NUTTIE'S PROSPECTS.
'Three hundred pounds and possibilities.'--Merry Wives of Windsor.
Again Nuttie's plans were doomed to be frustrated. It did not prove to
be half so easy to befriend Mr. and Mrs. Mark Egremont as she expected,
at the distance of half London apart, and with no special turn for
being patronised on their side.
Her father took a fancy for almost daily drives with her in the park,
because then he could have Alwyn with him; and the little fellow's
chatter had become his chief amusement. Or if she had the carriage to
herself, there was sure to be something needful to be done which made
it impossible to go into the city to take up and set down Mrs. Mark
Egremont; and to leave her to make her way home would be no kindness.
So Nuttie only accomplished a visit once before going out of town, and
that was by her own exertions--by underground railway and cab. Then
she found all going prosperously; the blacks not half so obnoxious as
had been expected (of course not, thought Nuttie, in the middle of the
summer); the look-out over the yard very amusing to Billy-boy; and the
large old-fashioned pannelled rooms, so cool and airy that Annaple was
quite delighted with them, and contemned the idea of needing a holiday.
She had made them very pretty and pleasant with her Micklethwayte
furniture, whose only fault was being on too small a scale for these
larger spaces, but that had been remedied by piecing, and making what
had been used for two serve for one.
The kitchen was on the same floor, close at hand, which was well, for
Annaple did a good deal there, having only one young maid for the
rougher work. She had taken lessons in the School of Cookery, and
practised a good deal even at Micklethwayte, and she was proud of her
skill and economy. Mark came in for his mid-day refreshment, and
looked greatly brightened, as if the worst had come and was by no means
so bad as he expected. All the time he had been at Mr. Dutton's he had
been depressed and anxious, but now, with his boy on his knee, he was
merrier than Nuttie had ever known him. As to exercise, there were
delightful evening walks, sometimes early marketings in the long summer
mornings before business began--and altogether it seemed, as Nuttie
told her father afterwards, as if she had had a glimpse into a little
City Arcadia.
'Hein!' said he, 'how long will it last?'
And Nuttie was carried away to Cowes, where he had been persuaded to
recur to his old favourite sport of yachting. She would have rather
liked this if Clarence Fane had not been there too, and continually
haunting them. She had been distrustful of him ever since Annaple's
warning, and it became a continual worry to the motherless girl to
decide whether his civil attentions really meant anything, or whether
she were only foolish and ridiculous in not accepting them as freely
and simply as before.
Of one thing she became sure, namely, that Gregorio was doing whatever
in him lay to bring them together.
In this seaside temporary abode, great part of the London establishment
was left behind, and Gregorio condescended to act the part of butler,
with only a single man-servant under him, and thus he had much more
opportunity of regulating the admission of visitors than at home; and
he certainly often turned Mr. Fane in upon her, when she had intended
that gentleman to be excluded, and contrived to turn a deaf or
uncomprehending ear when she desired that there should be no admission
of visitors unless her father was absolutely ready for them; and also
there were times when he must have suggested an invitation to dinner,
or a joining in a sail. No doubt Gregorio would have been delighted to
see her married, and to be thus free from any counter influence over
his master; but as she said to herself, 'Catch me! Even if I cared a
rush for the man, I could not do it. I don't do my poor father much
good, but as to leaving poor little Alwyn in his clutches--I must be
perfectly demented with love even to think of it.'
There was a desire on the valet's part to coax and court little Alwyn
of which she felt somewhat jealous. The boy was naturally the pet of
every one in the household, but he was much less out of Gregorio's
reach in the present confined quarters, and she could not bear to see
him lifted up in the valet's arms, allowed to play with his watch, held
to look at distant sails on board the yacht, or even fed with sweet
biscuits or chocolate creams.
The Rectory nursery had gone on a strict regimen and nurse was as angry
as Nuttie herself; but there was no preventing it, for his father was
not above cupboard love, and never resisted the entreaties that were
always excited by the sight of dainties, only laughing when Nuttie
remonstrated, or even saying, 'Never mind sister, Wynnie, she's got
Mrs. Teachem's cap on,' and making the child laugh by pretending to
smuggle in papers of sweets by stealth, apart from the severe eyes of
sister or nurse.
That cut Nuttie to the heart. To speak of the evils for which
self-indulgence was a preparation would only make her father sneer at
her for a second Hannah More. It was a language he did not understand;
and as to the physical unwholesomeness, he simply did not choose to
believe it. She almost wished Alwyn would for once be sick enough to
frighten him, but that never happened, nor would he accept nurse's
statement of the boy being out of order.
