THE RUFFORD CORRESPONDENCE.
It might be surmised from the description which Lord Rufford had
given of his own position to his sister and his sister's two friends,
when he pictured himself as falling over the edge of the precipice
while they hung on behind to save him, that he was sufficiently aware
of the inexpediency of the proposed intimacy with Miss Trefoil. Any
one hearing him would have said that Miss Trefoil's chances in that
direction were very poor,--that a man seeing his danger so plainly
and so clearly understanding the nature of it would certainly avoid
it. But what he had said was no more than Miss Trefoil knew that he
would say,--or, at any rate would think. Of course she had against
her not only all his friends,--but the man himself also and his own
fixed intentions. Lord Rufford was not a marrying man,--which was
supposed to signify that he intended to lead a life of pleasure till
the necessity of providing an heir should be forced upon him, when
he would take to himself a wife out of his own class in life twenty
years younger than himself for whom he would not care a straw. The
odds against Miss Trefoil were of course great;--but girls have won
even against such odds as these. She knew her own powers, and was
aware that Lord Rufford was fond of feminine beauty and feminine
flutter and feminine flattery, though he was not prepared to marry.
It was quite possible that she might be able to dig such a pit for
him that it would be easier for him to marry her than to get out in
any other way. Of course she must trust something to his own folly
at first. Nor did she trust in vain. Before her week was over at Mrs.
Gore's she received from him a letter, which, with the correspondence
to which it immediately led, shall be given in this chapter.
LETTER NO. 1.
Rufford, Sunday.
MY DEAR MISS TREFOIL,
We have had a sad house since you left us. Poor Caneback
got better and then worse and then better,--and at last
died yesterday afternoon. And now;--there is to be
the funeral! The poor dear old boy seems to have had
nobody belonging to him and very little in the way of
possessions. I never knew anything of him except that he
was, or had been, in the Blues, and that he was about the
best man in England to hounds on a bad horse. It now turns
out that his father made some money in India,--a sort
of Commissary purveyor,--and bought a commission for
him twenty-five years ago. Everybody knew him but nobody
knew anything about him. Poor old Caneback! I wish he
had managed to die anywhere else and I don't feel at all
obliged to Purefoy for sending that brute of a mare here.
He said something to me about that wretched ball;--not
altogether so wretched! was it? But I didn't like what
he said and told him a bit of my mind. Now we're two for
a while; and I don't care for how long unless he comes
round.
I cannot stand a funeral, and I shall get away from this.
I will pay the bill and Purefoy may do the rest. I'm going
for Christmas to Surbiton's near Melton with a string of
horses. Surbiton is a bachelor, and as there will be no
young ladies to interfere with me I shall have the more
time to think of you. We shall have a little play there
instead. I don't know whether it isn't the better of the
two, as if one does get sat upon, one doesn't feel so
confoundedly sheep-faced. I have been out with the hounds
two or three times since you went, as I could do no good
staying with that poor fellow and there was a time when we
thought he would have pulled through. I rode Jack one day,
but he didn't carry me as well as he did you. I think he's
more of a lady's horse. If I go to Mistletoe I shall have
some horses somewhere in the neighbourhood and I'll make
them take Jack, so that you may have a chance.
I never know how to sign myself to young ladies. Suppose I
say that I am yours,
Anything you like best,
R.
This was a much nicer letter than Arabella had expected, as there
were one or two touches in it, apart from the dead man and the
horses, which she thought might lead to something,--and there was
a tone in the letter which seemed to show that he was given to
correspondence. She took care to answer it so that he should get
her letter on his arrival at Mr. Surbiton's house. She found out Mr.
Surbiton's address, and then gave a great deal of time to her letter.
LETTER NO. 2.
Murray's Hotel, Green Street,
Thursday.
MY DEAR LORD RUFFORD,
As we are passing through London on our way from one
purgatory with the Gores to another purgatory with old
Lady De Browne, and as mamma is asleep in her chair
opposite, and as I have nothing else on earth to do, I
think I might as well answer your letter. Poor old Major!
I am sorry for him, because he rode so bravely. I shall
never forget his face as he passed us, and again as he
rose upon his knee when that horrid blow came! How very
odd that he should have been like that, without any
friends. What a terrible nuisance to you! I think you were
quite wise to come away. I am sure I should have done so.
