On the great, momentous, stupendous day of the dinner, my beloved female
reader may imagine that Fitzroy Timmins was sent about his business at
an early hour in the morning, while the women began to make preparations
to receive their guests. “There will be no need of your going to
Fubsby's,” Mrs. Gashleigh said to him, with a look that drove him out
of doors. “Everything that we require has been ordered THERE! You will
please to be back here at six o'clock, and not sooner: and I presume you
will acquiesce in my arrangements about the WINE?”
“O yes, mamma,” said the prostrate son-in-law.
“In so large a party--a party beyond some folks MEANS--expensive WINES
are ABSURD. The light sherry at 26s., the champagne at 42s.; and you are
not to go beyond 36s. for the claret and port after dinner. Mind, coffee
will be served; and you come up stairs after two rounds of the claret.”
“Of course, of course,” acquiesced the wretch; and hurried out of the
house to his chambers, and to discharge the commissions with which the
womankind had intrusted him.
As for Mrs. Gashleigh, you might have heard her bawling over the house
the whole day long. That admirable woman was everywhere: in the kitchen
until the arrival of Truncheon, before whom she would not retreat
without a battle; on the stairs; in Fitzroy's dressing-room; and in
Fitzroy minor's nursery, to whom she gave a dose of her own composition,
while the nurse was sent out on a pretext to make purchases of garnish
for the dishes to be served for the little dinner. Garnish for the
dishes! As if the folks at Fubsby's could not garnish dishes better than
Gashleigh, with her stupid old-world devices of laurel-leaves, parsley,
and cut turnips! Why, there was not a dish served that day that was not
covered over with skewers, on which truffles, crayfish, mushrooms,
and forced-meat were impaled. When old Gashleigh went down with her
barbarian bunches of holly and greens to stick about the meats, even the
cook saw their incongruity, and, at Truncheon's orders, flung the whole
shrubbery into the dust-house, where, while poking about the premises,
you may be sure Mrs. G. saw it.
Every candle which was to be burned that night (including the tallow
candle, which she said was a good enough bed-light for Fitzroy)
she stuck into the candlesticks with her own hands, giving her own
high-shouldered plated candlesticks of the year 1798 the place of honor.
She upset all poor Rosa's floral arrangements, turning the nosegays
from one vase into the other without any pity, and was never tired of
beating, and pushing, and patting, and WHAPPING the curtain and sofa
draperies into shape in the little drawing-room.
In Fitz's own apartments she revelled with peculiar pleasure. It has
been described how she had sacked his study and pushed away his papers,
some of which, including three cigars, and the commencement of an
article for the Law Magazine, “Lives of the Sheriffs' Officers,” he has
never been able to find to this day. Mamma now went into the little room
in the back regions, which is Fitz's dressing-room, (and was destined to
be a cloak-room,) and here she rummaged to her heart's delight.
In an incredibly short space of time she examined all his outlying
pockets, drawers, and letters; she inspected his socks and
handkerchiefs in the top drawers; and on the dressing-table, his
razors, shaving-strop, and hair-oil. She carried off his silver-topped
scent-bottle out of his dressing-case, and a half-dozen of his favorite
pills (which Fitz possesses in common with every well-regulated man),
and probably administered them to her own family. His boots, glossy
pumps, and slippers she pushed into the shower-bath, where the poor
fellow stepped into them the next morning, in the midst of a pool in
which they were lying. The baby was found sucking his boot-hooks the
next day in the nursery; and as for the bottle of varnish for his shoes,
(which he generally paints upon the trees himself, having a pretty taste
in that way,) it could never be found to the present hour but it was
remarked that the young Master Gashleighs, when they came home for the
holidays, always wore lacquered highlows; and the reader may draw his
conclusions from THAT fact.
In the course of the day all the servants gave Mrs. Timmins warning.
The cook said she coodn't abear it no longer, 'aving Mrs. G. always
about her kitching, with her fingers in all the saucepans. Mrs. G. had
got her the place, but she preferred one as Mrs. G. didn't get for her.
The nurse said she was come to nuss Master Fitzroy, and knew her duty;
his grandmamma wasn't his nuss, and was always aggrawating her,--missus
must shoot herself elsewhere.
The housemaid gave utterance to the same sentiments in language more
violent.
Little Buttons bounced up to his mistress, said he was butler of the
family, Mrs. G. was always poking about his pantry, and dam if he'd
stand it.
At every moment Rosa grew more and more bewildered. The baby howled a
great deal during the day. His large china christening-bowl was cracked
by Mrs. Gashleigh altering the flowers in it, and pretending to be very
cool, whilst her hands shook with rage.
“Pray go on, mamma,” Rosa said with tears in her eyes. “Should you like
to break the chandelier?”
“Ungrateful, unnatural child!” bellowed the other. “Only that I know you
couldn't do without me, I'd leave the house this minute.”
