JINNY.
One night towards the end of that interval a strange scene occurred in
the old manor-house of Kingscourt, Wiltshire. From an early part of
the evening it was apparent that something unusual was about to take
place. The sleepy old mansion was all astir, a big fire blazed in the
fireplace of the hall, and even the long corridor, which was in effect
a picture-gallery, and ordinarily looked rather grim with its oak
panelling and dusky portraits and trophies of arms, had been so
brilliantly lit up that it seemed almost cheerful.
There was no cheerfulness, however, on the face of the lord of the
manor himself; and there was nothing but a keen and anxious sympathy in
the regard of his friend the Vicar, who had come to keep him company.
The former, Stephen Holford King, was a hale old man of over seventy,
with a smoothly-shaven face grown red with exposure to the weather,
silvery short-cropped hair, and fine, impressive features. His old
college friend, the Rev. Mr. Lynnton, was a smaller man, and somewhat
younger, though his pale face had a sad expression, as though he had
come through much trouble. He also was clean shaven, which added
character to his clear-cut features. His chest was narrow, and he
stooped a little.
'It is kind of you to come early, Vicar,' said the taller man, who
seemed much agitated in spite of his outwardly firm demeanour. 'It
will be a terrible ordeal for my poor wife. I wish the evening were
over.'
'You must face it like a man, friend King,' said the other. 'You have
acted rightly, great as the pain must be to yourself. It is the young
man's last chance, and surely he accepts it or he would not be coming
at all. And--she--also.'
'If only he hadn't married her--if only he hadn't married her. She
might have ruined him in pocket, as she has ruined others before; but,
to come in here----'
He glanced at the portraits along the walls; he seemed scarcely to know
what he was saying.
'You might preach a sermon from what I am suffering now, Vicar. Oh, I
deserve it. My pride has been taken down at last. But the punishment
is hard----'
'Pardon me, friend King; but you exaggerate surely. Surely a certain
measure of family pride is justifiable; it ought to nerve a man to be
worthy of those who have gone before him. Nor have I ever thought that
your feeling about your name being a heritage that you had to guard
jealously and piously was otherwise than just----'
'Five centuries, Vicar--for five centuries the Kings of Kingscourt,
whether knights or commoners, have been gentlemen--gentlemen every man
of them; and this is the end!'
'But even now, old friend, you must not look at the blackest side of
things. Alfred may requite you yet by his conduct for the tremendous
sacrifice you and Mrs. King are making. He has committed a social
crime; but surely that is better than living in sin----.'
'Vicar, I know you have tried to look only at the cheerful side of
things, as far as your cloth will permit, and I trust in God that
something may yet come of it; but if not--if this last appeal to him
produces nothing more than the others--then there is a final
alternative that may help me to save Kingscourt and the family name.'
'What is that?' his friend said, eagerly.
'I will not speak of it now; we must hope for the best.'
At this moment there was heard the rumbling of carriage wheels outside,
and the old man started.
'Come, let us go into the hall,' he said quickly; and then he added, in
a lower and agitated voice, 'Vicar, do you think my poor wife
will--will have to kiss this woman? That is what she dreads. That is
what terrifies her.'
The pale-faced clergyman seemed embarrassed, and said hastily,
'There will be some confusion, no doubt. Come, friend King, pull
yourself together. You are welcoming home your son and his
newly-married wife, remember.'
The great bell rang, the servants swarmed into the hall, the door was
opened, and outside, in the darkness, the carriage lamps were visible,
shining down on the broad steps. At the same moment a lady came along
from the corridor; a tall, elderly woman, with a pale, sweet face,
quite white hair done up in old-fashioned little curls, and with eyes
of a sad, benign expression. She seemed to be very pleased and
cheerful; it was only the Vicar, who shook hands with her, who knew
that her whole frame was trembling.
'So you have come to welcome home the bride, Mr. Lynnton,' she said, in
a clear voice, so that every one could hear. 'Alfred will be pleased
to see you again, after his long absence. They say that being so much
abroad has greatly improved him.'
'It could not well improve his appearance, Mrs. King; he was always a
handsome lad,' said the Vicar--his eyes still turned towards the door.
This was, indeed, a strikingly handsome man who now came up the
steps--taller and more massive than his brother Frank, lighter also in
hair and eyes. At this first glance one scarcely noticed that his face
was somewhat flushed, and that the light blue eyes had a sort of
uncertain nervous throb in them.
'My wife, mother.'
The Vicar stared with astonishment. This pretty, bright-faced little
thing did not look more than eighteen or nineteen, though in fact she
was five-and-twenty; and in her tight-fitting ulster and plain gray
hat, and quiet yellow-gray gloves, she looked the very embodiment of
girlish grace, and neatness, and decorum.
