FIVE-O'CLOCK TEA.
The pleasant intercourse which had sprung up between Mrs. Hamblin and
Mrs. Chadwick lasted throughout the whole of the dead season. For her
own purposes Mrs. Hamblin had affected a great interest in all that
concerned, not merely the mistress of the house in Fairfax-gardens,
but all her family, and Mrs. Chadwick was only too delighted to revel
in the friendship thus offered to her. For she was quick-witted enough
and sufficiently a woman of the world to see plainly that, although
she had secured the attendance of the best people in London at her
parties, and in return was regularly invited to their set and formal
entertainments, she had as yet no intimacy with any members of that
world in which alone she cared to live. Men dropped in to dinner
now and then certainly--there were always plenty to whom the
boiler-maker's capital cuisine and exquisite wine were sufficient
attraction--but there had hitherto been none but the most ceremonious
visiting on the part of the ladies, and none of those pleasant
gatherings _en petit comité_ at which Mrs. Chadwick longed so much to
assist, and from which she bitterly felt her exclusion. Mrs. Hamblin's
house was one at which, as Mrs. Chadwick knew, there was a constant
influx of visitors, and where the coziest little impromptu luncheons,
tea-parties, and suppers were frequently taking place, all the guests
being people of position in society. Mrs. Hamblin herself looking upon
flirtation with a lenient eye, was scarcely likely to disapprove of in
others; and the consequence was that many very pleasant meetings took
place, apparently quite unexpectedly, in the handsome drawing-rooms of
her house in Cumberland-place, or better still in the pretty little
boudoir, all green-silk hangings and Dresden china, which was
approached by double doors on the first landing, and was only
accessible to the initiated. When, therefore, Mrs.. Hamblin was not
merely constantly in Fairfax-gardens, but had received Mrs. Chadwick
in the most friendly manner at Cumberland-place and made her free, as
it were, of the boudoir, the latter lady was surely justified in
thinking that when the season arrived she would be permitted to
associate on a footing of intimacy with Mrs. Hamblin's friends, who,
in their turn, would become intimate friends of her own, and that
after this fashion her highest hopes would be realised.
One morning, when one of those opaque yellow fogs which visit London
in the early days of November had settled down like a pall over the
metropolis, when gas was lighted in the shops, and locomotion rendered
next to impossible, Mrs. Hamblin sat in her boudoir in rather a
dejected frame of mind. The utter ghastliness of the weather would
have been alone sufficient to account for that, but there were other
causes. Mrs. Hamblin had become thoroughly sick of London; the letters
received each morning from her friends spoke of pleasant times in
country houses, where hunting and shooting parties were assembled, and
made her long for escape from the dead dull monotony of empty streets
and deserted houses to which, for the first time in her life during
this season of the year, she had for three months been relegated. She
was, moreover, excessively annoyed at having to confess to herself the
fact that it was wholly her own fault; that she had no one but herself
to blame for the weariness she had undergone. It was true that
circumstances had prevented Mr. Hamblin from taking his official
holiday at the usual time, but that was no reason why she should have
remained in town; they had managed before now to get on very
comfortably without seeing each other for three or four months, and
indeed when domesticated under the same roof they met but seldom; for
Mr. Hamblin, away from his office, was a bibliomaniac, spending most
of his time in hunting up rare editions and curious copies, surrounded
by which musty old tomes he would sit for hours in his library,
perfectly content in looking at his book-treasures, and not taking the
slightest notice of whatever fun or festivity might be going on in
other portions of the house. So that it was not entirely on her
husband's account Mrs. Hamblin had refused the numerous invitations
which she had received to stay with friends, and had given up her
usual visit to Hombourg. If Spiridion Pratt had been an intending
guest at any of the country houses to which she was invited, or had
been going, according to custom, to the German spas, assuredly Mrs.
