CHAPTER XXIII. New Faces
The inmates of Fairoaks were drowsily pursuing this humdrum existence,while the great house upon the hill, on the other side of the RiverBrawl, was shaking off the slumber in which it had lain during the livesof two generations of masters, and giving extraordinary signs of renewedliveliness.
Just about the time of Pen's little mishap, and when he was so absorbedin the grief occasioned by that calamity as to take no notice of eventswhich befell persons less interesting to himself than Arthur Pendennis,an announcement appeared in the provincial journals which caused nosmall sensation in the county at least, and in all the towns, villages,halls and mansions, and parsonages for many miles round ClaveringPark. At Clavering Market; at Cackleby Fair; at Chatteris Sessions; onGooseberry Green, as the squire's carriage met the vicar's one-horsecontrivance, and the inmates of both vehicles stopped on the road totalk; at Tinkleton Church gate, as the bell was tolling in the sunshine,and the white smocks and scarlet cloaks came trooping over the greencommon, to Sunday worship; in a hundred societies round about--the wordwas, that Clavering Park was to be inhabited again.
Some five years before, the county papers had advertised the marriage atFlorence, at the British Legation, of Francis Clavering, Esq., only sonof Sir Francis Clavering, Bart., of Clavering Park, with Jemima Augusta,daughter of Samuel Snell, of Calcutta, Esq., and widow of the late J.Amory, Esq. At that time the legend in the county was that Clavering,who had been ruined for many a year, had married a widow from India withsome money. Some of the county folks caught a sight of the newly-marriedpair. The Kickleburys, travelling in Italy, had seen them. Claveringoccupied the Poggi Palace at Florence, gave parties, and livedcomfortably--but could never come to England. Another year--youngPeregrine, of Cackleby, making a Long Vacation tour, had fallen in withthe Claverings occupying Schloss Schinkenstein, on the Mummel See. AtRome, at Lucca, at Nice, at the baths and gambling places of the Rhineand Belgium, this worthy couple might occasionally be heard of by thecurious, and rumours of them came, as it were by gusts, to Clavering'sancestral place.
Their last place of abode was Paris, where they appear to have lived ingreat fashion and splendour after the news of the death of Samuel Snell,Esq., of Calcutta, reached his orphan daughter in Europe.
Of Sir Francis Clavering's antecedents little can be said that would beadvantageous to that respected baronet. The son of an outlaw, livingin a dismal old chateau near Bruges, this gentleman had made a feebleattempt to start in life with a commission in a dragoon regiment, andhad broken down almost at the outset. Transactions at the gambling-tablehad speedily effected his ruin; after a couple of years in the armyhe had been forced to sell out, had passed some time in Her Majesty'sprison of the Fleet, and had then shipped over to Ostend to join thegouty exile, his father. And in Belgium, France and Germany, for someyears, this decayed and abortive prodigal might be seen lurking aboutbilliard-rooms and watering-places, punting at gambling-houses, dancingat boarding-house balls, and riding steeple-chases on other folks'horses.
It was at a boarding-house at Lausanne that Francis Clavering madewhat he called the lucky coup of marrying the widow Amory, very latelyreturned from Calcutta. His father died soon after, by consequence ofwhose demise his wife became Lady Clavering. The title so delighted Mr.Snell of Calcutta, that he doubled his daughter's allowance; and dyinghimself soon after, left a fortune to her and her children the amount ofwhich was, if not magnified by rumour, something very splendid indeed.
Before this time there had been, not rumours unfavourable to LadyClavering's reputation, but unpleasant impressions regarding herladyship. The best English people abroad were shy of making heracquaintance; her manners were not the most refined; her origin waslamentably low and doubtful. The retired East Indians, who are to befound in considerable force in most of the continental towns frequentedby English, spoke with much scorn of the disreputable old lawyer andindigo-smuggler her father, and of Amory, her first husband, who hadbeen mate of the Indiaman in which Miss Snell came out to join herfather at Calcutta. Neither father nor daughter were in society atCalcutta, or had ever been heard of at Government House. Old Sir JasperRogers, who had been Chief Justice of Calcutta, had once said to hiswife, that he could tell a queer story about Lady Clavering's firsthusband; but greatly to Lady Rogers's disappointment, and that of theyoung ladies his daughters, the old Judge could never be got to revealthat mystery.
