It was Sir Giles himself who had found this charm which had so great an
effect on the after-history of Greyshott. Patty, among other qualities
which were not so praiseworthy, had the almost fierce modesty of the
young Englishwoman, and would not have spoken on such a subject to a
man, even so harmless a person as an old man like Sir Giles, for any
inducement. She did not even understand what he meant at first, and the
same impulse of _farouche_ modesty made her ashamed to explain, or do
more than blush deeply and remonstrate, “Oh, dear papa!” as she would
have done probably in any case, whether his supposition had been false
or true. The old gentleman in his melancholy and confused musings over
Gervase, had suddenly remembered, the thought being recalled by some
merest trifle of association, the hurrahs of little Osy which had
mingled with his own feeble cheer on some forgotten occasion. He
remembered it suddenly as the strangest contrast to his feelings now.
What had the old father, desolate and childless, to cheer about? What
had he heard that could have produced that cheer? It was when Meg was
going away--when she had told him she was going to take Osy away from
him. That was nothing to cheer about. What was it that had made him
forget Osy, but which the dear little fellow had caught up and shouted
over, though it was an unkindness to himself? and then he recollected
all at once. What Mrs. Osborne had said had been the most common and
ordinary wish that children might arise in the old house, which was the
most natural thing, the most certainly to be expected. She had meant no
more: but Sir Giles had at once attributed to Meg a knowledge which was
at the moment impossible, without reflecting either that she was the
last person to receive the confidence of Patty. He forgot now that it
was months since this had been said, and only remembered that it had
been said, and that the prospect was like life from death. Life from
death! That was what it would be--from his dead son an heir, in whom the
old house might blossom and grow glad again. He took up the idea where
he had dropped it with a sudden exhilaration which drove away all
sorrow. An heir to the old house, a thing all made of hope, with none of
poor Gervase’s deficiencies, a being whom the old man fondly hoped to
“make a man of” even yet before he died.
And it would not be too much to say that the first feeling of Patty,
when she understood what the old gentleman meant, was one of
consternation. She did not know how to answer him, how to tell him that
she had no such hope. Her lips were closed partly by the tradition of
silence on such subjects which an unsophisticated Englishwoman seldom
surmounts, and partly because she was so utterly astonished and taken
aback by the suggestion. She did not even see the advantage in it, nor
how it placed this feeble old man whose life hung on a thread in her
hands. It was not till after she had left him and was alone, and could
think, that these advantages occurred to Patty; and there was probably
no suggestion of a treacherous kind which it would have seemed to her so
impossible to make use of. The scruples of life are very much things of
circumstance, that seeming quite legitimate and right to one which is
the height of immodesty and indelicacy to another. Patty had one
distinct object in her mind, now that all her hopes were over, which was
to induce her father-in-law, by whatever means were possible, to make a
provision for her. He was really, she felt, the only one to whom she
could now cling, her sole support and protection, and she meant to be
also his protector, to take care of him as he had never been taken care
of before. All this she steadfastly intended, meaning nothing but good
to the ailing and desolate old man; but she also intended that he should
provide for her, as was her right as his son’s wife. Should Sir Giles
die at the present moment, Patty was strongly and painfully aware that
she would be in no way the better for having taken that step which had
seemed so prodigious a one, which had raised her so high above all her
antecedents and belongings, by becoming Gervase Piercey’s wife. She was
Mrs. Piercey, but she was without a penny, poorer by the burden of that
name than Patty Hewitt could ever have been. Her first duty, her first
determination was to be provided for, in whatever manner it might be
most possible to do that. But it is only just to her to say that this
way of influencing her father-in-law, and of moving him to do what she
wished, had never occurred to her, and even when thus suggested it was
very repugnant to her--the last thing she desired to do. But Patty, shut
up in her room of widowhood and mourning, with her cap with its long,
white streamers visible upon the table, and everything black about her,
even the dressing-gown which she had put on to sit by the fire, and her
mind so alert and unfatigued going over everything, speculating how best
to pluck from the nettle danger the flower of safety, could not shut out
the suggestion from her thoughts. It might even yet prove to be so, she
said to herself, blushing hotly, even though she was alone. And if not,
why shouldn’t she permit Sir Giles to think so? It would give him a
great deal of pleasure, poor old gentleman. It would tide him over the
worst time, the immediate crisis of his son’s death, and it would double
her every claim upon him, and make it more than ever necessary that he
should put her at once beyond the reach of want or suffering of any
kind. Still, it was with reluctance that she accepted this weapon which
had been thrust into her hand.