Hamblin would not have chosen to immure herself in Cumberland-place
during the autumn months; but he, to whom anything like a change was
most welcome, even though it involved flying in the face of all
conventional and set rules, had determined to see whether London was
really habitable in September, and as he had decided upon staying in
town, Mrs. Hamblin had concluded it was better she should remain there
also. Not that the feeling, which had always been rather a caprice
than a passion, which she had at one time entertained for the
dilettante little man had not passed away; but her pride was touched
at the notion of his escaping her so easily, at his attempt to slip
from his bonds without giving her the notice to which she had been
accustomed in such cases, and she thought it would be actually worth
while to attempt to bring him back into slavery. The season of the
year promised well for this project; she would be able to devote all
her time to carrying it out, and there would not, as she thought, be
any one in town likely to divert her quondam admirer's attention.
The discovery which she had made concerning Eleanor Irvine had
entirely dispelled this pleasant idea. Here was a rival on the spot,
one to whom she had never given any heed, and of whom, if she had not
had evidence which it was impossible to set aside, she could never
have had the least fear. To be sure she had done her best to ruin the
girl in Spiridion's opinion; all that she had seen during the
performance of her self-imposed duties of _espionnage_ was not merely
constantly hinted at in Spiridion's presence, but actually formed the
subject of various anonymous letters which Mr. Pratt was in the habit
of receiving, written in an unknown female hand, and posted in the
south-eastern district of London. If these communications were
intended to frighten the little man, and to induce him to neglect
those frequent opportunities of being in Eleanor's society which the
assiduous foresight of Mrs. Chadwick provided for him, they failed in
their effect. Mr. Pratt was greatly pleased to think that the fact of
his paying attention to one woman induced another to resort to such
means for undermining her rival. In matters of this kind he was by no
means a fool, perfectly understanding whence the letters came, and
appreciating the motive which caused them to be sent. He therefore
continued without intermission his pursuit of Eleanor, of whom he day
by day became, after his queer fashion, more and more enamoured, and
made up his mind that he would most certainly propose to her.
Though Mrs. Hamblin was not aware of her former admirer's intention to
carry matters to an such serious pitch, she could not but see that her
own influence over him was at an end; and she was musing over this,
and regretting her misspent autumn, on the foggy morning in November,
when a note was handed to her, which, in addition to the usual
superscription, bore the words 'Private and immediate' and 'Answer.'
Mrs. Hamblin had no difficulty in recognising the rather florid
handwriting of Mrs. Chadwick, and the little excitement consequent
upon the idea that some one might have returned to town and be coming
to see her therefore subsided before she broke the seal. The note ran
thus:
'Dear Mrs. Hamblin,--Will you come round to me this afternoon? I have
something of the most important and confidential character to
communicate to you, on which I require the advice which you, and you
alone, could give. When you hear it you will understand the grief and
consternation into which I am now plunged, and excuse the apparent
incoherence of this note. Pray send me a line to say that I may expect
you, and believe me yours always affectionately,
'FANNY CHADWICK.'
'This woman always deals in gush and superlatives,' said Mrs. Hamblin
to herself as she glanced over the note; and she contented herself by
writing a line to say that she would call at Fairfax-gardens in the
course of her afternoon's drive. 'It cannot possibly be,' she thought,
'that Mr. Chadwick can have failed in business; but absolute ruin is
the only thing that ought to have called forth such a demonstration.'
When Mrs. Hamblin arrived at Fairfax-gardens, she found Mrs. Chadwick
eagerly expecting her. They talked on light topics until tea--which
had been ordered on the visitor's arrival--was served, and then, as
soon as the servant had closed the door behind him, Mrs. Chadwick
broached the important subject.
'It is quite too kind of you, my dear friend,' said she--for she had
quick eyes and ears, and readily picked up both the manner and the
jargon of those whom she thought proper to imitate--'it is quite too
kind of you to come here and to help me in the midst of my horrible
perplexity. There is no one besides you in the world whom I could
consult, for Mr. Chadwick happens to be away in the North, and I know
also that the view he would take of the matter would not entirely
coincide with mine, and it is no use having people to advise you when
your whole time must be spent in combating their opinion.'
'What is this momentous question, my dear Mrs. Chadwick, which seems
to have given you so much trouble?' said Mrs. Hamblin, with an
appearance of great interest. 'I shall be delighted to give you any
advice, though I can hardly promise that it shall be in accordance
with what you wish; but at all events it shall be honest and
straightforward. Now what is it that has set you so completely
_bouleversée_?'