They were all, however, glad enough to go to Lady Clavering's parties,when her ladyship took the Hotel Bouilli in the Rue Grenelle at Paris,and blazed out in the polite world there in the winter of 183--.The Faubourg St. Germain took her up. Viscount Bagwig, our excellentambassador, paid her marked attention. The princes of the familyfrequented her salons. The most rigid and noted of the English ladiesresident in the French capital acknowledged and countenanced her; thevirtuous Lady Elderbury, the severe Lady Rockminster, the venerableCountess of Southdown--people, in a word, renowned for austerity, and ofquite a dazzling moral purity:--so great and beneficent an influence hadthe possession of ten (some said twenty) thousand a year exercisedupon Lady Clavering's character and reputation. And her munificenceand good-will were unbounded. Anybody (in society) who had a scheme ofcharity was sure to find her purse open. The French ladies of piety gotmoney from her to support their schools and convents; she subscribedindifferently for the Armenian patriarch; for Father Barbarossa, whocame to Europe to collect funds for his monastery on Mount Athos;for the Baptist Mission to Quashyboo, and the Orthodox Settlement inFeefawfoo, the largest and most savage of the Cannibal Islands. And itis on record of her, that, on the same day on which Madame de Cricri gotfive Napoleons from her in support of the poor persecuted Jesuits, whowere at that time in very bad odour in France, Lady Budelight put herdown in her subscription-list for the Rev. J. Ramshorn, who had hada vision which ordered him to convert the Pope of Rome. And more thanthis, and for the benefit of the worldly, her ladyship gave the bestdinners, and the grandest balls and suppers, which were known at Parisduring that season.
And it was during this time, that the good-natured lady must havearranged matters with her husband's creditors in England, for SirFrancis reappeared in his native country, without fear of arrest; wasannounced in the Morning Post, and the county paper, as having taken uphis residence at Mivart's Hotel; and one day the anxious old housekeeperat Clavering House beheld a carriage and four horses drive up thelong avenue, and stop before the moss-grown steps in front of the vastmelancholy portico.
Three gentlemen were in the carriage--an open one. On the back seat wasour old acquaintance, Mr. Tatham of Chatteris, whilst in the places ofhonour sate a handsome and portly gentleman enveloped in mustachios,whiskers, fur collars, and braiding, and by him a pale languid man whodescended feebly from the carriage, when the little lawyer, and thegentleman in fur, nimbly jumped out of it.
They walked up the great moss-grown steps to the hall-door, anda foreign attendant, with earrings and a gold-laced cap, pulledstrenuously at the great bell-handle at the cracked and sculptured gate.The bell was heard clanging loudly through the vast gloomy mansion.Steps resounded presently upon the marble pavement of the hall within;and the doors opened, and finally Mrs. Blenkinsop, the housekeeper,Polly, her aide-de-camp, and Smart, the keeper, appeared bowing humbly.
Smart, the keeper, pulled the wisp of hay-coloured hair which adornedhis sunburnt forehead, kicked out his left heel as if there were adog biting at his calves, and brought down his head to a bow. Old MrsBlenkinsop dropped a curtsey. Little Polly, her aide-de-camp, made acurtsey and several rapid bows likewise; and Mrs. Blenkinsop, with agreat deal of emotion, quavered out, "Welcome to Clavering, Sir Francis.It du my poor eyes good to see one of the family once more."
The speech and the greetings were all addressed to the grand gentlemanin fur and braiding, who wore his hat so magnificently on one side, andtwirled his mustachios so royally. But he burst out laughing, and said,"You've saddled the wrong horse, old lady--I'm not Sir Francis Claveringw
hat's come to revisit the halls of my ancestors. Friends and vassals!behold your rightful lord!"
And he pointed his hand towards the pale, languid gentleman who said,"Don't be an ass, Ned."
"Yes, Mrs. Blenkinsop, I'm Sir Francis Clavering; I recollect you quitewell. Forgot me, I suppose?--How dy do?" and he took the old lady'strembling hand; and nodded in her astonished face, in a not unkindmanner.
Mrs. Blenkinsop declared upon her conscience that she would have knownSir Francis anywhere, that he was the very image of Sir Francis, hisfather, and of Sir John who had gone before.
"O yes--thanky--of course--very much obliged--and that sort of thing,"Sir Francis said, looking vacantly about the hall "Dismal old place,ain't it, Ned? Never saw it but once, when my governor quarrelled withgwandfather in the year twenty-thwee.
"Dismal?--beautiful!--the Castle of Otranto!--the Mysteries of Udolpho,by Jove!" said the individual addressed as Ned. "What a fireplace! Youmight roast an elephant in it. Splendid carved gallery! Inigo Jones, byJove! I'd lay five to two it's Inigo Jones."
"The upper part by Inigo Jones; the lower was altered by the eminentDutch architect, Vanderputty, in George the First his time, by SirRichard, fourth baronet," said the housekeeper.
"O indeed," said the Baronet "Gad, Ned, you know everything."
"I know a few things, Frank," Ned answered. "I know that's not a Snydersover the mantelpiece--bet you three to one it's a copy. We'll restoreit, my boy. A lick of varnish, and it will come out wonderfully, sir.That old fellow in the red gown, I suppose, is Sir Richard."