I can't conceive what right Sir John Purefoy can have had
to say anything, for after all it was his doing. Do you
remember when you talked of my riding Jemima? When I think
of it I can hardly hold myself for shuddering.
It is so kind of you to think of me about Jack. I am never
very fond of Mistletoe. Don't you be mischievous now
and tell the Duchess I said so. But with Jack in the
neighbourhood I can stand even her Grace. I think I shall
be there about the middle of January but it must depend on
all those people mamma is going to. I shall have to make a
great fight, for mamma thinks that ten days in the year at
Mistletoe is all that duty requires. But I always stick up
for my uncle, and mean in this instance to have a little
of my own way. What are parental commands in opposition to
Jack and all his glories? Besides mamma does not mean to
go herself.
I shall leave it to you to say whether the ball was
"altogether wretched." Of course there must have been
infinite vexation to you, and to us who knew of it all
there was a feeling of deep sorrow. But perhaps we were
able, some of us, to make it a little lighter for you. At
any rate I shall never forget Rufford, whether the memory
be more pleasant or more painful. There are moments which
one never can forget!
Don't go and gamble away your money among a lot of men.
Though I dare say you have got so much that it doesn't
signify whether you lose some of it or not. I do think it
is such a shame that a man like you should have such a
quantity, and that a poor girl such as I am shouldn't
have enough to pay for her hats and gloves. Why shouldn't
I send a string of horses about just when I please? I
believe I could make as good a use of them as you do, and
then I could lend you Jack. I would be so good-natured.
You should have Jack every day you wanted him.
You must write and tell me what day you will be at
Mistletoe. It is you that have tempted me and I don't mean
to be there without you,--or I suppose I ought to say,
without the horse. But of course you will have understood
that. No young lady ever is supposed to desire the
presence of any young man. It would be very improper of
course. But a young man's Jack is quite another thing.
So far her pen had flown with her, but then there came the necessity
for a conclusion which must be worded in some peculiar way, as his
had been so peculiar. How far might she dare to be affectionate
without putting him on his guard? Or in what way might she be saucy
so as best to please him? She tried two or three, and at last she
ended her letter as follows.
I have not had much experience in signing myself to young
gentlemen and am therefore quite in as great a difficulty
as you were; but, though I can't swear that I am
everything that you like best, I will protest that I am
pretty nearly what you ought to like,--as far as young
ladies go.
In the meantime I certainly am,
Yours truly,
A. T.
P.S. Mind you write--about Jack; and address to Lady
Smijth--Greenacres Manor--Hastings.
There was a great deal in this letter which was not true. But then
such ladies as Miss Trefoil can never afford to tell the truth.
The letter was not written from Murray's Hotel, Lady Augustus having
insisted on staying at certain lodgings in Orchard Street because
her funds were low. But on previous occasions they had stayed at
Murray's. And her mamma, instead of being asleep when the letter was
written, was making up her accounts. And every word about Mistletoe
had been false. She had not yet secured her invitation. She was
hard at work on the attempt, having induced her father absolutely
to beg the favour from his brother. But at the present moment she
was altogether diffident of success. Should she fail she must only
tell Lord Rufford that her mother's numerous engagements had at the
last moment made her happiness impossible. That she was going to
Lady Smijth's was true, and at Lady Smijth's house she received the
following note from Lord Rufford. It was then January, and the great
Mistletoe question was not as yet settled.
LETTER NO. 3.
December 31.
MY DEAR MISS TREFOIL,
Here I am still at Surbiton's and we have had such good
sport that I'm half inclined to give the Duke the slip.
What a pity that you can't come here instead. Wouldn't
it be nice for you and half a dozen more without any of
the Dowagers or Duennas? You might win some of the money
which I lose. I have been very unlucky and, if you had
won it all, there would be plenty of room for hats and
gloves,--and for sending two or three Jacks about all the
winter into the bargain. I never did win yet. I don't care
very much about it, but I don't know why I should always
be so uncommonly unlucky.