“As you wish,” said Rosa; but Mrs. G. DIDN'T wish: and in this juncture
Truncheon arrived.
That officer surveyed the dining-room, laid the cloth there with
admirable precision and neatness; ranged the plate on the sideboard with
graceful accuracy, but objected to that old thing in the centre, as he
called Mrs. Gashleigh's silver basket, as cumbrous and useless for the
table, where they would want all the room they could get.
Order was not restored to the house, nor, indeed, any decent progress
made, until this great man came: but where there was a revolt before,
and a general disposition to strike work and to yell out defiance
against Mrs. Gashleigh, who was sitting bewildered and furious in the
drawing-room--where there was before commotion, at the appearance of the
master-spirit, all was peace and unanimity: the cook went back to her
pans, the housemaid busied herself with the china and glass, cleaning
some articles and breaking others, Buttons sprang up and down the
stairs, obedient to the orders of his chief, and all things went well
and in their season.
At six, the man with the wine came from Binney and Latham's. At a
quarter past six, Timmins himself arrived.
At half past six he might have been heard shouting out for his varnished
boots but we know where THOSE had been hidden--and for his dressing
things; but Mrs. Gashleigh had put them away.
As in his vain inquiries for these articles he stood shouting, “Nurse!
Buttons! Rosa my dear!” and the most fearful execrations up and down the
stairs, Mr. Truncheon came out on him.
“Egscuse me, sir,” says he, “but it's impawsable. We can't dine twenty
at that table--not if you set 'em out awinder, we can't.”
“What's to be done?” asked Fitzroy, in an agony; “they've all said
they'd come.”
“Can't do it,” said the other; “with two top and bottom--and your table
is as narrow as a bench--we can't hold more than heighteen, and then
each person's helbows will be into his neighbor's cheer.”
“Rosa! Mrs. Gashleigh!” cried out Timmins, “come down and speak to this
gentl--this--”
“Truncheon, sir,” said the man.
The women descended from the drawing-room. “Look and see, ladies,” he
said, inducting them into the dining-room: “there's the room, there's
the table laid for heighteen, and I defy you to squeege in more.”
“One person in a party always fails,” said Mrs. Gashleigh, getting
alarmed.
“That's nineteen,” Mr. Truncheon remarked. “We must knock another hoff,
Ma'm.” And he looked her hard in the face.
Mrs. Gashleigh was very red and nervous, and paced, or rather squeezed
round the table (it was as much as she could do). The chairs could not
be put any closer than they were. It was impossible, unless the convive
sat as a centre-piece in the middle, to put another guest at that table.
“Look at that lady movin' round, sir. You see now the difficklty. If
my men wasn't thinner, they couldn't hoperate at all,” Mr. Truncheon
observed, who seemed to have a spite to Mrs. Gashleigh.
“What is to be done?” she said, with purple accents.
“My dearest mamma,” Rosa cried out, “you must stop at home--how sorry I
am!” And she shot one glance at Fitzroy, who shot another at the great
Truncheon, who held down his eyes. “We could manage with heighteen,” he
said, mildly.
Mrs. Gashleigh gave a hideous laugh.
*****
She went away. At eight o'clock she was pacing at the corner of the
street, and actually saw the company arrive. First came the Topham
Sawyers, in their light-blue carriage with the white hammercloth and
blue and white ribbons--their footmen drove the house down with the
knocking.
Then followed the ponderous and snuff-colored vehicle, with faded gilt
wheels and brass earl's coronets all over it, the conveyance of the
House of Bungay. The Countess of Bungay and daughter stepped out of the
carriage. The fourteenth Earl of Bungay couldn't come.
Sir Thomas and Lady Gulpin's fly made its appearance, from which issued
the General with his star, and Lady Gulpin in yellow satin. The Rowdys'
brougham followed next; after which Mrs. Butt's handsome equipage drove
up.
The two friends of the house, young gentlemen from the Temple, now
arrived in cab No. 9996. We tossed up, in fact, which should pay the
fare.
Mr. Ranville Ranville walked, and was dusting his boots as the Templars
drove up. Lord Castlemouldy came out of a twopenny omnibus. Funnyman,
the wag, came last, whirling up rapidly in a hansom, just as Mrs.
Gashleigh, with rage in her heart, was counting that two people had
failed, and that there were only seventeen after all.
Mr. Truncheon passed our names to Mr. Billiter, who bawled them out on
the stairs. Rosa was smiling in a pink dress, and looking as fresh as
an angel, and received her company with that grace which has always
characterized her.
The moment of the dinner arrived, old Lady Bungay scuffled off on
the arm of Fitzroy, while the rear was brought up by Rosa and Lord
Castlemouldy, of Ballyshanvanvoght Castle, co, Tipperary. Some fellows
who had the luck took down ladies to dinner. I was not sorry to be out
of the way of Mrs. Rowdy, with her dandified airs, or of that high and
mighty county princess, Mrs. Topham Sawyer.