"Sheriff of the county, and sate in parliament in the reign of QueenAnne," said the housekeeper, wondering at the stranger's knowledge;"that on the right is Theodosia, wife of Harbottle, second baronet, byLely, represented in the character of Venus, the Goddess of Beauty,--herson Gregory, the third baronet, by her side, as Cupid, God of Love, witha bow and arrows; that on the next panel is Sir Rupert, made a knightbanneret by Charles the First, and whose property was confuscated byOliver Cromwell."
"Thank you--needn't go on, Mrs. Blenkinsop," said the Baronet, "We'llwalk about the place ourselves. Frosch, give me a cigar. Have a cigar,Mr. Tatham?"
Little Mr. Tatham tried a cigar which Sir Francis's courier handed tohim, and over which the lawyer spluttered fearfully. "Needn't come withus, Mrs. Blenkinsop. What's--his--name--you--Smart--feed the horses andwash their mouths. Shan't stay long. Come along, Strong,--I know theway: I was here in twenty-thwee, at the end of my gwandfather's time."And Sir Francis and Captain Strong, for such was the style and title ofSir Francis's friend, passed out of the hall into the reception-rooms,leaving the discomfited Mrs. Blenkinsop to disappear by a side-doorwhich led to her apartments, now the only habitable rooms in thelong-uninhabited mansion.
It was a place so big that no tenant could afford to live in it; and SirFrancis and his friend walked through room after room, admiring theirvastness and dreary and deserted grandeur. On the right of the hall-doorwere the saloons and drawing-rooms, and on the other side the oak room,the parlour, the grand dining-room, the library, where Pen had foundbooks in old days. Round three sides of the hall ran a gallery, bywhich, and corresponding passages, the chief bedrooms were approached,and of which many were of stately proportions and exhibited marks ofsplendour. On the second story was a labyrinth of little discomfortablegarrets, destined for the attendants of the great folks who inhabitedthe mansion in the days when it was first built: and I do not know anymore cheering mark of the increased philanthropy of our own times, thanto contrast our domestic architecture with that of our ancestors, and tosee how much better servants and poor are cared for now, than in timeswhen my lord and my lady slept under gold canopies, and their servantslay above them in quarters not so airy or so clean as stables are now.
Up and down the house the two gentlemen wandered, the owner of themansion being very silent and resigned about the pleasure of possessingit; whereas the Captain, his friend, examined the premises with so muchinterest and eagerness that you would have thought he was themaster, and the other the indifferent spectator of the place. "I seecapabilities in it--capabilities in it, sir," cried the Captain. "Gad,sir, leave it to me, and I'll make it the pride of the country, ata small expense. What a theatre we can have in the library here, thecurtains between the columns which divide the room! What a famous roomfor a galop!--it will hold the whole shire. We'll hang the morningparlour with the tapestry in your second salon in the Rue de Grenelle,and furnish the oak room with the Moyen-age cabinets and the armour.Armour looks splendid against black oak, and there's a Venice glass inthe Quai Voltaire, which will suit that high mantelpiece to an inch,sir. The long saloon, white and crimson of course; the drawing-roomyellow satin; and the little drawing-room light blue, with laceover--hay?"
"I recollect my old governor caning me in that little room," Sir Francissaid sententiously; "he always hated me, my old governor."
"Chintz is the dodge, I suppose, for my lady's rooms--the suite inthe landing, to the south, the bedroom, the sitting-room, and thedressing-room. We'll throw a conservatory out, over the balcony. Wherewill you have your rooms?"
"Put mine in the north wing," said the Baronet, with a yawn, "and outof the reach of Miss Amory's confounded piano. I can't bear it. She'sscweeching from morning till night."
The Captain burst out laughing. He settled the whole furtherarrangements of the house in the course of their walk through it; and,the promenade ended, they went into the steward's room, now inhabited byMrs. Blenkinsop, and where Mr. Tatham was sitting poring over a plan ofthe estate, and the old housekeeper had prepared a collation in honourof her lord and master.
Then they inspected the kitchen and stables, about both of which SirFrancis was rather interested, and Captain Strong was for examiningthe gardens; but the Baronet said, "D---- the gardens, and that sort ofthing!" and finally he drove away from the house as unconcernedly as hehad entered it; and that night the people of Clavering learned that SirFrancis Clavering had paid a visit to the Park, and was coming to livein the county.
When this fact came to be known at Chatteris, all the folks in the placewere set in commotion: High Church and Low Church, half-pay captains andold maids and dowagers, sporting squireens of the viciniage, farmers,tradesmen, and factory people--all the population in and round aboutthe little place. The news was brought to Fairoaks, and received by theladies there, and by Mr. Pen, with some excitement. "Mrs. Pybus saysthere is a very pretty girl in the family, Arthur," Laura said, who wasas kind and thoughtful upon this point as women generally are: "a MissAmory, Lady Clavering's daughter by her first marriage. Of course, youwill fall in love with her as soon as she arrives."
