AN EXCURSION TO TROTBURY.
That there is nothing succeeds like success, is an axiom most
profoundly believed in by women. The sex have a natural tendency to
hero-worship, and can you but snatch the laurel-leaf, you will ever
count plenty of admirers among them. In the drawing-room at Todborough
that evening the victor of the afternoon was quite the hero of the
occasion; but we may be sure that in the course of the conversation the
race provoked, Lady Mary did not neglect to ascertain how it was that
Lionel had become on such a familiar footing with Sylla Chipchase.
That young lady having dropped the mask, of course Beauchamp made no
mystery of the fact that they lived close to each other and had been
friends from childhood. Lady Mary was by no means gratified by this
discovery. She foresaw that Lionel must necessarily be thrown much
into the society of one whom, with all her prejudice, she could not but
admit was a most attractive girl; and she reflected that young men at
times discover that the little-thought-of playmates of their childhood
have grown up wondrous fair to look upon. Blanche's curiosity, too,
was also much exercised on this subject, and young ladies, in their own
artless fashion, can cross-examine in such cases as adroitly as a
Queen's Counsel. On one point there was much unanimity, namely, that
it was a great triumph for the Grange, and most satisfactory that Jim
Bloxam's defeat should have been so speedily avenged.
In the tobacco parliament, held as usual after the ladies had retired,
the race was again discussed, but from its more professional aspect.
"In these hard times," exclaimed Jim, "we cannot allow such a
formidable amateur to be idle. We shall have to christen you the
'Suffolk Stag,' Beauchamp, enter you at Lillie Bridge, and keep on
matching you at the Orleans Club, Hurlingham, and in the vicinity of
the metropolis generally. There is only one thing puzzles me: while we
were all talking pedestrianism the other evening, you never gave us a
hint of your powers. You and Miss Sylla could not surely have already
arranged the successful coup of this afternoon?"
Pansey Cottrell listened somewhat curiously for Lionel's reply. He did
not think exactly that the pair were confederates, but he most
assuredly suspected that the little comedy had been most deliberately
planned by the young lady, though not perhaps intended to have been
played had Jim Bloxam proved successful; but he called to mind the
dexterity with which she had led up to the wager, and thought of the
many rash bets which he had seen the esquires of fair women goaded into
by their charges at Sandown, Ascot, and the like.
"Certainly not," replied Beauchamp, "I knew nothing about it till I was
called upon to run. If I had, I should have protested strongly; but it
was too late when I was consulted--there was nothing for it but to save
her bracelet if I could."
"Well, all I can say," returned Jim, "is that the lady is a much better
judge of your capabilities than you are yourself; though how she got
her knowledge I own I am at a loss to determine."
"Well," said Lionel, as he ejected a thin cloud of smoke from his lips,
"I can explain that to you. I was the quickest in my time at Harrow,
and Sylla Chipchase knows that, as well as that when I was out in North
America after the big game I could hold my own with any of the Indian
hunters of our party; but I never contended against any amateur runners
at home here. I should think, Bloxam, your opinion is the same as my
own about this afternoon. Montague would, I fancy, have beaten me if
he hadn't tried to cut me down; over double the distance I have no
doubt I should always beat him."
"It might have made a difference," returned Jim; "but I should back you
all the same if it were to be run over again."
"By the way, Bloxam," observed Mr. Sartoris, as he busied himself in
opening a bottle of seltzer-water, "now I am down here I must see
Trotbury Cathedral. I suppose it's easy enough to slip over by rail
from Commonstone."
"Oh dear, yes," replied Jim; "but hang it, that's an idea! We'll do
ever so much better than that, we'll organize a big ride-and-drive
party there; as many of us as can will ride, and the remainder must
travel on wheels. We will have every available horse out of the
stables to-morrow, go over to Trotbury, lunch at "The Sweet Waters," do
the cathedral and place generally in the afternoon, and get back in
time for dinner. It'll make a capital day,--suit everybody down to the
ground."
"That would be very charming, and it is extremely good of you to
suggest it; but, my dear Bloxam, I didn't quite mean that. Lady Mary
has very likely made other arrangements, and of course I don't want to
interfere with those. I can slip over by myself----"
"Oh, fiddle-de-dee!" interposed Jim. "My mother will be only too glad
to hear that we have hit off our day's diversion."
"Yes," observed Mr. Cottrell, in a meditative manner; "I have known
Lady Mary for many years, and that is her great charm as a hostess.
