CONDITIONS OF AN AGREEMENT BETWEEN MRS. PETERS AND HER DAUGHTERS.--MRS.
BARNABY BEGINS HER FASHIONABLE CAREER UNDER THE PROTECTION OF MISS
ELIZABETH.--SHE REHEARSES A BALL IN HER HEART AS SHE EXAMINES THE
ROOM.--THE LIBRARY.
Mrs. Barnaby was quite right in thinking that the Peters family would be
very useful acquaintance; for prodigiously as Mrs. Peters disliked her
sister-in-law, she no sooner ceased to be galled by her unwelcome
presence in her house, than she recovered her good-humour, and felt as
much aware as any reasonable person could desire, of the claim her
brother's widow really had upon her and her family. These excellent
dispositions were assiduously fostered by her daughters, to whose wishes
she never turned a deaf ear. She found the eldest and the youngest very
seriously interested in Agnes, and earnest in their desire to see more
of her; while Elizabeth persevered in her belief that poor Mrs. Barnaby
was one of the very best-hearted women in the world, and very much to be
pitied, because nobody seemed to like her ... though she _did_ mean to
divide her fortune so generously amongst them.
"I hope, mamma," said the eldest Miss Peters, when the ladies of the
family were sitting round the drawing-room fire after dinner, "I hope
that you will overcome your terror of Mrs. Barnaby and her rouge
sufficiently before Tuesday night to permit her joining our party in the
ball-room, for I would not forsake that sweet Agnes upon such an
occasion for more than I will say."
"Why, I do feel my spirits revive, Mary, considerably, since I have felt
quite certain that none of my dear sister's amiable feelings were likely
to involve me in the necessity of enduring her presence in my house for
evermore. You may fancy you exaggerate, perhaps, when you talk of my
terrors; ... but no such thing, believe me. It was terror she inspired,
and nothing short of it."
"And Agnes, mamma?... what did she inspire?" said Mary.
"Pity and admiration," replied her mother.
"Very well, then," returned the petted girl, kissing her, "we shall not
quarrel this time; but I was half afraid of it. It would, in truth, have
been very foolish, and very unlike you, mamma, who understand the sort
of thing better than most people, I believe, if we had lost the great
pleasure of being kind to Miss Willoughby, and behaved extremely ill to
uncle Barnaby's widow into the bargain, solely because you don't like
tall massive ladies, with large black eyes, who wear rouge, and talk
fine; ... for you must confess, if you will be quite honest and speak
the truth, that Mrs. Peters is rather too well-established a person at
Clifton, to fear losing caste by being seen with a Mrs. Barnaby, even
had the association not been redeemed by the matchless elegance of her
beautiful niece."
"Did any one ever hear a mamma better scolded?" said Mrs. Peters,
turning to the younger girls.
"Mary is quite right, mamma," said Lucy. "Depend upon it we should have
broken into open rebellion, had you persevered in threatening to cut the
Barnaby connexion."
"Indeed I must say," added Elizabeth, "that I have thought you very
severe upon our poor aunt, mamma. Think of her kindness!"
"Our aunt!" sighed Mrs. Peters. "Is it absolutely necessary, beloveds!
that she should be addressed in public by that tender title?"
"Not absolutely, perhaps," replied Mary, laughing; "and I dare say
Elizabeth will make a bargain with you, mamma, never to call her aunt
again, provided you promise never to forget that she is our aunt, though
we may not call her so."
"And what must I do, young ladies, to prove my eternal recollection of
this agreeable tact?"
"You must be very civil to Agnes, and let them both join our party at
tea, and at all the balls, and never object to our calling upon the
Barnaby, for the sake of getting at the Willoughby, and ... now don't
start, and turn restive, mamma, ... you must ask them whenever we have
an evening party here with young people, that might be likely to give
Agnes pleasure."
"And must I embrace Mrs. Barnaby every time she comes into my presence,
and every time she leaves it?"
"No, ... unless you have done something so very outrageously rude
before, as to render such a penitentiary _amende_ necessary."
"Come here, Mary," said the gay mother, "and let me box your ears
immediately."
The young lady placed herself very obediently on the foot-stool at Mrs.
Peters's feet, who having patted each pretty cheek, said, "Now tell me,
Mary, if you can, what it is that has thus fascinated your affections,
hoodwinked your judgment, perverted your taste, and extinguished your
pride?"
