Such of our readers as may have been acquainted with the West end of
London some thirty-five years since, must recollect old Cavendish
Square. Prior to that date it had been very exclusive, but on Belgravia
and Tybernia springing into existence, the nobility and aristocratic
families moved from there to the new suburban localities, and their old
quarters were occupied by quite a different class, which had migrated
principally from that region east of Temple Bar, such as merchants,
bankers, eminent barristers, and physicians of first standing. One of
the main avenues leading from this square westward, and known as Harley
Street, was inhabited by another set, usually styled very respectable
people, chiefly consisting of maiden ladies of doubtful ages, who kept
their carriages and lived in good style, whist playing dowagers, who
kept their carriages but hired job horses, when it was necessary to
visit their friends whose circumstances were more flourishing than their
own, and the families of country members who usually remained in town
daring the session of Parliament, and often for a much longer period. It
was in this street and in this circle that the Cotterells lived and
moved. Mr. Cotterell, the father of Kate--the prettiest Kate in all that
locality, at least, so Tom Barton said, and he ought to know for he had
seen her often, and never failed to get his face as close to hers as
possible whenever a chance presented itself for his so doing--was a
retired stock broker who, having made a considerable hit in a great
speculation by which he realized a handsome sum, prudently took the
advice of his spouse and let well enough alone, retired from business,
left their dusky residence in the city, and moved to their present
abode, No. 54 Upper Harley Street. Mrs. Cotterell was the youngest
sister of Mrs. Barton of the Willows, in Devonshire, hence the
relationship between our friend, Tom Barton, and pretty cousin Kate, the
charm of whose gay and lively manners had made quite an impression on
the susceptible heart of cousin Tom, which increased and strengthened
during the frequent visits of that young lady to her aunt's in
Devonshire. Nor was it a one sided affair, for she had been captivated
by the handsome person and agreeable address of her cousin, but being
petit in stature, she was like most little beauties, very arbitrary and
capricious towards her lover, yet, with all this, she was a girl of
good, sound sense, and knowing that her portion on the death of her
parents would be but small, would not consent to entangle herself in the
meshes of matrimony until Tom had established himself in his profession,
and there was a fair prospect of their succeeding in life.
It will be remembered that Tom Barton left for London about the same
time that Arthur Carlton started for India. He had been more fortunate
than could have been expected in the profession he had chosen, for he
had scarcely been three years turning over musty deeds, copying legal
documents and other drudgeries appertaining to a lawyer's office, when
his employer died, leaving him the business and recommending him to the
notice of his clients generally. Now, although Tom's chambers were
situated in Lincoln's Inn Fields which everybody knows (who knows
anything of London) is a large, airy space, surrounded with iron
railings, wherein there are plenty of trees, flowers, grasses, and
gravel walks to stroll about in, all of which could be seen from his
chamber window. But this was not sufficient for him. He wanted something
more suburban and evidently considered the atmosphere north of Oxford
street more conducive to his health, or he would never have imposed upon
himself the task of walking from Lincoln's Inn so far westward up Harley
Street. Yet, although the air must have been more pure some half a mile
further on, he never by any chance, succeeded in getting beyond No. 54.
There was also another gentleman who found it convenient and agreeable
to walk in the same direction and stop at the same house. This for some
time perplexed our friend, Tom, and gave him considerable uneasiness in
the region of the heart. His first business was to discover who he was;
this did not take long to accomplish, but he was more puzzled than ever;
there was no one ill at No. 54, and the gentleman turned out to be a
physician of good standing, residing in Cavendish Square. He dared not
speak to Kate on the subject, for fear of committing himself and
becoming exposed to that little lady's raillery, for he well knew that
she would torment him unmercifully if he betrayed the least sign of
jealousy. Wishing to be satisfied on a point that so troubled him, he
determined to sound his aunt on the matter. He was a great favourite
with her, and she was not likely to betray him to his lady love.