Sir Giles could not get his new discovery out of his head. He told
Dunning of it before he went to bed. It was whispered all through the
house in the morning; and though some of the women scoffed and declared
it to be an invention, yet it was, of course, the most natural idea in
the world. From Patty not a word came, either in assertion or denial.
She said nothing; she understood no hints; she never allowed herself to
be betrayed into reference to her supposed hopes. Sir Giles alone talked
to her on the subject with joyous laughter and chuckles, and a loudly
expressed determination that she should be obeyed and not contradicted,
which was of priceless value to Patty, at the moment when her sway was a
little uncertain, and when expectation was strong in the household that
she should be displaced and Mrs. Osborne sent for in her place. The
household by no means desired Mrs. Osborne in Patty’s place. Margaret
had been too much and too long a dependant to be popular among the
servants; and Patty, who was so peremptory, who had acted upon her
convictions, and managed to turn out everybody whom she feared or
disliked, had powerful recommendations in her imperious authority. She
meant what she said, and could not be driven or persuaded out of it; and
she knew when work was well done, and gave the capable housemaid or
cleaner of plate the praise which was his or her due. And she was not
unjust, save in the case of personal disrespect to herself, which she
never pardoned--a quality which the servants’ hall entirely approved.
Mrs. Osborne could be got to “look over” anything by judicious entreaty
or representation, especially if it was a mere offence against herself,
and was less respected and considered in consequence. It was not,
therefore, in any way desired that she should take up the reins; yet,
all the same, it made a great difference to Patty that Sir Giles had
taken it into his head that she must not be contradicted. It established
her once more firmly in her seat.
And the little group in the great drawing-room in the evening was all
the more cheerful in consequence. It was, to look at, a forlorn group
enough: the old gentleman, more feeble than ever, with Dunning behind
his chair, ready to move it according to his caprice, and the young
widow in her deep crape, a black spot upon the white and gold of the
room. Patty had been requested by Sir Giles to “take that thing off her
head,” and did so obediently in her father-in-law’s presence, though she
was far too determined to do her duty by her dead husband to dispense
with that symbol of grief on any other occasion. They sat with the
backgammon-board between them, playing game after game. There was in
Patty’s mind unutterable relief from the misery and suspense which she
had suffered in Gervase’s lifetime; but other thoughts, scarcely less
anxious, occupied her fully. Yet she talked to the old gentleman with an
endeavour to please and amuse him which was heroic. It was a great
strain upon Patty. She could talk of herself without difficulty; she
could have talked, had she thought it expedient, of her father and aunt,
and their sins against her; she could have talked of Gervase; but these
subjects being all tabooed, it was very hard upon Patty to find anything
to say. She knew nobody whom Sir Giles knew. She could not tell him the
news, for she knew none, except the affairs of the village, which
interested herself, and which she seized on greedily from every possible
channel. But Patty could not talk on any other subject. She had to talk
about the backgammon, to remind him of the wonderful stroke he had
played last night, and the wonderful luck he had always; and how it was
such an amazing chance for her to play, a poor ignorant thing as she
was, with such an accomplished player as dear papa. This was but a
scanty thread to spin through night after night, and had it not been
made up so much of applause it is very doubtful how long it would have
sufficed. But there is nothing of which the ordinary mind can swallow so
much as praise; and when the interest of life is reduced to a game, the
player thinks as much of his lucky chances and his skilful movements as
if it were something of the highest importance; so that, on the whole,
this talk did very well and kept them going. But still Patty had not
ventured to introduce her great subject--that provision for herself
which she felt became more and more important every day; for who could
tell whether any morning Sir Giles might not be found to have passed
away from this life altogether, or to be enclosed in the living tomb of
paralysis, unable to act or devise anything more.
