Justice Thornycroft's Visit.
The days passed pleasantly enough: Lady Ellis made herself agreeable,
Mr. Lake was always so; and Clara nearly forgot her dream. On the
Friday morning, a hot but cloudy day, Mr. Lake went out to fish. Lady
Ellis and Fanny Chester strolled after him; and Mrs. Chester took the
opportunity to--as she phrased it to herself--"tackle" Clara. That
estimable and managing matron beguiled the young lady into the quiet
and secluded nursery--a room above, that the children were never
in--and there burst into a flood of tears over her work, the darning
of a tablecloth, and laid her unhappy case bare in the broad light of
day.
"Only another week after this, my dear Clara! If you would but consent
to stay! Think what my position will be should Lady Ellis quit me!"
Clara hesitated. Just the same instinct arose within her against
staying at Guild, that in the first instance, the evening before the
dream, had arisen against going to it. But she was gentle, young,
pliable; it seemed to her that refusal would be an unkind thing, and
she could not form her lips to say it.
"Would another week's stay make so very much difference to Lady Ellis,
think you, Mrs. Chester?"
"My dear good soul, it would make all the difference. She'll have
become accustomed to the place then, and will not care to leave it."
"Well--I will talk to Robert when he comes in."
"Of course--if you wish. But you know, Clara, the decision lies
entirely with you. He will do what you suggest. Now, my dear, do
picture to yourself the difference in our positions, yours and mine,
and be hard-hearted if you can. You with your happy home to return to,
your three servants, and your six-hundred a year; and I with my poor
pittance, my toiling life, and my heap of children!"
Mrs. Chester showered tears upon the tablecloth in her lap, and Clara
Lake felt that she was in for it.
"If you and Robert will remain two weeks with me from the day you
came, I shall be thankful.--My goodness me! who's that?"
Mrs. Chester alluded to the clatter of some steps on the stairs, and
the entrance of two ladies. Unfortunately for Clara Lake, they were
Mary and Margaret Jupp. In high spirits, and with their usual
volubility, they explained that they had a commission to execute at
Guild for their mother, which gave them the opportunity of paying a
flying call at Mrs. Chester's.
Not so very flying; for the young ladies took off their bonnets and
made themselves comfortable for an hour or two. Mrs. Chester--craftily
foreseeing what valuable allies these would prove--melted into tears
again, and renewed her request to Mrs. Lake. Abandoning pride and its
reticence, she openly explained what a boon to her, poor distressed
woman, it was that she was craving for, and avowed her poverty, and
the terms on which Lady Ellis had come to her. The Miss Jupps had
known all about it before, as Mrs. Chester knew, but she took
advantage of the situation.
They did the same. In their open good nature, and they had no other
motive, they urged Clara to the promise. On the one hand, there would
be the service to Mrs. Chester; on the other, a delightful holiday for
Mr. and Mrs. Lake. Borne along on the stream of persuasion, assailed
on all sides, Clara Lake felt that all power of resistance was taken
from her, and she yielded to the stream.
Yielded to the stream, and gave the promise.
The Miss Jupps were clapping their hands at the victory, when Mr. Lake
entered. Mrs. Chester explained the applause, by saying that dear
Clara had promised to remain a fortnight at Guild.
"Have you?" he asked, turning to his wife.
"Yes; I have been over-persuaded," she replied, with rather a sickly
smile.
The Miss Jupps applauded again, and a happy thought struck Mr. Lake;
or an unhappy one. You can decide which as the history goes on.
It had been in contemplation to throw out a bay window in their
dining-room at Katterley. A dark room and rather small, Mr. Lake and
his wife had both decided that it should be altered. This, as it
seemed to him, was the very time to set about the alteration. They had
thought of deferring it until spring, but it would be a good thing
over; and he intended to have some of his Yorkshire friends up for
Christmas. Approaching his wife, he spoke to her in a low tone.
"Begin the alteration now!--while we are here!" she exclaimed, in
surprise. "But, Robert! how long will they be over it?"
"About a fortnight. They may begin and end it in that time."
"Do you think so?"
