AT PEVENSHALL PLACE.
Pevenshall Place was a noble modern mansion, which Thomas Lobyer
the elder had built for himself in the days when he still hoped to
find a worthy successor to his commercial glory in the person of the
lad who was spending his juvenile leisure among lords and commoners
on the grassy meads of Eton. The great millowner's wealth had been
lavished freely on the solid grandeur and decorative splendours of
Pevenshall. The house was in the Italian style,--a noble square white
mansion, with a balustraded roof, surmounted by airy turrets, and a
broad terrace-walk, that commanded one of the loveliest prospects in
Yorkshire. No vulgar architect had designed the Manchester trader's
dwelling. The millionaire of to-day begins life with gigantic
advantages. He has the benefit of two thousand years of civilisation,
and may profit by the experience of emperors. Before the plans for
Pevenshall were completed and approved, Mr. Lobyer had been made
familiar with all the masterpieces of domestic architecture still
existing in the present, or known to have existed in the past. He
had disdained Stowe, and had rejected Fonthill; he had pooh-poohed
Adrian's Villa, and turned up his nose at the abode of Lucullus. He had
remarked that the apartments of Sallust, at Pompeii, might be eminently
adapted for a gentleman's wine-cellars, but were utterly unfit for
a gentleman's residence. After going through innumerable folios of
drawings and engravings which his architect--happy in the expectation
of five per cent. on some fifty thousand pounds--had brought to him,
Mr. Lobyer made his choice with that promptitude and decision which had
regulated his conduct in all the most important affairs of life.
"If I can't have that," he said, laying the end of his square
forefinger on an engraving of Warwick Castle,--"and of course I can't,
for I never saw any thing in the way of a castle built nowadays that
didn't look like a workhouse or a gaol--I'll have that;" and he
transferred his finger to a water-colour sketch of a modern Italian
villa in the suburbs of Florence; "or at any rate I'll have that kind
of place--light, and bright, and cheerful-looking outside; but as warm
and comfortable inside as an old-fashioned farmhouse, and from garret
to collar as solid as the Tower of London. Give me a drawing-room forty
feet by twenty five, an entrance-hall thirty feet square; and take
care there's no such thing as a dark corner or a narrow passage in the
house, and I shall be satisfied."
After having said this, Thomas Lobyer the elder declined all further
discussion upon the subject of the house that was to be built for him.
In the space of a few months the lordly mansion arose on the slope of
a wooded hill-side, and all the district wondered at its grandeur.
The architect had _carte blanche_. There were chambers panelled
with oak and cedar, sandal and maple-wood. There was a staircase of
Carrara marble, with balustrades of carved bronze, and lamps copied
from antique Roman models. Julius Cæsar might have ascended such a
staircase, and would have found nothing to criticise in the perfection
of its appointments. Thomas Lobyer the elder approved of the mansion
because it was large and handsome, and was very slightly affected by
the odour of classicality that pervaded it. He freely paid the amounts
which the great builder demanded of him, and it was only when he
looked over his banker's-book at the close of the transaction, that he
knew how dearly his fancy had cost. He sent the architect to London
to give the necessary orders to upholsterers; and Pevenshall Place
was furnished in perfect harmony with its architecture, but with very
little reference to the peculiar taste of its proprietor.
The architect had an especial tenderness for the classical; and the
great millowner, eating his frugal meal alone in his vast dining-room,
illumined by candles in oxidised silver branches that might have
appropriately adorned the banquet table in the Apollo chamber,
was inclined to think his new mansion somewhat cold and cheerless
of aspect. It may have been that the millionaire was prone to be
dispirited on that first day of his occupation, for the morning's post
had brought him a letter from the dame in whose house his son and heir
was lodged, and the terms of the epistle were very uncomplimentary to
Thomas the younger; and this feminine complaint about Master Lobyer's
delinquencies--his cruelty to smaller and weaker boys--his falsehood
and cunning--his obstinate resistance of authority--was only the
beginning of the evil to come. From the day in which the millowner
took possession of his splendid dwelling, until the hour in which
he exchanged it for a very mean and narrow habitation, his life was
poisoned by corroding cares--embittered by perpetual disappointments,
and all his cares and all his disappointments had one common cause in
the person of his son.
