The Hand of Ethelberta: A Comedy in Chapters

  45. KNOLLSEA--THE ROAD THENCE--ENCKWORTH

  All eyes were directed to the church-gate, as the travellers descendedthe hill. No wedding carriages were there, no favours, no slatternlygroup of women brimming with interest, no aged pauper on two sticks, whocomes because he has nothing else to do till dying time, no namelessfemale passing by on the other side with a laugh of indifference, noringers taking off their coats as they vanish up a turret, nohobbledehoys on tiptoe outside the chancel windows--in short, nonewhatever of the customary accessories of a country wedding was anywherevisible.

  'Thank God!' said Chickerel.

  'Wait till you know he deserves it,' said Mountclere.

  'Nothing's done yet between them.'

  'It is not likely that anything is done at this time of day. But I havedecided to go to the church first. You will probably go to yourrelative's house at once?'

  Sol looked to his father for a reply.

  'No, I too shall go to the church first, just to assure myself,' saidChickerel. 'I shall then go on to Mrs Petherwin's.'

  The carriage was stopped at the corner of a steep incline leading down tothe edifice. Mountclere and Chickerel alighted and walked on towards thegates, Sol remaining in his place. Christopher was some way off,descending the hill on foot, having halted to leave his horse and trap ata small inn at the entrance to the village.

  When Chickerel and Mountclere reached the churchyard gate they found itslightly open. The church-door beyond it was also open, but nobody wasnear the spot.

  'We have arrived not a minute too soon, however,' said Mountclere.'Preparations have apparently begun. It was to be an early wedding, nodoubt.'

  Entering the building, they looked around; it was quite empty. Chickerelturned towards the chancel, his eye being attracted by a red kneeling-cushion, placed at about the middle of the altar-railing, as if for earlyuse. Mountclere strode to the vestry, somewhat at a loss how to proceedin his difficult task of unearthing his brother, obtaining a privateinterview with him, and then, by the introduction of Sol and Chickerel,causing a general convulsion.

  'Ha! here's somebody,' he said, observing a man in the vestry. Headvanced with the intention of asking where Lord Mountclere was to befound. Chickerel came forward in the same direction.

  'Are you the parish clerk?' said Mountclere to the man, who was dressedup in his best clothes.

  'I hev the honour of that calling,' the man replied.

  Two large books were lying before him on the vestry table, one of thembeing open. As the clerk spoke he looked slantingly on the page, as aperson might do to discover if some writing were dry. Mountclere andChickerel gazed on the same page. The book was the marriage-register.

  'Too late!' said Chickerel.

  There plainly enough stood the signatures of Lord Mountclere andEthelberta. The viscount's was very black, and had not yet dried. Herstrokes were firm, and comparatively thick for a woman's, though paled byjuxtaposition with her husband's muddled characters. In the space forwitnesses' names appeared in trembling lines as fine as silk theautograph of Picotee, the second name being that of a stranger, probablythe clerk.

  'Yes, yes--we are too late, it seems,' said Mountclere coolly. 'Whocould have thought they'd marry at eight!'

  Chickerel stood like a man baked hard and dry. Further than his firsttwo words he could say nothing.

  'They must have set about it early, upon my soul,' Mountclere continued.'When did the wedding take place?' he asked of the clerk sharply.

  'It was over about five minutes before you came in,' replied thatluminary pleasantly, as he played at an invisible game of pitch-and-tosswith some half-sovereigns in his pocket. 'I received orders to have thechurch ready at five minutes to eight this morning, though I knew nothingabout such a thing till bedtime last night. It was very private andplain, not that I should mind another such a one, sir;' and he secretlypitched and tossed again.

  Meanwhile Sol had found himself too restless to sit waiting in thecarriage for more than a minute after the other two had left it. Hestepped out at the same instant that Christopher came past, and togetherthey too went on to the church.

  'Father, ought we not to go on at once to Ethelberta's, instead ofwaiting?' said Sol, on reaching the vestry, still in ignorance. ''Twasno use in coming here.'

  'No use at all,' said Chickerel, as if he had straw in his throat. 'Lookat this. I would almost sooner have had it that in leaving this church Icame from her grave--well, no, perhaps not that, but I fear it is a badthing.'