Helen cried out, "Don't talk nonsense, Laura." Pen laughed, and said,"Well, there is the young Sir Francis for you."
"He is but four years old," Miss Laura replied. "But I shall consolemyself with that handsome officer, Sir Francis's friend. He was atchurch last Sunday, in the Clavering pew, and his mustachios werebeautiful."
Indeed the number of Sir Francis's family (whereof the members have allbeen mentioned in the above paragraphs) was pretty soon known in histown, and everything else, as nearly as human industry and ingenuitycould calculate, regarding his household. The Park avenue and groundswere dotted now with town folks of the summer evenings, who made theirway up to the great house, peered about the premises, and criticisedthe improvements which were taking place there. Loads upon loads offurniture arrived in numberless vans from Chatteris and London; andnumerous as the vans are, there was not one but Captain Glanders knewwhat it contained, and escorted the baggage up to the Park House.
He and Captain Edward Strong had formed an intimate acquaintance by thistime. The younger Captain occupied those very lodgings at Clavering,which the peaceful Smirke had previously tenanted, and was deep in thegood graces of Madame Fribsby, his landlady; and of the whole town,indeed. The Captain was splendid in person and raiment; fresh-coloured,blue-eyed, black-whiskered, broad-chested, athletic--a slight tend
encyto fulness did not take away from the comeliness of his jolly figure--abraver soldier never presented a broader chest to the enemy. As hestrode down Clavering High Street, his hat on one side, his caneclanking on the pavement, or waving round him in the execution ofmilitary cuts and soldatesque manoeuvres--his jolly laughter ringingthrough the otherwise silent street--he was as welcome as sunshine tothe place, and a comfort to every inhabitant in it.
On the first market-day he knew every pretty girl in the market: hejoked with all the women; had a word with the farmers about their stock,and dined at the Agricultural Ordinary at the Clavering Arms, where heset them all dying with laughing by his fun and jokes. "Tu be sure he bea vine veller, tu be sure that he be," was the universal opinion of thegentlemen in top-boots. He shook hands with a score of them, as theyrode out of the inn-yard on their old nags, waving his hat to themsplendidly as he smoked his cigar in the inn-gate. In the course of theevening he was free of the landlady's bar, knew what rent the landlordpaid, how many acres he farmed, how much malt he put in his strongbeer; and whether he ever ran in a little brandy unexcised by kings fromBaymouth, or the fishing villages along the coast.
He had tried to live at the great house first; but it was so dull hecouldn't stand it. "I am a creature born for society," he told CaptainGlanders. "I'm down here to see Clavering's house set in order; forbetween ourselves, Frank has no energy, sir, no energy; he's not thechest for it, sir (and he threw out his own trunk as he spoke); but Imust have social intercourse. Old Mrs. Blenkinsop goes to bed at seven,and takes Polly with her. There was nobody but me and the Ghost for thefirst two nights at the great house, and I own it, sir, I like company.Most old soldiers do."
Glanders asked Strong where he had served? Captain Strong curled hismustache, and said with a laugh, that the other might almost ask wherehe had not served. "I began, sir, as cadet of Hungarian Uhlans, andwhen the war of Greek independence broke out, quitted that service inconsequence of a quarrel with my governor, and was one of sevenwho escaped from Missolonghi, and was blown up in one of Botzaris'sfireships, at the age of seventeen. I'll show you my Cross of theRedeemer, if you'll come over to my lodgings and take a glass of grogwith me, Captain, this evening. I've a few of those baubles in my desk.I've the White Eagle of Poland; Skrzynecki gave it me" (he pronouncedSkrzynecki's name with wonderful accuracy and gusto) "upon the fieldof Ostrolenka. I was a lieutenant of the fourth regiment, sir, and wemarched through Diebitsch's lines--bang thro' 'em into Prussia, sir,without firing a shot. Ah, Captain, that was a mismanaged business. Ireceived this wound by the side of the King before Oporto,--where hewould have pounded the stock-jobbing Pedroites, had Bourmont followed myadvice; and I served in Spain with the King's troops, until the death ofmy dear friend, Zumalacarreguy, when I saw the game was over, and hungup my toasting iron, Captain. Alava offered me a regiment, the Queen'sMuleteros; but I couldn't--damme, I couldn't--and now, sir, you know NedStrong--the Chevalier Strong they call me abroad--as well as he knowshimself."
