Carriston Towers,
_27th October_.
[Sidenote: _Carriston Towers_]
Dearest Mamma,--I shall never again arrive at a place at three o'clock
in the afternoon; it is perfectly ghastly! As we drove up to the
door--it was pouring with rain--I felt that I should not like anything
here. It does look such a large grey pile: and how cold and draughty
that immense stone hall must be in winter! There were no nice big sofas
about, or palms, or lots of papers and books; nothing but suits of
armour and great marble tables, looking like monuments. I was taken
down endless passages to the library, and there left such a long time
that I had got down an old _Punch_ and was looking at it, and trying to
warm my feet, when Lady Carriston came in with Adeline. I remember how
I hated playing with her years ago; she always patronised me, being
three years older, and she is just the same now, only both their backs
have got longer and their noses more arched, and they are the image of
each other. Adeline seems very suppressed; Lady Carriston does not--her
face is carved out of stone. They look very well bred and respectable,
and badly dressed; nothing rustled nicely when they walked, and they
had not their nails polished, or scent on, or anything like that; but
Lady Carriston had a splendid row of pearls round her throat, on the
top of her rough tweed dress and linen collar.
They pronounce their words very distinctly, in an elevated kind of way,
and you feel as if icicles were trickling down your back, and you can't
think of a _thing_ to say. When we had got to the end of your neuralgia
and my journey, there was such a pause! and I suppose they thought I
was an idiot, and were only too glad to get me off to my room, where
Adeline took me, and left me, hoping I had everything I wanted, and
saying tea was at five in the blue drawing-room. And there I had to
stay while Agnès unpacked. It was dull! It is a big room, and the fire
had only just been lit. The furniture is colourless and ugly, and,
although it is all comfortable and correct, there are no books about,
except "Romola" and "Middlemarch" and some Carlyle and John Stuart
Mill, and I did not feel that I could do with any of that just then. So
there I sat twiddling my thumbs for more than an hour, and Agnès did
make such a noise, opening and shutting drawers, but at last I
remembered a box of caramels in my dressing-bag, and it was better
after that.
[Sidenote: _A Dull Hour_]
Agnès had put out my white cashmere for tea, and at five I started to
find my way to the blue drawing-room. The bannisters are so broad and
slippery--the very things for sliding on. I feel as if I should start
down them one day, just to astonish Adeline, only I promised you I
would be good. Well, when I got to the drawing-room, the party--about
twelve--had assembled. The old Earl had been wheeled in from his rooms:
he wears a black velvet skull-cap and a stock but he has a splendid
and distinguished old face. If I were he, I would not have such a dull
daughter-in-law to live with me as Lady Carriston is, even if my son
was dead. The boy, Charlie Carriston, was there too; he does look a
goose. He is like those pictures in the _Punch_ that I was looking at,
where the family is so old that their chins and foreheads have gone. He
is awfully afraid of his mother. There were two or three elderly
pepper-and-salt men, and that Trench cousin, who is a very High Church
curate (you know Aunt Mary told us about him), and there are a Sir
Samuel and Lady Garnons, with an old maid daughter, and Adeline's
German governess, who has stayed on as companion, and helped to pour
out the tea.
[Sidenote: _A Modern Grandison_]
The conversation was subdued; about politics and Cabinet Ministers, and
pheasants and foxes, and things of that kind, and no one said anything
that meant anything else, as they did at Nazeby, or were witty like
they were at Tournelle, and the German governess said "Ach" to
everything, and Lady Garnons and Miss Garnons knitted all the time,
which gave their voices the sound of "one-two-three" when they spoke,
although they did not really count. No one had on tea-gowns--just a
Sunday sort of clothes. I don't know how we should have got through tea
if the coffee-cream cakes had not been so good. The old Earl called me
to him when he had finished, and talked so beautifully to me; he paid
me some such grand old-fashioned compliments, and his voice sounds as
if he had learnt elocution in his youth. There is not a word of slang
or anything modern; one quite understands how he was able to wake up
the House of Lords before his legs gave way. It seems sad that such a
ninny as Charlie should succeed him. I feel proud of being related to
him, but I shall never think of Lady Carriston except as a distant
cousin. Both Charlie and Adeline are so afraid of her that they hardly
speak.