"I'm sure so," he answered, carelessly and confidently. "I'll make
Peters put it in his contract. Why, Clara, what is it? just the
throwing out of a window? They might do it in a week if they chose.
But just as you like, my dear."
Again, hearing the conversation, Mrs. Chester and the Miss Jupps
joined in, taking wholly Mr. Lake's view of the matter. The only one
who spoke with an interested motive was Mrs. Chester: the others were
as honest as the day in what they said--honest in their inexperience.
And Clara was borne down once more in this as in the last, and agreed
to the alteration being begun.
"It won't be much more than putting in a fresh window frame," decided
Margaret Jupp.
No more shilly-shallyings now, no more questions of whether they
should go or not. Mr. Lake went over that same afternoon to Katterley,
in attendance on the Miss Jupps; saw the builder, Peters, and had the
work put in hand On the Saturday he and his wife both went over, to
return in the evening.
It was a sultry midday. Lady Ellis sat on the lawn under the shelter
of a spreading lime-tree, whose branches had been more redolent of
perfume a month or two ago than they were now.
The sky was cloudless, of a dark hot blue; the summer petals,
clustering on the flower-beds, opened themselves to the blistering
sun. Lady Ellis was alone with her netting. She wore a black silk gown
and little cap of net, all the more coquettish for its simplicity, its
plain lappets hanging behind. Her work proceeded slowly, and finally
she let it fall on her knee as one utterly weary.
"What a life it is here!" she murmured in self-commune. "Say what they
will, India is the paradise of women. Where means are in accordance;
servants, dress, carriages, horses, incessant gaiety, it may be
tolerable here; but where they are lacking--good heavens! how do
people manage to exist?"
"The world has gone hard with me," she resumed after a pause. "Two
years of luxury to be succeeded by stagnation. I'd never have married
Colonel Ellis--no, though he did give me a title--had I supposed his
money would go to his children and not to me."
Another pause, during which she jerked the netting-silk up and down.
"And this house? shall I stay in it? But for that young man, who is
rendering it bearable, I don't think I could. This managing
clergyman's widow, with her flock of young ones, she is a study from
nature--or art. Ah well, well! a month or two of it, and I shall go on
the wing again."
Closing her eyes, as if weary with the world's view, Lady Ellis
remained perfectly still, until the sound of rapidly advancing wheels
aroused her. Looking up, she saw a very handsome carriage, a sort of
mail phaeton, dash up to the gate. The gentleman driving got out and
assisted down a girl of fair beauty, who had sat by his side; the
groom having sprung round to the horses' heads from the seat behind.
They came up the path, and Lady Ellis looked at them. An exceedingly
fine man, of middle age, tall and upright, with a handsome face still,
and clear blue eyes. The girl was handsome too, she wore a beautiful
dress of training silk, and a hat with blue ribbons. We have met them
before--Mr. and Miss Thornycroft.
Looking about, as if seeking for the door of entrance, or for some one
to receive them, their eyes fell upon Lady Ellis. She could do nothing
less than advance to the rescue. Missing the turning that led by a
shady path to the door, they could see only windows. Mr. Thornycroft
raised his hat.
"I have the honour of speaking to Mrs. Chester?"
Lady Ellis laughed slightly at the supposition, and threw back her
head, as much as to say it was a ridiculous and not flattering
mistake.
"No, indeed. I am only staying here."
Mr. Thornycroft bowed in deprecation; Miss Thornycroft turned her head
slightly aside and took a look at the speaker. There was a slight
contraction on that young lady's queenly brow as she turned it back
again.
Out of an upper window, surveying the new guests, surveying the
carriage being driven away by the groom to the nearest inn, was the
head of Mrs. Chester; her cap off, her hair untidy, a cross look in
her wondering eyes. Who were they, these people, interrupting her at
that unseasonable hour? Strange to say, the truth did not strike her.
They were underneath the windows, and she could take her survey at
leisure.
Lady Ellis, quite capable of doing the honours of reception, ushered
them into the drawing-room through the open window. At the same moment
Anna Chester came forward in her poor frock and with her sweet face.