"If you will let me turn your questions my own way, mother," replied
the daughter, "I will answer them all. My affection is fascinated, or, I
would rather say, won, by the most remarkable combination of beauty,
grace, talent, gentleness, and utter unconsciousness of it all, that it
has ever been my hap to meet with. And, instead of being hoodwinked, my
judgment, my power of judging, seem newly roused and awakened by having
so very fine a subject on which to exercise themselves. I never before
felt, as I did when listening to Agnes as she innocently answered my
prying questions concerning her past life, the enormous difference there
might be between one human mind and another. It was like opening the
pages of some holy book, and learning thence what truth, innocence, and
sweet temper could make of us. If admiring the uncommon loveliness of
this sweet girl with something of the enthusiasm with which one
contemplates a choice picture, be perversion of taste, I plead guilty,
for it is with difficulty that I keep my eyes away from her; ... and for
my pride, mamma, ... if any feeling of the kind ever so poisoned my
heart as to make me turn from what was good, in the fear that it might
lead me into contact with what was ungenteel, be thankful with me, that
this sweet 'light from heaven' has crossed my path, and enabled me to
see the error of my ways."
Mary spoke with great animation, and her mother listened to her till
tears dimmed her laughing blue eyes.
"You are not a missish miss, Mary, that is certain," said she, kissing
her, "and assuredly I thank Heaven for that. This pretty creature does
indeed seem by your account to be a pearl of price; but, _par malheur_,
she has got into the shell of the very vilest, great, big, coarse,
hateful oyster, that ever was fished up!... Fear nothing more, however,
from me.... You are dear good girls for feeling as you do about this
pretty Agnes, and I give you _carte blanche_ to do what you will with
her and for her."
The consequence of this was an early call made on the following morning
at Mrs. Barnaby's lodgings by the three Misses Peters. There were not
many subjects on which the aunt and niece thought or felt in common; but
it would be difficult to say which of the two was most pleased when
their visiters were announced.
"We are come--that is, Lucy and I--to make you take a prodigious long
walk with us, Agnes," said Miss Peters; "and Elizabeth, who is not quite
so stout a pedestrian as we are, is come with us, to offer her services
to you, Mrs. Barnaby, for a home circuit, if you like to make one. And
pray do not forget that Tuesday is the ball night, and that we shall
expect you to go, and join our party in the room."
"Dearest Mary!... dearest Elizabeth!... dearest Lucy! How good of you
all! Agnes, put on your bonnet, my dear, instantly, and never forget the
kindness of these dear girls.... I shall, indeed, be thankful to you,
Elizabeth, if you will put me in the way of getting a few trifles that
will be necessary for Tuesday.... Are your balls large?... Are there
plenty of gentlemen?..." &c. &c.
And where was Agnes's heavy sense of sadness now? The birds, whose
cheerful songs seemed to call her out, were not more light of heart than
herself, as she followed her friends down the stairs, and sprung through
the door to meet the fresh breeze from the down with a foot almost as
elastic as their own glad wings. We must leave the young ladies to
pursue their way, being joined at no great distance from the door by
James Peters, through a long and delightful ramble that took them along
"the wall," that forms the _garde fou_ to the most beautiful point of
Durdham Down, and so on amidst fields and villas that appeared to Agnes,
like so many palaces in fairy-land; and while thus they charm away the
morning, we must follow Mrs. Barnaby and the good-natured Elizabeth
through their much more important progress among the fashionable resorts
of the Clifton _beau monde_.
"And about tickets, my dear Elizabeth?" said the widow, as she offered
her substantial arm to her slight companion; "what is it the fashion to
do? To subscribe for the season, or pay at the door?"
"You may do either, Mrs. Barnaby; but if you wish your arrival to be
known, I believe you had better put your name on the book."
"You are quite right, my dear. Where is the place to do this? Cannot you
take me at once?"
"Yes, I could take you certainly, for it is almost close by; but perhaps
papa had better save you the trouble, Mrs. Barnaby?"
"By no means, my dear. His time is more valuable than mine. Let us go at
once: I shall like it best."