  Sol then saw the names in the register, Christopher saw them, and the manclosed the book. Christopher could not well command himself, and heretired.

  'I knew it. I always said that pride would lead Berta to marry anunworthy man, and so it has!' said Sol bitterly. 'What shall we do now?I'll see her.'

  'Do no such thing, young man,' said Mountclere. 'The best course is toleave matters alone. They are married. If you are wise, you will try tothink the match a good one, and be content to let her keep her positionwithout inconveniencing her by your intrusions or complaints. It ispossible that the satisfaction of her ambition will help her to endureany few surprises to her propriety that may occur. She is a clever youngwoman, and has played her cards adroitly. I only hope she may neverrepent of the game! A-hem. Good morning.' Saying this, Mountclereslightly bowed to his relations, and marched out of the church withdignity; but it was told afterwards by the coachman, who had no love forMountclere, that when he stepped into the fly, and was as he believedunobserved, he was quite overcome with fatuous rage, his lips frothinglike a mug of hot ale.

  'What an impertinent gentleman 'tis,' said Chickerel. 'As if we hadtried for her to marry his brother!'

  'He knows better than that,' said Sol. 'But he'll never believe thatBerta didn't lay a trap for the old fellow. He thinks at this momentthat Lord Mountclere has never been told of us and our belongings.'

  'I wonder if she has deceived him in anything,' murmured Chickerel. 'Ican hardly suppose it. But she is altogether beyond me. However, if shehas misled him on any point she will suffer for it.'

  'You need not fear that, father. It isn't her way of working. Whycouldn't she have known that when a title is to be had for the asking,the owner must be a shocking one indeed?'

  'The title is well enough. Any poor scrubs in our place must be foolsnot to think the match a very rare and astonishing honour, as far as theposition goes. But that my brave girl will be miserable is a part of thehonour I can't stomach so well. If he had been any other lord in thekingdom, we might have been merry indeed. I believe he will ruin herhappiness--yes, I do--not by any personal snubbing or rough conduct, butby other things, causing her to be despised; and that is a thing shecan't endure.'

  'She's not to be despised without a deal of trouble--we must rememberthat. And if he insults her by introducing new favourites, as they sayhe did his first wife, I'll call upon him and ask his meaning, and takeher away.'

  'Nonsense--we shall never know what he does, or how she feels; she willnever let out a word. However unhappy she may be, she will always denyit--that's the unfortunate part of such marriages.'

  'An old chap like that ought to leave young women alone, damn him!'

  The clerk came nearer. 'I am afraid I cannot allow bad words to be spokein this sacred pile,' he said. 'As far as my personal self goes, Ishould have no objection to your cussing as much as you like, but as aofficial of the church my conscience won't allow it to be done.'

  'Your conscience has allowed something to be done that cussing andswearing are godly worship to.'

  'The prettiest maid is left out of harness, however,' said the clerk.'The little witness was the chicken to my taste--Lord forgive me forsaying it, and a man with a wife and family!'

  Sol and his father turned to withdraw, and soon forgot the remark, but itwas frequently recalled by Christopher.

  'Do you think of trying to see Ethelberta before you leave?' said Sol.

  '
Certainly not,' said Chickerel. 'Mr. Mountclere's advice was good inthat. The more we keep out of the way the more good we are doing her. Ishall go back to Anglebury by the carrier, and get on at once to London.You will go with me, I suppose?'

  'The carrier does not leave yet for an hour or two.'

  'I shall walk on, and let him overtake me. If possible, I will get oneglimpse of Enckworth Court, Berta's new home; there may be time, if Istart at once.'

  'I will walk with you,' said Sol.

  'There is room for one with me,' said Christopher. 'I shall drive backearly in the afternoon.'

  'Thank you,' said Sol. 'I will endeavour to meet you at Corvsgate.'

  Thus it was arranged. Chickerel could have wished to search for Picotee,and learn from her the details of this mysterious matter. But it wasparticularly painful to him to make himself busy after the event; and toappear suddenly and uselessly where he was plainly not wanted to appearwould be an awkwardness which the pleasure of seeing either daughtercould scarcely counterbalance. Hence he had resolved to return at onceto town, and there await the news, together with the detailed directionsas to his own future movements, carefully considered and laid down, whichwere sure to be given by the far-seeing Ethelberta.

