A BOOTLESS BENE.
'"What is good for a bootless bene?"
She answered, "Endless sorrow."'
_Wordsworth._
Geraldine was yet to discover how peaceful and happy was her life.
For a year and a half, the words at the head of our chapter--whatever
they may mean--had been running in her head. That 'bootless bene' was
a thing of sudden stabs and longing heartaches; but Edgar had not been
a sufficiently permanent inhabitant to be daily missed, as Wilmet was.
He had been a crowning ornament of the fabric of the house, not a stone
whose loss made a gap, but rather an ever bright, enlivening, exciting
possibility in her life, whose criticism and approval had led her on to
art, and trained her talent and taste. She never worked at a drawing
without an inward moan, and would almost have lost heart, save that he
and the clearance of his name were still her object; but for reliance,
support, and fellow-feeling, she had more in the remaining brothers
than he could ever have given her. Felix and Lance were precious
companions, and Wilmet's departure had left her no time for drooping.
Housekeeping began by being a grievous responsibility. Cherry could not
bargain like Wilmet, nor go down into the kitchen and toss up something
dainty out of mere scraps for her brothers' supper; and when she heard
that Zadok Krishnu excelled in curry and coffee, she could only lift
up her hands and sigh on the waste of good gifts of cookery upon one
Major! Martha was a good faithful servant, but odds and ends did not
go so far as they used to do; and Cherry never could, and never did,
reduce her bills to the original standard, though she brought them on
Saturday nights with such misery and humiliation that Felix was forced
to laugh at her, and represent that their pinch of poverty was over,
and excessive frugality no longer necessary. His position was now what
Mr. Froggatt's had been, and his means, with Lance's payment for board,
were quite sufficient to bear the difference, even without Cherry's
own, which fully covered the diminution through her want of time and
of notability. Waste there was not, profusion there was not; but a
certain ease there was, so soon as Cherry had learnt, as Lance said,
not to believe they should be in the County Court because they had
spent a shilling instead of elevenpence-three-farthings. She felt too
that home was comfortable to the others. The anxious stinting, though
at times needful, had, as Felix hinted to her, been good for no one.
Though praiseworthy and self-denying _when_ it was needful, the habit
had become cramping to Wilmet herself, and to all the brothers it had
been an irritation, endured by some with forbearance, but certainly
prejudicial to others.
Nobody was afraid of Cherry; but since all had outgrown the bear-garden
age, a sympathetic government was best. _Berserkarwuth_ might require
King Stork's 'Now, boys;' but when the ruler was a lady, and a lame
lady, chivalry might be trusted even in unruly Bernard, who had come to
an age when freedom was better for him than strictness.
So had the world gone till the autumn, when Major and Mrs. Harewood
had to retreat from their mountain abode, but did not venture on
wintering in England. They had made up their minds to winter at
Biarritz. John would have preferred Pau, but Wilmet set her face
against it, dwelling upon the benefits of sea air; and he yielded, but
he would not be baulked of a day's halt there. It was a place he had
always wished to see; and he would not defraud Robin of the castle of
the Foix, and of the tortoise-shell cradle of _le Grand Monarque_.
He could walk now, but only with a stick, and stooping and halting a
good deal. His obstinate hip was still troublesome, and his recovery
had been retarded by painful methods of preventing contraction. Nor was
it yet certain whether he would ever be fit to return to his corps;
and though he moved about the house, and discarded invalid habits, he
was still so anxious a charge, that Wilmet was quite justified in her
vexation at the charms of the old castle at Pau, where he _would_ walk
and stand about, admiring and discussing history and architecture with
Robina and a clever French priest, lionising like themselves. She did
catch her sister, and severely forbid her to make a remark that could
protract the survey; but the wicked priest was infinitely worse, and
beguiled them into places where the ordinary guide would never have
thought of taking them; nor was she certain that her provoking John did
not perceive and rather enjoy her agony.
At last she got him safe to the hotel, and into the tiny bedroom
opening out of their sitting-room.
'It is much quieter there,' she said, returning. 'I have given him the
_Times_, and I hope he will have a couple of hours' rest before the
_table d'hôte_.'
'Then, Wilmet, would you come with me? I made out the street, and it is
very near,' said Robin.
'What street?'
'Alice Knevett's--Madame Tanneguy. O Wilmet,' as she saw her
countenance, 'you know Cherry promised the aunts that we would see
about her if we went to Pau.'
'Cherry had no right to make such a promise, and I do not mean to be
bound by it. Madame Tanneguy does not deserve notice, especially from
us! I should have thought you had had enough of her.'
'But should not I be unforgiving to remember that?'
'It is not a matter of forgiveness, my dear. Her marriage was the best
thing that could have happened to us. I am absolutely obliged to her
for it; but that does not make her behaviour any better.'
'No; but suppose she was in distress?'
'No reason to suppose any such thing! The man was well to do; and of
course she is leading that gay life the _bourgeoisie_ do here--at the
theatre or out on the _place_ all the evening--nothing fit for us to
associate with.'
'I don't want to associate, and I only think it right to find out.'
'What does Robin want to find out?' said John, helping himself forward
with the table; 'some defender for Jeanne d'Albrêt, whom we have heard
so run down to-day?'
'O John! why aren't you lying down?'
'Because I have no taste for being condemned to solitary confinement as
a punishment for being beguiled by that Jesuit--not even in disguise.
I'm going to write to my father. Aren't you going out again?'
'No,' said Wilmet.
'I thought I heard Robin wanting to find out some one for Cherry. These
doors aren't adapted for secrets. What was it, Bobbie?'
'I did not mean to trouble you about it, John,' said Wilmet. 'Do you
remember about that unfortunate affair of Alice Knevett?'
'Was it to her that your brother Edgar was attached?'
'Yes. Remember, it was a clandestine affair; and these children were
made to serve as tools--that is, Angela was; and though Robina refused,
she was involved in the scrape, and suffered so much for it that I
should not have thought she would have wished to run after her again.'
'Then she married a Frenchman, did she not?' interposed John.
'Yes. After refusing to give Edgar up, and giving us all an infinity
of trouble and annoyance, she suddenly threw him over without a word,
and ran away with this Frenchman from Jersey. Yet here are the Miss
Pearsons expecting us to call on her, Cherry undertaking that we shall,
and this child expecting me to go and do so!'