Elizabeth, though a little frightened, led the way; and as Mrs. Barnaby
entered the establishment that at its very threshold seemed to her
redolent of wax-lights, fiddles, and fine clothes, such a delightful
flutter of spirits came upon her, as drove from her memory the last
fifteen or sixteen years of her life, and made her feel as if she were
still one of the lightest and loveliest nymphs in the world. She
insisted upon seeing the ball-room, and paced up and down its ample
extent with a step that seemed with difficulty restrained from dancing;
she examined the arrangement for the music, looked up with exultation at
the chandeliers, and triumphed in anticipation at their favourable
influence upon rouge, eyes, feathers, and flowers. Had there been any
other man present beside the waiter, she would hardly have restrained
her desire to make a _tour de waltz_; and, as it was, she could not help
turning to the quiet young man, and saying with a condescending smile,
"The company must look very well in this room, sir?"
As they passed in their way out through the room in which the
subscription-books were kept, they met a gentleman, whose apparent age
wavered between thirty-five and forty, tall, stout, gaily dressed, fully
moustached, and with an eye that looked as if accustomed to active
service in reconnoitring all things. He took off his hat, and bowed
profoundly to Miss Peters, bestowing at the same time a very
satisfactory stare on the widow.
"Who is that, my dear?" said the well-pleased lady.
"That is Major Allen," replied Elizabeth.
"Upon my word, he is a very fine, fashionable-looking man. Is he
intimate with your family?"
"Oh no!... We only know him from meeting him sometimes at parties, and
always at the balls."
"Is he a man of fortune?"
"I am sure I don't know. He has got a smart horse and groom, and goes a
great deal into company."
"Then of course he cannot be a poor man, my dear. Is he a dancer?"
"No.... I believe he always plays cards."
"And where shall we go now, dearest?... I want you to take me,
Elizabeth, to all the smartest shops you know."
"Some of the best shops are at Bristol, but we have a very good milliner
here."
"Then let us go there, dear.... And did not your mamma say something
about a library?"
"Yes, there's the library, and almost everybody goes there almost every
morning."
"Then there of course I shall go. I consider it as so completely a duty,
my dear Elizabeth, to do all these sort of things for the sake of my
niece. My fortune is a very good one, and the doing as other people of
fortune do, must be an advantage to poor dear Agnes as long as she is
with me; ... but I don't scruple to say to you, my dear, that the
fortune I received from your dear uncle, will return to his family in
case I die without children.... And a truly widowed heart, my dear girl,
does not easily match itself again. But the more you know of me,
Elizabeth, the more you will find that I have many notions peculiar to
myself. Many people, if they were mistress of my fortune, would spend
three times as much as I do; but I always say to myself, 'Poor dear Mr.
Barnaby, though he loved me better than anything else on earth, loved
his own dear sister and her children next best; and therefore, as he
left all to me ... and a very fine fortune he made, I assure you ... I
hold myself in duty bound, as I spend a great deal of money with one
hand upon my own niece, to save a great deal with the other for his.'"
"I am sure you seem to be very kind and good to everybody," replied the
grateful young lady.
"That is what I would wish to be, my dear, for it is only so that we can
do our duty.... Not that I would ever pledge myself never to marry
again, my dear Elizabeth. I don't at all approve people making promises
that it may be the will of Heaven they should break afterwards; and
those people are not the most likely to keep a resolution, who vow and
swear about it. But I hope you will never think me stingy, my dear, nor
let anybody else think me so, for not spending above a third of my
income, or perhaps not quite so much; for, now you know my motives, you
must feel that it would be very ungenerous, particularly in your family,
to blame me for it."
"It would indeed, Mrs. Barnaby, and it is what I am sure that I, for
one, should never think of doing.... But this is the milliner's....
Shall we go in?"
"Oh yes!... A very pretty shop, indeed; quite in good style. What a
sweet turban!... If it was not for the reasons that I tell you, I should
certainly be tempted, Elizabeth. Pray, ma'am, what is the price of this
scarlet turban?"
"Four guineas and a half, ma'am, with the bird, and two guineas without
it."
"It is a perfect gem! Pray, ma'am, do you ever make up ladies' own
materials?"
"No, ma'am, never," replied the decisive _artiste_.
"Do you never fasten in feathers?... I should not mind paying for it, as
I see your style is quite first-rate."