In this way almost everybody in Clavering came to know Ned Strong. Hetold Madame Fribsby, he told the landlord of the George, he told Bakerat the reading-rooms, he told Mrs. Glanders, and the young ones, atdinner: and, finally, he told Mr. Arthur Pendennis, who, yawning intoClavering one day, found the Chevalier Strong in company with CaptainGlanders; and who was delighted with his new acquaintance.
Before many days were over, Captain Strong was as much at home inHelen's drawing-room as he was in Madame Fribsby's first floor; and madethe lonely house very gay with his good-humour and ceaseless flow oftalk. The two women had never before seen such a man. He had a thousandstories about battles and dangers to interest them--about Greekcaptives, Polish beauties, and Spanish nuns. He could sing scores ofsongs, in half a dozen languages, and would sit down to the piano andtroll them off in a rich manly voice. Both the ladies pronounced himto be delightful--and so he was; though, indeed, they had not had muchchoice of man's society as yet, having seen in the course of their livesbut few persons, except old Portman and the Major, and Mr. Pen, who wasa genius, to be sure; but then your geniuses are somewhat flat and moodyat home.
And Captain Strong acquainted his new friends at Fairoaks, not only withhis own biography, but with the whole history of the family now comingto Clavering. It was he who had made the marriage between his friendFrank and the widow Amory. She wanted rank, and he wanted money. Whatmatch could be more suitable? He organised it; he made those two peoplehappy. There was no particular romantic attachment between them; thewidow was not of an age or a person for romance, and Sir Francis, if hehad his game at billiards, and his dinner, cared for little besides.But they were as happy as people could be. Clavering would return to hisnative place and country, his wife's fortune would pay his encumbrancesoff, and his son and heir would be one of the first men in the county.
"And Miss Amory?" Laura asked. Laura was uncommonly curious about MissAmory.
Strong laughed. "Oh, Miss Amory is a muse--Miss Amory is a mystery--MissAmory is a femme incomprise." "What is that?" asked simple Mrs.Pendennis--but the Chevalier gave her no answer: perhaps could notgive her one. "Miss Amory paints, Miss Amory writes poems, Miss Amorycomposes music, Miss Amory rides like Diana Vernon. Miss Amory is aparagon, in a word."
"I hate clever women," said Pen.
"Thank you," said Laura. For her part she was sure she should be charmedwith Miss Amory, and quite longed to have such a friend. And with thisshe looked Pen full in the face, as if every word the little hypocritesaid was Gospel truth.
Thus, an intimacy was arranged and prepared beforehand between theFairoaks family and their wealthy neighbours at the Park; and Pen andLaura were to the full as eager for their arrival, as even the mostcurious of the Clavering folks. A Londoner, who sees fresh faces andyawns at them every day may smile at the eagerness with which countrypeople expect a visitor. A cockney comes amongst them, and is rememberedby his rural entertainers for years after he has left them, andforgotten them very likely--floated far away from them on the vastLondon sea. But the islanders remember long after the mariner has sailedaway, and can tell you what he said and what he wore, and how he lookedand how he laughed. In fine, a new arrival is an event in the countrynot to be understood by us, who don't, and had rather not, know wholives next door.
When the painters and upholsterers had done their work in the house, andso beautified it, under Captain Strong's superintendence, that he mightwell be proud of his taste, that gentleman announced that he should goto London, where the whole family had arrived by this time, and shouldspeedily return to establish them in their renovated mansion.
Detachments of domestics preceded them. Carriages came down by sea, andwere brought over from Baymouth by horses which had previously arrivedunder the care of grooms and coachmen. One day the 'Alacrity' coachbrought down on its roof two large and melancholy men, who were droppedat the Park lodge with their trunks, and who were Messieurs Frederic andJames, metropolitan footmen, who had no objection to the country, andbrought with them state and other suits of the Clavering uniform.
On another day, the mail deposited at the gate a foreign gentleman,adorned with many ringlets and chains. He made a great riot at thelodge-gate to the keeper's wife (who, being a West-country woman, didnot understand his English or his Gascon French), because there was nocarriage in waiting to drive him to the house, a mile off, and becausehe could not walk entire leagues in his fatigued state and varnishedboots. This was Monsieur Alcide Mirobolant, formerly Chef of hisHighness the Duc de Borodino, of his Eminence Cardinal Beccafico, andat present Chef of the bouche of Sir Clavering, Baronet:--MonsieurMirobolant's library, pictures, and piano had arrived previously incharge of the intelligent young Englishman, his aide-de-camp. He was,moreover, aided by a professed female cook, likewise from London, whohad inferior females under her orders.
He did not dine in the steward's room, but took his nutriment insolitude in his own apartments, where a female servant was affected tohis private use. It was a grand sight
to behold him in his dressing-gowncomposing a menu. He always sate down and played the piano for sometime before that. If interrupted, he remonstrated pathetically withhis little maid. Every great artist, he said, had need of solitude toperfectionate his works.
