THOUGH Shelverton, the future home of young Mrs. Crawford, was in
itself less populous than some manufacturing villages, its inhabitants
would have been highly indignant if such a name had been applied to it.
It was an old market town, the centre of a wide agricultural district,
and once in the week its irregular thoroughfares, by courtesy called
streets, were thronged country folk bringing in garden and dairy
produce. The sellers stood in the open air in all weathers, whilst the
farmers, more highly favoured than the gentler sex, transacted business
beneath the roof of an ungainly structure, called the Corn Exchange.
It was most amusing to pass through the market, and notice the costumes
in which, especially in winter, the women attired themselves for
standing in the market. Old riding-coats with many capes which had
once covered masculine wearers, ancient pelisses made of sad-coloured
but substantial cloths, large woollen shawls tied over bonnets of
no particular fashion, even pattens to lift the feet from the cold
pavement, were to be noticed by careful observers. Whatever would keep
out cold and wet was pressed into service, and, quaint as was the
headgear and varied, the rosy, wholesome faces of the buxom country
girls and matrons might have made amends for less picturesque coverings.
The west end of Shelverton was called The Park, and within its
enclosure resided most of those who belonged to the upper ten.
Steynes-Cote was not originally in The Park, for it was built before
a great unoccupied plot of ground was parcelled out for building upon
and so named. But Dr. Fereday good-naturedly took down a portion of
his fences on one side, and made sundry alterations, so that the older
house became part and parcel of The Park, though it continued to excel
the newer dwellings, both in picturesqueness and in the extent of its
grounds.
Steynes-Cote was equally pleasant and commodious; the rooms were large
and well-proportioned with windows delightfully varied in shape and
size, low wide bays, with cushioned seats suggestive of cosy chats, or
of places to nestle in with a favourite book, while trellised roses,
stirred by the summer breeze, courted attention by tapping at the pane.
"A gentleman's place, as it ought to be, for we should never tolerate
a medical man amongst us who was not a gentleman," was the frequent
remark.
Naturally, the tidings that Dr. Crawford was about to bring a new
mistress to Steynes-Cote set Shelverton society in a flutter of
pleasant expectation, and of anxiety to know all about the lady.
There being nothing to conceal, they soon ascertained that their
doctor's wife was the only sister of a viscount, and was actually the
Honourable Mrs. Crawford.
Shelverton had its good old county families at no great distance,
and one baronet—a very new creation—within the parish itself. But of
titled people, there were none, and the ladies were gratified at the
prospect of having an "Honourable" in their midst, and especially as
her position would enable them to visit her on equal terms.
"As the doctor's wife, the Honourable Mrs. Crawford must be one of
us, you know," said Mrs. Prattely, a lady of about forty, who, having
nobody to look after at home except a most indulgent husband of the
easy-going type, devoted her energies to the regulation of sundry other
Shelverton households.
Mrs. Prattely possessed ample means, a luxurious home, a generous
disposition, and a kindly heart. But—what a pity there must be a
but!—she was a little apt to think that, as she dipped her hand into
her purse and freely gave of its contents for the benefit of her
needy neighbours, she had a right to dip at least a finger into every
domestic pie. She gave advice and money with equal liberality, which is
by no means a common way of distributing the two.
People are often generous, not to say lavish, in bestowing advice
alone, and then it matters little whether it is accepted or not. But
when bestowed along with the money which is very badly wanted, it is
different, as the recipient can hardly take the one and refuse to act
upon the other.
There were numbers of poor people in Shelverton who liked the food,
clothing, or money which came at the nick of time to help a sick
husband on to his working legs again, to fit out the girl for service,
or buy necessaries for the home. But amongst these were many who, being
mothers of large families, thought they knew more about managing them
than did Mrs. Prattely herself. So they lauded her generosity, but now
and then, behind her back, made uncomplimentary allusions to an old
proverb which states that "Bachelors' wives and old maids' children are
sure to be perfect."
It was Mrs. Prattely who first called Dr. Crawford's wife "poor thing."
The expression dropped out, as it were, when a number of Shelverton
ladies were discussing the imminent home-coming of the doctor and his
bride, and the social position of the latter.