He took a disgust for the gorgeous mansion whose erection had cost
him so much money. His troubles weighed very heavily upon him in those
spacious rooms, amidst whose chilly splendour there was no occupation
for him. At Pevenshall the rich man found too much leisure in which to
brood upon his cares and disappointments, and he was always glad to
return to Manchester, where he had a comfortable dwelling attached to
his great warehouses, and where he could steep his brain in the small
vexations and perplexities of commerce, to the oblivion of the prodigal
who was so slow to return.
Pevenshall Place, with innumerable lighted windows flashing on the
darkness of the night, looked a very noble mansion as Cecil approached
it in the luxurious brougham that had been sent to meet her at the
Farnleigh-Heath station. No enchanted palace of fairy story could
have shone more brilliantly upon the belated wanderer than did this
substantial modern dwelling. Within, splendour and comfort fought for
the mastery. A gigantic fire of sea-coal, surmounted by a monster log,
warmed and brightened the great Italian hall, a desecration which would
have excruciated the classic architect--who had devised an appropriate
bronze stove, of antique design, for the heating of the vast chamber.
Curtains of crimson cloth hung before all the doors, and the skins of
wild animals lay side by side with Persian carpets and the snow-white
fleece of peaceful sheep. The pair of matched footmen who were the
chief glory of Mrs. Lobyer's establishment advanced to receive Lady
Cecil's morocco travelling-bag, and to relieve her of her shawl. The
splendid creatures knew that she was an earl's daughter; but they could
not entirely conceal some faint tokens of that gentlemanly contempt
which a high-bred footman must always entertain for a lady who travels
without her maid.
"Which her connection with the peerage makes it wuss," said one of the
gentlemen, when he discussed the matter at the social supper-table;
"it's bringing the very horder she belongs to into contempt."
The gorgeous creatures relinquished Lady Cecil's burden to meaner hands
immediately after taking them. They were attended by _aides-de-camp_ in
the shape of an under-footman and a boy page; and their reception of
the traveller's parcel had been a purely ceremonial act. One of these
Corsican brothers of the servants'-hall drew aside a crimson curtain,
and revealed a broad lighted corridor, with many doors, some of which
were open, and along which echoed the sound of voices and the resonant
music of laughter.
Before Cecil could follow the majestic footman, that individual drew
suddenly aside, and a light fluttering figure, brightly attired in
trailing garments of pink silk, half hidden under airy puffings of
blonde, came hurrying towards the visitor.
It was Flo, brighter and more bewitching even than of old, with her
golden hair tortured into an edifice of puffs, _à la Pompadour_, and
sprinkled with glittering particles that sparkled in the lights.
"You darling, how good of you to come!" she cried eagerly. "I should
have driven over to the station myself to meet you, but the house is so
full of people, and I couldn't leave them. They are drinking tea in the
blue room; will you come and plunge into the midst of us at once, or
shall I take you to your rooms? We have nearly an hour between this and
dinner, and you see I am dressed, so for that time I am quite your own.
Do come and see all my new friends, Cecil. You look charming after your
journey--not a hair turned, as our sporting-visitors say; your little
blue-velvet bonnet is delicious, and that grey-cloth travelling-dress
becomes you admirably. Come, dear, let me show these provincial
grandees that there is at least one woman in the world who does not
talk slang, and is not the living, breathing image of every other woman."