But we are advancing matters in the fulness of our love and respect forMonsieur Mirobolant, and bringing him prematurely on the stage.
The Chevalier Strong had a hand in the engagement of all the Londondomestics, and, indeed, seemed to be the master of the house. There werethose among them who said he was the house-steward, only he dined withthe family. Howbeit, he knew how to make himself respected, and two ofby no means the least comfortable rooms of the house were assigned tohis particular use.
He was walking upon the terrace finally upon the eventful day when,amidst an immense jangling of bells from Clavering Church, where theflag was flying, an open carriage and one of those travelling chariotsor family arks, which only English philoprogenitiveness could invent,drove rapidly with foaming horses through the Park gates, and up to thesteps of the Hall. The two battans of the sculptured door flew open. Thesuperior officers in black, the large and melancholy gentlemen, now inlivery with their hair in powder, the country menials engaged to aidthem, were in waiting in the hall, and bowed like elms when autumn windswail in the park. Through this avenue passed Sir Francis Clavering witha most unmoved face: Lady Clavering, with a pair of bright blackeyes, and a good-humoured countenance, which waggled and nodded verygraciously: Master Francis Clavering, who was holding his mamma's skirt(and who stopped the procession to look at the largest footman, whoseappearance seemed to strike the young gentleman), and Miss Blandy,governess to Master Francis, and Miss Amory, her ladyship's daughter,giving her arm to Captain Strong. It was summer, but fires of welcomewere crackling in the great hall chimney, and in the rooms which thefamily were to occupy.
Monsieur Mirobolant had looked at the procession from one of thelime-trees in the avenue. "Elle est la," he said, laying his jewelledhand on his richly-embroidered velvet glass buttons, "Je t'ai vue, jete benis, O ma sylphide, O mon ange!" and he dived into the thicket, andmade his way back to his furnaces and saucepans.
The next Sunday the same party which had just made its appearance atClavering Park, came and publicly took possession of the ancient pewin the church, where so many of the Baronet's ancestors had prayed, andwere now kneeling in effigy. There was such a run to see the new folks,that the Low Church was deserted, to the disgust of its pastor; andas the state barouche, with the greys and coachman in silver wig, andsolemn footmen, drew up at the old churchyard-gate, there was such acrowd assembled there as had not been seen for many a long day. CaptainStrong knew everybody, and saluted for all the company--the countrypeople vowed my lady was not handsome, to be sure, but pronounced her tobe uncommon fine dressed, as indeed she was--with the finest of shawls,the finest of pelisses, the brilliantest of bonnets and wreaths, and apower of rings, cameos, brooches, chains, bangles, and other namelessgimcracks; and ribbons of every breadth and colour of the rainbowflaming on her person. Miss Amory appeared meek in dove-colour, like avestal virgin--while Master Francis was in the costume, then prevalent,of Rob Roy Macgregor, a celebrated Highland outlaw. The Baronet was notmore animated than ordinarily--there was a happy vacuity about him whichenabled him to face a dinner, a death, a church, a marriage, with thesame indifferent ease.
A pew for the Clavering servants was filled by these domestics, and theenraptured congregation saw the gentlemen from London with "vlower ontheir heeds," and the miraculous coachman with his silver wig, taketheir places in that pew so soon as his horses were put up at theClavering Arms.
In the course of the service, Master Francis began to make such ayelling in the pew, that Frederic, the tallest of the footmen, wasbeckoned by his master, and rose and went and carried out MasterFrancis, who roared and beat him on the head, so that the powder flewround about, like clouds of incense. Nor was he pacified until placed onthe box of the carriage, where he played at horses with John's whip.
"You see the little beggar's never been to church before, Miss Bell,"the Baronet drawled out to a young lady who was visiting him; "no wonderhe should make a row: I don't go in town neither, but I think it's rightin the country to give a good example--and that sort of thing."
Miss Bell laughed and said, "The little boy had not given a particularlygood example."
"Gad, I don't know, and that sort of thing," said the Baronet. "Itain't so bad neither. Whenever he wants a thing, Frank always cwies, andwhenever he cwies he gets it."
Here the child in question began to howl for a dish of sweetmeats on theluncheon-table, and making a lunge across the table-cloth, upset a glassof wine over the best waistcoat of one of the guests present, Mr. ArthurPendennis, who was greatly annoyed at being made to look foolish, and athaving his spotless cambric shirt front blotched with wine.
"We do spoil him so," said Lady Clavering to Mrs. Pendennis, finallygazing at the cherub, whose hands and face were now frothed overwith the species of lather which is inserted in the confection calledmeringues a la creme.
"It is very wrong," said Mrs. Pendennis, as if she had never done such athing herself as spoil a child.