The white-haired woman took this new visitor by both hands.
'I am glad you have come, my dear,' said she, without any quaver of the
voice, and she kissed her first on one cheek and then on the other.
'But you must be tired with your long journey. Come, I will show you
your dressing-room; they have taken some tea up for you.'
'And to-night we dine at seven, my dear,' said the father of the house,
addressing her at the same time, 'for we thought you might be hungry
after your journey. So don't take too much time in dressing, my dear;
we are plain folks; we will see all your finery another night.
Higgins, have Mrs. Alfred's boxes taken up at once.'
Mrs. Alfred meanwhile stood looking a little puzzled, a little amused,
but not at all shy. She seemed to consider it rather a good joke.
'Go on, Jinny,' her husband said to her lazily; 'I shan't dress.'
'That is an old privilege of Alfred's, my dear,' said Mrs. King,
leading the new-comer away. 'His father, now, hasn't missed dressing
for dinner one evening since we were married, except the night the
vicarage took fire. But I suppose young men are not so ceremonious
now. Here is your room, my dear; Catherine is bringing some hot water,
and she will open your boxes for you.'
And the old lady herself went and stirred up the fire, and drew the low
easy chair nearer to the little table where the tea-things were, and
continued talking in the kindliest way to her new guest until the maid
arrived. Mrs. Alfred had said nothing at all, but she seemed contented
and amused.
At seven o'clock every one had assembled in the drawing-room except
Mrs. Alfred. The Vicar's wife had arrived: she was a stout,
anxious-eyed little woman, who was obviously alarmed, and talked much
to assure those around her that she was quite at ease. Mr. Alfred
himself was lazy, good-natured, indifferent--he had drunk two or three
glasses of sherry meanwhile to pass the time.
Punctually at seven Mrs. Alfred appeared. She looked more prim and
nice and neat than ever in this black silk dress with old lace on the
open square in front and on the cuffs of the tight sleeves.
'Mrs. Lynnton--my daughter Jinny,' said the old white-haired lady,
introducing the new-comer to the Vicar's wife.
Dinner was announced, and the big folding doors thrown open.
'My dear,' said Mr. King to his wife, 'I must take in Mrs. Alfred. It
is a welcome home, you know. Alfred, you take in Mrs. Lynnton. Come
along, child.'
And he gave her his arm with great ceremony, and led her into the long,
old-fashioned dining-room, which was a blaze of candles, and gave her
the seat at his right hand, and immediately called for a fire-screen
lest the fire should be too much.
'Or will you sit the other side, my dear?' said he.
'Oh no, sir,' she said, very prettily, out of compliment to his age.
'Oh no, sir, I am best pleased to sit where you wish me to sit.'
For by this time the amused look had gone out of her face, and she
seemed to have grown sensible of the great kindness these people were
trying to show her.
Dinner went on, and the conversation rested mainly between Mr. Alfred,
who was asking questions about the people in the neighbourhood, and the
Vicar, who answered him. But when anything amusing was said, it was
addressed to Mrs. Alfred, or else they looked to see whether she was
pleased; and she received a great deal of attention from the old
gentleman next her, and had many kind things said to her by his wife.
But Mrs. Alfred's face grew more and more strange. She seemed
depressed and troubled--timid at the same time and self-conscious; once
or twice her lips were tremulous. And then all at once she rose, and
quickly went to where Mrs. King sat, and threw herself on her knees,
and clasped the old lady's knees, and burst into a wild fit of sobbing
and crying. The old lady turned very pale, and put her hand on the
younger woman's head gently. The servants pretended to see nothing.
Mr. Alfred flushed angrily, and said--
'Jinny, don't make a fool of yourself. Go back to your seat.'
Then the elder woman raised her, with a tenderness and compassion not
altogether assumed, and led her back, saying--
'You are tired, my dear. I thought you looked tired, my dear. We will
let you go soon to bed tonight.'
Then everybody talked at once, and the little incident seemed easily
forgotten. Moreover, as the evening progressed, old Stephen King
convinced himself that he had done what was best for the bygone Kings
of Kingscourt and any Kings of Kingscourt there might be. He would pay
off his son's debts once more. These two would be content to remain
for years in the country, till bygones should be bygones elsewhere; and
even in the country the neighbours might pretend to a convenient
ignorance. The Vicar would help him.
The Vicar and his wife left about ten; Mr. and Mrs. Alfred retired
early; the various agitations that had shaken the old silver-haired
dame gave place to a quiescence that was in a measure hopeful. Then
sleep overtook the old manor-house, and the silence of the night.