'Do you know anything about the Frenchman?'
'A sort of commercial traveller, I believe.'
'Agent for a wine merchant,' said Robina. 'Major Knevett said there was
nothing against his character. Miss Pearson sent the address; it is in
the street at right angles with this, about eight doors off.'
'Well,' said John, 'I do not see how you can refuse to satisfy the Miss
Pearsons about her.'
'If she were in a right frame of mind she would write to them. While
she treats them with such neglect, I do not see why I should encourage
her.'
'Cherry said they thought she was ashamed to begin,' said Robina. 'Miss
Pearson wrote severely at first, and now wants very much to make a
beginning, and to be sure that Alice is not in distress.'
'I think it ought to be done,' said John; 'it is so near, that you can
walk there at once with Robina, and at least inquire at the door. I do
not see how you can refuse Miss Pearson.'
Nobody had spoken to Wilmet with authority since her fifteenth year,
and she did not recognise the sound.
'I do not choose to notice a person who has behaved like that,' she
said; 'Miss Pearson has no right to ask it. Take off your things,
Robina; I am going to pack for to-morrow.'
There was no temper in her tone, only the calm reasonable determination
that had governed her household and ruled her scholars; and she walked
into the other room and shut the door, as on a concluded affair.
John looked round. Robina was standing by the table, wiping away a few
tears.
'I do not know what to do, John,' she said 'I wrote to Cherry that we
were coming here, and would do this. May I have Zadok to walk with me?'
'Your sister is quite right,' said John. 'I am the fit person to go.
How far did you say it was?'
'Eight doors, I counted.'
'Then we need not get a cabriolet,' said John, reaching for his hat and
stick.
'But you are so tired!'
'Not at all. If we go early to-morrow, this is the only time for doing
it.'
Whether she experienced a spark of triumph, or whether she was merely
frightened and uneasy, as her brother-in-law came limping downstairs
after her, Robina knew not. She had never seen any one but Fulbert
fly in Wilmet's face. Felix might sometimes differ and get his way,
but that was by persuasion; and the pillars of the house had always
preserved the dignity of concord towards the younglings. It was
astounding, even considering that he was her husband. So quietly
and easily he did it, too, as if he had no notion what an awful and
unprecedented action he was committing. Force of habit made Robin feel
as naughty as when Fulbert had led her and Lance to see-saw on the
timbers in the carpenter's yard; and she could not divest herself of
fears of some such reception as had awaited them on that occasion.
Wilmet packed without misgiving. She had foreseen this perplexity when
she endeavoured to avoid Pau, and her mind was too fully made up to be
overruled by Miss Pearson's ill-judged yearnings, Geraldine's imprudent
promise, Robina's foolish impulse, or John's good-nature. It was not
resentment, but disapproval. If Alice had jilted young Bruce she should
have held the same course. She would not argue before her little
sister; but in private John should be brought to a proper understanding
of Alice's enormities, and learn thankfulness to his domestic check on
Harewood easiness and masculine tolerance.
Then it struck her that those two were unusually quiet in the next
room. Some sounds she had lost in opening drawers and moving boxes;
but now all was still, John no doubt writing, and Robin--could she
have gone to her own room to cry? The elder sister began to relent,
and think the moment come for drawing from her a confession of her
wilfulness. She opened the door to seek her. Behold, John was not
there. No, nor his hat and gloves! Robina was not in her bedroom! Had
they absolutely sallied forth in opposition?
Wilmet had never been so defied by anything too big to kick and
scream! She stood aghast. Naughty obstinate Robina had wrought
upon John! He ought to have known better! He would knock himself
up--inflammation would come on--the wounds would break out again, all
because of this complication of foolish pity for that horrid little
flirt!
Wilmet's tears gushed, her chest heaved with sobs. Why could he not
have attended to her? Withal his words came back to her.
He had distinctly bidden her to go; and had she done so, he would
have been safe on that sofa. Bidden? yes, it had been a clear desire,
courteously and calmly uttered, but decisive; and only at this moment
did it strike her that his orders were more binding on her than those
of Felix. He had commanded. She had disobeyed, and he had done the
thing himself, to his own inconvenience, not to say peril.
Then came vexation. It was not fair! She would have gone anywhere had
she known the alternative. Was it kind or grateful, after her long
nursing, to risk himself without warning! Nay, could a man use plainer
words than 'You ought'--'You cannot refuse?' Yet was she, as a wife, to
obey blindly at the first word, against her judgment? Perhaps Wilmet
had never known so hard a moment as this first galling of the yoke of
subjection--the sense of being under the will of another. How could he
run after that heartless Alice, who had been Edgar's bane and Felix's
grief? Who could tell what company she kept, or if she were fit company
for Robina? And the creature was so disgustingly pretty that she could
deceive any man, even Felix. True; but a little moderation on her own
part, and she herself--the prudent matron--might have gone forth with
her husband, protecting and protected, instead of exposing Robina's
inexperienced girlhood and his manly good-nature to any possible
contaminations or deceptions. Oh! would they but come!
There was time for many such cycles of vexation, relenting,
self-reproach, and anxiety--ever growing severer towards herself,
bitterer towards Alice and Robina, tenderer towards John. It was nearly
seven o'clock before the slow thud of the stick, and the steps with
one foot foremost, proclaimed the return. Zadok was in the ante-room
and let them in. She saw John heated and panting; and reproachful
solicitude predominated in her voice as she exclaimed, 'You must stay
here. You are not fit for the _table d'hôte_.'
'None of us are,' he answered, in a low, grave tone that startled her;
and she then saw that Robina was looking dreadfully white and overcome,
and trembling violently.
As the girl met her eye, all was forgotten but the old motherly
relation; and there was a rush to hide her face on her, and a
convulsive sobbing of, 'O Wilmet! Wilmet!'
'Lay her down! I will fetch something,' said John, moving towards the
other room. 'She has held up with all her might.'
'But oh, what is it? That wretched Alice! Bobbie, my dear child, lie
down! Don't try to keep it in; cry--no, you can't speak. O John! What
is it?--Yes, that's right,' as he brought what was needed from the
medical resources always at hand for himself; 'only tell me the worst.'