She is always anxious that her guests should amuse themselves after
their own fashion. Too many of our entertainers, alas! will insist
upon it we shall amuse ourselves in theirs."
Jim Bloxam looked sharply at the speaker as he lit his bed-room candle.
Jim had a shrewd idea that Mr. Cottrell at times laughed a little at
his friends as well as with them.
"Cottrell is right, however," he said. "It's time to go to bed. After
dancing all last night and running races this afternoon, Beauchamp,
like myself, feels no doubt fit for it."
When Mr. Cottrell reached his bed-room, he took two or three turns up
and down the floor in a somewhat preoccupied manner. At length a faint
smile played about his mouth, and muttering to himself, "I will!" he
seated himself at the writing-table, rapidly penned a short note,
addressed it, and then sought his pillow in the tranquil frame of mind
that befits a man who has planned a pleasant surprise for his
fellow-creatures. When his valet brought him his cup of tea the next
morning at nine, Mr. Cottrell briefly informed him that there was a
note on the table for the rectory.
"If you don't know where it is, Smithson," he continued, "inquire
quietly. Take it at once; there is no answer; and no tattling about
where you have been, mind."
Smithson vanished silently, though aggrieved. He did feel that the
latter injunction to such a model of discretion as himself amounted
almost to an insult. A very paragon of valets was Smithson--could be
relied on to be mute as a fish concerning his master's doings, unless
paid to be otherwise, when he of course held to the accepted traditions
of his class.
After a previous conference with the stable authorities, Jim Bloxam at
breakfast proposed the Trotbury expedition. Lady Mary listened to the
proposed excursion at first with some misgivings. She expected to hear
it announced that the Chipchase girls had been already asked to join
the party. They had been thus invited so often before, that they would
have been quite justified in themselves proposing to do so on hearing
such an expedition was in contemplation; but no, neither from Blanche
nor Jim came a hint of such being the case; and then Lady Mary
expressed most unqualified approval of the idea. It was settled that
they should start punctually at twelve; and as Mr. Cottrell had not as
yet made his appearance, Lady Mary very thoughtfully sent a message up
to his room to inform him of what was in contemplation. The breakfast
party had nearly all dispersed, even the late comers had thrown their
napkins on the table, and yet the hostess, usually one of the first to
bustle off upon her own private affairs, still lingered over the
_Morning Post_.
"Come, mother," said Jim, suddenly putting his head into the room, "if
you have finished. I want you to help me to tell people off. The
governor is not coming; so that leaves his hack at our disposal. I
thought if we gave that to Sartoris, Beauchamp and myself can take the
hunters, Blanche has her own horse, and the rest of you can go quite
comfortably in the break. I told them to take the hood off. And as
for Braybrooke, he is going over to Rockcliffe to see some chum of his
who is quartered there."
"I have no doubt, my dear Jim, that will all do very well," replied
Lady Mary. "I don't think I shall go myself; and Mrs. Evesham is also,
I fancy, of my way of thinking."
"All right, then; I shall consider that as settled;" and with that
observation Jim left his mother once more in the undisturbed enjoyment
of her paper.
But whether the proceedings of her Majesty's Government, or whether the
denunciation of her Majesty's Opposition, were not to her liking; or
whether the perusal of the Court news had disturbed her serenity;
whether it was that the latest discovery in tenors was reported
stricken with sore throat that grieved her; or whether it was the last
atrocity in crime that made her flesh creep and so disquieted her, it
was impossible to say; but that Lady Mary fidgeted considerably over
her journal was a fact past dispute. A looker-on, had there been one,
would have noticed that her eye frequently wandered from the page to
the door; and as the clock on the mantelpiece chimed eleven, she rose
from her chair with a petulant gesture and walked towards the window.
A few minutes more, and her patience was rewarded: Pansey Cottrell
strolled into the room, and rang lazily for some fresh tea.
"You're shamefully late, Pansey; you always are, I know," she said, as
she advanced with outstretched hand to greet him. "But it was too bad
of you to be so when I am so particularly anxious to talk to you."
"My dear Lady Mary, why did you not send me word upstairs? You know my
usual habits; but you know also that I break them without hesitation
whenever I can be of service to a lady, or even gratify her caprice."
Lady Mary laughed, as she said, "I know better than to exact such a
tremendous sacrifice." She was perfectly well aware that Cottrell,
blandly as he might talk, never submitted to the faintest interference
with what he termed his natural hours. "You are in my confidence," she
continued, "and have seen how circumstances combined against me. Who
could have dreamt those Chipchase girls had such a provokingly pretty
cousin? They had never even mentioned her very existence."