"Very quiet, gentlemanly sort of person, Doctor Ashburnham; don't you
think so," he enquired of his aunt one evening, as they were seated
alone in the drawing room on Harley Street?
"It is well that you are that way of thinking, for he has the same
opinion of you," remarked Mrs. Cotterell with a quiet smile. "Do you
remember to have met him anywhere but in London?" she asked, after a few
moments' pause.
Tom shook his head and replied, "I think not, but perhaps I may have
seen him somewhere. I meet all sorts of people."
"Well, well, your sister Julia is coming up to town some evening next
week, and she is such a clever girl, perhaps she can enlighten you on
the subject."
Tom stared at his aunt for a moment, then the mist began to clear away.
It now struck him that he had never met the Doctor in Harley Street
except during the time that his sister was on a visit there, and it also
occurred to him now, that on his last flying visit to Devonshire he had
met a gentleman much resembling Doctor Ashburnham, riding with Julia in
one of the green lanes in Vellenaux. It was all dear enough now, it was
Julia's lover who had given him so much concern of late, and this fact
removed a great load from Tom's heart. On this discovery his face
brightened up. "But, my dear aunt, is there really anything in it."
"Anything in what?" enquired the good lady, looking up from her
knitting, somewhat amused at the manner in which her nephew had put the
question.
"Why, I mean, is there any love affair, engagement or that sort of thing
between Julia and the Doctor?"
"Well, Tom, all I can say is, that Doctor Ashburnham seldom calls here
except during the time your sister is in London, or occasionally pays
us a visit to enquire when she is likely to be in town again. They have
met, I believe, in Devonshire, and he has visited her at the Willows. He
is certainly very attentive to her when she is with us, and she appears
to be anything but indifferent to his addresses; you can draw your own
conclusions from that, but, as I before stated, she will be here next
week and then, perhaps, she may take you into her confidence. I can say
no more on the matter."
"By George! I hope it is as you say. It would be a capital match for
her. He has a first rate practice, keeps quite a stylish turn out, and
occupies a handsome house in Cavendish Square. I must become more
intimate with him, and see if I cannot worm out exactly what he is
driving at." Here Tom took his hat, and started down stairs three steps
at a time, nearly upsetting the Doctor in the hall in his great hurry.
"Beg pardon, my dear sir, quite accidental I assure you; in haste to
speak to Mr. Cotterell in the library," said Tom apologetically.
"Don't mention it, pray, Mr. Barton," was the reply, as that gentleman
quickly ascended the staircase leading to the drawing room.
Now, Tom really had no business with Mr. Cotterell that evening, nor
would he have intruded on that worthy person, but for his encounter with
the Doctor. He would, he thought, not remain long with his aunt, and it
would be a good opportunity to push his enquiries, could he but manage
to go out with him. His anticipations proved correct. The Doctor did not
remain long up stairs, and our friend Tom managed to meet him again as
he was passing through the hall.
"Fine evening, sir; which way are you walking?" said Tom, seeing no
vehicle in attendance.
"I am returning to Cavendish Square, sir," was the ready reply.
"I also am going in that direction, and if you have no objection will
walk with you," returned Tom Barton. The two gentlemen walked together,
chatting in a very friendly way on the different topics of the day until
they had reached the door of the Doctor's residence, when that gentleman
surprised Tom by saying, "Mr. Barton, will you do me the favor to step
in for a few moments? I wish to speak to you on a subject that cannot
very well be discussed in the public street." Nothing loath, Tom agreed
and was ushered into a very snug apartment, half library, half smoking
divan.
"You smoke, of course," said the Doctor, pointing at the same time to an
array of pipes and tobacco of different kinds on a small side table.
Fill, then, drop into that easy chair, and I will tell you why I have
requested you to enter my snuggery. Tom acted upon his suggestion, and
was soon sending great puffs of smoke half way across the room. His host
followed this very laudable example, and after a few whiffs, at once
opened the business by candidly, and in a straightforward, manner,
telling Tom the great love and admiration he felt for Miss Barton, whom
he had frequently met in Devonshire as well as in London, and that he
had vanity enough to believe that his love was reciprocated, and
declared his intention on Julia's arrival to decide the affair by making
her an offer of his hand and heart, and finished by requesting Tom to
forward his views to the best of his ability.
