Anthony Pennell was a very fresh, pleasant, and good-looking
presentment of a young English gentleman, as he entered the room where
Margaret was sitting with Doctor Phillips that evening. It had been
arranged between them beforehand, that as little as need be should
be confided to him of Harriet Brandt’s former history. All that was
necessary for him to know, was the danger that threatened to blast the
future happiness of Ralph Pullen and Elinor Leyton.
“Well! Mrs. Pullen,” he said, as he shook hands cordially with Margaret
and the doctor, “and what important business is it, that you want to
consult me upon? I thought, at the very least, that I should meet my
cousin Arthur here!”
“If I had had Arthur, perhaps I should not have needed you,” replied
Margaret, with a faint smile. “But really, Mr. Pennell, I am in want of
advice sorely, and the Doctor agreed with me that you would be the best
person to whom I could apply!”
“I am at your service, Madam!” said the young man, gaily, as he seated
himself.
Then she told him the story of Harriet Brandt--how Ralph had met her at
the Lion d’Or, and devoted his time to her--and how she was persecuting
him with letters, and had threatened to follow him to the Camp and
interview him there.
“And it must be put a stop to, you know, Mr. Pennell,” she concluded,
“not only for Ralph’s sake and Elinor’s, but for the sake of the
Walthamstowes and my husband. I am sure that Arthur would be
exceedingly annoyed at any scandal of that sort, and especially as Lord
Walthamstowe is so old a friend of his family!”
Anthony Pennell had looked very grave during her recital. After a pause
he said,
“Are you sure that Ralph has not given this young lady good cause to
run after him?”
“I think not--I hope not! There was very little amusement in Heyst, and
this girl, and the people with whom she is now staying--a Baron and
Baroness Gobelli, they call themselves--were amongst the visitors to
the Lion d’Or. Miss Leyton is rather a stickler for the proprieties,
and used to refuse to walk out with Ralph alone in the evenings, and
I was too much occupied with my poor darling baby to accompany them,”
said Margaret, in a faltering voice, “so Ralph took to going to the
Baroness’s private rooms instead, and became intimate with Miss Brandt!”
“You acknowledge then, that he _was_ intimate with her!”
“I think he must have been--because it appears that he had agreed to
join their party at Brussels, when--when--my great trouble obliged him
to return to England with us instead.”
“Did you know this young lady, Mrs. Pullen?”
“I did, and at one time I was rather intimate with her, that is, before
the Baroness took her up, when she passed almost all her time with
them.”
“She is, I suppose, very attractive in person?”
“O! dear no, not at all!” cried Margaret, with a woman’s dull
appreciation of the charms of one of her own sex, “she has fine eyes,
and what men would, I suppose, call a good figure, but no complexion
and an enormous mouth. Not at all pretty, but nice-looking at
times,--that is all!”
“Clever?” said Pennell, interrogatively.
“I do not think so! She had just come out of a Convent school and was
utterly unused to society. But she has a very good voice and plays well
on the mandoline!”
“Ladies are not always the best judges of their own sex,” remarked
Anthony, turning to Doctor Phillips, “what do _you_ say, Doctor?
Had you an opportunity of appraising Miss Brandt’s beauties and
accomplishments for yourself?”
“I would rather say nothing, Mr. Pennell,” replied the Doctor. “The
fact is, I knew her parents in the West Indies, and could never believe
in anything good coming from such a stock. Whatever the girl may be,
she inherits terrible proclivities, added to black blood. She is in
point of fact a quadroon, and not fit to marry into any decent English
family!”
“O! dear!” exclaimed Mr. Pennell laconically.
“And how do you expect me to help you?” he enquired, after a pause.
“I want you to see the Baroness, or Miss Brandt, and tell them that
this girl must cease all communication with Captain Pullen,” said
Margaret, “tell them that he is engaged to marry Miss Leyton--that the
marriage is fixed to take place next spring, and that the Walthamstowe
family will be excessively annoyed if any scandal of this sort occurs
to break it off.”