'I will tell you frankly,' said Mrs. Chadwick; 'it is the conduct of
my sister Eleanor. You know her pretty well, though you have seen but
little of her; for she avoids all my friends, and seems to take refuge
in a narrow circle of her own. You have been able to judge what a home
that girl has here, and how perfectly devoted I am to her.'
As Mrs. Chadwick stopped at this point Mrs. Hamblin bowed, and
murmured something in acquiescence.
'You would think that in return for such advantages she would do her
best to make herself amiable and agreeable to me at all events, even
though she chose to decline the acquaintance of my friends. Nothing of
the sort; for the last few months her conduct has been most
extraordinary; and though I have put up with a great deal, I am not
prepared to bear it any longer now that she has completely set me at
defiance.'
'How has she done that?' asked Mrs. Hamblin.
'By thwarting a project which she knew I particularly wished carried
out, and in which, Heaven knows, I was animated by no selfish feeling,
as it would have been entirely for Eleanor's own benefit.'
'Indeed,' said Mrs. Hamblin, whose interest materially increased as
she heard this last sentence; 'and what may this project have been?'
'Eleanor's marriage,' said Mrs. Chadwick. 'Her mother being dead, and I
being the elder and married sister, I look upon myself as responsible
for that girl's future, and that responsibility naturally involves the
choice of a proper husband for her. I thought I had succeeded in
finding such a person, a gentleman of exceptional cultivation and
refinement, and one whose position in society could not be questioned.
The gentleman to whom I allude is well known to you, my dear friend;
and I am sure you will indorse every word I say about him--I mean Mr.
Spiridion Pratt.'
The commencement of the sentence had prepared Mrs. Hamblin for the
announcement of the name, so she said very quietly,
'Mr. Pratt? His would be a most eligible connection, and I don't think
you have extolled his position or his merits at all too highly. And
were his views the same as yours in regard to the matter? Of course as
a known connoisseur he would admire Miss Irvine's beauty; but was he
generally attracted by her?'
'Completely. I never saw a more thorough case of genuine admiration
and affection,' said Mrs. Chadwick, whose manner was a little
intensified by the knowledge that every word she said conveyed a stab
to her dear friend. 'For weeks past he has constantly sought every
opportunity of meeting her, and of paying her the most marked
attention, and yesterday he proposed to her.'
Mrs. Hamblin's face was admirably made up, delicately and most
artistically, but she obviously paled under her rouge.
'Proposed to her!' she repeated in a flat and unnatural tone. 'Miss
Irvine is to be congratulated on having snared so wary a bird.'
'"Snared" is scarcely the term,' said Mrs. Chadwick indignantly; 'it
isn't likely that anything like artifice would have been resorted to
in this house, as the result will prove.'
'The word was inadvertently chosen, but I meant no offence,' said Mrs.
Hamblin. 'Pray tell me what was the result.'
'Eleanor refused him--refused him, my dear friend!' said Mrs.
Chadwick, who was easily mollified. 'When I came home yesterday
afternoon I found her in tears. She told me what had happened, and
hoped she would never again be exposed to such an ordeal.'
'What a very primitive person!' said Mrs. Hamblin, with icy composure.
'Did Miss Irvine state the nature of her objection to the proposition
she had received?'
'She said, generally, that she liked Mr. Pratt, had always found him
gentlemanly, kind, and pleasant; but that she had not, nor ever could
have, any idea of marrying him. I was at first so completely
overwhelmed that I could not give the matter proper thought,' said
Mrs. Chadwick; 'but since writing to you I have come to the conclusion
that Eleanor is acting under advice in what she did.'
'And who do you suspect is her adviser?' asked Mrs. Hamblin.
'A person whose name I have forbidden to be mentioned in this house,'
replied Mrs. Chadwick, 'but with whom Eleanor was very intimate in her
early youth--I mean Lady Forestfield.'
'Does Miss Irvine keep up her acquaintance with Lady Forestfield?'
asked Mrs. Hamblin innocently.
'Not a personal acquaintance,' said Mrs. Chadwick severely. 'I have
forbidden that long ago; but I believe they correspond, and, so far as
I can gather, Lady Forestfield has actually induced Eleanor to send
Mr. Pratt to call upon her.'