Lady Hartmore did not call next day as her lord had promised, but she
did call, and was received by Patty in full panoply of mourning and with
a heart that beat loudly with suppressed excitement. Lady Hartmore was
neither so much touched by the sight of the young widow, nor so
sympathetic as her husband had been. She examined Patty curiously, with
searching eyes, full not only of the superciliousness of rank, but of
the experience of a much older woman, which Mrs. Gervase would have
opposed with defiance, but for the false pretence which, though she had
never put it forth, and though it had arisen most innocently, gave her
something of a sensation of guilt. This, however, though Patty was not
aware of it, did her service with the great lady. It subdued her natural
determination, and gave an apparent softness to her aspect which did not
belong to it by nature. Lady Hartmore put a great many questions to the
young widow: did she think of remaining at Greyshott, which must be so
melancholy a place nowadays? did she think this last shock had very much
shaken Sir Giles? did she not feel it a great responsibility to be left
in charge of him? and many other such questions. To these Patty replied
very properly that she could not possibly leave Sir Giles alone; that he
had been very kind to her, like a father, and that nothing would induce
her to desert him; that he was very well on the whole, “quite himself,”
and that she tried to be as cheerful as she could on his account. She
took no notice of the question about leaving Greyshott. It was not
indeed necessary to reply to it, when she had already made that answer
about the impossibility of leaving Sir Giles.
“But you must want somebody to speak to,--somebody to take care of you,
too,” said the great lady, meaning more than she said.
“Oh, no,” said Patty; “I have always had very good health, I have never
been delicate. I am very fond of my dear father-in-law. He does not want
very much--he is very easily amused, and so kind, always so kind. We do
very well all by ourselves--as well,” Patty added, with a sigh, “as in
the circumstances we could possibly do.”
What could any one say to such perfect sentiments? Lady Hartmore was
baffled in her inquisitions. “Still,” she said, “I should have thought
that some one who was a relation--some one of your own family--a woman
to speak to----”
“I am sure,” said Patty, “that Lady Hartmore knows my family are not
likely to be welcome at Greyshott; and I have but an old aunt who was
never married, and therefore has no experience.” She blushed as she said
this, and Lady Hartmore was very quick to take up the inference for
which she was prepared. But Patty was too wise to be led into any
further disclosures or to answer any of the searching questions which
her ladyship proceeded to put.
“How did you find the poor thing?” her husband asked when he joined her
in the carriage--for Lord Hartmore had visited Sir Giles while Lady
Hartmore thus did her duty by Patty.
“I found the poor thing very well and extremely well able to take care
of herself,” said the lady. “I don’t think you need waste so much
sympathy upon her.” But Lord Hartmore was full of feeling, and could not
be persuaded to take this view.
“The poor old fellow is quite exultant,” he said. “It is a wonderful
blessing for him, whatever you may think of it in any other connection.
It has given him a new lease.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Lady Hartmore.
“Oh, come!” cried her husband. “It is one thing to trust your own
judgment, which is an excellent one, I don’t gainsay it--but quite
another to set it up against those who must know the facts best. By the
way, he bewildered me by saying Meg told him. Has Meg been here?”
“Not that I know of; but she may have made a hurried run to see her
uncle. If Meg told him----” said Lady Hartmore, in subdued tones. She
added after a pause, “I shall think more of her if Meg is her
_confidante_.”