With his eyes on the measure-glass, and his steady hand dropping the
stimulant, he said, in an under-tone, 'A duel! The husband was killed;
but it was hardly Edgar's fault.'
Wilmet, with Robina almost fainting on the sofa, was wholly occupied in
administering the drops, and bathing the flushed face; and the success
of her efforts was shown by another cry of 'O Wilmet!' and then a
passion of weeping that shook her whole frame violently.
'That is best,' said John. 'She kept it in bravely.' And as the great
_table d'hôte_ bell clanged, he went to the door and spoke to Zadok.
As he returned, Robina bounded up, nervously exclaiming, 'O John, lie
down, do; you are done up!'
But when strength was needed, he found it. 'Not now, thank you, my
dear. I have told Zadok to bring us some dinner. That will make less
disturbance. We will get ready, and after that we shall be better able
to talk.'
Overwhelmed and crushed, the sisters did just as they were told; but
Wilmet turned once, and said as if out of a dream, 'Is there anything
to be done? Is he here?'
'Oh no! It was months ago--before I saw him. It was forced on him. You
shall hear all presently, dearest.'
The gentle kindness restored her, or rather drove everything out of her
thoughts but his flushed, weary, affectionate face, and heavy painful
tread; and when he grasped her arm to be helped into the sitting-room,
and sank with a sigh into his chair, half the world might have killed
the other half, so long as he was neither ill nor angry with her.
'Will you see for that poor child?' he said, as Zadok came up with the
three couverts; 'she needs restoration as much as any one.'
Robina had washed her tear-stained face, but was only brought to
the table as an act of obedience; and all through the meal John was
coercing her into swallowing soup and wine, and Wilmet was watching
that he did not neglect his own injunctions. Then disposing of Zadok
with some orders about coffee, he lay down on the sofa, but by a sort
of tacit motion invited Wilmet to give him one hand to play with, and
stroke his hair with the other--his old solace at Rameses--and oh! how
much it made up for to her! Robina was now quite restored, and longing
to relieve her soul, and the narration chiefly fell to her.
'We soon found the house--one of those immense tall old ones--and we
rang, and asked whether Madame Tanneguy lived there. "_O oui_," said
they, "_au quatrième_." We thought that rather odd; and John asked
again if she were English, and the _concierge_ said, "Yes, assuredly;"
and as someone else came just then, we asked no more questions, only
climbed up, up those dreadful stairs, so dirty and so steep. I wanted
John to sit down and wait for me, but he would not hear of it.'
Wilmet looked at him with moist eyes, and pressed his hand. 'I was
accountable for the child,' he said, smiling. 'Besides, there was
nothing to sit upon.'
'At last,' continued Robin, 'we did get to the _quatrième_, and rang;
and we heard a little trot-trotting, and the door was opened by a queer
little French child, that turned and ran away, calling out, "_Maman,
Maman!_" and as we went in--O Wilmet! there rose up, with a little baby
in her arms, poor Alice, all in black, with a great flowing white veil,
like the widow at Bagnères. She knew me directly, and I believe we both
gave a little scream.'
'That you did,' murmured Major Harewood.
'And she said, "You--you! what do you come here for?" I did not
know what to say, but I got out something about the aunts; and she
answered, "Then you do not know, or you could never have broken in on
me and my poor orphans!" Really I thought she was mad with grief, and
said the aunts would have sent all the more; but she burst out, "No!
no! not his sister--his--the murderer of my husband!" and she began to
cry. I only thought still she was mad, but--O John, what was it? Didn't
you think so?'
'No, I saw that was not the case; but I thought she took you for
someone else, and began to explain; and I think the curiosity of making
out who I was, and how we came there, did more to bring her round than
anything else.'
'But how could this dreadful thing have been?' asked Wilmet. 'You said
it once: but it cannot really be true!'
'Too true, my dear,' said John, 'but with much extenuation. It was last
September. He really was with those National Minstrels.'
'Ah!'
'But not by name in the programme,' said Robina. 'She went to the
theatre with her husband, and there were Hungarian and German songs;
but then when the English ballad began--the Red Cross Knight--the first
notes overcame her; she had a _saisissement_, screamed, and almost
fainted.'
'Just like her!' exclaimed Wilmet 'Then it was all owing to that?'
'I fear so. Edgar looked up, and when he saw her, he broke down. He
began again, and got through the rest of his part; but in the meantime
M. Tanneguy had been discovering that he was not Alice's first love.'
'Not by ever so many,' muttered Wilmet. 'And of course she shuffled and
shifted off the blame to Edgar.'
'If so, she has suffered for it,' said John, with gentle repressiveness.
'And,' continued Robina, 'whatever she could say only enraged him more;
he took her home, then waited for Edgar at the door of the theatre,
demanded an explanation, and challenged him. They fought outside the
town, and M. Tanneguy was wounded; but they did not think it so bad;
and, like a brave Frenchman, he kept up to his own door, so that Edgar
might get safe away. On the third day he grew worse, and died! O
Wilmet! who could have thought it? How will Felix bear it?'
'Remember,' said John, 'that this was fastened on your brother. I
don't, of course, look on it as anything but a crime, but it should not
be exaggerated. To be insulted and called to account by a fiery Gascon,
when you believe yourself the injured party, cannot be easily bearable;
besides, Edgar had had a foreign training, not so alien to duelling as
ours, and his associates would expect it of him. For the rest, I think
he must have won his enemy's heart, for the poor lady said much of her
husband's acknowledgment of his generosity, and desire for his escape.
I am sure he might well, if he did half as much for him as he did for
me.'
'And he had done this when he touched you,' said Wilmet, shuddering.
'Or I should not be here,' said John. 'My dear,' and he held both her
hands, 'I wish I could make you look on it in a different light It was
not an assassination. To have refused the challenge would have required
a sort of resolution that few men are capable of; above all, when all
his surroundings would have expected it of him.'
'What surroundings?' replied Wilmet 'No wonder he could not bear to
face your father and me! Poor Edgar! wandering about like Cain! And
he was such a dear little boy! Papa used to call him his little King
Oberon! Oh! I am glad Papa and Mamma don't know it.' She slipped down
on her knees by John's side, hid her face in his pillow, and cried, but
softly and gently now.
'I don't think it can be less bad to Felix and Cherry,' said Robina,
sadly. 'How can we write to them?'