'What!' cried Mrs. Hamblin, surprised out of her composure; 'Mr. Pratt
has called upon Lady Forestfield?'
'Exactly; and has had a long conversation with her.'
'Conversation, too! Of what nature, in Heaven's name?'
'Of a very private and confidential nature;' said Mrs. Chadwick. 'If
Lady Forestfield had expressly wanted to thwart my plans, she could
not have laboured more earnestly than she seems to have done. It
appears that she took her own life as the text of the sermon which she
preached to Mr. Pratt, talking to him all sorts of things about the
misery of marriage without love, and the difference between imaginary
and real love, and a great deal more in the same style.'
'And what did Mr. Pratt say to this?' asked Mrs. Hamblin. 'He is
scarcely, I should have thought, the style of man on whom such an
argument would have had much effect.'
'On the contrary, he seems to have been very much impressed by it,'
said Mrs. Chadwick. 'He agrees to all Lady Forestfield says, and there
is quite a ridiculous friendship and confidence between the three.'
'A friendship and confidence between three people never lasts,' said
Mrs. Hamblin; 'for one is always certain to be jealous of the other
two. But I am much surprised at what you tell me; I confess I do not
see the bond of union.'
'O, the bond of union with which they have entrapped that silly little
man,' said Mrs. Chadwick, rather forgetting herself; 'is their common
love of art, and their superiority over the people in society, who are
supposed to be heartless and frivolous, and that sort of thing.'
'And the result of this delightful conference is, then, that Mr. Pratt
has not merely been refused by Miss Irvine, but has been persuaded
that she cannot love him with that pure and holy affection which is so
desirable; but ought to be rather ashamed of his boldness in venturing
to think of her, and quite proud of being permitted to remain her
friend. Lady Forestfield's convincing powers are really very
extraordinary.'
'O, I am quite disgusted with it all,' said Mrs. Chadwick; 'the time
and trouble I have spent in endeavouring to secure a proper position
for that girl no one can tell but myself; but I should not grudge them
one atom if she had shown me the slightest gratitude.'
'The affection you have shown, and the skill you have brought to bear,
have been equally ill rewarded,' said Mrs. Hamblin, who preserved her
outward calmness of demeanour, although inwardly raging at Spiridion's
defection.
'I am tired of it,' said Mrs. Chadwick, not perceiving the least
sarcasm in her friend's tone; 'and the result is certainly enough to
make me give up any farther attempt. Mr. Pratt was, as I have said
before, exactly the man to suit Eleanor; but if she intends to do with
others as she has done with him, and when she finds a man perfectly
devoted to her she won't marry him, but will go in for making a tame
cat of him, she deserves to lose any chance of settling herself.'
With all this, and very much more, Mrs. Chadwick went prosing on, Mrs.
Hamblin from time to time throwing in an interjectional remark which
incited her companion to continue, though it had no value or meaning
in itself; for indeed her thoughts were very far away from the worthy
woman, whose monotonous voice, like the dropping of water, kept
ceaselessly falling on her ear. To her jealous mind the introduction
of Lady Forestfield among the persons of the drama acted as a shock;
for Mrs. Hamblin believed in neither virtue, nor repentance, nor
honesty in friendship. Lady Forestfield had 'gone wrong' once, and
there was every reason to suppose would do so again. What more likely
than that she should adopt Spiridion Pratt as a lover? He was weak
minded, as Mrs. Hamblin well knew, ridiculously romantic, could easily
be persuaded into accepting the position of champion to beauty in
distress, and would feel infinitely flattered at its being known that
he had been selected by a woman of Lady Forestfield's rank to do
battle for her with the world. However much she had endeavoured to
persuade herself to the contrary, Mrs. Hamblin in her secret heart had
never given up the intention of bringing Spiridion back to his
allegiance to her, and she saw at once that any _mésalliance_ such as
that the possibility of which she was then contemplating would bring
entire destruction upon her hopes. She could have looked on at his
marriage with a quiet simple girl like Eleanor Irvine with comparative
equanimity; men, as Mrs. Hamblin knew from experience, and more
especially men of Spiridion Pratt's disposition, very soon tired of
innocence, and it was probable, or at all events possible, that when
the charm of domesticity began to wane she might without much trouble,
had she been so disposed, have regained her old lover. And now all
this has been knocked on the head. Spiridion had kept away from her,
and so she had been left unacquainted with all that was going on. What
she felt most acutely was that Spiridion had so completely ignored
her. If she had had the least inkling of his intention to propose to
Miss Irvine, even if, after he had proposed and had been rejected, he
had come to her and taken her into his confidence, she could have
prevented this horrible introduction to Lady Forestfield, and all that
would probably ensue from it.