To this Tom readily assented. "The sly little puss," he continued, "not
to mention a word of it even to me. But I suppose it is not considered
by the fair sex quite the thing to speak to any one on so delicate a
subject until after the gentleman has popped the question." Shortly
after, he took his departure for his chambers at Lincoln's Inn, and it
was noticed that Doctor Ashburnham and Mr. Tom Barton were seen more
frequently together than had hitherto been the case.
Miss Barton arrived, as had been expected by her relatives in Harley
Street, and the physician from Cavendish Square called there every day,
although there was no illness or epidemic in the house, save that known
as the heart disease, and so earnestly did the Doctor press his suit
that Julia must have been hard-hearted indeed to have refused to add to
his happiness by encumbering him with a wife, and ere she returned to
Devonshire, it was finally settled that the wedding was to take place at
the end of the following month, and a very dashing affair it proved. The
lawn sleeves at Saint George's, Hanover Square, were called into
requisition on the occasion. There was a great display of white corded
silk, lace orange blossoms, muslins and wreaths of white roses. Gunter,
of Berkly square, was called upon to supply a wedding breakfast, which
was partaken of at the Cotterells', and after some champagne had been
drank, and the speeches usual on the occasion made, the happy pair
started on their wedding tour through the South of England, calling, of
course, at the Willows on their way. After visiting Scotland they
returned to London, and settled comfortably down to the humdrum of
every day life in the Doctor's handsome establishment in Cavendish
Square, which had been re-decorated and furnished for them during their
absence.
Not many months elapsed before the happiness of our young friends was
somewhat over-shadowed by the death of the worthy old couple at the
Willows, who expired within two months of each other. Mr. Barton died of
old age, and his wife from influenza, caught while attending church to
hear the funeral sermon.
Horace Barton not being expected in England for some time, the Willows
was let on a short lease, and Emily came up to London to reside with her
aunt in Harley Street, occasionally spending several weeks with her
sister, Mrs. Ashburnham.
Our young lawyer was slowly but surely increasing his practice. He had
used all his powers of persuasion to induce Kate to allow him to lead
her to the altar on the same day that his sister was married, but in
vain, for that young lady declared that she would rather take a second
class character in the interesting tableau this time, with the view of
being better able to sustain the role of the principal actress in a
similar pageant at some future time. With this decision Tom had to
remain satisfied for the present and attend to business. But in the
course of time circumstances transpired which prevented him from
attaining any eminence as a lawyer. A distant relative of Mr.
Cotterell's and Godmother to Kate, departed this life, leaving her
Godchild the very comfortable sum of six hundred per annum, secured in
the four per cents., and after wearing mourning for a suitable period,
Kate took the initiative by announcing to Tom, very much to his surprise
and delight, that she was both ready and willing to become his wife on
the following conditions, which were, that he should give up practising
law, take a snug cottage in Devonshire, and turn his attention to
haymaking, shooting, &c, and retire from London life altogether, for she
said that in the country they could live very comfortably on six hundred
a year and be thought somebodies, but they could scarcely exist in
London on that sum and then be thought nobodies.