'We had better not do so till I have learnt more,' said John; 'I shall
go to the _bureau de police_ to-morrow, and make inquiries, and try to
see poor Tanneguy's employer, M. Aimery, who seems to have been the
only friend that poor young thing has had.'
'Why did she not write?' asked Wilmet.
'M. Aimery did write to her father,' said Robina, 'but he has left
Jersey, and the letter was returned; and as to the aunts, you know Miss
Pearson did write sharply once, and Alice always took her strictness
for unkindness, and never knew how fond of her the aunts were. Indeed,
I fancy she has been too ill and inert to do more than go on from day
to day.'
'Has she anything to live on, poor child?'
'Her husband had a small interest in the business, and M. Aimery pays
her the proceeds every month--a hundred francs.'
'A hundred francs! four pounds three and fourpence for herself and two
children!'
'She had to move up from the nice apartments below to this dismal
_quatrième_, only one room, and very little in it; and then she was ill
for a long time, and the baby was born; and that took up all the ready
money there was left. She has been thinking whether she could get any
daily-governess work to do among the English; but then, how can she
leave the children?'
'Poor thing!' said Wilmet, 'I must go and see her to-morrow.'
'Do,' said her husband affectionately. 'Considering all things, we had
better remain here a few days, had we not?'
'Certainly. I will speak about the rooms. Of course we must do our best
for her and those poor children. I hope they are girls.'
'No,' said Robin,' boys--Gustave and Achille. Gustave looks
preternaturally wise and solemn, with his black eyes and bullet head;
but when his mother cried, he went into such an agony, that John had to
show him his watch, and give him his stick to ride on, before we could
hear ourselves speak. O John, what work you have done to-day!'
'And you too, Bobbie,' said Wilmet kindly, 'you had better go to bed as
soon as you have had your coffee.'
Her head was aching enough to make her glad to take the advice; and
when she was gone, John lay still, too weary, and yet too comfortable,
for the exertion of going to bed; and he was not far from sleep when
Wilmet came back from giving her sister the tender care that the shock
demanded.
Bitterness and resistance had long been swept away by those terrible
tidings; but Wilmet could not forget that she had offended, and
gathering herself into a great effort, she stood by the sofa,
dignified, but rather constrained, and said, 'I am very sorry about
this afternoon, John.'
'You were quite right,' said John, sleepily; 'it was not a business for
women alone.'
'That was not what I meant,' she answered. 'I ought not to have made
that flat refusal. I did not recollect.'
John roused himself a little, to say, 'I suppose when two people come
together who have grown up separately, their judgments must sometimes
differ, and there is not always time to adjust them.' These last words
were very sleepy again.
'No, I see I ought to have submitted; but I had no notion you would go;
I behaved very ill to you, and you did it to punish me.'
'Not exactly,' he said, stirred up at those words. 'It would have been
kinder to have told, but you had spoken plainly, and there seemed no
time--nor occasion--for--further--Jeanne d'Albrêt--'
Which last words were sufficient testimony of the power of Morpheus.
After all, he was inflicting, though he did not know it, a severe
punishment. Wilmet was not a self-tormentor like Cherry; but she
did not like to have her little mutiny passed over without a
reconciliation, and to see him so perfectly unruffled by what had made
all the depths of her heart turbid. And when he had 'fallen asleep in
her very face,' she had the strongest possible temptation, if not to
pursue the argument, at least to demand if he meant to sleep there all
night, and rout him into going at once to undress; and when her real
goodness and affection would not permit this, to beguile the time with
the piece of intricate Pyrenean knitting, which had been the solace of
his active nature, when he was good for nothing else. Though she had
taught him to knit, those essential differences in the strength and
manipulation of male and female fingers, made him particularly dislike
to have rows interpolated by either of the ladies, and this she always
so far resented, that it would have been uncommonly agreeable in her
present mood to have gone on with the work. To abstain was all the
harder to a person of her instincts, because no other occupation could
be attained without opening a door, and breaking his slumbers; and
though Wilmet had plenty to think of, the deprivation of mechanical
employment for her fingers was trying enough to take away serenity or
connection from her thoughts. Instead of any sort of meditation on the
terrible tidings of the day, her mind _would_ vibrate between desire to
take up the knitting and resolution to let him sleep till eleven.
Perhaps in truth, nothing in her whole life was so difficult to Wilmet
Harewood, or of so much service to her, than using such abstinence.
The shock and horror of the tidings when they reached Bexley may well
be believed. John, after full enquiry, had written both to Felix and
to the Miss Pearsons. Geraldine had perhaps never before believed that
Edgar was lost to her, and the blow of regarding him as a murderer
had such an effect upon her, that an illness was the consequence, in
which Felix had to call in Sister Constance's aid to supplement little
Stella's, and conquer the almost exaggerated feeling that for a time
threatened nervous fever.
Sometimes, however, a lesser worry becomes a remedy for the effects
of a greater, and Cherry's recovery was certainly not retarded by a
certain dismay at learning that the forgiving aunts had offered a
home to their errant niece and her little ones. No one could grudge
them the asylum, but it roused Cherry from bewailing the crime of the
one brother to a far more common-place anxiety about the other--a
counter-irritant that so restored her health and spirits, that Sister
Constance left her to such peace as it allowed her to enjoy. Felix
had settled down so quietly--he seemed so entirely to have got over
it, that it was hard to have all stirred up and the lady brought back
again, freed in so dreadful a manner. No woman can ever estimate
beforehand the effect that one of her own sex will produce on a man,
however sensible. Her opinion is no gauge for his; and she labours
under the further disadvantage that her better judgment is sure to be
pitied, if not as feminine spite, at least as feminine incapability of
candour; and Sister Constance advised Cherry to abstain from expressing
the faintest regret. The good old aunts religiously preserved the
secret of the mode of Tanneguy's death; but no one who knew the niece
could doubt that the whole story would be at the mercy of whoever chose
to cultivate her confidence.
Her arrival was notified by the sending in of a parcel from the
travellers, containing Wilmet's sets of shirts for Lance and Bernard
and two beautiful shawls in Pyrenean knitting, one for Cherry and one
for Mr. Harewood. Felix said very little, but his complexion was still
as tell-tale as a girl's. He was restless till Geraldine had called,
though he feared to ask her to do so. She was not indeed uneasy about
his actions; but only lest his affections should be so far out of his
power as to render him unhappy and open the old wound.