Poor little Alwyn, he was less and less of an unmixed joy to her as he
was growing out of the bounds of babyhood, and her notions of
discipline were thwarted by her father's unbounded indulgence. To her
the child was a living soul, to be trained for a responsible position
here and for the eternal world beyond; to her father he was a
delightful plaything, never to be vexed, whose very tempers were
amusing, especially when they teased the serious elder sister.
'Oh father! do you ever think what it will come to?' Nuttie could not
help saying one day when Mr. Egremont had prevented her from carrying
him off in disgrace to the nursery for tying the rolls up in dinner
napkins to enact Punch and Judy, in spite of his own endeavours to
prevent the consequent desolation of the preparations.
Mr. Egremont shrugged his shoulders, and only observed, 'An excuse for
a little home tyranny, eh? No, no, Wyn; we don't want tame little
muffs here.'
Nuttie was obliged to run out of the room and--it must be
confessed--dance and stamp out her agony of indignation and misery that
her father should be bent on ruining his child, for she could not
understand that all this was simply the instinctive self-indulgence of
a drugged brain and dulled conscience.
She did, however, get a little support and help during a brief stay in
the shooting season at Bridgefield. The Canoness was visiting the
Condamines at the Rectory, and very soon understood all the state of
things, more perhaps from her former nurse than from Ursula. She was
witness to one of those trying scenes, when Nuttie had been forbidding
the misuse of a beautiful elaborate book of nursery rhymes, where Alwyn
thought proper to 'kill' with repeated stabs the old woman of the shoe,
when preparing to beat her progeny.
Just as she was getting the dagger paper-knife out of his little hand,
and was diverting the pout on his swelling lip, his father became aware
of the contest, and immediately the half conquered boy appealed to him.
'Sister naughty. Won't let Wynnie kill cross ugly old woman, beating
poor little children.'
'A fellow feeling! eh, sister? Kill her away, boy, tear her out! Yes,
give her to sister, and tell her that's the way to serve sour females!
I declare, Ursula, she has got something of your expression.'
'Oh Wynnie, Wynnie!' said Nuttie, as he trotted up to her, 'is sister
cross and ugly?' and she opened her arms to him.
'Sister, Wyn's own sister,' said the child affectionately, letting
himself be kissed as he saw her grieved. 'She shan't be ugly old
woman--ugly old woman go in fire.'
So perilously near the flame did he run to burn the old woman that Mr.
Egremont shouted to her that in spite of all that humbug, she was
perfectly careless of the child, although if she had withheld him she
would probably have been blamed for thwarting him.
'Are you quite fair towards Ursula?' the aunt ventured to say when the
girl had gone to dress for walking down with her to the Rectory. 'It is
hard on her, and not good for the boy to upset her authority.'
'Eh? Why, the girl is just a governess manquee, imbued with the spirit
of all those old women who bred her up. A nice life the poor child
would have of it, but for me.'
'I am sure she is devotedly attached to him.'
'Hein! So she thinks; but trust human nature for loving to wreak
discipline on the child who has cut her out.'
'That is scarcely just, Alwyn. She was greatly relieved to be cut out.'
Mr. Egremont laughed at this, and his sister-in-law indignantly added
with all the authority of a successful parent, 'Anyway, nothing is so
bad for a child as collision between the authorities in a family.
Ursula is doing her best to act as a mother to that child, and it will
be very injurious to him to interfere with her influences.'
'She's a good girl enough--gives very little trouble,' he allowed, 'but
I'm not going to have the boy sat upon.'
As he spoke the words, Nuttie returned, and as soon as she was out of
the house and out of hearing she exclaimed, 'Oh, Aunt Jane, you see how
it is! How am I to prevent my boy from being utterly ruined?'
'I have been speaking to your father,' said Mrs. Egremont, 'but he does
not seem to understand. Men don't. A child's faults and fancies seem
such trifles to them that they can't see the harm of indulging them,
and, besides, they expect to be amused.'
'And is that poor dear little fellow to grow up spoilt?' said Nuttie,
her eyes hot with unshed tears.
'I hope not, Ursula. I have great confidence in your influence, for I
see you are a sensible girl.' This was astonishing praise from the
Canoness. 'But you will throw away your chances if you keep up a
continual opposition to what your father allows. It will be much less
hurtful if Alwyn does get too much indulgence, and does a little
unnecessary mischief, than for him to learn to think you the enemy of
his pleasures, always wanting to check and punish him. Oh yes,' as
Nuttie was going to answer, 'I know it is for his real good, but how is
that baby to understand that? Indeed, my dear, I know how it is; I
have gone through the same sort of thing with Basil.'
'Oh, it could never have been so bad!'
'No, of course not; but I have had to allow what I did not like for the
child rather than let him see the shadow of difference of opinion
between us, and I don't think it has done him any harm. The great
point is that you should keep that poor little fellow's affection and
respect, and make him unwilling to vex you.'