  Sol and his father walked on together, Chickerel to meet the carrier justbeyond Enckworth, Sol to wait for Christopher at Corvsgate. His wish tosee, in company with his father, the outline of the seat to whichEthelberta had been advanced that day, was the triumph of youthfulcuriosity and interest over dogged objection. His father's wish wasbased on calmer reasons.

  Christopher, lone and out of place, remained in the church yet a littlelonger. He desultorily walked round. Reaching the organ chamber, helooked at the instrument, and was surprised to find behind it a youngman. Julian first thought him to be the organist; on second inspection,however, he proved to be a person Christopher had met before, under fardifferent circumstances; it was our young friend Ladywell, looking assick and sorry as a lily with a slug in its stalk.

  The occasion, the place, and their own condition, made them kin.Christopher had despised Ladywell, Ladywell had disliked Christopher; buta third item neutralized the other two--it was their common lot.

  Christopher just nodded, for they had only met on Ethelberta's stairs.Ladywell nodded more, and spoke. 'The church appears to be interesting,'he said.

  'Yes. Such a tower is rare in England,' said Christopher.

  They then dwelt on other features of the building, thence enlarging tothe village, and then to the rocks and marine scenery, both avoiding themalady they suffered from--the marriage of Ethelberta.

  'The village streets are very picturesque, and the cliff scenery is goodof its kind,' rejoined Ladywell. 'The rocks represent the feminine sideof grandeur. Here they are white, with delicate tops. On the west coastthey are higher, black, and with angular summits. Those representgrandeur in its masculine aspect. It is merely my own idea, and not verybright, perhaps.'

  'It is very ingenious,' said Christopher, 'and perfectly true.'

  Ladywell was pleased. 'I am here at present making sketches for my nextsubject--a winter sea. Otherwise I should not have--happened to be inthe church.'

  'You are acquainted with Mrs. Petherwin--I think you are Mr. Ladywell,who painted her portrait last season?'

  'Yes,' said Ladywell, colouring.

  'You may have heard her speak of Mr. Julian?'

  'O yes,' said Ladywell, offering his hand. Then by degrees their tongueswound closer round the subject of their sadness, each tacitly owning towhat he would not tell.

  'I saw it,' said Ladywell heavily.

  'Did she look troubled?'

  'Not in the least--bright and fresh as a May morning. She has played memany a bitter trick, and poor Neigh too, a friend of mine. But I cannothelp forgiving her. . . . I saw a carriage at the door, and strolled in.The ceremony was just proceeding, so I sat down here. Well, I have donewith Knollsea. The place has no further interest for me now. I may ownto you as a friend, that if she had not been living here I should havestudied at some other coast--of course that's in confidence.'

  'I understand, quite.'

  'I only arrived in the neighbourhood two days ago, and did not set eyesupon her till this morning, she has kept so entirely indoors.'

  Then the young men parted, and half-an-hour later the ingenuous Ladywellcame from the visitors' inn by the shore, a man walking behind him with aquantity of artists' materials and appliances. He went on board thesteamer, which this morning had performed the passage in safety.Ethelberta single having been the loadstone in the cliffs that hadattracted Ladywell hither, Ethelberta married was the negative pole ofthe same, sending him away. And thus did a woman put an end to the onlyopportunity of distinction, on Art-exhibition walls, that ever offereditself to the tortuous ways, quaint alleys, and marbled bluffs ofKnollsea, as accessories in the picture of a winter sea.

  Christopher's interest in the village was of the same evaporating nature.He looked upon the sea, and the great swell, and the waves sending up asound like the huzzas of multitudes; but all the wild scene was irksomenow. The ocean-bound steamers far away on the horizon inspired him withno curiosity as to their destination; the house Ethelberta had occupiedwas positively hateful; and he turned away to wait impatiently for thehour at which he had promised to drive on to meet Sol at Corvsgate.