Her visit went off better than she expected. She was greatly touched
by Alice's delicate appearance and altered looks, and was favourably
impressed by her subdued affectionate manner, and her fervent gratitude
to the Harewoods, little guessing that it was to Robina that she owed
it all. There was so much to hear about the Major's degree of recovery,
his kindness, Wilmet's splendid beauty, and the sensation it excited,
and all their arrangements for the winter, that Cherry went home in a
far more ordinary mood than she could have thought possible.
For some time there was no meeting with Felix. Cherry even began to
wish it was over, and off his mind as well as her own.
It came about at last suddenly. Felix opened the house door exactly as
Alice was passing; they greeted one another, and shook hands. She had
her eldest boy with her; he was leading Theodore, and Scamp, who was at
their heels, instantly thrust his tan nose into little Gustave's face,
so terrifying the child, that Felix was lifting him in his arms out of
the dog's way, when he was startled by a yell from Theodore. The boy
had an animal's instinctive jealousy. He had never seen any child but
himself and Stella caressed by his brother; and the sight brought on
one of the accesses of passion which had begun to seize him since his
will and his strength had become somewhat more developed. Felix had no
choice but peremptorily to snatch him indoors, leaving Madame Tanneguy
and her child, who were both very much frightened, to Lance.
No more effective separation could have been devised, for Alice could
not but retain a great horror of that 'dreadful boy,' who, though much
smaller than Stella, and with little force in his soft aimless fingers,
was still nearly eleven years old, and twice as big as her tiny brown
elf. If they had been shut up together, Gustave would have mastered
him in a minute; but she of course viewed him as a formidable being;
and on the other hand, his face changed at the word 'little boy,'
and his blue eyes grew fixed and round, and his soft murmuring to an
angry inarticulate jabber, if he did but catch a sight of the little
French boy from the window. Geraldine was just beginning to feel that
the preventive had come in a curious form, between the two unconscious
creatures, when Madame Tanneguy received a remittance from M. Aimery,
and could not understand how to get it cashed. So just at the old
twilight hour of her former visits she was shown into the drawing-room,
and a message was presently sent to beg Mr. Underwood to come up when
he was at leisure.
When he came, Geraldine was struck with the peculiar gentleness of his
manner. It was gentle to all women and children, but to Madame Tanneguy
it had a sort of tender reverence that gave its exceeding kindness a
marked character, and was so unlike the good-natured elder-brotherly
raillery that used to veil his youthful adoration, that Alice
scandalised Cherry by exclaiming, 'How altered Mr. Underwood is! Grown
so grave, I should not have known him!' As if anyone would not be grave
when approaching the widow made by his brother.
He had minutely fulfilled the little service for her, and no doubt the
reverential tone gratified her, for thenceforth she was always coming
for the help and counsel that she never failed to find. 'Nobody could
advise like Mr. Underwood,' she said; and it was amazing how much she
found to consult him about--not only her French investments, but her
arrangements with her aunts, her correspondence, and at last whether
she ought to bring up Gustave and Achille as Roman Catholics. It so
much annoyed him to detect any pleasantry on his submission to her
behests, that Cherry and Lance scarce durst glance their half-amused
annoyance to one another; and Angel and Bear never fell into a
worse scrape in their lives than when they concocted a forgery with
the tidings that Madame Tanneguy presented her compliments to Mr.
Underwood, and was grieved to inform him that Gustave had scratched
Achille's nose. Would he give her his much esteemed advice whether to
apply court-plaster or gold-beater's skin?
Felix severely told Angela that to make a jest of Madame Tanneguy's
forlorn condition betokened heartlessness, and added to Bernard that
all the assistance that he or any of the brothers could afford was no
more than her due, and could never atone for the past. Bernard was
really awed, and after sulking for the rest of the day, suddenly
veered into a certain private adoration of the lady, who by this time,
with returning health, was resuming her vivacity. She had discarded her
floating crape, and her pretty little head shone in its native glossy
jet, while she smiled, chattered, and except that she was a devoted
mother, and did her duty conscientiously as an assistant in the school,
was the old Alice to all intents and purposes. Nor was it her fault if
the original Felix did not likewise revive; she tried many a little art
to beguile him into the playful terms of their former intercourse, but
he never relaxed that reserved, compassionate gentleness, nor allowed
himself to forget that his brother had first loved and then made her a
widow. Cherry could have jumped for joy that first time she detected,
and saw that Lance did, a shadow of a shade of impatience at those
exactions; and finally she settled into the trust that propinquity was
the best disenchantment, and that though there was still some romance,
it was about the Alice of old visions, not the live Madame Tanneguy,
whose obedient slave he would indeed always be, but merely as Edgar's
brother, and who was fast, by force of boring and of levity, dispersing
all the remaining glamour.
Cherry had her own anxiety, for an inspection by Wilmet was
approaching, and very suddenly. At the end of the winter, at Biarritz,
the travellers' plans had been deranged by an offer of an appointment
at Woolwich, which hurried them home in the end of February instead of
the beginning of May, as they had intended, and allowed them only to
give one clear day to each of their families. To that day Cherry looked
forward with some dread. Certainly the household was not precisely the
Babel that Wilmet had found on her former return, but a formidable
consciousness of shortcomings that would not bear inquisition beset
her, and she had such a frantic bout of tidying, that Lance found her
hopping about half dead with fatigue, and Stella nearly smothered with
dust; and begging an afternoon's remission from business, he became
the merriest and most helpful of housemaids till the operation was
accomplished.
After all, the anxiety proved to have been a little superfluous. Winds
howled all night, and Major Harewood's well-known discomfort at sea
made the arrival dubious till about three o'clock, when, in pouring
rain, a fly deposited the voyagers, shaken, battered, jaded, with a
prolonged and wretched passage, and each too anxious that the other
should rest, to be good for anything but wan smiles and affectionate
greetings. They had eaten or tried to eat at Southampton, and nothing
could be done with them but to shut them into Mr. Froggatt's state
bed-chamber and leave them, promising to be better company in the
evening.
Then there was time for Robina, who meanwhile had done little but run
about in their service, select and open the boxes and bags containing
what was wanted, and introduce the Hindoo, who was put under charge of
a young Lightfoot.