I shan't waste any of my best frocks here, so I made Agnès put me on
the old blue silk for the evening. She was disgusted. At dinner I sat
between Charlie and one of the pepper-and-salts--he is a M.P. They are
going to shoot partridges to-morrow; and I don't know what we shall do,
as there has been no suggestion of our going out to lunch.
After dinner we sat in the yellow drawing-room; Lady Carriston and Lady
Garnons talked in quite an animated way together about using their
personal influence to suppress all signs of Romanism in the services of
the Church. They seemed to think they would have no difficulty in
stopping it. They are both Low Church, Miss Garnons told me, but she
herself held quite different views. Then she asked me if I did not
think the Reverend Ernest Trench had a "soulful face," so pure and
abstracted that merely looking at him gave thoughts of a higher life. I
said No; he reminded me of a white ferret we had once, and I hated
curates. She looked perfectly sick at me and did not take the trouble
to talk any more, but joined Adeline, who had been winding silk with
Fräulein Schlarbaum for a tie she is knitting. So I tried to read the
_Contemporary Review_, but I could not help hearing Lady Carriston
telling Lady Garnons that she had always brought up Adeline and Charlie
so carefully that she knew their inmost thoughts. (She did not mention
Cyril, who is still at Eton.)
"Yes, I assure you, Georgina," she said, "my dear children have never
had a secret from me in their innocent lives."
[Sidenote: _The Duke's Shirt_]
When the men came in from the dining-room, one of the old fellows came
and talked to me, and I discovered he is the Duke of Lancashire. He is
ordinary looking, and his shirts fit so badly--that nasty sticking-out
look at the sides, and not enough starch. I would not have shirts that
did not fit if I were a Duke, would you? They are all staying here for
the Conservative meeting to-morrow evening at Barchurch. These three
pepper-and-salts are shining lights in this county, I have gathered.
Lady Carriston seems very well informed on every subject. It does not
matter if she is talking to Mr. Haselton or Sir Andrew Merton, (the two
M.P.'s), or the Duke, who is the M.F.H., or the curate; she seems to
know much more about politics, and hunting, and religion than they do.
It is no wonder she can see her children's thoughts!
At half-past ten we all said good-night. The dear old Earl does not
come in from the dining-room; he is wheeled straight to his rooms, so I
did not see him. Miss Garnons and Adeline both looked as if they could
hardly bear to part with their curate, and finally we got upstairs, and
now I must go to bed.--Best love, from your affectionate daughter,
Elizabeth.
_P.S._--Everything is kept up with great state here; there seems to be
a footman behind every one's chair at dinner.
Carriston Towers,
_28th October_.
[Sidenote: _Charlie's Dissimulation_]
Dearest Mamma,--I was so afraid of being late for breakfast this
morning that I was down quite ten minutes too soon, and when I got into
the breakfast-room I found Charlie alone, mixing himself a brandy
cocktail. He wanted to kiss me, because he said we were cousins, but I
did not like the smell of the brandy, so I would not let him. He made
me promise that I would come out with him after breakfast, before they
started to shoot, to look at his horses; then we heard some one coming,
and he whisked the cocktail glass out of sight in the neatest way
possible. At breakfast he just nibbled a bit of toast, and drank a
glass of milk, and Lady Carriston kept saying to him, "My dear, dear
boy, you have no appetite," and he said, "No, having to read so hard as
he did at night took it away."
The Duke seemed a little annoyed that there was not a particular
chutney in his curried kidneys, which I thought very rude in another
person's house; and, as it was Friday, the Reverend Mr. Trench refused
every dish in a loud voice, and then helped himself to a whole sole at
the side-table.
The food was lovely. Miss Garnons did not eat a thing, and Lady Garnons
was not down nor, of course, the old Earl.
After breakfast we meandered into the hall. Smoking is not allowed
anywhere except in the billiard-room, which is down yards and yards of
passages, so as not to let the smell get into the house. We seemed to
be standing about doing nothing, so I said I would go up and get my
boots on, or probably there would not be time to go with Charlie to see
his horses before they started.
You should have seen the family's three faces! Charlie's silly jaw
dropped, Adeline's eyebrows ran up to her hair almost, while Lady
Carriston said in an icy voice: "We had not thought of visiting the
stables so early."
Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous, Mamma? Just as though I
had said something improper! I was furious with Charlie, he had not
even the pluck to say he had asked me to go; but I paid him out. I just
said, "I concluded you had consulted Lady Carriston before asking me to
go with you, or naturally I should not have suggested going to get
ready." He did look a stupid thing, and bolted at once; but Lady
Carriston saw I was not going to be snubbed, so she became more polite,
and presently asked me to come and see the aviary with her.
[Sidenote: _The Slip of Paper_]
As we walked down the armour gallery she met a servant with a telegram,
and while she stopped to read it I looked out of one of the windows.
The wall is so thick they are all in recesses, and Charlie passed
underneath, his head just level with the open part. The moment he saw
me he fished out a scrap of paper from his pocket and pressed it into
my hand, and said, "Don't be a mug this time," and was gone before I
could do anything. I did not know what to do with the paper, so I had
to slip it up my sleeve, as with these skirts one hasn't a pocket, and
I did feel so mad at having done a thing in that underhand way.
The aviary is such a wonderful place, there seem to be birds of every
kind, and the parrakeets do make such a noise. There are lots of palms
here and seats, but it is not just an ideal place to stay and talk in,
as every creature screams so that you can hardly hear yourself speak.
However, Miss Garnons and Mr. Trench did not seem to think so, as,
while Lady Carriston stopped to say, "Didysy, woodsie, poppsie,
dicksie," to some canaries, I turned a corner to see some owls, and
there found them holding hands and kissing (the White Ferret and Miss
Garnons I mean, of course, not the owls).
[Sidenote: _The Mysteries of Religion_]
They must have come in at the other door, and the parrots' noises had
prevented them from hearing us coming. You never saw two people so
taken aback. They simply jumped away from one another. Mr. Trench got
crimson up to his white eyelashes, and coughed in a nervous way, while
poor Miss Garnons at once talked nineteen to the dozen about the
"darling little owlies," and never let go my arm until she had got me
aside, when she at once began explaining that she hoped I would not
misinterpret anything I had seen; that of course it might look odd to
one who did not understand the higher life, but there were mysteries
connected with her religion, and she hoped I would say nothing about
it. I said she need not worry herself. She is quite twenty-eight, you
know, Mamma, so I suppose she knows best; but I should hate a religion
that obliged me to kiss White Ferret curates in a parrot-house,
shouldn't you?
Lady Carriston detests Mr. Trench, but as he is a cousin she has to be
fairly civil to him, and they always get on to ecclesiastical subjects
and argue when they speak; it is the greatest fun to hear them. They
walked on ahead and left me with Miss Garnons until we got back to the
hall.
By this time the guns had all started, so we saw no more of them. Then
Adeline suggested that she and I should bicycle in the Park, which has
miles of lovely road (she is not allowed out of the gates by herself),
so at last I got up to my room, and there, as I was ringing the bell
for Agnès, Charlie's piece of paper fell out on the floor. I had
forgotten all about it. Wasn't it a mercy it did not drop while I was
with Lady Carriston? This was all it was: "Come down to tea
half-an-hour earlier; shall sham a hurt wrist to be back from shooting
in time. Charlie."
I could not help laughing, although I was cross at his impertinence--in
taking for granted that I would be quite ready to do whatever he
wished. I threw it in the fire, and, of course, I shan't go down a
moment before five. Adeline has just been in to see why I am so long
getting ready.--Good-bye, dear Mamma, love from your affectionate
daughter, Elizabeth.
Carriston Towers,
_Saturday_.
[Sidenote: _An Anchor in Life_]
Dear Mamma,--Oh! what a long day this has been! But I always get so
muddled if I don't go straight on, that I had better finish telling you
about Friday first. Well, while Adeline and I were bicycling, she told
me she thought I should grow quite pretty if only my hair was arranged
more like hers--she has a jug-handle chignon--and if I had less of that
French look. But she supposed I could not help it, having had to spend
so much time abroad. She said I should find life was full of
temptations, if I had not an _anchor_. I asked her what that was, and
she said it was something on which to cast one's soul. I don't see how
that could be an anchor--do you, Mamma? because it is the anchor that
gets cast, isn't it? However, she assured me that it was, so I asked
her if she had one herself, and she said she had, and it was her great
reverence for Mr. Trench, and they were secretly engaged! and she hoped
I would not mention it to anybody; and presently, when he joined us,
would I mind riding on, as she had so few chances to talk to him? That
she would not for the world deceive her mother, but there were
mysteries connected with her religion which Lady Carriston could not
understand, being only Low Church. But when they saw a prospect of
getting married they would tell her about it; if they did it now, she
would persuade the Duke not to give Mr. Trench the Bellestoke living,
which he has half promised him, and so make it impossible for them to
marry.