While, with rage and fury at her heart, Mrs. Hamblin was revolving
these things in her mind, the servant announced Sir Nugent Uffington,
and Mrs. Chadwick, stopping short in her dreary monologue, at once
rose to the occasion. Here was an opportunity for her to show Mrs.
Hamblin that she too had friends among the aristocracy.
'To say that I am delighted to see you, Sir Nugent, at this dull
season of the year, is not to express half enough,' she chirped. 'I
had an idea that you were still in Paris.'
'I only returned thence two days ago,' said Uffington, as soon as he
could put in a word.
'I assure you I look upon your friendly haste to come and see us as
most flattering,' said Mrs. Chadwick. 'You will excuse me telling you
that you look remarkably well and seem in high spirits. Does not Sir
Nugent seem in high spirits, Mrs. Hamblin?' she continued, appealing
to her friend.
Mrs. Hamblin coincided, wondering all the while what had brought Sir
Nugent there.
'I have cause to be in good spirits, for I am the bearer of very good
news, which I particularly wish your sister to hear,' said Uffington,
turning to Mrs. Chadwick.
'Her sister?' said Mrs. Hamblin to herself. 'Then his visit is
sufficiently accounted for!'
'Eleanor is out, I believe,' said Mrs. Chadwick; 'I have not seen her
for some little time. I will send to inquire if she is in her room,'
she added, ringing the bell; 'but you must not delay your good news. I
am sure both Mrs. Hamblin and myself are equally eager to hear it.
Whom does it concern?'
At that moment the door opened and Eleanor entered the room. She was
rather pale, but looked very pretty, and her face slightly flushed as
she advanced to greet Uffington, which made Mrs. Hamblin tolerably
certain that her suspicions were correct.
'I was just saying that I particularly wished you to be present at
this moment, Miss Irvine,' said Uffington, 'for I have some good news
which will especially interest you. It concerns Lady Forestfield.'
'Lady Forestfield!' cried all three ladies at once, but with different
intonation; Eleanor eagerly, Mrs. Chadwick flatly, and Mrs. Hamblin
savagely.
'I do not see that anything that has happened to Lady Forestfield
could, or at all events ought to, have any interest for a respectable
family like ours,' said Mrs. Chadwick, bridling up and casting a
sidelong glance at her sister.
'Will you please tell us what it is, Sir Nugent?' said Eleanor,
without heeding her. 'You say it is good news--and I know it must be,
or you would not have been so anxious to bring it.'
'It is good news--the best that under the circumstances could be,'
said Uffington. 'The fact is, that all farther proceedings in the
Divorce Court are to be stopped, and Lady Forestfield returns at once
to her husband's protection.'
'O, thank Heaven!' cried Eleanor, 'this is indeed good news;' and her
joy was so great that she found it impossible to restrain her tears.
'Well, indeed,' said Mrs. Chadwick, veering round at once, as she saw
the position vastly improved, 'I am really delighted to hear it. Poor
dear Lady Forestfield! When one imagines all that she must have gone
through, it is quite delightful to think that she will be restored to
her place in society again. I wonder whose influence brought that
about?'
Uffington was silent on this point. He knew by Eleanor's manner that
she recognised his influence in the matter, and that was all he cared
for.
'And so Lady Forestfield is to be received back by her husband,' said
Mrs. Hamblin, with a cold smile, as she rose preparatory to taking her
leave. 'What a very strange world we live in! I confess I cannot join
my voice to your chorus of congratulations, for it appears to me that
Lady Forestfield is no more respectable than she was before, and that
Lord Forestfield has made himself contemptible.'