure he is gone to America. We will get him back, Mary.Never fear."

  They talked till she was cheerful, and at last she said--

  "William, you were always so well-mannered; but how--how--have you gotto be so gentlemanly in so short a time?"

  "By playing at it," said William, laughing. "The stud-groom at Ravenshoeused always to say I was too much of a gentleman for him. In twentyyears' time I shall pass muster in a crowd. Good-night."

  And Charles was playing at being something other than a gentleman allthe time. We shall see who did best in the end.