I asked her if Mr. Trench was Miss Garnons' anchor too? and she seemed
quite annoyed, so I suppose their religion has heaps of different
mysteries; but I don't see what all that has got to do with telling her
mother, do you? And I should rather turn Low Church than have to kiss
Mr. Trench, anyway. He came from a side path and joined us, and as soon
as I could I left them; but they picked me up again by the inner gate,
just as I was going in to lunch, after having had a beautiful ride. The
Park is magnificent.
[Sidenote: _Putting on the Clock_]
At lunch I sat by the old Earl. He said my hair was a sunbeam's home,
and that my nose was fit for a cameo; he is perfectly charming.
Afterwards we went _en bloc_ to the library, and the Garnons began to
knit again. Nobody says a word about clothes; they talked about the
Girls' Friendly Society, and the Idiot Asylum, and the Flannel Union,
and Higher Education, and whenever Lady Garnons mentions any one that
Lady Carriston does not know all about, she always says, "Oh! and _who
was_ she?" And then, after thoroughly sifting it, if she finds that the
person in question does not belong to any of the branches of the family
that she is acquainted with, she says "Society is getting very mixed
now." Presently about six more people arrived. There seems to be
nothing but these ghastly three o'clock trains here. All the new lot
were affected by it, just as I was. There were endless pauses.
I would much rather scream at Aunt Maria for a whole afternoon than
have to spend it with Lady Carriston. I am sure she and Godmamma would
be the greatest friends if they could meet. When I got up to my room I
was astonished to find it was so late. I had not even scrambled into my
clothes when the clock struck five. I had forgotten all about Charlie
and his scrap of paper, but when I got into the blue drawing-room,
there he was, with his wrist bandaged up, and no signs of tea about.
What do you think the horrid boy had done, Mamma? Actually had the big
gold clock in my room put on! There were ten chances to one, he said,
against my looking at my watch, and he knew I would not come down
unless I thought it was five. I was so cross that I wanted to go
upstairs again, but he would not let me; he stood in front of the door,
and there was no good making a fuss, so I sat down by the fire.
He said he had seen last night how struck his Grandfather had been with
me, and he did want me to get round him, as he had got into an awful
mess, and had not an idea how he was going to get out of it, unless I
helped him. I said I was sorry, but I really did not see how I could do
anything, and that he had better tell his Mother, as she adored him.
[Sidenote: _Cora's Necklace_]
He simply jumped with horror at the idea of telling his Mother. "Good
Lord!" he said, "the old girl would murder me," which I did not think
very respectful of him. Then he fidgeted, and humm'd and haw'd for such
a time that tea had begun to come in before I could understand the
least bit what the mess was; but it was something about a Cora de la
Haye, who dances at the Empire, and a diamond necklace, and how he was
madly in love with her, and intended to marry her, but he had lost such
a lot of money at Goodwood, that no one knew about, as he was supposed
not to have been there, that he could not pay for the necklace unless
his grandfather gave him a lump sum to pay his debts at Oxford with,
and that what he wanted was for me to get round the old Earl to give
him this money, and then he could pay for Cora de la Haye's necklace.
He showed me her photo, which he keeps in his pocket. It is just like
the ones in the shops in the Rue de Rivoli that Mademoiselle never
would let me stop and look at in Paris. I am sure Lady Carriston can't
have been having second sight into her children's thoughts lately!