"It is most satisfactory to know that Mrs. Crawford is a thorough lady;
we have been used to that in our doctor's wife, for no more well-bred
woman need we wish to meet than Mrs. Fereday was. In places like
Shelverton, everybody is more or less known to everybody else; but we
have our own circles. We may be conscious of people's existence and be
kind and friendly, without over-intimacy."
"Acquaintances may be countless, friends must always be comparatively
few," said one of her hearers in reply.
And to this, there was a general assent.
It is perhaps needless to state that Mrs. Prattely lived in The Park.
Land was plentiful at Shelverton, and each handsome house in the
enclosure had its own grounds, Mrs. Prattely's, after Steynes-Cote,
being reckoned the finest. She was, moreover, what is called house
proud, and her home was a worthy example of what money could do when
combined with good taste.
Mrs. Prattely was given to be eloquent on the subject of Shelverton
Park.
"Our residences are houses," she would say; "not mushroom places, run
up in a few days, and as unhealthy and poisonous as most fungi are.
They are homes built to stand, to last, and, above all, to live in.
We have no cracked panels, letting in daylight, through the use of
unseasoned timber; no rattling windows, ill-fitting doors, or thin
walls just held together with plaster. Not even a semi-detached house,
so the risk of objectionable neighbours is reduced to the minimum."
Mrs. Prattely was always strong on the subject of neighbours thus
connected. "For my part," she said, "I would rather live in the tiniest
cottage, or even in a street, than in a semi-detached house, for in
the case of persons whose dwelling is actually tacked on to your own,
it is almost impossible to remain strangers. Semi-detached persons
have so many opportunities of being disagreeable, to say nothing of
the difficulty of keeping your fronts uniform in appearance. There are
two houses of the kind—outside The Park, I am glad to say, but which
I am compelled to pass each time I drive in. Would you believe it?
One of the occupants mows his half of the front lawn in one week, and
the other portion is cropped days later by the dweller to the right.
One thinks his outdoor painting should be done in the autumn, while
his neighbour considers spring the correct season, and acts upon this
opinion. Even in the matter of blinds they manage to differ, though
both have venetians, for they are of different colours, and, though
harmonizing with the inside, the outside effect is something dreadful.
And it is hardly credible, but these semi-detached people are excellent
friends and neighbours. They are simply born without eyes as regards
taste or reasonable uniformity."
Mrs. Prattely sighed, and continued pathetically, "I could not endure
such a state of things, and I am truly thankful that in The Park each
residence stands absolutely alone. We Park people are quite independent
of each other, with plenty of room to turn round in, and we know just
whom we please."
The Park people exercised this privilege to the full, and even
succeeded in dividing the upper ten of Shelverton society into two
lesser tens, or, as somebody wickedly expressed it, "into two bunches
of fives."
Mrs. Prattely was the acknowledged leader of one set. The other, owing
to a removal, was merely in opposition, but hoping to enlist the
doctor's young wife when she would become resident among them, though
Mrs. Prattely did not intend that this should be effected without a
counter effort on her side.
It is convenient to quote this lady's sayings, as they give an idea of
the state of feeling in one portion of Shelverton society.
"At any rate, Mrs. Crawford, poor thing, will have no cause to find
fault with her future home. Plenty of titled people would give a little
fortune if they could transplant the doctor's fine old house into May
Fair for the season."
Mrs. Prattely was holding forth to a couple of young lady callers about
Dr. Crawford, his home, and his marriage. So much was she interested
that she talked almost continuously, and her visitors' share in the
conversation was limited to mere words of assent. It was before the
days of "afternoon teas," but the hostess, always hospitable, had
offered refreshments of an even more acceptable character, in the shape
of strawberries, thick cream, and sponge-cake. These occupied the
young people very pleasantly, and rendered mere listening all the more
agreeable.
The arrival of Dr. Crawford and his wife was imminent. They might
enter The Park at any moment, and, while hospitably entertaining her
visitors, Mrs. Prattely cast frequent glances towards the window, which
commanded a view of the drive by which Steynes-Cote must be approached.
"I suppose you know the Crawfords are expected this afternoon. What a
change it will be for her!" said the elder lady.
The younger ones smiled, and one replied, "The change from a single to
a married life must always be a great one."
"True, my dear, but in this case it is particularly so. It is not every
day that a nobleman's sister marries a country doctor. I am told Mrs.
