Matters wore a rather serious aspect at Duplex Street; for a whole month
Jared had been enjoying all the sensations known only to the wealthy.
He had been congratulated by his family, who looked upon him as a sort
of musical god, or as, at least, a musician worthy of ranking with those
fiddling and trumpet-blowing angels they had seen once upon a holiday,
smiling benignantly in a cloudy heaven upon the ceilings at Hampton
Court Palace.
He had been congratulated too by Monsieur Canau, who had been in the
habit of occasionally bringing his violin for an evening duet; and, as
has been already stated, he had been congratulated by his brother, who
invited him to dinner, and then put him off twice, ending though by
announcing his marriage with the wealthy Mrs Clayton, widow of a
merchant captain, and, desiring that bygones might be bygones,
requesting that Jared, with his wife and daughter, would spend the
afternoon and dine with them at Norwood on Christmas Day.
Jared had said "No;" but Mrs Jared "Yes;" for even if it spoiled their
own homely day, no opportunity ought to be passed over which promised
reconciliation between brothers, for whose estrangement her woman's tact
told her she was partly to blame.
So arrangements were made for the flock in Duplex Street, Janet,
_protege_ of Monsieur Canau, readily undertaking to be shepherdess for
the occasion. Clothes were compared, and, what Mrs Jared called, made
the best of; Jared himself devoting quite an hour to the brushing and
nap-reviving of his old black coat and trousers. Many an old scrap of
half-forgotten finery was routed out by Mrs Jared for her embellishment,
after long discussions; while as for Patty, when did a fair
open-countenanced young girl look otherwise than well in virgin white,
even though it was but a cheap book muslin, made up at home, with very
little regard to fashion?
At the appointed hour, a cab deposited the party from Duplex Street at
the door of Richard's "little place," at which door they arrived after a
drive along a gritty gravel sweep. The stout and gentlemanly butler was
there, and received them with frigid courtesy, two doors being flung
open by as many gentlemen in drab and coach-lace, which tall parties
indulged in a laugh and a wink behind their hands at the expense of
Jared, though number one--the under-butler--afterwards told number two--
the footman--that "the gal wasn't so very bad."
And now the brothers had met, and Jared the poor been introduced by
Richard the wealthy to his wife, late the widow of Captain Clayton, of
the merchant service.
There was another introduction though, performed by Mr Richard Pellet in
a condescending fashion, namely, of his stepson Harry Clayton; who,
however, seemed to forget all the next moment, as he made his
step-father frown upon seeing the attentions paid by the frank, earnest
young undergraduate to his blushing niece. Jared too felt troubled, he
did not know why, for he dwelt with pleasure upon the young man's face
as it shone in opposition to the darkened countenance of the elder.
The conversation rose and flagged; but it was evident to Jared that
there was a cloud overshadowing the meeting, though the young man heeded
not the glances of father and mother, as he chatted on to the fresh
happy girl at his side.
Doubtless to a grandee of the London season Patty would have seemed slow
and backward in conversation; but to the young collegian there was
something fascinating in the naive, ingenuous girl; and in spite of
looks, hints, and even broad remarks, which turned Jared's
morocco-covered chair into a seat of thorns, Harry laughed and chatted
on through the dinner.
There was everything at Norwood requisite for the spending of a pleasant
evening--everything, with one exception. There was what Jared
afterwards called in confidence to his wife, "the fat of the land;" but
though the said fat was well cooked and served, and there were luscious
wines to wash it down, yet was there no geniality, and the visitors
partook of portions of their meal in the midst of a chilly, though
exceedingly well-bred silence.
Jared was not at his ease, and he could not help flinching from the
ministrations of the men in coach-lace, while he felt quite hot when the
gentlemanly butler asked him in stern tones if he would take champagne.
Not that conversation was entirely wanting on the part of the elders,
for at intervals Jared listened to thrilling narratives of his brother's
speculations, and of how much money he had made in different ways; he
learned, too, something new--what a fine thing cash was, how powerful it
made its owner, and how he enjoyed its possession. Then Richard pitied
kindly Jared's want of business tact, hinted how much more might have
been made had both been business men, and concluded by wishing him
better days, and drinking his health in a glass of port--a port
purchased at Mr Humphrey Phulcrust's sale, as he informed Jared, at one
hundred and twenty shillings a dozen; Jared thinking the while that it
was very strong and harsh, and flavoured of the sloes he had gathered as
a boy, while a dozen of the ruddy fluid would have paid a quarter's rent
in Duplex Street, so that altogether he quite trembled, and felt as if
he were injuring his wife and family as he sipped and sipped, like a man
who was engaged in swallowing sixpences.