'That he is, dear little man. He is sorry when he sees sister grieved.
He is always distressed if anything is hurt or pained. He is really
tender-hearted.'
'Yes, but boys are boys. That feeling will fail you if you work it too
hard, and especially if you show vexation at his pleasures. Keep that
for real evils, like falsehood or cruelty.'
'Not for disobedience?'
'The evil of disobedience depends much more upon the authority of an
order than on the child itself. If he disobeys you under his father's
licence, you cannot make much of it. You have him a good deal to
yourself?'
'Yes.'
'Then make use of that time to strengthen his principles and sense of
right and wrong, as well as to secure his affections. My dear, I never
saw a girl in a more difficult position than yours, but I see you are
doing your utmost; only I am afraid the love of sedatives is the same.'
'Oh aunt, I did think he had given it up!'
'You are inexperienced, my dear. I see it in his eyes. Well, I'm
afraid there is no stopping that.'
'Mother--' and Nuttie's voice was choked.
'She did her best, but you have not the same opportunities. It can't
be helped with a man of that age. Mark might have done something, but
he is out of the question now, poor fellow!'
'Indeed, Aunt Jane, I think Mark and Annaple are some of the happiest
people I ever saw. I only wish my poor Alwyn were as forward as their
Billy, but I'm not even allowed to teach him his letters, because once
he cried over them.'
'I wish they had anything to fall back upon,' said Mrs. Egremont
anxiously. 'They are so unwilling to let any one know of their
difficulties that I feel as if I never knew in what straits they may
be. You will be sure to let me know, Ursula, if there is anything that
I can do for them.'
That conversation was a great comfort and help to Nuttie, who was
pleased to find herself treated as a real friend by her aunt, and
perceived the wisdom of her advice. But the watching over the Mark
Egremonts was a very difficult matter to accomplish, for when she went
back to London she was warned that Billy had the whooping cough,
rendering them unapproachable all the winter, so that she could only
hear of them through Mr. Dutton, whom she continued to see occasionally
whenever there was anything to communicate. Mr. Egremont rather liked
him, and on meeting him in the street, would ask him casually in to
dinner, or to make up a rubber, or play piquet, for he excelled in
these arts, and still more in chess, and an evening with Mr. Dutton was
quite a red-letter time with Nuttie. It gave her an indefinable sense
of safety and protection; but it was not always to be had, for her
friend had many engagements, being one of the active lay church
workers, and devoting two regular evenings in each week to Gerard
Godfrey's eastern district, where he kept all the accounts, had a model
court and evening class, besides hospitably resting tired clergymen and
their wives in his pleasant quiet house.
In the spring Mr. Egremont was laid up with the worst rheumatic attack
he had yet had, in consequence of yielding to the imperious will of his
son, who had insisted on standing in a bleak corner to see the Life
Guards pass by. On this occasion Nuttie did not prove herself the
heaven-born nurse that the true heroine ought to be, but was extremely
frightened, and altogether dependent on Gregorio, who knew all about
the symptoms, and when to send for the doctor and a garde-malade.
Gregorio always talked French to Nuttie when he felt himself in the
ascendant, as he certainly was at present; but he became much less
gracious when he heard that Mrs. William Egremont might be expected,
declaring that madame would only excite his master, and that her
presence was quite unnecessary. Her coming had been volunteered, but
it was a great boon to Ursula, who was thus helped out in many
perplexities, although Mrs. Egremont was a great deal at her
step-son's, and neither lady was of much avail in the sick-room, during
the stress of the illness. It was never actually dangerous, but there
was great suffering and much excitement, and for four or five days the
distress and anxiety were considerable. After this passed off Ursula
was surprised to find her company preferred to that of her aunt. She
was a better souffre-douleur, was less of a restraint, and was besides
his regular reader and amanuensis, so that as the force of the attack
abated, he kept her a good deal in his room during the latter part of
the day, imparting scraps of intelligence, skimming the papers for him,
and reading his letters.
There was a lease to be signed, and, as soon as might be, Mr. Bulfinch,
the Redcastle solicitor, brought it up, and had to be entertained at
luncheon. While he was waiting in the drawing-room for Mr. Egremont to
be made ready for him, he looked with deep interest on the little heir,
whom Ursula presently led off to the other end of the room to the hoard
of downstair toys; and an elaborate camp was under construction, when
by the fireside, the Canoness inquired in a low confidential tone, 'May
I ask whether you came about a will?'
'No, Mrs. Egremont. I wish I were. It is only about the lease of
Spinneycotes farm.'
'Then there is none?'
'None that I am aware of. None has ever been drawn up by us. Indeed, I
was wishing that some influence could be brought to bear which might
show the expedience of making some arrangement. Any melancholy event
is, I trust, far distant, but contingencies should be provided for.'
