It has been suggested that a statue might be erected in
Hollingford [Knutsford] to Mrs. Gibson if all the people who
have been amused by her were to subscribe.
Then, finally, Mrs. Gibson was to go to the Towers next day to lunch;
Lady Cumnor had written a little note by Lady Harriet to beg her to come;
if Mrs. Gibson could manage to find her way to the Towers, one of the
carriages in use should bring her back to her own home in the course of
the afternoon.
“The dear countess!” said Mrs Gibson, with soft affection. It was a
soliloquy, uttered after a minute’s pause, at the end of all this
information.
And all the rest of that day her conversation had an aristocratic perfume
hanging about it. One of the few books she had brought with her into
Mr. Gibson’s house was bound in pink, and in it she studied, “Menteith,
Duke of, Adolphus George,” etc. etc., till she was fully up in all the
duchess’s connections, and probable interests. Mr. Gibson made his mouth
up into a droll whistle when he came home at night, and found himself
in a Towers’ atmosphere. Molly saw the shade of annoyance through the
drollery; she was beginning to see it oftener than she liked, not that
she reasoned upon it, or that she consciously traced the annoyance to its
source; but she could not help feeling uneasy in herself when she knew
that her father was in the least put out.
Of course a fly was ordered for Mrs. Gibson. In the early afternoon
she came home. If she had been disappointed in her interview with the
countess she never told her woe, nor revealed the fact that when she
first arrived at the Towers she had to wait for an hour in Lady Cumnor’s
morning-room, uncheered by any companionship save that of her old friend,
Mrs. Bradley, till suddenly, Lady Harriet coming in, she exclaimed, “Why,
Clare! you dear woman! are you here all alone? Does mamma know?” And,
after a little more affectionate conversation, she rushed to find her
ladyship, who was perfectly aware of the fact, but too deep in giving
the duchess the benefit of her wisdom and experience in trousseaux to
be at all mindful of the length of time Mrs. Gibson had been passing in
patient solitude. At lunch Mrs. Gibson was secretly hurt by my lord’s
supposing it to be her dinner, and calling out his urgent hospitality
from the very bottom of the table, giving as a reason for it, that she
must remember it was her dinner. In vain she piped out in her soft, high
voice, “Oh, my lord! I never eat meat in the middle of the day; I can
hardly eat anything at lunch.” Her voice was lost, and the duchess might
go away with the idea that the Hollingford doctor’s wife dined early;
that is to say, if her grace ever condescended to have any idea on the
subject at all; which presupposes that she was cognisant of the fact of
there being a doctor at Hollingford, and that he had a wife, and that
his wife was the pretty, faded, elegant-looking woman, sending away her
plate of untasted food—food which she longed to eat, for she was really
desperately hungry after her drive and her solitude.
And then after lunch there did come a _tête-à-tête_ with Lady Cumnor,
which was conducted after this wise:
“Well, Clare! I am really glad to see you. I once thought I should never
get back to the Towers, but here I am! There was such a clever man at
Bath—a Doctor Snape—he cured me at last—quite set me up. I really think
if ever I am ill again I shall send for him: it is such a thing to find
a really clever medical man. Oh, by the way, I always forget you’ve
married Mr. Gibson—of course he is very clever, and all that. (The
carriage to the door in ten minutes, Brown, and desire Bradley to bring
my things down.) What was I asking you? Oh! how do you get on with the
step-daughter? She seemed to me to be a young lady with a pretty stubborn
will of her own. I put a letter for the post down somewhere, and I cannot
think where; do help me look for it, there’s a good woman. Just run to my
room, and see if Brown can find it, for it is of great consequence.”
Off went Mrs. Gibson, rather unwillingly; for there were several things
she wanted to speak about, and she had not heard half of what she had
expected to learn of the family gossip. But all chance was gone; for,
when she came back from her fruitless errand, Lady Cumnor and the duchess
were in full talk, the former with the missing letter in her hand, which
she was using something like a baton to enforce her words.
“Every iota from Paris! Every i-o-ta!”
Lady Cumnor was too much of a lady not to apologise for useless trouble,
but they were nearly the last words she spoke to Mrs Gibson, for she had
to go out and drive with the duchess; and the brougham to take “Clare”
(as she persisted in calling Mrs. Gibson) back to Hollingford followed
the carriage to the door. Lady Harriet came away from her entourage of
young men and young ladies, all prepared for some walking expedition, to
wish Mrs. Gibson good-bye.
“We shall see you at the ball,” she said. “You’ll be there with your two
girls, of course, and I must have a little talk with you there; with all
these visitors in the house, it has been impossible to see anything of
you to-day, you know.”
Such were the facts, but rose-colour was the medium through which they
were seen by Mrs. Gibson’s household listeners on her return.
“There are many visitors staying at the Towers—oh, yes! a great many: the
duchess and Lady Alice, and Mr. and Mrs. Grey, and Lord Albert Monson and
his sister, and my old friend Captain James of the Blues—many more, in
fact. But of course I preferred going to Lady Cumnor’s own room, where I
could see her and Lady Harriet quietly, and where we were not disturbed
by the bustle downstairs. Of course we were obliged to go down to lunch,
and then I saw my old friends, and renewed pleasant acquaintances. But
I really could hardly get any connected conversation with anyone. Lord
Cumnor seemed so delighted to see me there again: though there were six
or seven between us, he was always interrupting with some civil or kind
speech especially addressed to me. And after lunch Lady Cumnor asked me
all sorts of questions about my new life with as much interest as if I
had been her daughter. To be sure, when the duchess came in we had to
leave off, and talk about the trousseau she is preparing for Lady Alice.
Lady Harriet made such a point of our meeting at the ball; she is such a
good, affectionate creature, is Lady Harriet!”
This last was said in a tone of meditative appreciation.