When Richard Pellet was not frowning upon his stepson, he was very
active in promoting the comfort of his guests, after the same fashion in
which he had flavoured his brother's wine, telling them how much port
was in the soup, how much he paid for the turbot in Billingsgate, and
how he gave a crown for the lobster. As for the turkey, that was
five-and-thirty shillings, and bought on purpose for their coming. Many
other things were equally expensive, so that Jared and his family
thoroughly enjoyed the epicurean feast, thinking all the while of their
own humble board. Home would keep rising to his mind, so that before
the dinner had half dragged through its slow length, Jared was wishing
himself back in Duplex Street, having a duet with Monsieur Canau, while
Janet and Patty played at forfeits or blind man's buff with his tribe,
watching the while that they did not meddle with any of his musical
concerns.
Money and business, business and money, were Richard Pellet's themes,
and on the golden string they formed when twisted he harped continually.
But it was not only in speech that you felt the money, for it was
peering out of everything, from the mistress of the house, with her
massive gold chain and large diamond rings, down to the very carpet on
which she trod. There were books in gilded bindings that had never been
opened; a piano of the most costly kind that was rarely touched; there
was every luxury that money could purchase; while, lastly, the very
essence of his cash, grey-headed, bushy and prominently browed, very
smooth and glossy, and always chinking a few sovereigns in either
pocket, there was Richard Pellet, looking down with a pleasant
patronising smile of contempt upon his guests.
"Some people are such fools," he seemed to mutter to himself as he
pitied poor, comely Mrs Jared, who appeared to be neither surprised nor
disappointed, but took all with a quiet, well-bred ease, and did not in
the least allow stout Mrs Richard to sit upon her--metaphorically of
course--in spite of her violent flame-coloured moire; neither did she
seem to be crushed by the conversation, which varied little between the
weather and the dinner.
But however full of constraint the repast might have been for the
elders, to Patty it was a scene of enjoyment, for Harry Clayton, awake
now to their meaning, laughed at his mother's remonstrant looks, and
ignoring those of Richard, was more than ever attentive to the
bright-eyed girl, who in her light-hearted innocence chatted merrily
with him, listening eagerly to his account of college life, both
thinking nothing of the wealth around them in the thorough enjoyment of
the hour.
It was, of course, very provoking; but in spite of all hints to the
contrary, when they were in the drawing-room, Harry would linger by
Patty's chair.
"Would she play?" Yes, she would play. "And sing?" Yes, and sing too.
The first skilfully; the latter in a sweet, little, silvery, gushing
voice, that was bird-like in its purity and freedom from affectation.
For Patty was Jared's own child, with her father's zest for music, the
art which he had loved to teach her, at times too when often and often
called away to perform some simple domestic duty.
Richard Pellet seemed surprised, and listened in silence. Mrs Richard
forgot herself so for as to clap her hands and call Patty "a dear little
darling." But, gazing upon the group at the piano with the eyes of her
lord, she felt that this sort of thing would not do. Apparently, too,
acting upon a hint from Richard, she kept framing blundering excuses for
getting the young man to her side--excuses, though, so trivial, that
Harry only laughed good-humouredly, and then made his way back to their
young visitor.
It was nearly time for tea, and Harry had coaxed the artless girl into
the little drawing-room to show her some sketches, and the photographs
of the elders. Jared and his brother had their backs to them, hard and
fast in a discussion upon money,--Richard telling his brother what a
deal a sovereign would make,--Jared the while in a state of doubt, from
old experience how short a road it went, whether there really were as
many as twenty shillings in a pound. As for Mrs Jared, she was seated
in a low chair by the fire, and being beamed upon by Mrs Richard, who
had exhausted the weather, finished the dinner, and was now at a loss
for a fresh subject.
The sketches were very interesting, so much so that Harry was obliged to
explain them in a low, subdued tone, when, taking advantage of their
position, he with a heightened colour took from the wall a sprig of
mistletoe, and held it before Patty's eyes.
"No, no," she whispered in a low tone--so low that he probably did not
hear it. "No, no; that is only for children."
"The licence of the season," Harry whispered, as with one hand he held
up the sprig, and then drew towards him the yielding girl.
Well, Patty was very young, very natural, and quite unused to worldly
ways; and Harry was somewhat rough and wilful. Patty had listened that
night to words new to her, and where her parents had seen but pride and
ostentation, she had had her eyes blinded by a _couleur de rose_ veil,
drinking deeply the while of the honied draught the young fellow in all
earnestness pressed upon her.
All was so sweet, and new, and delightful. He must mean all he said;
while being Christmas-time, with a scrap of the pearl-hung parasite to
hallow the salute, how could she scream or struggle, as was, of course,
needful under the circumstances? Patty did not resist, for being
ignorant and natural, she thought that she would like it, and so allowed
her soft cheek to rest for a moment where it was drawn, while the little
red half-parted lips hardly shrank from the kiss they received.
"Harry!" roared Richard Pellet, leaping from his chair, for he had been
seated opposite to a glass which betrayed every movement of the young
people. "Harry!" he roared, and the young man with eyes cast down, but
raised head, stood erect and defiant before him; "come here!" he
exclaimed, striding towards the door, while as the delinquent followed
him from the room, Jared and his wife distinctly heard the words, "That
beggar's brat!"
Volume 1, Chapter VII.