"Mamma says she spoils my brother,--do you think anything could, MissBell? Look at him,--isn't he like a little angel?"
"Gad, I was quite wight," said the Baronet. "He has cwied, and he hasgot it, you see. Go it, Fwank, old boy."
"Sir Francis is a very judicious parent," Miss Amory whispered. Don'tyou think so, Miss Bell? I shan't call you Miss Bell--I shall call youLaura. I admired you so at church. Your robe was not well made, nor yourbonnet very fresh. But you have such beautiful grey eyes, and such alovely tint."
"Thank you," said Miss Bell, laughing.
"Your cousin is handsome, and thinks so. He is uneasy de sa personne.He has not seen the world yet. Has he genius? Has he suffered? A lady,a little woman in a rumpled satin and velvet shoes--a Miss Pybus--camehere, and said he has suffered. I, too, have suffered,--and you, Laura,has your heart ever been touched?"
Laura said "No!" but perhaps blushed a little at the idea or thequestion, so that the other said,--
"Ah Laura! I see it all. It is the beau cousin. Tell me everything. Ialready love you as a sister."
"You are very kind," said Miss Bell, smiling, "and--and it must be ownedthat it is a very sudden attachment."
"All attachments are so. It is electricity--spontaneity. It isinstantaneous. I knew I should love you from the moment I saw you. Doyou not feel it yourself?"
"Not yet," said Laura; "but--I daresay I shall if I try."
"Call me by my name, then."
"But I don't know it," Laura cried out.
"My name is Blanche--isn't it a pretty name? Call me by it."
"Blanche--it is very pretty, indeed."
"And while mamma talks with that kind-looking lady--what relation is sheto you? She must have been pretty once, but is rather passee; she is notwell gantee, but she has a pretty hand--and while mamma talks to her,come with me to my own room,--my own, own room. It's a darling room,though that horrid creature, Captain Strong, did arrange it. Are youeprise of him? He says you are, but I know better; it is thebeau cousin. Yes--il a de beaux yeux. Je n'aime pas les blonds,ordinairement. Car je suis blonde moi--je suis Blanche et blonde,"--andshe looked at her face and made a moue in the glass; and never stoppedfor Laura's answer to the questions which she had put.
Blanche was fair, and like a sylph. She had fair hair, with greenreflections in it. But she had dark eyebrows. She had long blackeyelashes, which veiled beautiful brown eyes. She had such a slim waist,that it was a wonder to behold; and such a slim little feet, that youwould have thought the grass would hardly bend under them. Her lips wereof the colour of faint rosebuds, and her voice warbled limpidly over aset of the sweetest little pearly teeth ever seen. She showed them veryoften, for they were very pretty. She was very good-natured, and a smilenot only showed her teeth wonderfully, but likewise exhibit
ed two lovelylittle pink dimples, that nestled in either cheek.
She showed Laura her drawings, which the other thought charming. Sheplayed her some of her waltzes, with a rapid and brilliant finger,and Laura was still more charmed. And she then read her some poems, inFrench and English, likewise of her own composition, and which she keptlocked in her own book--her own dear little book; it was bound in bluevelvet, with a gilt lock, and on it was printed in gold the title of'Mes Larmes.'
"Mes Larmes!--isn't it a pretty name?" the young lady continued, whowas pleased with everything that she did, and did everything very well.Laura owned that it was. She had never seen anything like it before;anything so lovely, so accomplished, so fragile and pretty; warbling soprettily, and tripping about such a pretty room, with such a numberof pretty books, pictures, flowers, round about her. The honest andgenerous country girl forgot even jealousy in her admiration. "Indeed,Blanche," she said, "everything in the room is pretty; and you are theprettiest of all." The other smiled, looked in the glass, went up andtook both of Laura's hands, and kissed them, and sat down to the piano,and shook out a little song, as if she had been a nightingale.
This was the first visit paid by Fairoaks to Clavering Park, in returnfor Clavering Park's visit to Fairoaks, in reply to Fairoaks's cardsleft a few days after the arrival of Sir Francis's family. The intimacybetween the young ladies sprang up like Jack's Bean-stalk to the skiesin a single night. The large footmen were perpetually walking withlittle rose-coloured pink notes to Fairoaks; where there was a prettyhouse-maid in the kitchen, who might possibly tempt those gentlemento so humble a place. Miss Amory sent music, or Miss Amory sent a newnovel, or a picture from the 'Journal des Modes,' to Laura; or my lady'scompliments arrived with flowers and fruit; or Miss Amory begged andprayed Miss Bell to come to dinner; and dear Mrs. Pendennis, if she wasstrong enough; and Mr. Arthur, if a humdrum party were not too stupidfor him; and would send a pony-carriage for Mrs. Pendennis; and wouldtake no denial.