“Do they not know that such an engagement exists?”
“No! that is the unfortunate part of it! Elinor Leyton is so absurdly
scrupulous that she will not have the fact made public, and forbade
me to tell Miss Brandt about it! Elinor went to the Red House where
Miss Brandt is staying this morning and had a most stormy interview
with her. She came here afterwards in a most distressed state of mind.
Harriet Brandt had told her that she had secured Ralph Pullen and meant
to keep him--that he had told her he loved her--and that Miss Leyton
was too cold and prudish a nature for any man to be happy with! Of
course Elinor was terribly upset. She seldom shows her feelings, but it
was quite impossible for her to disguise them to-day. I begged her to
leave the matter in my hands, and she consented to do so. That is why I
telegraphed for you.”
“It is rather an awkward predicament!” said Anthony Pennell,
thoughtfully, “you will forgive me for saying, Mrs. Pullen, that Ralph
is so very likely to have done this sort of thing, that I feel one
might be treading on very delicate ground--in fact, putting one’s foot
in it--by interfering. You know what Ralph is--selfish and indolent and
full of vanity. He considers it far too much trouble to make love (as
it is called) to a woman, but he will accept any amount of love that is
offered him, so long as it gives him no trouble. If this Miss Brandt
is all that you and the doctor here say of her, she may possibly have
drawn Ralph on, and taken his languid satisfaction as proof that he
agreed to all she said and did. But it will make the _dénouement_ just
as unpleasant. Besides, how will Ralph himself take my interference in
the matter? He may have some designs on this girl--some ideas in the
future connected with her--and will ask what business I had to come
between them.”
“O! no! Did I not tell you that he had left her letters in his grate!”
“That might be part of his indolent carelessness, or they may have been
left there by design, as a means of breaking the ice between himself
and Miss Leyton. Is not he, after all, the most proper person to appeal
to? Why not wait till your husband returns, and let him speak to his
brother?”
“I am so afraid in that case, that Ralph might consider that he had
gone too far with Miss Brandt, and honour demanded that he should marry
her! And, Mr. Pennell, Doctor Phillips could tell you things, if he
chose, to prove to you that Harriet Brandt is not a fit wife for any
decent man.”
Anthony Pennell thought again for a few minutes--sitting silent with
his hand caressing his smooth chin. Then he said:
“If you are very much bent on my doing what I can in this matter, I see
only one way to accomplish it. I must enter the Red House under a flag
of truce. Did you know this Baroness Gobelli? Can you tell me what sort
of woman she is? I never heard the name before!”
“She is quite a character,” replied Margaret; “I believe her husband
_is_ a German Baron, but she was a Mrs. Bates, and is an extraordinary
Baroness. A strange mixture also, of vulgarity and refined tastes. She
drops all her aspirates, yet talks familiarly of aristocratic and royal
titles, she dresses like a cook out on Sundays, and yet has a passion
for good paintings and old china.”
At the last words, Anthony Pennell pricked up his ears.
“A passion for old china!” he exclaimed, “then there must be some good
in her! Cannot you give me an introduction to the Red House on the plea
that I am a connoisseur and am desirous of seeing her collection?”
“Of course I can, but how can you approach these people in amity, with
a censure of Miss Brandt’s conduct in your hand? Madame Gobelli is
infatuated with Harriet Brandt! I was telling poor Elinor only this
afternoon, that I should not be at all surprised if she were at the
bottom of all this unpleasantness.”
“She could not be at the bottom of anything unless Ralph had given
her cause,” replied Mr. Pennell, who had never had a good opinion of
his cousin’s straightforward dealing, “and however it may turn out,
I should think he would have a heavy reckoning to settle with Miss
Leyton! This is not the first time, remember! You have not forgotten
the trouble Arthur had to get him out of that scrape with the
laundress’s girl at Aldershot, the year before last!”