Then Lance and Robin had time to stand up in the drawing-room gazing
at one another after this thirteen months' interval. Lance held up his
hands and pretended to fall back in dismay: 'Robin-a-Bobbin grown into
a young lady! Ah!'
'And what's this?' as she flew at him to pinch the thick brown down
upon his lip. 'What kind of crop is this?' And they took one of their
old tumbling waltzes round the room together, as if to shake themselves
into one, while, with the hand that each kept loose, Robin continued to
snatch at the new decoration, and Lance to defend and smoothe it down.
'Ay,' said Felix (who tolerated it by a certain effort of philosophy,
and the humbling consciousness of being an old Philistine), 'he is
cherishing it for the Handel festival. He wants to be taken for a
German.'
'O Lance, are you to go to the Handel festival?'
'Yes, Miles has got me a place in the chorus--jolly, isn't it, of the
old fellow? I say, Robin, we must get you up there.'
'I--oh! I shall be at Woolwich then, I suppose. Do you know, Cherry, I
must only stay till Monday? Those two aren't in the least fit to get
into their house at Woolwich without help, and John has begged me--'
'I suppose you must,' said Cherry. 'After all these good accounts, this
is disappointing; but how could you all cross on such a night?'
'Why, Wilmet never minded the sea before, and John had made up his
mind soldier-fashion, and thought nothing was to be gained by waiting.
And when Wilmet had to succumb she would not believe it, and was so
disgusted at herself, and so miserable about him, that it did her all
the more harm.'
'And you!'
'Oh, I was quite well; but it was horrid enough any way--and poor John
had gone from the first to lie quite flat in the gentlemen's cabin,
where I could not get at him.'
'Before I go, what do you think of him?' asked Felix. 'One can't judge
of his looks to-day.'
'Oh! he calls himself sound--the wounds are all healed at last, but he
gets a great deal of bad pain still, either rheumatic or neuralgic; he
says it comes from the strain on his constitution, and will take no
advice about it till he can see Dr. Manby. Then he's so cripply that he
could not have gone on in the service if he were not a field-officer.
He says he is quite up to it, but we think it a great experiment. Oh!
Felix--Lance--don't go--there can't be anybody this wet afternoon!'
'Yes,' said Felix, 'this is just the time that all the old gentlemen
who get tired of their own fire-sides, and all the professionals
that can't take their walk, feel inclined to come and prose at
"Froggatt's."--But they won't want you, Lance; I'll send if there's
anything for you to do.--Good-bye, Robin Redbreast, you do look
uncommonly nice!' and he took her round cheeks between his hands,
and held up her face to kiss each of them, with mouth and brow,
individually and gravely.
'She's the Robin still,' said Cherry, 'only just a little polished up.'
'Developing,' said Lance, stalking round her, and speaking his words
deliberately; 'developing--into--the--bloom--of--sweet--seventeen--and
of--'
'Not beauty!' broke in Robina. 'I would not be as pretty as Wilmet for
two-pence.'
'Not for a major?' suggested Lance.
'He didn't marry her for her beauty,' vehemently responded Robina, 'but
for her--her niceness. Her beauty has been always in her way, and a
nuisance to her, and--'
'Sour grapes!' quoth Lance.
'Not a bit. It would be a worse hindrance in my branch of the
profession.'
Lance did not answer in jest this time; he looked at the bright
pleasant-faced girl in her maidenly bloom and fresh stylish dress, and
said, 'What a horrid pity it is! she looks ten times more of a lady
than ninety-nine out of a hundred of 'em--and there she's to go and
grind and be ground just for a governess.'
'Not a bit more of a pity than that--I'll not say that you should be a
printer, Lance, but than that anybody should be anything. I learnt my
Catechism, you see, to learn and labour to get my _own_ living.'
'So you sent Madame Tanneguy home to prevent you from getting into
Wilmet's shoes at Miss Pearson's?'
'I should hope I was fit for something more than that!'
'Well done, Bob!'
'I didn't mean--' said Robina, rather distressed, 'but you see I have
had a much better education than ever Wilmet could get, and have gone
on longer with it; and I can go in for things that girls here would not
care to learn; so, as I am not wanted to keep house with Wilmet, it
would be just waste for me to come and do like her--poked up in this
corner.'
'Ah! you've had a taste of the world,' said Lance, speaking in jest;
but Robina, recollecting how he had crushed any ambition of his own,
and who _did_ veritably feel that though home was home, Bexley was dull
and narrow, turned round with moist eyes.
'O Lance, I hope it is not that! You know I have been brought up to go
out, and it seems my work and duty; but I think it is a great deal more
honourable to stay here because one is wanted.'
'Because one can't help it,' said Lance, pulling her hair and smiling.
'Have you learnt to make speeches in France, Bob?'
'No. But indeed, Lance, I do want to know if you do never get tired of
things now?'
'Oh! I've no right; I'm not one of the highly educated ones!' said
Lance, in a spirit of teasing.
'Now, Lance, don't punish me, when I really want to know.'
'Taking into consideration the awful slowness and stodginess of the
place, and the contempt of one's highly educated brothers and sisters,'
said Lance, slowly, but with a twinkle in his eye that somehow made up
for the words, 'one _does_ drag on life pretty well, by the help of
Pur and the organ. The new one is coming by next summer, if there's any
faith or conscience in the builder, which I believe there is not.'
'And,' she added, coming near and speaking low, 'did I not hear that
there had been a letter from Ferdinand?'
Cherry looked for it. 'Felix took it down to answer,' she said, 'but it
was from Sydney. He had seen Mr. Allen.'
'Oh!'
'Yes. He tracked those National Minstrels all over India, Bombay,
Calcutta, all manners of places--good faithful fellow--and at last he
found they had gone to Sydney, and there, actually, was Mr. Allen,
settled down as a music-master, making--I don't know what in a week.'
'But--'
'But there had been a great quarrel, and the concern had broken up; and
he did not in the least know where poor Edgar was gone,' sighed Cherry.
'Robin, did you hear what name he sung under at Alexandria?'
'No, Ferdinand only told Wilmet that his name was not in the programme.'