Mr. Thornycroft had laid a card on the table, and she glanced at it in
passing. Her manners were calm, self-possessed, gentle; an essentially
ladylike girl in spite of the frock.
"I will tell mamma that you are here," she said, when they were
seated; and she quitted the room again.
"Had I seen that young lady first, I should not have committed the
mistake of taking you for Mrs. Chester," spoke Mr. Thornycroft in his
gallantry.
Lady Ellis smiled. "That young lady is not Mrs. Chester's daughter,
however. Mrs. Chester's children are considerably younger."
Anna meanwhile was going upstairs. Mrs. Chester, doing something to
the inside of a bed, had her black dress covered with fluff, and her
hair also. She turned sharply round when Anna entered.
"Mamma, it is Justice Thornycroft."
What with the startling announcement--for Mrs. Chester took in the
news at once--and what with the recollection of her own state of
attire, Mrs. Chester turned her irritability upon Anna. It was
provoking thus to be interrupted at her very necessary work.
"_Justice_ Thornycroft! What in the world possesses you to call the
man that, Anna Chester?"
"Mrs. Copp called him so in her letter to me, mamma."
"Mrs. Copp's a fool," retorted the bewildered lady. "Justice
Thornycroft! One would think you had been bred in a wood. Who do you
suppose uses those obsolete terms now? What brings him here today?"
She put the question in a sharp, exacting tone, just as if it were
Anna's business to answer it, and Anna's fault that he had come. Anna
quietly went to a closet and took out Mrs. Chester's best gown.
"To come on a Saturday! Nothing was ever so unreasonable," groaned
Mrs. Chester. "Here's all the flock and the down out of the bed, and I
covered with it. Look at my crape! Look at my hair! I took off my cap
because those bothering lappets got in my way."
"You will have your gown changed in two minutes, mamma, and I will
smooth your hair."
Mrs. Chester jerked the gown out of Anna's hands. One of those active,
restless women, who cannot bear to be still while anything is done for
them, was she; and began to put it on herself, grumbling all the
while.
"Nothing in the world ever happened so contrary. Of all things, I
wanted, if these Thornycrofts did come over, to keep them from Lady
Ellis. Once let her get an inkling of their business, and she'd be off
the next day. And there they are, shut up with her. I dare say she
knows it all by now."
"Oh, mamma, it is not likely Mr. Thornycroft would speak of it to
her."
"Indeed! That's your opinion, is it? Give me the hair-brush."
She brushed away at her hair, Anna standing meekly by with a clean cap
ready to put on. Mrs. Chester continued her catalogue of grievances.
"It is the worst day they could have come. All things are at sixes and
sevens on a Saturday. The children are dirty, and the plate's dirty,
and the servants are dirty. They must have luncheon, I suppose--or
dinner, for that's what it will be to them, coming this long drive.
Mr. Thornycroft can possess no sense to take me by storm in this
manner. Anna, I hope you did not proclaim to them that you were a
daughter of the house," she added, the thought suddenly striking her.
Anna's face flushed. She had spoken of Mrs. Chester as "mamma," and
when she went in Lady Ellis had said, "This is Miss Chester." Under
the stern gaze now bent upon her, poor Anna felt as if she had
committed some not-to-be-atoned-for crime.
"In that wretched frock of yours! You have not the least sense of
shame in you, Anna. Over and over again I have said you were born to
disgrace me. Why could you not have passed yourself off for an upper
maid or nursery governess, or something of that sort? Or else kept out
of the way altogether."