Thus on the whole the impression was favourable to Patty, even though
the grounds upon which it was formed were false.
After this visit Patty took her first active step towards the
accomplishment of her desires. Sir Giles, who had been pleased with the
Hartmore visit and augured great things from it, opened the way by
asking if she had not liked Lady Hartmore and found her kind? “A nice
woman, a good-hearted woman,” he said.
“Yes, dear papa; but one thing she said gave me a great deal of pain;
for she seemed to think I should go back to my family, and leave you,”
she said, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.
“Leave me? nonsense!” said Sir Giles, “I sha’n’t let you leave me, my
dear. I shouldn’t have sent you away, anyhow, you may be sure; no, no, I
shouldn’t have sent you away; but in present circumstances, my
dear--Why, you’re all our hope at Greyshott, you’re all our stand-by,
you’re--you’re our sheet-anchor.”
“How kind, how kind you are, dear papa! I try to do my best to keep
everything straight, though I never could pretend to be of so much
consequence as that. But people feel free to speak,” said Patty, with a
sigh, “because they know I have no ground to stand on. I wasn’t dear
Gervase’s equal when he married me, and there were no settlements or
anything, you know; and I am quite dependent, quite dependent, as much
as a servant--but without any wages,” Patty added, with a faint laugh.
It was at one of the rare moments when Dunning was absent, intervals of
which Patty eagerly took advantage. Dunning was, indeed, a thorn in her
flesh, though after mature deliberation she had decided that it was
wiser to retain him, that he might take the responsibility of Sir Giles’
health.
“Dependent!” cried Sir Giles, “nonsense, nonsense! A servant, my dear?
Don’t let me hear such a word again. No, no; no, no; never could have
been so, for you’ve been quite a daughter, quite a daughter. But, in the
present circumstances----”
“Ah, dear papa, don’t let us think of that. I love to be with you--it’s
the only comfort I have; but still I can’t forget that I have no
provision. I might have to go away and work for my living, if somebody
were to over-persuade you, or if you were--ill or anything. A Mrs.
Piercey having to work for her living--or perhaps take a situation! I
shouldn’t mind it for myself, but when I think, dear papa, of your
name.”
“Good Lord!” cried Sir Giles, “you must be out of your mind, my dear, to
think of such a thing. My poor boy’s wife, and a good wife to him, too,
if he had but lived to profit by it. That’s all nonsense, all nonsense,
my dear.”
“Ah, dear papa! but it would not be nonsense if I had not you to trust
to,” cried Patty, laying her hand upon his arm. “It is you who are my
sheet-anchor. I have not a penny of my own, not even to pay for my
mourning; and I can’t earn any for myself, don’t you know, because of
dear Gervase and your name--the first in the county. I couldn’t take in
needlework, could I, in Greyshott? and a woman, you know, has always
little expenses----”
“My dear,” said Sir Giles, “have all the fal-lals you can set your face
to, and send in the bills to me; you’ve nothing to do but send in the
bills to me.”
“Dear papa! as if I ever doubted your kindness. It is not fal-lals I am
thinking of; this,” cried Patty, holding up her crape, “is not much of
a fal-lal, is it? But what I am thinking of is the time to come, when I
shall require to have a little provision or income or salary of my own.”
“Do you mean,” cried the old man, in the half-sobbing tone into which he
was betrayed by any emotion, “when--when--I’m no more; when I’m dead? Is
that what you mean?”
Patty stooped down and laid her face against the large old limp hand,
which reposed on the arm of Sir Giles’ chair. “I hope I’ll be dead, too,
before that,” she said; “for what should I have to live for then?”
This, it need not be pointed out, was no answer to his question; but it
seemed so, and Sir Giles was much affected and sobbed, which Patty
echoed with a deep sigh or two which seemed to give a more refined
expression to his feeling. He put his other hand upon her head.
“Please God, we’ll see better days before that,” he said.
And then Dunning came back, and a new game was begun.