A CHARIOT DRIVE
'Madam! the chariot is at the door.'
'Bless me! not dressed. I ordered it for three o'clock.'
'It is now on the stroke,' said Jesse.
'Dear, dear! the clock has stopped. Jesse, you forgot to wind it up
last week.'
'I did not know it was my duty, mother.'
'It is always your duty when I forget to do it. I shall be ready
instantly. Winefred――I understand that is your Christian name, and a
very charming name it is――we will drop formality, and no more call you
Miss Holwood――I will show you Bath, or the Bath, as it was wont to be
called.'
'And the chemist's where the celebrated pill was compounded?' asked
Jesse.
'My dear'――Mrs. Tomkin-Jones rose to her full height――'I hate
profanity. Remember that your father wrote out the prescription, if you
desire that your days may be long in the land. Now, Winefred, put on
your things. Sylvana, are you coming?'
'No, mamma, not if I am to sit with my back to the horses.'
'You forget your breeding, child. A visitor, of course, sits beside me.'
'I know that, mamma, therefore I decline.'
'You will come, Jesse?'
'As you wish, mamma, and show to the admiring visitor the City of
Bladud, Beau Nash, and of Tomkin-Jones.'
'My dear, eschew flippancy.'
In a quarter of an hour the ladies were ready, and descended to the
carriage.
This was a somewhat battered conveyance, let by the hour, drawn by a
horse that had known better days, as had the chariot and the driver.
The steed leaned forward, so that but for the counterpoise of the
carriage he would have fallen headlong on his nose.
Thinking that the general aspect of the conveyance, driver, and steed,
left something to be desired, Mrs. Tomkin-Jones said in her grandest
manner, 'Everything may not be quite as might be desiderated, but I
study safety above all else. It is my first consideration, and one
is compelled to sacrifice appearances to that!'――she shrugged her
shoulders――'I can rely on this chariot. The horse I have known never
to fall, though it sometimes coughs. The coachman I knew by long
acquaintance――I mean employment――as one who does not drink. One cannot
be too cautious. An inebriate driver, even with the most sober horse,
may do terrible things. Moreover, Baker is attached to the family
by cords of gratitude, as he was attended in a case of considerable
internal complication by my dear husband. The horse has good blood in
him. Observe the nose and the hanging underlip――it was a characteristic
of Charles the Fifth. Will you favour me by stepping in? The cushions
and lining have a smell――a mouldy, damp, strange savour――but it is
wholesome, and was particularly recommended by the dear doctor in cases
of hay fever――from which I suffer.'
Winefred had never sat in any other carriage than a carrier's van or a
mail-coach, and she was in no mood to note the defects in that she now
entered.
Her heart swelled with pride. She was made much of, was indulged,
treated with some deference. She had passed into a new world in which
the atmosphere was new. She was away from the suspicion, the slander
of Axmouth. She would not have been a woman and young not to have
felt elated at the thought that she was rich, and on account of her
riches was respected. Yet withal she was uneasy at her surroundings,
so different from any wherewith she had been acquainted, and she was
afraid of exposing her ignorance.
Her mother had so often and so earnestly commented to her on lack of
social culture as having been the cause of her own undoing, as having
blasted her entire life, that Winefred, standing at the threshold of a
new career in which this desideratum was to be acquired, felt timorous,
lest she should make some great mistake, commit some solecism at the
outstart.
'Hah!' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, throwing herself back in the chariot,
'there passed my Lady Vire de Vétte. How unfortunate that she was
looking in the wrong direction and did not catch my eye and my
greeting.'
'Mamma,' said Jesse, 'there is Aunt Jose on the footway, shall we take
her up?'
Mrs. Tomkin-Jones did not hear her. She was studying the chimney tops
of the houses on the opposite side of the street, and so failed to see
Mrs. Jose.
'Baker!' said the lady, 'drive to Miss Prance, the milliner.' Then half
to Jesse, half to Winefred, 'It is essential that we get our dear child
equipped properly. Then we will go on to the mercer's.'