"For our customers, ma'am, and whenever the feathers or the coiffure
have been furnished in the first instance by ourselves."
"You are a customer, Elizabeth, are you not?"
"Mamma is," replied the young lady. "You know Mrs. Peters of Rodney
Place, Mrs. Duval?"
"Oh yes!... I beg your pardon, Miss Peters. Is this lady a friend of
yours?"
"Mrs. Peters is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Duval, and I hope that will
induce you to treat me as if I had already been a customer. I should
like to have some feathers, that I mean to wear at the ball on Tuesday,
fastened into my toque, like these in this blue one here. Will you do
this for me?"
"Yes, ma'am, certainly, if you will favour us with your name on our
books."
"That's very obliging, and I will send my own maid with it as soon as I
get home."
"Is there anything else I can have the pleasure of shewing you, ladies?"
"I want some long white gloves, if you please, and something light and
elegant in the way of a scarf."
The _modiste_ was instantly on the alert, and the counter became as a
sea of many-coloured waves.
"Coloured scarves are sometimes worn in slight mourning, I believe, are
they not?"
"Oh yes! ma'am, always."
"What do you say to this one, Elizabeth?" said the widow, selecting one
of a brilliant geranium tint.
"For yourself, Mrs. Barnaby?"
"Yes, my dear.... My dress will be black satin, you know."
"I should think white would look better," said Elizabeth, recollecting
her mother's aversion to fine colours, and recollecting also the recent
weeds of her widowed aunt.
"Well, ... perhaps it might. Let me see some white, if you please."
"Perhaps you would like blonde, ma'am?" said the milliner, opening a
box, and displaying some tempting specimens.
"Beautiful indeed!... very!... What is the price of this one?"
"A mere trifle, ma'am.... Give me leave to begin your account with
this."
"Well, I really think I must.... I know they clean as good as new."
"What is Agnes to wear?" inquired Elizabeth.
"There is one of my troubles, my dear; she will wear nothing but the
deepest mourning. Between you and me, Elizabeth, I suspect it is some
feeling about her poor mother, or else for her father, who has never
been heard of for years, but whom we all suppose to have died abroad,--I
suspect it is some feeling of this sort that makes her so very obstinate
about it. But she can't bear to have it talked of, so don't say a word
to her on the subject, or she will be out of sorts for a week, and will
think it very cruel of me to have named it to you. I perfectly dote
upon that girl, Elizabeth, ... though, to be sure, I have my trials with
her! But we have all our trials, Elizabeth!... and, thank Heaven! I
have a happy temper, and bear mine, I believe, as well as most people.
But about that strange whim that Agnes has, of always wearing crape and
bombasin, you may as well just mention it to your mamma and sisters, to
prevent their taking any notice of it to her; for if they did, you may
depend upon it she would not go to the ball at all.... Oh! you have no
idea of the obstinacy of that darling girl!... These gloves will do at
last, I think.... Your gloves are all so remarkably small, Mrs.
Duval!... And that's all for this morning."
"Where shall I send them, ma'am, and to what name?"
"To Mrs. Barnaby, No. 1, Sion Row."
"Thank you, ma'am.... They shall be sent immediately."
"Now then, Elizabeth, for the library," said the widow with an
expressive flourish of the hand.
And to the library they went, which to Mrs. Barnaby's great
satisfaction was full of smart people, and, amongst others, she had to
make her way past the moustached Major Allen, in order to reach the
table on which the subscription-book was laid.
"I beg your pardon, madam, a thousand times!" said the Major; "I am
afraid I trod on your foot!"
"Don't mention it!... it is of no consequence in the world! The shop is
so full, it is almost impossible to avoid it."
The Major in return for this civil speech again fixed his broad, wide,
open eyes upon the widow, and she had again the satisfaction of
believing that he thought her particularly handsome.