“Yes! Arthur told me about it,” replied Margaret. “But you are going to
help us, this time, Mr. Pennell, are you not?”
“In so far as procuring an introduction to the Baroness, and taking
my opportunity to let her know the true state of affairs with Miss
Leyton, yes,” said Mr. Pennell, “but there, my responsibility must
cease. Should Ralph have committed himself in writing, or anything of
that sort, you must promise to let them fight it out their own way. I
daresay there will be no trouble about the matter. I can see how it
has occurred at a glance. Ralph has been merely amusing himself with
the girl, and she has taken his philandering in earnest. But I wish he
would leave that sort of thing off. It will ruin his married life if
he does not!”
“Yes! indeed, and Elinor Leyton really loves him, more, I am sure, than
he imagines. She declared this afternoon, that if it were not put a
complete stop to, she should break off her engagement. And I think she
would be right!”
“So do I,” acquiesced Anthony Pennell. “Well! if these people are
ordinarily decent, they will, as soon as they hear the truth, prevent
their young friend interfering with another woman’s rights. Write me
the introduction, Mrs. Pullen, and I will pay the Red House a visit
as soon as its owner gives me leave. And now let us talk of something
pleasanter. How soon do you expect Arthur to arrive?”
“Any day,” replied Margaret, “and I am longing so for him to come!”
“Of course you are! Will he remain long in England?”
“Only a few weeks! He has taken three months’ leave. Then, I shall
return with him to Hosur.”
“And you like the idea of India?”
“O! anything--anything--to find myself with him again,” she answered
feverishly.
The conversation turned upon more indifferent subjects, and armed with
the note of introduction to the Baroness, Anthony Pennell presently
took his leave. He did not like the task imposed upon him, and he
hardly knew how he should set about it, but on consideration he
thought he could do no harm by having a look at the young lady, who
had taken the fancy of his fickle-minded cousin Ralph, and leaving his
future action to be decided by the interview. He sat down therefore
before turning into bed, and wrote a note to the Baroness, enclosing
the introduction from Mrs. Pullen, and asking permission to call and
inspect her rare collection of china, of which he had heard so much.
His letter reached the Red House on the following morning, at an
unfortunate moment, when Madame Gobelli was giving full display to the
worst side of her eccentric character.
The Baroness was not a lover of animals, either dogs or horses. She was
merciless to the latter and the former she kicked whenever they came in
her way. It was considered necessary, however, for the safety of the
Red House, that it should be guarded by a watch-dog, and a miserable
retriever, which answered to that name, lived in a rotten cask in
the stable yard. This unhappy animal, which had neither sufficient
food, exercise, nor straw to lie on, was in the habit of keeping up
a continuous baying at night, in remonstrance at the cruelty of its
treatment, which was a cause of annoyance to the neighbours, who had
often written to the Baroness about it in vain.
On the morning in question, a Captain Hill, who lived on one side of
the Red House, with his parents, sent in his card to Madame Gobelli and
asked for an interview. She admitted him at once. She liked men of all
sorts, and particularly if they were young and she could kiss them with
impunity, under the pretence that she was old enough to be their mother.
She therefore welcomed Captain Hill quite amiably. She came in from the
garden to receive him, attired in a Genoa velvet dress that trailed
half a yard on the damp ground behind, and a coarse Zulu hat perched
on her large bullet head. She was attended by Harriet Brandt, who had
been making a tour of the premises with her, and was always eager to
see anybody who might call at the Red House. Miss Wynward also, who was
dusting the china with a feather brush as the visitor was announced,
continued her occupation, and without apologising for doing so, or
asking leave.
Harriet had not yet been able to determine the exact place which this
lady held in the Baroness’s household, for she was treated as one of
the family, and yet degraded at times to the position of a servant.
The Baroness expected her to cook, or dust rooms, or darn stockings,
or do anything required of her, whilst she introduced her to all her
friends as if on a perfect equality with themselves. As she entered
the drawing-room through one of the French windows, she shook hands
familiarly with Captain Hill, and introduced him to both her companions.