  Sol and Chickerel plodded along the road, in order to skirt Enckworthbefore the carrier came up. Reaching the top of a hill on their way,they paused to look down on a peaceful scene. It was a park and wood,glowing in all the matchless colours of late autumn, parapets andpediments peering out from a central position afar. At the bottom of thedescent before them was a lodge, to which they now descended. The gatestood invitingly open. Exclusiveness was no part of the owner'sinstincts: one could see that at a glance. No appearance of awell-rolled garden-path attached to the park-drive; as is the case withmany, betokening by the perfection of their surfaces their proprietor'sdeficiency in hospitality. The approach was like a turnpike road full ofgreat ruts, clumsy mendings; bordered by trampled edges and incursionsupon the grass at pleasure. Butchers and bakers drove as freely hereinas peers and peeresses. Christening parties, wedding companies, andfuneral trains passed along by the doors of the mansion without check orquestion. A wild untidiness in this particular has its recommendations;for guarded grounds ever convey a suspicion that their owner is young tolanded possessions, as religious earnestnesss implies newness ofconversion, and conjugal tenderness recent marriage.

  Half-an-hour being wanting as yet to Chickerel's time with the carrier,Sol and himself, like the rest of the world when at leisure, walked intothe extensive stretch of grass and grove. It formed a park so large thatnot one of its owners had ever wished it larger, not one of its owner'srivals had ever failed to wish it smaller, and not one of its owner'ssatellites had ever seen it without praise. They somewhat avoided theroadway passing under the huge, misshapen, ragged trees, and through fernbrakes, ruddy and crisp in their decay. On reaching a suitable eminence,the father and son stood still to look upon the many-chimneyed building,or rather conglomeration of buildings, to which these groves and gladesformed a setting.

  'We will just give a glance,' said Chickerel, 'and then go away. Itdon't seem well to me that Ethelberta should have this; it is too much.The sudden change will do her no good. I never believe in anything thatcomes in the shape of wonderful luck. As it comes, so it goes. Had shebeen brought home today to one of those tenant-farms instead of thesewoods and walls, I could have called it good fortune. What she shouldhave done was glorify herself by glorifying her own line of life, not byforsaking that line for another. Better have been admired as a governessthan shunned as a peeress, which is what she will be. But it is just thesame everywhere in these days. Young men will rather wear a black coatand starve than wear fustian and do well.'

  'One man to want such a monstrous house as that! Well, 'tis a fineplace. See, ther
e's the carpenters' shops, the timber-yard, andeverything, as if it were a little town. Perhaps Berta may hire me for ajob now and then.'

  'I always knew she would cut herself off from us. She marked for it fromchildhood, and she has finished the business thoroughly.'

  'Well, it is no matter, father, for why should we want to trouble her?She may write, and I shall answer; but if she calls to see me, I shallnot return the visit; and if she meets me with her husband or any of hernew society about her, I shall behave as a stranger.'

  'It will be best,' said Chickerel. 'Well, now I must move.'

  However, by the sorcery of accident, before they had very far retracedtheir steps an open carriage became visible round a bend in the drive.Chickerel, with a servant's instinct, was for beating a retreat.

  'No,' said Sol. 'Let us stand our ground. We have already been seen,and we do no harm.'

  So they stood still on the edge of the drive, and the carriage drew near.It was a landau, and the sun shone in upon Lord Mountclere, with LadyMountclere sitting beside him, like Abishag beside King David.

  Very blithe looked the viscount, for he rode upon a cherub to-day. Sheappeared fresh, rosy, and strong, but dubious; though if mien wasanything, she was a viscountess twice over. Her dress was of adove-coloured material, with a bonnet to match, a little tufted whitefeather resting on the top, like a truce-flag between the blood of nobleand vassal. Upon the cool grey of her shoulders hung a few locks ofhair, toned warm as fire by the sunshiny addition to its natural hue.

  Chickerel instinctively took off his hat; Sol did the same.