Miss Peters found many of her acquaintance among the crowd, with whom
she conversed, while Mrs. Barnaby seated herself at the table, and
turned over page after page of autographs with the air of a person
deeply interested by the hope of finding the names of friends and
acquaintance among them, whereas it would have been a circumstance
little short of a miracle had she found there that of any individual
whom she had ever seen in her life; but she performed her part
admirably, smiling from time to time, as if delighted at an unexpected
recognition. Meanwhile many an eye, as she well knew, was fixed upon
her, for her appearance was in truth sufficiently striking. She was
tall, considerably above the average height, and large, though not to
corpulency; in short, her figure was what many people, like Mr. Peters,
would call that of a fine woman; and many others, like Mrs. Peters,
would declare to be large, ungainly, and vulgar. Her features were
decidedly handsome, her eyes and teeth fine, and her nose high and
well-formed; but all this was exaggerated into great coarseness by the
quantity of rouge she wore, and the redundance of harsh-looking,
coal-black ringlets which depended heavily down each side of her large
face, so as still to give a striking resemblance, as Agnes, it may be
remembered, discovered several years before, to the wax heads in a
hair-dresser's shop. This sort of face and figure, which were of
themselves likely enough to draw attention, were rendered still more
conspicuous by her dress, which, though, like herself, really handsome,
was rendered unpleasing by its glaring purpose of producing effect. A
bonnet of bright lavender satin, extravagantly large, and fearfully
thrown back, displayed a vast quantity of blonde quilling, fully planted
with flowers of every hue, while a prodigious plume of drooping feathers
tossed themselves to and fro with every motion of her head, and
occasionally reposed themselves on her shoulder. Her dress was of black
silk, but ingeniously relieved by the introduction of as many settings
off, of the same colour with her bonnet, as it was well possible to
contrive; so that, although in mourning, her general appearance was
exceedingly shewy and gay.
"Who is your friend, Elizabeth?" said a young lady, who seemed to have
the privilege of questioning freely.
"It is Mrs. Barnaby," replied Miss Peters in a whisper.
"And who is Mrs. Barnaby, my dear?.... She has quite the air of a
personage."
"She is the widow of mamma's brother, Mr. Barnaby of Silverton."
"Silverton?... That's the name of her place, is it?... She is a lady of
large fortune, I presume?"
"Yes, she is, Miss Maddox," replied Elizabeth, somewhat scandalized by
the freedom of these inquiries; "but I really wish you would not speak
so loud, for she must hear you."
"Oh no!... You see she is very busy looking for her friends. Good
morning, Major!" said the same fair lady, turning to Major Allen, who
stood close beside her, listening to all her inquiries and to the
answers they received. "Are we to have a good ball on Tuesday?"
"If all the world can be made to know that Miss Maddox will be there,
all the world will assuredly be there to meet her," replied the
gentleman.
"Then I commission you to spread the tidings far and near. I wonder if
there will be many strangers?"
"Some of the Stephenson and Hubert party, I hear--that is, Colonel
Hubert and young Frederick Stephenson--they are the only ones left. The
bridal party set off from the Mall this morning at eleven o'clock. Lady
Stephenson looked more beautiful than ever."
"Lady Stephenson?.... Oh! Emily Hubert.... Yes, she is very handsome;
and her brother is vastly like her."
"Do you think so?... He is so thin and weather-beaten ... so very like
an old soldier."
"I don't like him the worse for that," replied the lady. "He looks as if
he had seen service, and were the better for it. He is decidedly the
handsomest man at Clifton."
The Major smiled, and turned on his heel, which brought him exactly
_vis-a-vis_ to Miss Elizabeth Peters.
"Your party mean to honour the ball on Tuesday, I hope, Miss Peters?"
"I believe so, Major Allen. It is seldom that we are not some of us
there."
"Shall you bring us the accession of any strangers?" inquired the Major.
"Mrs. Barnaby and her niece will be with us, I think."
"I flatter myself that altogether we shall muster strong. Good morning!"
and with another sidelong glance at the widow, Major Allen walked out of
the shop.
Not a word of all this had been lost upon Mrs. Barnaby. She had thought
from the very first that Elizabeth Peters must be selected as her
particular friend, and now she was convinced that she would be
invaluable in that capacity. It was quite impossible that any one could
have answered better to questions than she had done. It was impossible,
too, that anything could be more fascinating than the general appearance
of Major Allen; and if, upon farther inquiry, it should prove that he
was indeed, as he appeared to be, a man of fashion and fortune, the
whole world could not offer her a lover she should so passionately
desire to captivate!
Such were the meditations of Mrs. Barnaby as she somewhat pensively sat
at her drawing-room window, awaiting the return of Agnes to dinner on
that day; and such were very frequently her meditations afterwards.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.