“Well!” she went on, “and so you’ve come to see us at last! I thought
you were going to live and die in that tumble-down old place of yours,
without so much as a shake of the ’and! I ’ope you’re all well at ’ome!”
The stranger did not seem to know how to receive these civilities. He
had not seated himself, but stood in the centre of the room with his
hat in his hand, as though he found a difficulty in stating his errand
at the Red House.
“Take a chair,” said Madame Gobelli in her rough way, “there’s enough
and to spare, and my young friend ’ere won’t eat you!”
Still Captain Hill deliberated about accepting her offer.
“Thank you,” he commenced, “but I shall not detain you above a few
moments. I came to speak to you about your dog, Madame Gobelli. My
parents are both very old, and my mother especially delicate--indeed, I
fear that she may never rise from her bed again!”
Here his voice faltered a little, but quickly recovering himself he
went on,
“She sleeps very little, and that little has now become impossible to
her on account of the incessant barking of your yard dog. I am here
to-day by the wish of my mother’s medical attendant, Doctor Parker, to
tell you that the noise is seriously affecting her health, and to beg
that you will adopt some measures to have the annoyance stopped.”
As the Baroness understood the reason for which her neighbour had
called upon her, her countenance palpably changed. The broad smile
faded from her face and was replaced by an ominous frown. If there was
one thing which she resented above another, it was being called to
task for any disturbance in her household. Without taking any notice
apparently of Captain Hill’s complaint, she turned to Miss Wynward and
said,
“Miss Wynward, come ’ere! Does that dog bark at night?”
“Sometimes, my lady,” replied the governess dubiously.
“I don’t believe it! You’re lying! ’Arriet, does Nelson ever bark so as
to disturb anyone?”
“He barks whenever there is a ring at the bell, or a stranger enters
the grounds, Madame,” said Harriet, with politic evasion.
“Oh! I assure you he does more than that!” interposed the visitor,
“the poor animal howls without ceasing. Either he is ill, or the
servants do not give him sufficient food!”
But at this censure cast upon her domestics whom she bullied from
morning till night, the Baroness’s uncontrolled temper burst forth.
“’Ow dare you come ’ere,” she exclaimed loudly, “and bring false
accusations against my servants? No one in this ’ouse is kept short of
food. What do you mean--a rubbishing fellow like you--by coming ’ere,
and accusing the Baron of starving ’is animals? There’s more money
spent upon our animals, I bet, than goes in your poverty-stricken
’ouse-’old in a year!”
Captain Hill was now offended, as he well might be.
“I do not know what knowledge you may possess of the exigencies of my
parents’ household, Madam,” he replied, “but what I came here to tell
you is this--that from whatever cause it may arise, the howling and
whining of your dog is a public nuisance and it must be stopped!”
“Must, must!” exclaimed Madame Gobelli, shaking her stick at him, “and
pray ’oo’s to make me stop it?”
“_I_ will,” said Captain Hill, “the noise is endangering the life of my
mother, and I shall insist upon the animal being destroyed, or taken
elsewhere. If you cannot take a friendly hint--if you have so callous
a nature that the sufferings of an aged and invalid lady cannot excite
your sympathy, the law shall teach you that, whatever you may fail to
feel, you cannot annoy your neighbours with impunity!”
“Fine neighbours indeed!” cried the Baroness, her whole face trembling
and contorted with passion. “A beggarly lot of half-pay officers and
retired parsons! I’ll soon see if you’ll be allowed to come riding the
’igh ’orse over me! Confound your impudence! Do you know ’oo I am?”
“A Billingsgate fishwoman, I should imagine, from your language!
Certainly not a gentlewoman!” said Captain Hill, his eyes blazing with
his wrath.
“’Ang you! I’ll soon teach you ’ow to insult a lady that’s connected
with Royalty!”
At that, the stranger burst into a derisive laugh.
“Down the back stairs!” he muttered to himself, but Madame Gobelli
caught the words.