It never struck Anna Chester that the reproach was unmerited; it did
not occur to her to petition for a better frock, since that one was so
shabby. She had a better, kept for Sundays and rare holidays; to put
it on on a week-day, unless commanded to do so, would have been an
astounding inroad on the order of things. Reared to self-sacrifice and
privation, that sacrifice and privation that a poor clergyman--a good,
loving, but needy gentleman, must practise who has the care of those
poorer than himself--Anna Chester had lived but to love and obey. When
her father gained his living (that looked so wealthy in prospect), and
the new wife--this present Mrs. Chester, now bending her eyes
condemningly upon her--came home close upon it, Anna's habit of
submission was but slightly changed. Formerly she had yielded wholly
to her father in her intense respect and love; now she, had to yield
to her stepmother in exacted, unquestioning obedience. She never
thought of repining or rebelling. Brought up to think herself of no
earthly consequence, as one whose sole mission in life it was to be
useful to others, doing all she could for every one and ignoring self,
it may be questioned if any young girl's spirit had ever been brought
to the same state of perfect discipline. Never in her whole life had
Anna rebelled at a request or resisted a command; to be told to do a
thing was to obey. But for her naturally sweet temper, her utter want
of selfishness, and the humble estimation imparted to her of herself,
this could hardly have been. She stood there now, listening
repentantly to the reproaches, the disparaging words of her second
mother, and accepted them as her right. That lady, a very pharisee in
her own opinion, gave a finishing twitch to her widow's cap, to her
collar, to the "weepers" on her wrists, took the broad hem-stitched
handkerchief that Anna held in readiness for her, and turned to leave
the room.
"What shall I do now, mamma?" came the meek question.
"Do?--ay to be sure," continued Mrs. Chester, recalled by the words;
"why, you must go to the kitchen and see what sort of a lunch can be
sent up. I had ordered the cold fowl and ham with salad, and the cold
mutton for you and the children. The mutton must be hashed now; very
nicely, mind; you can cut it up yourself: and the veal cutlet that was
intended in for dinner, must be dressed with herbs, tell Nanny; and
some young potatoes. The tart can come in and the cream, and--and that
will do. I shall make it our dinner, apologizing privately to Lady
Ellis for the early hour, and call it luncheon to the Thornycrofts."
"Are the children to be at table?"
"Certainly not. What are you thinking of? You must keep them with you.
The miserable thing is that Elizabeth went back with the Lakes this
morning; she's so respectable a servant to be seen behind one's chair
in waiting. Tell Dinah to put on her merino gown, and make herself
tidy."
Away went Mrs. Chester to the drawing-room, the cares of the many
orders and contrivances on her shoulders, and away went Anna to the
kitchen to see to the execution of them, to aid in their preparation,
to keep in quietness by her side (an exceedingly difficult task) the
noisy children. Little did Mr. Thornycroft, bowing to the comely and
well-dressed widow lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Chester, think
of the trouble the advent of himself and his daughter was causing.
Mrs. Chester had accused him of possessing no sense. He possessed
plenty, and also tact. As Mrs. Chester remained silent as to the
object of his visit, ignoring it apparently altogether; rather
boasting of how glad she was to make their acquaintance, to see them
there for a day's change; he said nothing of it either. Mrs. Chester
was on thorns though all the while, and talked rather at random. Lady
Ellis was content to sit displaying her charms, and to put in a word
or a smile here and there. Mr. Thornycroft said something about going
to the hotel for luncheon.
"Oh, but surely you will remain and take luncheon with me?" said Mrs.
Chester, with as much _empressement_ as though she had a larder full
of good things to send up.
"Would you prefer that we should do so?" asked Mr. Thornycroft.
He put the question quite simply. Luncheon and other meals were
provided for so munificently in his own house, it did not occur to him
that his remaining could cause embarrassment in Mrs. Chester's. That
lady answered that it would give her great pain if they departed, and
Mary Anne Thornycroft took off her hat. Turning to place it on a
side-table, she saw a very fine piece of coral there, shaped something
like a basket.
"Oh, papa, look at this!" she exclaimed. "It must be the fellow-piece
to the one at Mrs. Connaught's."
"What Connaughts are those?" asked Lady Ellis, briskly. "I knew a Mrs.
Connaught once."
This Mrs. Connaught, who had lived about two years at Coastdown,
proved to be the same. Lady Ellis noted down the address in her pocket
case.
Later, when all had dispersed, Mrs. Chester seized on her opportunity.
"I think we can have a few minutes alone now, Mr. Thornycroft, if you
wish to speak to me. May I flatter myself that your visit today is to
make arrangements for placing your daughter under my charge?"