Winefred looked from side to side with undisguised admiration. She saw
Mrs. Jose, caught her eye, and smiled and signed to her. So also Jesse,
who kissed her hand.
'The Abbey,' said Mrs. Jones. 'My dear doctor, of whom I am the relict,
lies there. He has a suitable, elegant monument. So also does Captain
Shadrach Jones, his father――also with a neat memorial. Perhaps you
would like to see them. Baker!'
'No, mamma,' said Jesse, 'it is the possessed with devils who frequent
tombs.'
'My dear, don't be irreverent.' But she did not insist on dismounting
at the Abbey. Presently the widow said, 'I presume that the creature
chose those dresses for you.'
'What creature?'
'The woman, you know.'
'What woman? Do you mean Mrs. Jose?'
'Mrs. Jose! Oh, dear no. She is not a creature or a woman, but a
distant relative――very distant――of ours. I mean that individual,
person, nurse――whatever she was, who looked after you in your
childhood.'
'Oh! My mother!'
'Well, yes, that worthy being whom you have been accustomed to so
designate. Ancient domestics of that description are estimable, and, up
to a certain point, useful; but beyond that point are liable to become
insufferable nuisances. It is so difficult to get them to realise what
is their proper place. They want the delicacy of intuition which should
show them when to fall into the rear because no longer wanted. They
are given to presume and become intolerable. It was high time for you
to dissociate yourself from an individual of this description. You
must excuse my frankness, but association with such a _personale_ has
already infected your intonation. In a few years it would have been
hopeless to have attempted to eradicate it. Happily, at your years,
the vocal organs are still flexible and the ear has not been deformed.
Yet dialect is not to be got rid of as easily as an unbecoming and
unfashionable suit of clothes. We shall have to exert every effort on
our part, meeting with response from you, to master this defect. What
was the name of that woman?'
Winefred's face became crimson. She moved uneasily on the seat. All her
pleasure in the drive and at the novelty of the scenes was gone. Jesse,
sitting opposite, misinterpreted her distress and attributed it to the
references made by her mother to Winefred's provincial dialect and
unfashionable gown. But such reflections in no way wounded the girl.
That which troubled her was the slighting reference to her mother. She
would have burst forth in vindication of one who was inexpressibly
dear to her, but was restrained by recollection of the urgency of her
mother, and of Mrs. Jose, not to allow herself to be drawn into a
revelation of the true connection that existed between them. She was
quite aware of the delicacy and difficulty of her situation. She passed
under one name, her mother under another, and the circumstances were
too obscure for her to be able to explain how this was.
Happily the current of Mrs. Tomkin-Jones's thoughts was diverted.
She turned to Winefred and said with solemnity, 'We are now
approaching――look on the right. You will see a chemist's establishment
with the Royal arms above the shop window, and the inscription
accompanying it, "By Royal Appointment." It was there that the
celebrated pill――――'
'I thought as much,' said Jesse, interrupting her mother, 'the bread
pills were certain to be rolled forth.'
'_Bread_ pills, my dear!' exclaimed Mrs. Jones indignantly; 'your
lamented father was not the man to prescribe bread to Royalty. I do not
relish this tone. Had it not been for professional rivalry, your father
would have had a baronetcy conferred on him, and I should have been
Lady Tomkin-Jones. The pills did it.'
'Rather, they did not do it,' asserted the irrepressible Jesse.
Mrs. Tomkin-Jones drew her lips together as though about to whistle.
This was expressive of indignation. She said no more on the matter, but
sighed.
The lady was wont to sigh when her mental corns were trodden on.
She had stiffened her back in pride as she approached the chemist's
shop. It became stiffer with indignation at her daughter's levity and
lack of reverence. But the shop passed, she relaxed, and sank back
into a dignified position, and said, 'Ah! by the way, what is her name?'
'Whose name?'
'That of the domestic.'
'Do you mean, ma'am, my――――'
'For heaven's sake, do not address me as ma'am.'
'What shall I say――Mrs. Tomkin-Jones?'
'That is almost worse; it stamps a person at once. Only servants of
lodging-house type address one thus. Neither, if you please.'