About midnight there was a loud crash in the dining-room. Certain of
the servants slept on the ground-floor for safety's sake; and the first
one--indeed, the only one--to be thoroughly aroused by this sudden
noise was the butler, a young man who had inherited the position from
his father. He jumped up, hastily donned some clothes, and carried a
light along to the room, wisely thinking that if it was only a picture
that had fallen he need not alarm the whole household. At the same
time he went cautiously, for he did not wish to be seized by the throat
unawares.
He found the dining-room door open, and something, in the dark inside,
lying prone on the floor. He pushed forward his candle, and to his
horror found it was Mrs. Alfred, who was slowly raising herself by both
hands.
'Oh, ma'am, what has happened?' he cried.
'Be quiet. Where's the brandy?' she said, angrily; and then she put
her hand to the side of her forehead. 'I've struck my head against
something.'
This young man was a miracle of discretion, but he was startled. She
did not talk incoherently, and yet she could not rise.
'Is it Mr. Alfred, ma'am? Shall I take him some brandy? I hope he
isn't ill, ma'am?' he said in a breath.
'Mr. Alfred, you fool! He's been dead drunk in bed for more than an
hour. Where's the brandy? Why don't you leave the spirit-stand out,
you miserly thief?'
Then he saw how matters stood; and though he was frightened a little,
he was prudent. He went and got some brandy and water in a tumbler; he
coaxed her to go upstairs; he assisted her up; and then, having put her
quietly into her room, he returned downstairs, and locked the
dining-room door, putting the key in his pocket.
This incident the young butler kept discreetly to himself; he was not
going to imperil his situation by telling such a story about his future
master and mistress. All the same, the old father and mother began to
grow very uneasy. Mrs. Alfred was too unwell to appear next day, nor
would she see any one. She wanted brandy, however, to keep her system
up. The following day the same legend was repeated. On the evening of
that day Alfred King sought out his father in the study, and said he
wanted to speak to him.
'Look here, father, it's no use. I'll tell the truth. I came down
here to humbug you, and get some more money out of you. But what's the
good?--if Jinny had the wealth of the Rothschilds she'd run through it
in a fortnight; and then her first trick would be to cut me. Oh, I
know her; she's not a bad sort; but she's been brought up to be what
she is, and she doesn't mean anything shabby, anything more than a cat
thinks itself cruel when it plays with a mouse. Well, no matter.'
He rang the bell, ordered some brandy and soda, and continued:
'Now, I've got some pride in the old place, too, father: I don't want
to see Jinny send Kingscourt spinning the moment you die. Well, this
is what I propose. I'm no good. I'm played out. I've had my turn.
Well, now, if you'll clear off my debts this time, and start me free
with 5000 pounds--giving it in trust to somebody--so that I can have my
200 pounds or 250 pounds a year--then I'll consent to quash the entail;
you bring home Frank, and give him Kingscourt. That's better than
being a sailor, and he'll look after the old place.'
The old man regarded him calmly, but also with a strange, wistful, sad
look.
'I had thought of it. But is there no other way, Alfred?'
'No. I'm broke. I'm done. If you want to save Kingscourt, that's the
only way.'
'And you?'
'I've had my turn; I can't complain. Sooner or later Jinny'll bolt.
Then I'll go to the States and try my hand at something.'
'Do you know they've just made Frank commander?'
'He'll be glad to leave the navy, all the same. Fellows can't marry
while they're in the navy.'
'What are your debts now, Alfred?'
Here the brandy and soda was brought in, which gave him time to think.
'I don't know exactly. Two brutes have got hold of me. I should fancy
they could all be choked off with 8000 pounds--say 9000 pounds.'
'14,000 pounds--it will be a heavy charge on the estate.'
'But I shall be off it. What's more, father, if Frank comes home, and
gets married, and plays the good boy and all that kind of thing, don't
let him get it into his head that I am jealous of him, or that he has
supplanted me. Frank is a fine chap. Tell him it was my proposal; and
I hope he'll be a better son to you than I have been. Well, is it a
bargain, father?'
The old man thought for some time, and at length said,
'Yes.'
'Well, then, there's another thing. Jinny's stumbled against something
and got a black eye. Let's get her out of the house without the
servants seeing her--this evening, after dusk. And I'll meet you any
day you like at Shaen and Maskell's.'
This, then, was how it came about that Commander Francis Holford King,
R.N., was summoned home from the West Indies, where he had been with
his ship, the _Hellespont_. He was grave for his years; and he was
more manly in figure, somehow, and certainly browner of face, than when
we last saw him at Bellagio, on Lake Como; but as he sailed past the
Eddystone Light and entered the smooth waters of Plymouth Sound, there
was something within him that told him his heart had not quite
forgotten all its old memories.