  For only a moment did Ethelberta seem uncertain how to act. But asolution to her difficulty was given by the face of her brother. Thereshe saw plainly at one glance more than a dozen speeches would havetold--for Sol's features thoroughly expressed his intention that to himshe was to be a stranger. Her eyes flew to Chickerel, and he slightlyshook his head. She understood them now. With a tear in her eye for herfather, and a sigh in her bosom for Sol, she bowed in answer to theirsalute; her husband moved his hat and nodded, and the carriage rolled on.Lord Mountclere might possibly be making use of the fine morning inshowing her the park and premises. Chickerel, with a moist eye, now wenton with his son towards the highroad. When they reached the lodge, thelodge-keeper was walking in the sun, smoking his pipe. 'Good morning,'he said to Chickerel.

  'Any rejoicings at the Court to-day?' the butler inquired.

  'Quite the reverse. Not a soul there. 'Tisn't knowed anywhere at all. Ihad no idea of such a thing till he brought my lady here. Not going off,neither. They've come home like the commonest couple in the land, andnot even the bells allowed to ring.'

  They walked along the public road, and the carrier came in view.

  'Father,' said Sol, 'I don't think I'll go further with you. She's goneinto the house; and suppose she should run back without him to try tofind us? It would be cruel to disappoint her. I'll bide about here fora quarter of an hour, in case she should. Mr. Julian won't have passedCorvsgate till I get there.'

  'Well, one or two of her old ways may be left in her still, and it is nota bad thought. Then you will walk the rest of the distance if you don'tmeet Mr. Julian? I must be in London by the evening.'

  'Any time to-night will do for me. I shall not begin work untilto-morrow, so that the four o'clock train will answer my purpose.'

  Thus they parted, and Sol strolled leisurely back. The road was quitedeserted, and he lingered by the park fence.

  'Sol!' said a bird-like voice; 'how did you come here?'

  He looked up, and saw a figure peering down upon him from the top of thepark wall, the ground on the inside being higher than the road. Thespeaker was to the expected Ethelberta what the moon is to the sun, astar to the moon. It was Picotee.

  'Hullo, Picotee!' said Sol.

  'There's a little gate a quarter of a mile further on,' said Picotee. 'Wecan meet there without your passing through the big lodge. I'll be thereas soon as you.'

  Sol ascended the hill, passed through the second gate, and turned backagain, when he met Picotee coming forward under the trees. They walkedtogether in this secluded spot.

  'Berta says she wants to see you and father,' said Picotee breathlessly.'You must come in and make yourselves comfortable. She had no idea youwere here so secretly, and she didn't know what to do.'

  'Father's gone,' said Sol.

  'How vexed she will be! She thinks there is something the matter--thatyou are angry with her for not telling you earlier. But you will comein, Sol?'

  'No, I can't come in,' said her brother.

  'Why not? It is such a big house, you can't think. You need not comenear the front apartments, if you think we shall be ashamed of you inyour working clothes. How came you not to dress up a bit, Sol? Still,Berta won't mind it much. She says Lord Mountclere must take her as sheis, or he is kindly welcome to leave her.'

  'Ah, well! I might have had a word or two to say about that, but thetime has gone by for it, worse luck. Perhaps it is best that I have saidnothing, and she has had her way. No, I shan't come in, Picotee. Fatheris gone, and I am going too.'

  'O Sol!'

  'We are rather put out at her acting like this--father and I and all ofus. She might have let us know about it beforehand, even if she is alady and we what we always was. It wouldn't have let her down soterrible much to write a line. She might have learnt something thatwould have led her to take a different step.'

  'But you will see poor Berta? She has done no harm. She was going towrite long letters to all of you to-day, explaining her wedding, and howshe is going to help us all on in the world.'

  Sol paused irresolutely. 'No, I won't come in,' he said. 'It woulddisgrace her, for one thing, dressed as I be; more than that, I don'twant to come in. But I should like to see her, if she would like to seeme; and I'll go up there to that little fir plantation, and walk up anddown behind it for exactly half-an-hour. She can come out to me there.'Sol had pointed as he spoke to a knot of young trees that hooded a knolla little way off.

  'I'll go and tell her,' said Picotee.

  'I suppose they will be off somewhere, and she is busy getting ready?'

  'O no. They are not going to travel till next year. Ethelberta does notwant to go anywhere; and Lord Mountclere cannot endure this changeableweather in any place but his own house.'

  'Poor fellow!'

  'Then you will wait for her by the firs? I'll tell her at once.'

  Picotee left him, and Sol went across the glade.