"Madam, I came today not to make arrangements,--that would be
premature,--but to ascertain if possible whether such arrangements
would be suitable," he replied in his open manner. "I do wish very
much to find an eligible home for my daughter, where she may complete
her education and be happy. Captain and Mrs. Copp,--some connexion of
yours, I believe?"
"Of my late husband's," interposed Mrs. Chester, quickly, as though
not willing to claim connexion with Captain and Mrs. Copp; "that is,
of his first wife's. I don't know them at all."
"Ah, indeed; very worthy people they are. Well, madam, Mrs. Copp spoke
to me of you; The widow, she said, of the Reverend James Chester, of
Guild. I had some slight knowledge of him in early days. You were
intending to take some pupils on the plan of a private family, Mrs.
Copp said, and she thought it might suit Miss Thornycroft."
"Yes," replied Mrs. Chester, scarcely knowing what to reply in her
uncertainty of plans, "I did think of it."
"And do you wish still to carry it out?"
"Yes, oh yes; if I could get the pupils."
"I had better tell you what I require for my daughter," observed Mr.
Thornycroft. "She must be in a family where the habits and
arrangements are essentially good; not the scanty, coarse provision
generally pertaining to a school. She must be well waited on, well
fed, well treated; her companions must be the daughters of gentlemen;
her education must be continued on the same liberal scale as that on
which it has been hitherto conducted. And I should wish her to get
from the lady principal that good, conscientious, careful training
that is rarely given except by a mother."
"Is she well advanced for her age? In music, for instance?" asked Mrs.
Chester, after a pause.
"Very well. She plays the harp and piano, sings, and has begun
harmony. German and French she speaks well; but, all that you can
inquire into yourself. In saying that her education must be liberal,
the word is sufficiently comprehensive."
"And for these advantages what sum would you be prepared to pay?"
"Whatever was asked me, madam, in reason--in reason, of course. I am
at my ease in the world in regard to money, and shall certainly not
spare it on my only daughter."
Mrs. Chester's mouth watered. She was sure she had heard of such a
thing as _three_ hundred a year being asked in a case like this, and
given. Time enough for terms, though, yet.
"Miss Thornycroft has hitherto been educated at home, I believe?"
"She has; but she is getting beyond the control of her governess, Miss
Derode, and I think she would be better at school for the next year or
two. A good soul, poor Miss Derode, as ever lived, and thoroughly
accomplished; but Mary Anne has begun to laugh at her instead of
obeying her. That won't do, you know."
Mrs. Chester sat twirling the crape of her dress between her fingers
in thought. Presently she looked at Mr. Thornycroft.
"Have you thought of any sum that might be suitable--for the
advantages you require?"
"I should think about two hundred a year. I would give that."
"Very fair," murmured Mrs. Chester. "Of course, any little extras--but
that can be left for the present. I should like much to take her."
"For this sum I should expect commensurate advantages," continued Mr.
Thornycroft, in his straightforward, candid way. "At present I do not
see--you will forgive me, madam--that you are at all prepared for such
a pupil. You have no pupils, I think?"
"Not yet."
"And I should wish my daughter to have companions, young ladies of her
own age--just three or four, to reconcile her to being away from home,
the notion which she does not at all relish. A resident governess
would also be essential--unless indeed the lady superintendent devoted
her whole time to them."
"Yes, yes; a resident governess, of course," mechanically answered
Mrs. Chester.
What more might have been said was arrested by the entrance of the
youngest child, his pinafore and mouth smeared with treacle.
Clamouring for bread and treacle, Anna had given him a slice to keep
him quiet. In the midst of eating it he had broken away, ungrateful
boy, and rushed into the presence of Mrs. Chester. Dinah, who had not
got on her merino gown yet, or made herself tidy, came and carried
him, kicking, away again. Mrs. Chester was depressed by the accident,
and sat subdued.
"I think, madam, that if you carry your intention out, the better way
will be for you to write to me as soon as you are ready to receive
pupils," said Mr. Thornycroft. "I will then consider the matter
further, and decide whether or not to send you my daughter. There is
no great hurry; Miss Derode has not left us."