'Exactly so. He is recovering now, but these attacks always leave
effects on the heart, and at his age, with his habits, no one knows
what may happen. Of course it would not make much difference to the
boy.'
'No, the Court of Chancery would appoint the most suitable natural
guardians.'
'But,' said Mrs. Egremont, 'I am afraid that the personal property when
divided would not be much of a provision for her.'
'You are right. The investments are unfortunately and
disproportionately small.'
'She ought either to have them all, or there should be a charge on the
estate,' said the Canoness decisively. 'If possible, he must be made
to move.'
'Oh, don't!' cried Nuttie, jumping up from the floor. 'He mustn't be
upset on any account.'
'My dear, I had no notion that you heard us!' exclaimed her aunt. 'I
thought Alwyn was making too much noise with his soldiers.'
'I beg your pardon,' said Nuttie, 'perhaps I should have spoken sooner,
but indeed he must not be worried and disturbed,' she added, somewhat
fiercely.
'Don't be afraid, my dear,' said her aunt. 'Mr. Bulfinch knows that
your father is in no condition to have such matters brought before him.'
'Certainly,' said the old lawyer politely;' and we will trust that Miss
Egremont's prospects may soon come forward on a more auspicious
occasion.'
Nuttie could have beaten him, but she was obliged to content herself
with such a sweeping charge of her Zulus among Alwyn's Englishmen, that
their general shrieked out in indignation against such a variation of
the accustomed programme of all their games.
Nuttie thought she had defended her patient sufficiently, but she found
she had been mistaken, for when her aunt had left them, some days
later, her father began, 'We are well quit of her. Those troublesome
dictatorial women always get worse when they are left widows--taking
upon them to say what their dear husbands would have said, forsooth.'
'Aunt Jane was very kind to me,' said Ursula, not in the least knowing
what he was thinking of.
'To you. Ay, I should think so, taking upon her to lecture me about
securing a provision for you.'
'Oh! I hoped--'
'What?' he broke in. 'You knew of it! You set her on, I suppose.'
'Oh! no, no, father. She and Mr. Bulfinch began about it, not meaning
me to hear--about a will, I mean--and I told them I wasn't going to
have you worried, and I thought I had stopped it altogether.'
'Stop a woman bent on her duty? Hein! But you are a good girl, and
shall come to no loss when we have to make your marriage settlement.'
'You won't have to do that, father!'
'Hein! What do you keep that poor fellow Clarence Fane dangling in
attendance on you for?'
'I don't! I'm sure I don't want him. I would do anything to keep him
at a distance!'
'How now! I thought your Grace condescended to him more than to any
one else.'
'I don't dislike him unless he has _that_ in his head; but as to
marrying him! Oh--h--h,' such a note of horror that elicited a little
laugh.
'So hot against him, are we? Who is it then? Not the umbrella fellow?'
'Father! how can you?' she cried, with a burning flush of indignation.
He--why--he! He has always been a sort of uncle, ever since I was a
little girl.'
'Oh yes, adopted uncles are very devout when young ladies rush out to
morning prayers at unearthly hours--'
'Father!' with her voice trembling, 'I assure you he doesn't--I mean he
always goes to St. Michael's, unless he has anything particular to say
to me.'
'Oh yes, I understand,' and Mr. Egremont indulged in a hearty laugh,
which almost drove poor Nuttie beside herself.
'Indeed--indeed,' she stammered, in her confusion and suppressed wrath;
'it is nothing of that sort. He is a regular old bachelor--he always
was.'
'At what age do men become old bachelors? For he seems to me about the
age of poor Clarry, whom you seem to view as a bugbear.'
'I wish you would not think of such things, father; I have not the
slightest intention of leaving you and dear little Wynnie! Nothing
should tempt me!'
'Nothing? Hein! Then you may as well be on your guard, Miss Egremont,
or we shall have pleadings that you have encouraged them--church and
world--or both, maybe. You pious folk take your little diversions and
flirtations just like your poor sisters whom you shake your heads at,
never guessing how Gregorio and I have looked out at you and your
adopted uncle parading the street.'
'I wish Gregorio would mind his own business, and not put such things
in your head!' burst out Nuttie.
At which Mr. Egremont laughed longer and louder than ever.
Poor Nuttie! It was terrible discomfiture, not only for the moment,
but a notion had been planted in her mind that seemed cruel, almost
profane, and yet which would not be dismissed, and made her heart leap
with strange bounds at the wild thought, 'Could it be true?' then sink
again with shame at her own presumptuous folly in entertaining such a
thought for a moment.
Yet whenever she actually encountered Mr. Dutton her habitual comfort
and reliance on him revived, and dispelled all the embarrassment which
at other times she expected to feel in his presence.