Crawford is very beautiful, and would have made a great sensation in
society if her friends had not allowed her to throw herself away."
[Illustration: "SHE WILL HAVE A DELIGHTFUL HOME,
AND A HUSBAND WHOM EVERY ONE RESPECTS."]
"Dr. Crawford is very fine-looking, and everyone says he is a brave and
a good man. He has mixed on equal terms with the same class of people
as Mrs. Crawford has," returned the elder Miss Isherwood. At the bottom
of her heart, she considered Andrew Crawford worthy of any girl living.
She and her younger sister, Mary, were comparatively new-comers, who
were keeping house for their brother, the rector of Shelverton, yet
they had already seen something of Dr. Crawford, and knew how the poor
and suffering spoke of his ready skill and his tenderness, and faces
brightened at the mention of his name.
"Andrew Crawford is most excellent, my dears. I have known him ever
since he first came, a boy, to Shelverton. But what he is, has never
been questioned. I was only speaking of the change his wife will
experience."
"She will have a delightful home, and a husband whom every one
respects."
"The home will be only a professional man's place—a business house,
one may call it, after all else is said. Though the surgery and
consulting-rooms are well placed in the rear, there must be the
jingling of door bells day and night. A doctor never knows, when he
goes weary to bed, whether he will have a chance of resting there till
daylight or not. And remember she will be quite alone, except for
servants, when Dr. Crawford is called out. Poor thing! I quite pity
her."
As the Isherwood girls could not honestly echo this last sentiment,
they said nothing, except that no doubt Mrs. Crawford would find
pleasant neighbours, and soon be on excellent terms with some of The
Park people. They looked towards their hostess, as if to indicate her
as a probable friend, and Mrs. Prattely answered promptly—
"I only hope, my dears, that Mrs. Crawford may get into right hands
to begin with. I shall not be wanting as a neighbour, but whether
my advances may be received in the same spirit, I cannot judge. In
Shelverton, the lady will be the doctor's wife, for she takes her
husband's rank; but she may think of herself as the sister of Viscount
Carnelly, and then—"
Whatever Mrs. Prattely might have intended to add to her sentence was
cut short by her catching a glimpse of Dr. Crawford's carriage turning
into The Park.
The girls were in the act of leave-taking, so bidding them a rather
hasty farewell, the elder lady rushed to an upper window, whence, by
means of a well-directed opera-glass, she obtained "a good look" at Dr.
and Mrs. Crawford without being herself seen.
Ida's beautiful face was beaming with pleasure as her husband pointed
out Steynes-Cote, and she bent forward to catch a view of it through
intervening trees.
The doctor looked so well, and such a fitting mate for the young
creature beside him, that Mary Isherwood indignantly exclaimed, after
the carriage was well past, "What could Mrs. Prattely mean by calling
Mrs. Crawford 'poor thing'? I felt so angry. I wish I durst ask her
to pity somebody who needed to be pitied, and not a woman who had
everything that a reasonable being could desire."
The elder assented, and I am afraid that even the memory of the good
things they had just received at Mrs. Prattely's hands did not prevent
them from saying further hard ones about that lady.
If the girls could have looked again in the face of their late
entertainer, they would have seen a very tender expression upon it, and
a suspicious moisture about the eyes. Mrs. Prattely owned a kind heart
as well as a busy tongue, and her thoughts were travelling back twenty
years to just such a home-coming, when she was the girl-bride. She had
known no hardships, for she had fair surroundings and a husband who
never said her nay. But the home had been too quiet, that was all.
"If my one little girl had lived, she would have been within a year of
Mrs. Crawford's age," she thought. "How delighted I should have been to
plan for her! Well, I can pray, may God bless these two, and give them
many a happy year together, and may she, poor thing, never know the
loneliness I have so often felt, when I daresay one half of the people
who know me think I am one of the most enviable of women! And so I am,"
she added, with a remorseful feeling, as she remembered how completely
she was surrounded with good things.
And she breathed a prayer that she might be forgiven for cherishing a
repining thought even for a moment.
As to Mrs. Crawford, this mother, who was without a living child to
love, determined, so far as lay in her power, to be a kindly neighbour
and faithful friend to the new mistress of Steynes-Cote.
[Illustration]