"Yes, it is awkward," replied Cottrell slowly, "a Miss Chipchase
turning up who is dangerous--decidedly dangerous."
"Yes; and the rector's daughters have always been so intimate with us
all that it is difficult to keep them at a distance--in fact, since
they amalgamated with our party at that dreadful ball, impossible.
Tell me, what do you think of this Sylla Chipchase? You met her down
in Suffolk. She is just the saucy chit men go wild about, I suppose?"
"Well," replied Cottrell, with a malicious twinkle in his eyes, "there
is no real harm in the girl; but she'd flirt with a bishop if she sat
next to him at dinner. And as for men going wild about her, we had two
or three very pretty women at Hogden's last year; and the manner in
which some of those fellows wavered in their allegiance was positively
shameful."
"Men always _do_ make such fools of themselves about girls of that
sort," said Lady Mary, with no little asperity. "Tell me, did you
notice anything between them?"
"Between whom?" replied Cottrell languidly, and with an expression of
such utter ignorance of her meaning in his face as did infinite credit
to his histrionic powers.
"Between her and Mr. Beauchamp, of course," said Lady Mary sharply.
"Beauchamp wasn't there," replied Cottrell. "I never saw him till I
met him in this house."
"And what do you think about it now?"
"Two things," replied Cottrell, smiling, "both of which are calculated
to give you comfort. First, people brought up together don't often
fall in love; seeing too much of each other is probably an excellent
antidote to that complaint. Secondly, that he seems very much devoted
to Miss Bloxam at present."
"Well, I hope you are right," said Lady Mary. "It would really be a
very nice thing for Blanche. At all events, we are out of the
Chipchase girls for to-day." And, so saying, she rose somewhat
comforted, little aware, poor woman, that another ringer was meddling
with the ropes.
But now the party began to muster in the front hall. Lady Mary
observed with maternal complacency that Blanche was looking her best
and brightest in one of Creed's masterpieces. Jim was fidgeting about,
all impatience, and, throwing open the dining-room door, called out,
"You really have time for no more breakfast, Cottrell, if you are
coming with us. You must put off further satisfying of your hunger
until we arrive at 'The Sweet Waters' at Trotbury. The horses will be
round directly. Ah, here they are!"
And as he spoke, the sound of hoofs was heard on the gravel outside,
speedily followed by a peal on the bell; and Mr. Cottrell emerged from
the dining-room just in time to see Jim open the hall door to Laura
Chipchase, attired in hat and habit, with Miss Sylla mounted and
holding her cousin's horse in the background.
Mr. Cottrell contemplated the tableau with all the exultation of a
successful artist; and as for Lady Mary, her heart sank within her as
the conviction crossed her mind she was destined never to be quit of
that "Suffolk girl."
"Admirable, Laura!" exclaimed Jim, as he shook hands. "What happy
chance inspired you to turn up all ready for riding? We are just off
to lunch at Trotbury, and of course you and Miss Sylla will join us."
"That will be charming," replied Miss Chipchase. "Sylla was wild for a
ride this morning; so she and I came over to see if any of you are in
the same mood;" and then the young lady passed on to greet the rest of
the party.
Lady Mary, sad to say, received this statement with the utmost
incredulity, and mentally arraigned her own offspring of duplicity; but
whether Jim or Blanche was the traitor she could not determine. Could
she but have peeped over Sylla Chipchase's shoulder as that
laughter-loving damsel read Pansey Cottrell's note, she would have been
both enlightened and astonished.
"DEAR MISS SYLLA," it ran, "I cannot recollect the name of the French
song that you told me would just suit Mrs. Wriothesley. Please send it
me. We are all going over to-morrow to lunch at Trotbury; some on
horseback, and some upon wheels. You should join the riding party if
you can, as it will be doubtless pleasant; and though I am not
empowered to say so, Lady Mary will of course be delighted to see you."
"Song!" muttered Miss Sylla, as she read this note, "I never said
anything to him about a French song; but, ah--stop--I think I see it
now!" and she ran through the note again, and as she finished it, broke
into a merry laugh. "What a dear, clever, mischievous old man he is!"
she muttered. "Of course he means that I am to join that riding party
and make Lady Mary a little uncomfortable. Well, she really does
deserve it. How dare she pretend that I am setting my cap at Lionel?