Neither Arthur nor Laura wished to refuse. And Helen, who was, indeed,somewhat ailing, was glad that the two should have their pleasure; andwould look at them fondly as they set forth, and ask in her heart thatshe might not be called away until those two beings whom she loved bestin the world should be joined together. As they went out and crossedover the bridge, she remembered summer evenings five-and-twentyyears ago, when she, too, had bloomed in her brief prime of love andhappiness. It was all over now. The moon was looking from the purplingsky, and the stars glittering there, just as they used in the early,well-remembered evenings. He was lying dead far away, with the billowsrolling between them. Good God! how well she remembered the last look ofhis face as they parted. It looked out at her through the vista of longyears, as sad and as clear as then.
So Mr. Pen and Miss Laura found the society at Clavering Park anuncommonly agreeable resort of summer evenings. Blanche vowed that sheraffoled of Laura; and, very likely, Mr. Pen was pleased with Blanche.His spirits came back: he laughed and rattled till Laura wondered tohear him. It was not the same Pen, yawning in a shooting jacket, in theFairoaks parlour, who appeared alert and brisk, and smiling and welldressed, in Lady Clavering's drawing-room. Sometimes they had music.Laura had a sweet contralto voice, and sang with Blanche, who had hadthe best continental instruction, and was charmed to be her friend'smistress. Sometimes Mr. Pen joined in these concerts, or oftener lookedsweet upon Miss Blanche as she sang. Sometimes they had glees, whenCaptain Strong's chest was of vast service, and he boomed out in aprodigious bass, of which he was not a little proud.
"Good fellow, Strong--ain't he, Miss Bell?" Sir Francis would sayto her. "Plays at ecarte with Lady Clavering--plays anything,pitch-and-toss, pianoforty, cwibbage if you like. How long do you thinkhe's been staying with me? He came for a week with a carpet-bag, andGad, he's been staying here thwee years. Good fellow, ain't he? Don'tknow how he gets a shillin' though, begad I don't, Miss Lauwa."
And yet the Chevalier, if he lost his money to Lady Clavering, alwayspaid it; and if he lived with his friend for three years, paid for thattoo--in good-humour, in kindness and joviality, in a thousand littleservices by which he made himself agreeable. What gentleman could want abetter friend than a man who was always in spirits, never in the wayor out of it, and was ready to execute any commission for his patron,whether it was to sing a song or meet a lawyer, to fight a duel or tocarve a capon?
Although Laura and Pen commonly went to Clavering Park together, yetsometimes Mr. Pen took walks there unattended by her, and about which hedid not tell her. He took to fishing the Brawl, which runs through thePark, and passes not very far from the garden-wall. And by the oddestcoincidence, Miss Amory would walk out (having been to look at herflowers), and would be quite surprised to see Mr. Pendennis fishing.
I wonder what trout Pen caught while the young lady was looking on? orwhether Miss Blanche was the pretty little fish which played round hisfly, and which Mr. Pen was endeavouring to hook? It must be owned, hebecame very fond of that healthful and invigorating pursuit of angling,and was whipping the Brawl continually with his fly.
As for Miss Blanche she had a kind heart; and having, as she owned,herself "suffered" a good deal in the course of her brief life andexperience--why, she could compassionate other susceptible beingslike Pen, who had suffered too. Her love for Laura and that dear Mrs.Pendennis redoubled: if they were not at the Park, she was not easyunless she herself was at Fairoaks. She played with Laura; she readFrench and German with Laura; and Mr. Pen read French and German alongwith them. He turned sentimental ballads of Schiller and Goethe intoEnglish verse for the ladies, and Blanche unlocked 'Mes Larmes' for him,and imparted to him some of the plaintive outpourings of her own tenderMuse.
It appeared from these poems that this young creature had indeedsuffered prodigiously. She was familiar with the idea of suicide. Deathshe repeatedly longed for. A faded rose inspired her with such griefthat you would have thought she must die in pain of it. It was a wonderhow a young creature (who had had a snug home or been at a comfortableboarding-school, and had no outward grief or hardship to complain of)should have suffered so much--should have found the means of getting atsuch an ocean of despair and passion (as a runaway boy who will get tosea), and having embarked on it should survive it. What a talent shemust have had for weeping to be able to pour out so many of Mes Larmes!
They were not particularly briny, Miss Blanche's tears, that is thetruth; but Pen, who read her verses, thought them very well for alady--and wrote some verses himself for her. His were very violent andpassionate, very hot, sweet and strong: and he not only wrote verses;but--O the villain! O, the deceiver! he altered and adapted formerpoems in his possession, and which had been composed for a certainEmily Fotheringay, for the use and to the Christian name of Miss BlancheAmory.