Cecil pleaded for a retreat to her own apartments; but the vivacious
Florence half led, half dragged her to the room whence had issued the
sounds of revelry. It was an apartment which was small in comparison
with most of the Pevenshall chambers, and which had that air of
extreme cosiness and comfort with which very spacious rooms are not
easily invested. Here the classic architect had been superseded by
Florence and the bric-à-brac shops of the West-end. Bright-blue
hangings contrasted vividly with the cedar-panelling; tiny gems by
modern masters, set in deep frames of ebony and gold, adorned the
walls; and these gems were of the first water, having been chosen by
William Crawford as bridal gifts for his only child. All that is most
comfortable in the way of easy-chairs and most eccentric in the shape
of tiny tables had been provided for this chamber; and here a party of
vivacious ladies and agreeable gentlemen were grouped about the fire
drinking tea, and talking with that pleasant abandonment which pervades
unceremonious meetings between luncheon and dinner in an hospitable
country-house. Cecil found the usual elements of such gatherings--two
or three country squires, or heirs-presumptive, or younger sons of
country squires; some military men from the barracks at Chiverley,
the principal town within twenty miles of Pevenshall; a sprinkling of
the London element, as represented by some elegant young members of
the clubs; a German diplomatist; and a bevy of pretty girls, whose
maiden insipidity was relieved by a handsome widow and a coquettish
matron renowned for an especial genius for the cultivation of Platonic
attachments. Of course, every body was delighted to see Lady Cecil
O'Boyneville. The one or two people who knew her were enchanted to
meet her again, and the people who didn't know her were inexpressibly
anxious to make her acquaintance. The new-comer was ensconced in the
warmest corner of the pretty chamber, and country squires disputed
for the honour of bringing her strong tea. The novelty of the scene
was refreshing to her after the dull solitude of Brunswick Square;
for let the jaded traveller be never so weary and heartsick, there is
some faint sense of pleasure involved in the mere fact of being in an
utterly strange place. In this cosy morning-room at Pevenshall all was
brightness and colour. Every body was prettily dressed and smiling,
animated and happy--as it seemed; and amongst them all there was no one
gayer or brighter than Florence--that mercenary Florence for whom Cecil
had felt such profound compassion.
"And she really is happy," thought the barrister's wife, as Mrs. Lobyer
stood in the centre of the little throng beaming upon her guests.
Florence insisted upon accompanying her friend to the rooms that had
been prepared for her. They were very luxurious apartments, pervaded
by that atmosphere of wealth which reigned in almost every chamber of
Pevenshall Place. The marble mantelpieces were enriched with garlands
of flowers; the grates were marvels of glittering elegance, the china
was luminous gold and colour, the chintz draperies were as delicate
and lustrous as satin, the boudoir was a nest for a lotus-eating
visitor; the low Arabian bed looked like a throne, the pure white rugs
were soft and stainless as new-fallen snow; and, seen through the
bed-chamber, the lighted dressing-room looked as fresh and bright as a
chromo-lithograph. Fires burned cheerily in the three apartments. Wax
candles in blue Sèvres candlesticks lighted tables and mantelpieces;
and that traveller must have been indeed dead to the influence of
externals who had failed to rejoice in such a luxurious shelter.
"What charming rooms!" cried Cecil.
"I am so glad you like them," Flo answered, cordially. "These rooms are
close to my own, and I thought of you, dear, when I had them furnished;
for though you have always lectured me, I think I like you better than
any one else in the world, except papa." This was not a very promising
speech from a wife of six months. Cecil was sincerely anxious about her
friend's happiness, and was on the watch for faint indications tending
to reveal the real state of things. Mrs. Lobyer had as yet made no
allusion to her husband, and Cecil found it incumbent on herself to
inquire after the wellbeing of the master of Pevenshall.
"I hope Mr. Lobyer is well," she said.
"Oh dear me, yes; he is very well," Flo answered, with supreme
indifference. "I have not seen him for the last day or two. I suppose
he is at Manchester. He is subject to periodical disappearances, and
when he disappears people tell me he is at Manchester. It's very
likely he will reappear at dinner-time; he generally does reappear
at dinner-time; and whether he has been out on the terrace to smoke
a cigar, or a week away at Manchester, his manner is pretty much the
same. I have heard people say that Mr. Lobyer is not gentlemanly; but
I am sure that if it is correct not to admire any thing, and not to be
surprised at any thing, and not to care about any thing,--except the
rise and fall of that horrible, unsteady money-market, which fluctuates
to such a degree that it makes me dizzy to think of it,--Mr. Lobyer is
the prince of gentlemen."