'That good Cacique!' broke out Lance; 'he is about the slowest-witted
fellow that walks the earth. I believe he would never believe it was he
if he saw anything less than Thomas Edgar Underwood in extra type. If
he only would have sent me, I'll be bound I'd have run Edgar down in no
time, instead of being always three months behind him, and now off the
scent.'
'No, but is he?'
'No, he has not given it up,' said Cherry. 'Mr. Allen did not know
whether they were gone to Melbourne or Adelaide, and he meant to try
both; and to go and see Fulbert and Mr. Audley.'
'One of them will stumble on him while Fernan is staring about with his
nose in the air,' said Lance.
'I am afraid he will only avoid them,' said Cherry sadly.
'And another certainty is that he will have taken some fresh alias,'
said Lance, 'while the Cacique is still hunting for Tom Wood. I bet on
Fulbert's finding him!'
'Has he parted from those Hungarians too?'
'Ay, there's the question! Should you like a prima-donna sister-in-law,
Robbie?'
'No, no, no--don't, Lance,' cried Cherry; 'Mr. Allen said Mademoiselle
Zoraya had--the horrid woman--thought much more of Edgar since--' she
could only pause, 'but he was far too sharp to be drawn in.'
'That I believe,' said Lance. 'Never fear, Cherry, we shall have
him some of these days, with a long beard, a longer fortune, and
the longest story--ah!' with a long sigh, 'if I wasn't an organist,
wouldn't I like to be a scamp!' The offensiveness of which word was
concealed by a sudden embrace of the Scamp dog, who was made to stand
on his hind legs, with his feet in Robina's hands, to display his
beautiful topaz eyes; and in the midst of the exhibition the door
opened, and John came slowly in, leaning on his stout stick.
'O John, I am glad! are you rested? Haven't you been asleep?'
'No; I think Wilmet will sleep if she is alone, so I am going to waste
no more time. Thank you,' as Robina put the cushion as he liked it, and
looked into his face with inquiry as she detected the well-known lines
that showed it was pain that made sleep hopeless. He smiled and gave a
little nod, by which she understood that she was to keep her discovery
to herself, and that it was not so severe but that he hoped to amuse it
away; and he began at once laughing with Geraldine.
'Well, Cherry, you see I've a rival to Lord Gerald.'
'I began to think I ought to offer him to you, though it would go to my
heart.'
'As if I would be put off with a slender little wand like that,' said
John. 'That's what I call a stick.'
'That's what I call a club,' retorted Cherry. 'I should want somebody
else to carry me if I took such a monster;' and they proceeded to a
sort of tilt between their two supporters.
'I won't have disrespect to my steadfast friend! She's made of olive
tree; her name is Olivia; and I believe Wilmet is jealous of her.'
'Indeed she is,' said Robin. 'When you go out all by yourself, and come
in hardly able to speak. That's what he went and did at Paris.'
'When one has got a wife and a sister, one breaks loose sometimes.
Here, you little Star, come and speak to me! Why, you were a
blackberry-gathering baby when I saw you last! Let me look at you now.
How old are you?'
'Eleven and a quarter,' breathed a little voice, as he gathered two
tiny hands into his, and a pair of porcelain blue eyes glanced up
for a moment out of the most dainty little oval chiselled face and
pink-and-white complexion, set in soft brown hair.
'And can eleven and a quarter hatch an egg from the Palais Royal? Not
from Bill's _nid d'avis_, but of a bird of larger growth,' as Stella,
with a half-breathed 'thank you' rosiness spreading over her face,
and lips raised for a kiss, beheld a beautiful blue egg, containing
implements of needlework.
John tried to talk to her over it, but could get nothing but
monosyllables, and blushes, and smiles, till he released her, and she
flew off, 'To show her egg to Theodore,' said Cherry. 'There's some
baking going on; and he never stirs from the kitchen while he can
handle the dough.'
'What a lovely little fairy it is!' said John; 'but is it wound up to
say nothing but yes or no?'
'She is awfully shy,' said Lance. 'Bill can't get as much out of her as
you have done.'
'She has not spoken a word since I have been in the room,' added Robin.
'She is a strangely silent child,' said Cherry. 'Sometimes I think
living so much with Theodore helps to make her so. She is quick at her
lessons, and is a perfect little book of reference; and will talk to
me gravely when we are alone; but it never seems to come into her head
to chatter. I'm sure Lance and Robin have talked more nonsense in this
hour than she has in six months.'
'I've a longing to hear Stella perpetrate a little nonsense,' said
Lance. 'When Angel and Bear are at home, and there is a good gabble,
there sits the child, her bright eyes smiling and gleaming, without a
word.'
A knock at the door. 'Mr. Lancelot, there's the Centry carriage in the
High Street.'
'There, you see what it is to be the lady's man!' said Lance, laughing
and running down.
'The Centry carriage means your cousin no more,' said John.
'No; she has let Centry to an old general with a large family. She said
she knew nothing about country poor, and hated county people; and her
mother likes nothing really but Brighton. I think she is quite right,'
said Cherry.
'What sort of people are they?'
'Oh! they do very well for the parish; but of course are nothing to
us. The General proses over the papers to Felix sometimes, and the
daughters have the loveliest eyes in the world.'
'That's Lance,' said Robina, laughing. 'Is he as tender-hearted as
ever?'
'Oh yes; or more so; but as long as the ladies _all_ have the most
beautiful faces that ever were seen, and his attentions are confined to
putting attractive advertisements into their parcels, I don't mind.'
'Lance is the most altered of you all,' said John.
'Dear Lance,' said Cherry, 'he has got back a great deal of his
sunshine--quite enough to be very delightful to us, though I doubt
whether he is always as bright to himself. There is a certain
_sehnsucht_ in the pieces of music he goes on improvising, that
sometimes makes me anxious.'
'You mean whether he has got into the right line,' said John.
'It's no use thinking about that; Felix could not do without him; and
he is fit for nothing else now,' said Cherry. 'I fancy when the new
organ comes, he will have a love in that and be happy.'
John was thoroughly one of themselves, more eager about Bexley affairs
than his wife, though she was thoroughly her affectionate self when
she joined them in the evening. She was too much tired, and too glad
to see their faces, to do more than repose in the sight; and it was
kinder to sing than to talk to either traveller. Even the next day,
when the ravages of the storm had been repaired, she had too much on
her own hands to have leisure to set Cherry to-rights; and if she
perceived any disuse of her pet economies, she acquiesced as if it
were to be quite expected, and no more worth a protest than matters
at the Bailey, whither she was going the next day. To be sure, there
was a kind of implied expectation that she would some day arrive for a
general rectification of what could just be tolerated under present
circumstances; but this was not a very pressing alarm.