“Get out of my ’ouse,” she cried. “’Ere, Miss Wynward, see this fellow
out at the front door, and never you let ’im in again, or I’ll give you
a month’s warning! Down the back stairs indeed! Confound you! If you
don’t clear out this very minute, I’ll lay my stick across your back!
You’ll make me destroy my dog, will you, and just because your trumpery
mother don’t like ’is barking! Go ’ome and tell ’er to ’old ’er own
row! And you accuse my servants of not giving ’im enough to eat. You’d
be glad enough to see ’is dinner on your own table once or twice a
week. Out with you, I say--out with you at once, and don’t let me see
your ugly mug and your carroty ’ead in ’ere again, or I’ll set the dog
you don’t like upon you.”
Captain Hill had turned white as a sheet with anger.
“You’ll hear more of this, Madam, and from my solicitor next time,” he
said. “Heartless, unfeeling woman! How can you call yourself a mother,
when you have no pity for a son’s grief at his mother’s illness? Pray
God you may not have occasion to remember this morning, when you have
to part from your own son!”
He rushed from the room as he spoke, and they heard the hall door slam
after him. For a minute after he left, there was a dead pause between
the three women. His last words seemed to have struck the Baroness as
with a two-edged sword. She stood silent, staring into vacancy, and
breathing hard, whilst Harriet Brandt and Miss Wynward regarded each
other with furtive dismay. The silence was broken by Madame Gobelli
bursting into a harsh laugh.
“I don’t fancy ’e will show ’is face in my ’ouse again, in an ’urry,”
she exclaimed. “It was as good as a play to watch ’im, trying to brave
it out! Confound ’is old mother! Why don’t she die and ’ave done
with it! I’ve no patience with old people ’anging on in that way,
and worrying the ’ole world with their fads! Well! what is it?” she
continued to a maid who brought her a letter.
“By the post, my lady!”
The Baroness broke the seal. There was such a look of scare upon her
features, that some people might have thought she was glad to have
anything to do that should hide it from her companions. The letter was
from Anthony Pennell, whose name was familiar to her, as to all the
world.
As she finished its perusal, her manner entirely altered. The broad
smile broke out on her countenance--her eyes sparkled--one would have
thought she could never be in anything but a beaming good temper.
“’Olloa! ’Arriet!” she exclaimed, “’ere’s news for you! ’Oo do you
think this letter’s from?”
“How can I guess?” replied the girl, though her thoughts had flown at
once to Ralph Pullen.
“From Mr. Anthony Pennell, the great author, you know, and own cousin
to that rapscallion, Captain Pullen! Now we shall ’ear all about the
’andsome Captain! Mr. Pennell says ’e wants to come ’ere and see my
china, but I know better! ’E’s bringing you a message from ’is cousin,
mark my words! I can see it written up be’ind you!”
Harriet’s delicate face flushed with pleasure at the news.
“But why shouldn’t Captain Pullen have come himself?” she asked,
anxiously.
“I can’t tell you that! Perhaps ’e is coming, be’ind the other, and
this is only a feeler! There’s wheels within wheels in these big
families, sometimes, you know, and the Pullens are connected with a
lot of big-wigs! But we’ll ’ave some news, anyway! You just sit down,
my dear, and write Mr. Pennell a pretty note in my name--you write a
prettier ’and than I do--and say we shall be very pleased to see ’im
to-morrow afternoon, if convenient, and I ’ope ’e will stay to dinner
afterwards and be introduced to the Baron--will you?”
“O! yes, of course, Madame, if you wish it!” replied the girl, smiles
dimpling her face at the thought of her triumph over Elinor Leyton.
“Now, Miss Wynward, we must ’ave a first-rate dinner to-morrow for Mr.
Pennell, and you and Bobby ’ad better dine at one o’clock, or you’ll
spoil the table. Let me see! We’ll ’ave----”
But turning to enforce her orders, the Baroness discovered that Miss
Wynward had quitted the room.