If our young lawyer had any scruples on the score of giving up his
profession and thereby losing all chance of ever attaining to the
dignity of Lord Chancellor, he certainly kept them to himself, for he
had no wish to run counter to the inclination of Kate, or he might find
himself in the position of the dog in the fable, who had thrown away the
substance to endeavour to grasp the shadow. Tom, in reality, had never
liked a London life, and had a constant hankering after field sports,
shooting and fishing; and now he believed he could indulge in these to
the top of his bent. They could live very comfortably on their joint
income, for he had received a certain sum on the death of his parents,
and likewise made something during the past few years by his profession,
which he had increased by placing it out at interest. Moreover, he knew
exactly where to find a house and grounds that would suit them; the very
one that Kate had so admired during their strolls around Vellenaux. It
was picturesquely situated in a shady dell, through which ran a flowing
brook which deepened and widened as it flowed on towards the sea, and
was the favourite resort of the angler and amateur fisherman--about an
equal distance from the Willows and the Rectory, and but a short walk
from the woods and park of Vellenaux. There were Horace's grounds to
shoot over, and although Sir Ralph Coleman was not a neighbour best
suited to his taste, yet he felt certain that he would not object to his
occasionally using his preserves, or bagging a few brace of birds on his
turnip fields. All this, together with a pretty little loving wife for a
companion, was, to Tom's notion, something worth living for, and a
position he would not exchange for all the gaieties of London life with
a seat on the woolsack into the bargain.
Again No. 54 Harley Street was thrown into a state of bustle and
confusion. Millinery girls, with innumerable band boxes, and oddly
shaped parcels were continually arriving. In the drawing room there was
assembled daily a sort of joint high commission, consisting of a bevy of
pretty maidens with one or two handsome matrons, who were engaged in
deciding on the colour, material, and cut of certain wearables
appertaining to the wedding trousseau of Miss Cotterell. There were
continual visits made to the fashionable emporiums of silk, lace &c., in
Oxford and Regent streets, and other parts of the metropolis. The
wedding day at length arrived. A considerable distance up Harley Street
was lined with carriages of various descriptions, the coachmen and
footmen of which appeared in holiday costume and wearing white satin
favors, and there was quite an excitement in the immediate vicinity to
witness the arrival and departure of the wedding party to and from
church. Kate Cotterell, attended by her six bridesmaids all looking very
lovely in toilettes befitting the occasion, created quite a sensation
among the spectators as they stepped from No. 54 into the carriages that
were to convey them to Hanover Square.
After a very _recherche_ breakfast, served in Gunter's best style, in
the handsome drawing room of the Cotterells', in Harley Street, Tom and
his fair bride took their departure _en route_ for the Continent. They
were to make a tour of several months through France, Germany and
Switzerland, likewise enjoy several weeks on the banks of the beautiful
Rhine.
Mr. Cotterell undertook to arrange matters concerning the purchase of
the cottage so much admired, which he intended to present to his
daughter as a marriage gift, and aunt Sarah, Emily, and Mrs. Ashburnham
took upon themselves the responsibility of furnishing the said cottage,
and otherwise rendering it in every way suitable for the reception of
the happy couple, and thus enable them to commence housekeeping
immediately on their return to England.
The various events and proceedings were duly recorded and forwarded from
time to time for the information of Horace and Pauline Barton, in their
Eastern home on the banks of the Hoogly; and Edith, who still kept up a
correspondence with Kate and Julia, received a full account, descriptive
of the wedding trousseaus and paraphernalia incident to both ceremonies,
and followed up by a delicate enquiry as to when she intended to return
the compliment by favouring them with the details of an Indian wedding,
which they supposed must soon take place, and would, no doubt, prove a
gorgeous and magnificent affair in true oriental style. So wrote the
happy girls to their old friend and companion in Calcutta, for,
according to Pauline's account, she had no end of suitors among the
wealthiest in the land.
To all those enquiries Edith's usual reply was that the time was
somewhat distant when she could indulge in dreams of happiness. Her
position was somewhat changed, thus, probably, the event they so often
alluded to might never take place, and the reader must remember, that
although Edith and Arthur were, beyond doubt, devotedly attached to each
other, the word that would have made them both happy had not yet been
spoken; there was no engagement, or in fact, any advance towards one,
yet both, in their heart of hearts, realized the great love they felt
for each other. But prudential motives had kept Arthur silent. Edith
knew this and was content to wait for the developments of the future. In
the meantime she did not hesitate to participate in the amusements and
enjoyments which offered, and which were continually pressed upon her by
her kind friends, the Bartons.