"You will not promise her to me?"
"I cannot do that, Mrs. Chester," was the answer, given with prompt
decision. "Until I see that arrangements would be suitable, that the
home would be in all respects desirable, I can say no more."
Mrs. Chester sighed inwardly, and felt from that moment she must
resign hope--Miss Thornycroft and her liberal pay would not be for
her. But she suffered nothing of this to appear, some latent
aspiration might be lingering yet, and she rose up gaily and shook Mr.
Thornycroft's hand in a warmth of satisfaction, and said the matter,
left so, was all that was to be desired.
And then they took the luncheon--Mrs. Chester, Lady Ellis, Mr. and
Miss Thornycroft. Some fruit was set out on the lawn afterwards, and
coffee was to follow. Lady Ellis did the honours of the garden to Mr.
Thornycroft, nothing loth; walking up this path with him, down that;
halting to sit on this rustic bench, entering that shady bower. A very
charming woman, thought Justice Thornycroft.
Miss Thornycroft was left to the companionship of Mrs. Chester. And
that young lady, with the freedom she was accustomed to make known her
wishes at home, asked that Anna Chester might join them.
"I promised Mrs. Copp to take word back of her welfare, and what sort
of a girl she was," said Mary Anne. "How can I do so unless I see
her?"
With outward alacrity and inward wrath, Mrs. Chester disappeared for a
moment, and sent a private telegram to Anna that she was to dress
herself and come out. In five minutes the girl was with them. She came
with the coffee. Her black silk dress (made out of one of Mrs.
Chester's old ones) was pretty; her face was flushed with its refined,
delicate colour, her brown eyes sparkled with their soft brilliancy,
her chestnut hair was smooth and pretty. Essentially a lady was Anna
now. Justice Thornycroft, coming up then for the coffee with Lady
Ellis, took her hands in his and held her before him.
"My dear, I can trace in you a great likeness to your father. It is
just the same refined, patient face."
Ere the words were well spoken, the brown eyes were wet, the sweet
lips were quivering. The loss of her father, so intensely loved, had
been Anna's great grief in life. A chance reminiscence, such as this,
was more than she could bear.
"Did you know papa, sir?" she asked, looking bravely up through the
tears.
"I knew a little of him many years ago, and I once or twice saw your
mother. You must come and pay us a visit at Coastdown."
A glad light in the gentle face.
"I should like it very much, sir. Mrs. Copp has already invited me to
go to them; but I cannot be spared."
"You must be spared; I should like you to come," spoke Mary Anne,
imperiously, with the tone of one who is not accustomed to have her
slightest wish disputed. But the waiting coffee and Mrs. Chester
turned off the subject.
The clock was striking five when the punctual groom appeared with the
carriage. Down it came with grand commotion, its fine horses fresh
after their rest, and stopped at the gate. The whole party escorted
Mr. and Miss Thornycroft to it: Mrs. Chester and Anna, the children,
tidy now and on tolerable behaviour, Lady Ellis and her fascination.
Promises of future friendly intercourse were exchanged. Mr.
Thornycroft gave a positive undertaking to drive over again and spend
another day, and they took their places in the carriage. Away went the
horses in a canter, rather restive; the justice, restraining them, had
enough to do to raise his hat in farewell salutation; the groom had a
run ere he could gain his seat behind. And they started on their long
drive of three-and-twenty miles.
At the same moment, appearing from an opposite quarter, came Mr. and
Mrs. Lake and Elizabeth on their return from Katterley. They were near
enough to see the carriage go swiftly off, but not to distinguish its
inmates. Mrs. Chester and the rest waited for them at the gate.
"Have you had visitors, Penelope?" asked Mr. Lake.
"Yes. And very cross and contrary I felt it that you were not here,"
continued Mrs. Chester, who was proud of her good-looking brother. "It
is Mr. Thornycroft and his daughter--they have been with us ever since
twelve o'clock. To think that you were away! I am sure Clara would
have liked Miss Thornycroft."
To think that they were away!--that the two ladies spoken of did not
meet! One of them at least would deem it a chance missed, a singular
fact, in the years to come.