Just then Lady Garnons and some of the new people came in, and he was
obliged to stop. We had a kind of high tea, as the Conservative meeting
was to be at eight, and it is three-quarters of an hour's drive into
Barchurch, and there was to be a big supper after. Lady Carriston did
make such a fuss over Charlie's wrist. She wanted to know was it badly
sprained, and did it ache much, and was it swollen, and he had the
impudence to let her almost cry over him, and pretended to wince when
she touched it! As we were driving in to the meeting he sat next me in
the omnibus, and kept squeezing my arm all the time under the rug,
which did annoy me so, that at last I gave his ankle a nasty kick, and
then he left off for a little. He has not the ways of a gentleman, and
I think he had better marry his Cora, and settle down into a class more
suited to him than ours; but _I_ shan't help him with his Grandfather.
[Sidenote: _Politics and Principle_]
Have you ever been to a political meeting, dear Mamma? It is funny! All
these old gentlemen sit up on a platform and talk such a lot. The Duke
put in "buts" and "ifs" and "thats" over and over again when he could
not think of a word, and you weren't a bit the wiser when he had
finished, except that it was awfully wrong to put up barbed wire; but I
can't see what that has to do with politics, can you? One of the
pepper-and-salts did speak nicely, and so did one of the new
people--quite a youngish person; but they all had such a lot of words,
when it would have done just as well if they had simply said that of
course our side was the right one--because trade was good when we were
in, and that there are much better people Conservatives than Radicals.
Anyway, no one stays a Radical when he gets to be his own father, as it
would be absurd to cut off one's nose to spite one's face--don't you
think so, Mamma? So it is nonsense talking so much.
One or two rude people in the back called out things, but no one paid
any attention; and at last, after lots of cheering, we got into the
omnibus again. I _was_ hungry. At supper we sat more or less anyhow,
and I happened to be next the youngish person who spoke. I don't know
his name, but I know he wasn't any one very grand, as Lady Carriston
said, before they arrived in the afternoon, that things were changing
dreadfully; that even the Conservative party was being invaded by
people of no family; and she gave him two fingers when she said "How
d'ye do?" But if he is nobody, I call it very nice of him to be a
Conservative, and then he won't have to change afterwards when he gets
high up. The old Earl asked me what I thought of it all, so I told him;
and he said that it was a great pity they could not have me at the head
of affairs, and then things would be arranged on a really simple and
satisfactory basis.
After breakfast this morning most of the new people went, and the Duke
and the pepper-and-salts; Lady Carriston drove Lady Garnons over to see
her Idiot Asylum. They were to lunch near there, so we had our food in
peace without them, and you would not believe the difference there
was! Everyone woke up: Old Sir Samuel Garnons, who had not spoken once
that I heard since I came, joked with Fräulein Schlarbaum. Charlie had
two brandies-and-sodas instead of his usual glass of milk, and Adeline
and Miss Garnons were able to gaze at their _anchor_ without fear.
This afternoon I have been for a ride with Charlie, and do you know,
Mamma, I believe he is trying to make love to me, but it is all in such
horrid slang that I am not quite sure. I must stop now.--With love,
from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
[Sidenote: _A Good Protestant_]
_P.S._--Sunday. I missed the post last night. We did spend a boring
evening doing nothing, not even dummy whist, like at Aunt Maria's, and
I was so tired hearing the two old ladies talking over the idiots they
had seen at the Asylum, that I was thankful when half-past ten came. As
for to-day, I am glad it is the last one I shall spend here. There is a
settled gloom over everything, a sort of Sunday feeling that makes one
eat too much lunch. Mr. Trench had been allowed to conduct the service
in the chapel this morning, and Lady Carriston kept tapping her foot
all the time with annoyance at all his little tricks, and once or
twice, when he was extra go-ahead, I heard her murmuring to herself
"Ridiculous!" and "Scandalous!" What _will_ she do when he is her
son-in-law?
Adeline and Miss Garnons knelt whenever they could, and as long as they
could, and took off their gloves and folded their hands. I think
Adeline hates Miss Garnons, because she is allowed to cross herself;
and of course Adeline daren't, with her mother there.
After tea Charlie managed to get up quite close to me in a corner, and
he said in a low voice that I was "a stunner," and that if I would just
"give him the tip," he'd "chuck Cora to-morrow;" that I "could give her
fits!" And if that is an English proposal, Mamma, I would much rather
have the Vicomte's or the Marquis's.
We are coming by the evening train to-morrow; so till then
good-bye.--Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.