“Why! where ’as the woman gone? Did you see ’er leave the room,
’Arriet?”
“I did not! I was too much occupied listening to you,” replied the girl
from the table, where she was inditing the answer to Anthony Pennell’s
note.
“’Ere, Miss Wynward! Miss Wynward!” screamed the Baroness from the open
door, but no reply came to her call.
“I must go and see after ’er!” she said, as she stumped from the room,
as intent upon procuring a good dinner for one young man, as she had
been in insulting the other, and turning him from her doors.
Meanwhile Captain Hill, hot and angry, was striding away in the
direction of his own home, when he heard a soft voice calling his name
in the rear. He turned to encounter the spare, humiliated form of Miss
Wynward.
“Captain Hill,” she ejaculated, “I beg your pardon, but may I speak to
you for a moment?”
Recognising her as having been in the room, when the Baroness had so
grossly insulted him, he waited rather coldly for her to come up with
him.
“Don’t think me impertinent or interfering,” faltered Miss Wynward,
“but I was so shocked--so distressed--I could not let you go without
saying how grieved and sorry I am!”
“I do not quite understand you,” replied Captain Hill.
“O! yes, surely, did you not see me in the room just now! I felt as if
I should die of shame! But if you knew what it is to be dependent--to
be unable to speak or to expostulate--you would guess perhaps----”
“Yes! Yes! I think I can understand. But pray don’t distress yourself
about it! It was my own fault! I should have addressed her first
through my solicitor. But I thought she was a gentlewoman!”
“It is her temper that gets the better of her,” said Miss Wynward in an
apologetic tone, “she is not always so bad as she was this morning!”
“That is fortunate for the world at large,” replied Captain
Hill, gravely. “I could have forgiven her vulgarity, but not her
heartlessness. I can only think that she is a most terrible woman.”
“That is what everybody says,” answered his companion, “but she will
admit of no remonstrance. She _will_ have her own way, and the Baron
is as powerless to refrain her, as you, or I. But that she should
so insult a gentleman like yourself, even descending to oaths and
personalities--O! I cannot tell you how much I felt it--how ashamed I
was, and how anxious that you should not confound me with anything the
Baroness said, or did!”
“Indeed,” said Captain Hill, holding out his hand, “you need have no
fear on that score. I hope I know a gentlewoman when I see her! But
tell me, since your eyes are open to all this, how is it that a lady
like yourself can stay under the roof of so terrible a person? There
are plenty of other situations to be had! Why do you not leave her, and
go elsewhere?”
He was struck by the look of mingled anxiety and fear with which she
regarded him.
“O! Captain Hill, there are reasons that are difficult to explain--that
I could not tell to anyone on so short an acquaintance. But the
Baroness possesses great power--she could ruin me, I believe she could
_kill_ if she chose!”
“She threatens you then!”
“Yes!” came from Miss Wynward’s lips, but in almost a whisper.
“Well! this is hardly the time and place to discuss such a question,”
said Captain Hill, “but I should much like to see more of you, Miss
Wynward! If you have any time at your disposal, will you come over and
see my old mother? She is quite confined to her room, but I know it
would please her to have a quiet talk with you!”
A light glistened in Miss Wynward’s washed-out eyes, and a smile stole
over her countenance.
“Do you really mean it, Captain Hill?”
“I never say anything that I do not mean,” he answered, “I am sure both
my parents would be glad to give you their advice, and my dear father,
who is a clergyman, though past an active ministry, may be able to be
of use to you in a more practical way. At anyrate, you will come and
see us. That is a bargain!” and he held out his hand to her again in
farewell.
“O! I will--I will, indeed,” exclaimed Miss Wynward, gratefully, “and
thank you so very much for the permission. You have put a little hope
into my life!”
She seized the hand he proffered her, and kissed it, as an inferior
might have done, and then hurried back to the Red House, before he had
had time to remonstrate with her on the proceeding.