"You talk of things as lightly as ever, Flo," Cecil said, wonderingly.
"Heaven help me when I begin to talk of things seriously!" answered
Mrs. Lobyer, more earnestly than she was wont to speak. "And now,
darling, I must run away. You have only half an hour between this and
eight o'clock, and I want you to look your best, in order to astonish
my Yorkshire grandees, who go to London once in ten years, and who, in
the interim, fondly believe that the civilised world comes to an end
somewhere beyond the city of York."
The Pevenshall dining-room, enriched by that splendid tribute which
modern painters and modern sculptors offer to the golden calf of
Manchester, was a very superb apartment. The Pevenshall drawing-room
would not have shown meanly when contrasted with one of the saloons
of Windsor; and in the drawing-room, leaning in a meditative attitude
against one of the low mantelpieces, and worrying a Skye terrier
with the toe of his boot, Cecil found Mr. Lobyer, who gave her a
gentlemanly, but by no means rapturous, welcome to Pevenshall. "I hope
my wife will make you comfortable, Lady Cecil," he said. "I'm sure she
ought to do so, for she's been talking enough about you for the last
fortnight, whether you would come, or whether you wouldn't come, and so
on."
Mr. Lobyer's conversational powers were not taxed further just at
present, for a ponderous butler announced dinner, and the host offered
his arm to Lady Cecil, to the aggravation of a county matron who
considered herself the leading personage at Pevenshall. He said very
little during dinner, and that little related chiefly to the aspect of
commercial affairs in America, the tightness of the money-market, the
drain of gold from the Bank of England, and other equally entertaining
topics for general conversation. Two or three men at Mr. Lobyer's end
of the table listened reverentially to any words that fell from his
lips, and discoursed with much gusto upon his favourite subjects; but
the rest of the party divided themselves into little clusters and a
buzz of animated chatter filled the room. In the course of a commercial
discussion it transpired, incidentally, that Mr. Lobyer had spent the
last few days in Manchester, and that things were looking dull there,
and this was all that he said about his absence from home.
The evening glided by very rapidly in the great drawing-room, where
there was room for a carpet-dance without disarrangement of furniture,
and where there were all manner of delightful nooks and corners for
confidential conversation. A social tragedy might have been enacted in
one corner of that spacious apartment, while the general occupants of
the chamber were laughing and talking in supreme unconsciousness of
domestic storm or trouble. The evening passed very pleasantly. When a
large party is assembled in a country-house there are generally to be
found some nice people, and at Pevenshall the nice people were in the
majority. There were musical people, and people who were madly devoted
to amateur theatricals; and there was one gentleman who was great
in the performance of spirit-rapping and table-turning; and another
gentleman who shone as an _improvisatore_, and who sang extempore
buffo-songs, which every body thought delightfully clever, but which
would have seemed atrociously stupid if people had had sufficient time
or presence of mind to grasp the full meaning of the words, or if the
singer had not been artful enough to cover his worst puns and his most
excruciating rhymes by a volley of common chords.
Altogether the evenings at Pevenshall were successful; the more so
perhaps because the master of the house was apt to withdraw himself to
the smoking-room or the billiard-room, with a few chosen companions.
When bidding Flo good-night on this first evening of her visit, Cecil
declared that she had enjoyed herself very much.
"I have been leading such a quiet life lately, that I did not think it
was in me to enjoy society so much as I have done to-night. What nice
people some of your new friends are, Flo!"
"Do you think so?" Mrs. Lobyer said, elevating her shoulders with
a little gesture, which was the last thing in fashion in the best
Parisian circles. "Perhaps you have not seen the nicest of them yet."