The visit was over, the new home at Woolwich begun; and before many
weeks were over, it welcomed what father and aunt united in calling a
magnificent boy. Felix went with Mr. Harewood to the christening, and
found his sister a different creature, lovelier than he ever remembered
her. It seemed as if her happiness would have been almost too great
for this earth if John had only been as strong and well as he tried to
appear. But, after all, Felix really believed Wilmet would have been
lost without some one to nurse besides Christopher Underwood, dutifully
named after his two grandfathers.
Alda had actually come down for the day. It was the first time the
sisters had met since the funeral at Centry Park, and it had cost her
an effort, for her third daughter was but ten days older than Wilmet's
baby; and she could not withhold a slight plaint at the inequalities of
fate, in bestowing only girls where they were less welcome, while the
sex of Wilmet's magnificent boy could be of no possible consequence--a
remark which so exasperated not only the mother, but the father, as
greatly to amuse Felix.
Lady Vanderkist looked very thin and worn, as if much less recovered
than Wilmet, who had a beautiful fresh bloom, and was vigorous while
Alda was languid; but the brother and sister gathered that her
difficulties in coming down were far less caused by health than by
disregard to her private wishes and plans. Wilmet regretted that she
had not brought her little Mary; and she said she had hoped to do so,
but had found she could not have the horses, and did not like to take
her in a cab. She warmly invited Wilmet to town, but to Marilda's
house, not her own, except for mornings; and she apologized with real
vexation for not being able to offer Felix a bed, Adrian expected
someone that evening.
She was, of course, beautifully dressed; but Wilmet, in a delicate
pale-grey silk and Parisian rose-bud bonnet, was not the foil she used
to be; and the two sisters were still a very striking pair, though no
one would have guessed them to be twins, so worn did Alda look. She was
much kinder to Robina, too, and absolutely eager to hear of every one
at home.
But what struck Felix most was this. He had business in London, and
went back with her late in the afternoon. At the last moment, Wilmet,
wanting to cloak her sister, transferred her baby to his father, who,
as he held him, smiled to him with one of those little gestures of
tenderness, that express so very much because they are involuntary
and unconscious; and after the brother and sister were seated in the
fly, when they looked back with a last wave of the hand, Robina alone
answered it; the papa and mamma were wholly occupied in handing back
their treasure with a kiss on either side. Alda went on looking out,
and presently Felix saw her handkerchief stealing up to her eyes.
Perhaps she thought herself composed, for she turned round and said,
with an effort at a smile, 'That's what it is to have a boy! If Adrian
had ever looked like that!'
Felix charitably refrained from expressing his accordance with her
former sentiment, that it would have been all the same with a girl; and
indeed Alda had miscalculated her fortitude, for speaking brought a
flood of tears. Felix durst not look at her, and doubted whether to let
himself be conscious, but said at last, 'Caresses are no test. Many men
do not care for very young children.'
She shook her head; but as they arrived at the station she forced back
her tears, bit her lip, and drew forward her spangled veil; Felix
brought her a glass of water, and she walked along the platform with
him, holding his arm with a clasp that reminded him of the day he had
taken her home from Thomas Underwood's, but not a word did she say in
the train.
There was no carriage to meet her, and Felix could not resolve not to
see her home.
'Oh! thank you,' she said, more warmly than perhaps she had ever
thanked him before. 'I've always said one must come to you for
chivalry. But it is terribly out of the way; you will be late for the
dinner in Palace Gardens.'
'They must forgive me,' he said; 'and I should like to see the last of
you.' And as he sat by her in the hansom, he tried to give her a smile,
all affection and no pity.
'I wish there was time for you to go in. I want you to see little
Mary;' then presently, after an effort, 'You'll not speak of this,
Felix. I'm not strong yet; and I suppose daughters always are a
disappointment where there is a title.'
Felix supposed it too, and very kindly.
'Is there any chance of your coming to town again, soon?' she asked, 'I
am always at home and alone before three.'
'I do not think I shall--no--Lance is going up to the Handel festival,
and we cannot be away together.'
'Little Lance! I've not seen him since he used to have his head-aches.
But it is no use to think of it, we shall not be in town by that time,
the house is so dreadfully expensive. We shall not have one another
year. One gets sick of so much going out, and with all these little
girls it is time to begin to be prudent.'
Felix had seen enough of Sir Adrian Vanderkist's name on the turf
to think the sentence ominous; not that he was afraid of any great
crash, but expensive tastes did not accord with estates entailed and
the annual birth of a daughter; and he was greatly touched by Alda's
collapse of self-importance.
He was late, and Marilda forgave him easily, but Mrs. Underwood was
cross. No doubt she had fumed about poor relations having no right to
keep her waiting; and though there was something indefinable about
Felix that hindered her from manifesting this cause of displeasure,
his having been engaged in Alda's service did not pacify her. She
considered Lady Vanderkist as extremely ungrateful for not having
transported Marilda into those upper circles to which marriage had
introduced her, without taking into account that the obstacle lay, not
with Sir Adrian, who was ready enough to pay court to riches, but with
Marilda herself. That young lady was forming her own way in the world.
She had had enough of the Golden Venus line while, for her father's
sake, she submitted to it; and she did not choose to force herself into
fashionable circles. Country poor and the Lady Bountiful life, that
her mother would have accepted as 'comifo,' were distasteful to her;
but she had thrown her business abilities into the service of London
charities, and was there becoming every year a more considerable power.
Her business premises were in St. Matthew's district; and this made
her regard herself as a parishioner, and undertake no small amount of
service, of descriptions better known to the clergy-house than to her
mother, who set down to the accounts of the office many an hour spent
in Whittingtonian schools and alleys. At any rate, Marilda had become a
much more agreeable person, with more aplomb, more ease, and decidedly
less touch of vulgarity, since she had made her standfast, ceased to be
dragged at the wheels of the car of fashion, and become the managing
spirit of Kedge and Underwood, besides all that St Matthew's knew of.