'I will try to recollect.'
'What was the name of the nurse?'
'Marley――Mrs. Marley.'
'And, I presume, you have fallen into the habit of calling her mother
or mamma?'
'I did not fall into it, I grew up with it.'
'Most reprehensible, but under the circumstances explicable and
excusable. That sort of female is given to presume and push, and
requires to be taught its place. I have little doubt she did her utmost
to spoil you.'
Winefred was choking; anger, resentment swelled her heart.
'That sort of female,' said Winefred in a quivering voice, 'is one to
love and reverence.'
Jesse saw that something had gone wrong. She touched her mother with
her foot and shook her head.
'Well, it is flattering to the self-esteem of individuals of an
inferior order to have a child of good blood and name in their charge
and to be able to attach it to them. But you ought to have called her
Marley, or nurse――no more.'
The tears filled the girl's eyes, the colour rose and fell in her
cheeks as mercury in a barometer before a hurricane.
Jesse, who saw her distress, and was vexed with her mother, said, so as
to produce a diversion, 'Now, mother, the story of the pills――anything
but this Catechism on your Duty to your Inferiors.'
'No, my dear, I will not tell the story of the pills, as you so pertly
call it. The narrative touches the Crown, and whatever touches the
Crown should be treated with respect, even if its association with the
name of your august father did not exact that it should be approached
with decorum. Oh! there is Frank Wardroper! Here! Baker! stay! I wish
to speak with a gentleman.'
Then signing to a young man irreproachably dressed, she turned to
Winefred, and said in a low tone, 'Son of Sir Barnaby Wardroper, you
know. I will introduce him. An eligible acquaintance.'
The chariot was arrested, and to the signalling of the gloved hand and
bobbing head, the youth approached with raised hat and graceful bow.
After the usual salutations had been interchanged, with remarks on the
weather and inquiries that were mutual as to health――
'Allow me, my dear Mr. Frank, to introduce you to a charming friend
from the green lanes of old England, a flower from its most rural
nooks. Mr. Wardroper, my dear Miss Holwood, Mr. Frank Wardroper; she
belongs, you know, to that delightful family, the Finnboroughs――allied
that is. So unfortunate that the Viscount has left Bath; he and
Lady Finnborough would have been so charmed, you know. My dear Mr.
Frank'――aside into his ear, but audible to Winefred――'an heiress,
daughter――sole child of the Governor-General of――I forget――one of our
most vast and important of our Colonial possessions――a veritable gold
mine.'
Then she pursed up her lips, winked and nodded, and made symbolic
gestures with her hands and parasol, as though unfurling something――the
rent-roll of Winefred, and pouring forth something, the plunder of the
Colony of Tierra del Fuego.
'By the way, Mr. Frank Wardroper, you are a man of exquisite taste, you
know, and, I wonder, I wonder now, whether you could be induced by any
poor words of mine to take a seat in our equipage, beside Jesse, and
accompany us. In fact, positively we are going to the milliner's and
dressmaker's to rehabilitate my dear little country friend here, and
you are such a judge, have so fine a perception in colour and cut, such
tact as to fit, that I feel we should acquire an incalculable advantage
could we secure your opinion.'
'Delighted!' said Mr. Wardroper.
The steps were let down, and the young exquisite, who was such a
connoisseur in dress, was admitted to the carriage.
'Between you, me, and the post,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, setting up
the stick of her parasol beside her mouth, 'my country friend here
has been allowed to run wild in the hedges like a rose of June. Her
distinguished father is a widower, involved in diplomacy and all that,
you know, and quite unable to attend to her education. She has been
left too much in the hands of vulgar domestics, and――well, you know the
result. Des lacunes, comprenez vous――soyez l'aimable et n'y prenez
attention――cependant elle est charmante.'
Winefred turned hot and cold.
She knew that she was being discussed in a language she did not
understand; above all――what she suspected was that some disparaging
remark had been made relative to her mother.
She was already beginning to feel that her new position would be one of
discomfort out of all proportion to its advantages.
But suddenly, with a start, she put up her hand and exclaimed――'Oh!'