We had such a day yesterday,--an hour and ten minutes all
in the open, and then a kill just as the poor fellow was
trying to make a drain under the high road. There were
only five of us up. Surbiton broke his horse's back at
a bank, and young De Canute came down on to a road and
smashed his collar bone. Three or four of the hounds were
so done that they couldn't be got home. I was riding Black
Harry and he won't be out again for a fortnight. It was
the best thing I've seen these two years. We never have it
quite like that with the U. R. U.
If I don't go to Mistletoe I'll send Jack and a groom if
you think the Duke would take them in and let you ride the
horse. If so I shall stay here pretty nearly all January,
unless there should be a frost. In that case I should go
back to Rufford as I have a deal of shooting to do. I
shall be so sorry not to see you;--but there is always a
sort of sin in not sticking to hunting when it's good. It
so seldom is just what it ought to be.
I rather think that after all we shall be down on that
fellow who poisoned our fox, in spite of your friend the
Senator.
Yours always faithfully,
R.
There was a great deal in this letter which was quite terrible to
Miss Trefoil. In the first place by the time she received it she had
managed the matter with her uncle. Her father had altogether refused
to mention Lord Rufford's name,--though he had heard the very plain
proposition which his daughter made to him with perfect serenity. But
he had said to the Duke that it would be a great convenience if Bell
could be received at Mistletoe for a few days, and the Duke had got
the Duchess to assent. Lady Augustus, too, had been disposed of, and
two very handsome new dresses had been acquired. Her habit had been
altered with reckless disregard of the coming spring and she was
fully prepared for her campaign. But what would Mistletoe be to her
without Lord Rufford? In spite of all that had been done she would
not go there. Unless she could turn him by her entreaties she would
pack up everything and start for Patagonia, with the determination
to throw herself overboard on the way there if she could find the
courage.
She had to think very much of her next letter. Should she write in
anger or should she write in love,--or should she mingle both? There
was no need for care now, as there had been at first. She must reach
him at once, or everything would be over. She must say something that
would bring him to Mistletoe, whatever that something might be. After
much thought she determined that mingled anger and love would be the
best. So she mingled them as follows:
LETTER NO. 4.
Greenacre Manor, Monday.
Your last letter which I have just got has killed me. You
must know that I have altered my plans and done it at
immense trouble for the sake of meeting you at Mistletoe.
It will be most unkind,--I might say worse,--if you put me
off. I don't think you can do it as a gentleman. I'm sure
you would not if you knew what I have gone through with
mamma and the whole set of them to arrange it. Of course
I shan't go if you don't come. Your talk of sending the
horse there is adding an insult to the injury. You must
have meant to annoy me or you wouldn't have pretended to
suppose that it was the horse I wanted to see. I didn't
think I could have taken so violent a dislike to poor Jack
as I did for a moment. Let me tell you that I think you
are bound to go to Mistletoe though the hunting at Melton
should be better than was ever known before. When the
hunting is good in one place of course it is good in
another. Even I am sportsman enough to know that. I
suppose you have been losing a lot of money and are
foolish enough to think you can win it back again.
Please, please come. It was to be the little cream of the
year for me. It wasn't Jack. There! That ought to bring
you. And yet, if you come, I will worship Jack. I have not
said a word to mamma about altering my plans, nor shall
I while there is a hope. But to Mistletoe I will not go,
unless you are to be there. Pray answer this by return of
post. If we have gone your letter will of course follow
us. Pray come. Yours if you do come--; what shall I say?
Fill it as you please.
A. T.
Lord Rufford when he received the above very ardent epistle was
quite aware that he had better not go to Mistletoe. He understood
the matter nearly as well as Arabella did herself. But there was a
feeling with him that up to that stage of the affair he ought to do
what he was asked by a young lady, even though there might be danger.
Though there was danger there would still be amusement. He therefore
wrote again as follows:
LETTER NO. 5.
DEAR MISS TREFOIL,
You shan't be disappointed whether it be Jack or any less
useful animal that you wish to see. At any rate Jack,--and
the other animal,--will be at Mistletoe on the 15th. I
have written to the Duke by this post. I can only hope
that you will be grateful. After all your abuse about
my getting back my money I think you ought to be very
grateful. I have got it back again, but I can assure you
that has had nothing to do with it.
Yours ever,
R.
We had two miserably abortive days last week.
Arabella felt that a great deal of the compliment was taken away by
the postscript; but still she was grateful and contented.