Such a designing matron deserves some slight punishment, and she little
knows what Mr. Cottrell and I can do when we combine together to avenge
ourselves."
When she descended to the breakfast-room, Sylla found no difficulty in
persuading her cousin Laura to go for a ride. It was of course easy to
suggest Trotbury. Then it was agreed they might as well look in at the
Grange on the way, to see if they could persuade any of the party there
to join them in such an expedition; and thus Sylla Chipchase
successfully carried out Mr. Cottrell's design, without making mention
to any one of the note that she had received from him.
The merry party were soon started. The Misses Evesham, Mrs. Sartoris,
and Pansey Cottrell in the carriage--the reduced number of those
electing to travel on wheels sparing the latter the indignity of the
"break"--the remainder were of course upon horseback; and as Lady Mary
looked after them, admiring the firm seat of her daughter sitting
squarely and well back in her saddle, she wondered whether the "Suffolk
chit," as she persistently termed her, could ride.
"That's a very good-looking one you are riding, Miss Bloxam, and up to
a stone or two more than your weight, as a lady's horse always should
be."
"I don't know about that," replied Blanche, laughing. "I am tall, and
by no means of the thread-paper order. King Cole," she continued.
leaning forward to pat the glossy neck of her black favourite, "would
probably tell you he found me quite enough on his back, could he be
consulted. He is as good, too, as he is handsome, as I shall perhaps
have an opportunity of showing you to-day."
"How so?" inquired Beauchamp.
"Well, we very often on these excursions to Trotbury ride there
quietly, and then lark home. There is a lovely piece of galloping
ground over Tapton Downs, and a charming cut across country this side
of it, by which we can save nearly a mile."
"That'll be great fun," replied Beauchamp, "and I advocate strongly
such a saving of distance on our homeward journey. This is one of your
father's hunters I am riding, is it not?"
"Yes, and a grand jumper he is too: accustomed to papa's weight,
carrying you will be quite play to him."
Arrived at Trotbury, the first thing, as Jim remarked, was obviously to
order lunch at "The Sweet Waters;" fortified with which they could then
proceed to do the cathedral, and spend as much time as seemed good to
them over that noble pile.
"There are all sorts of tombs and chapels to see," continued Jim, "with
more than an average crop of historical legends concerning them; and
the vergers have all the characteristics of that class: once upset them
in their parrot-like description, and they flounder about in most
comical manner. The last time I was here they showed me the tomb of
St. Gengulphus, with an effigy of that eminent clergyman--considerably
damaged about the nose--in stone, on the top. I appealed to the verger
gravely to know if it was considered a good likeness. He was staggered
for a moment, and then replied hurriedly that it was. But, thank
goodness, here comes the lunch. I feel as hungry as an unsuccessful
hawk."
"Too bad of you, too bad, Mr. Cottrell," exclaimed Sylla Chipchase;
"you were not one of the riding party, and so I have had no opportunity
as yet of rebuking you for your forgetfulness: you had no business to
forget the name of that French song I told you to recommend to my aunt."
"Allow me to observe, Miss Sylla, that I don't consider I deserve much
rebuke on the subject. I quite remembered your message to Mrs.
Wriothesley; it was only the name of the song that escaped my memory."
"Is Mrs. Wriothesley an aunt of yours?" inquired Blanche, with no
little curiosity; "we know her, and often meet her in town."
"Yes; isn't she charming? I am going up to stay with her as soon as
the Easter holidays are over; we shall no doubt meet often."
Blanche said no more, but pondered for a minute or two over this little
bit of intelligence. She did not understand why, but she was quite
certain that her mother disliked Sylla Chipchase, and was conscious of
being not quite in accord with that young lady herself. She knew,
moreover, that if there was one person that Lady Mary detested in all
her London circle, it was this very Mrs. Wriothesley.
But luncheon is finished, and the whole party proceed to view the
cathedral. Pansey Cottrell, however, was not to be got beyond the
threshold: he protested that he had too small a mind for so great a
subject, and declared his intention of solacing himself with a cigar
outside for the temporary absence of the ladies, which was, as Miss
Sylla informed him, a mere pandering to the coarser instincts of his
nature, whatever he might choose to call it. With the exception of Mr.
Sartoris, it may be doubted whether any of the party paid much
attention to what they were shown. The principal effect on Blanche's
mind was a hazy conviction that Sylla Chipchase was a somewhat
disagreeable girl. She considered that the familiar way in which that
young lady addressed Lionel Beauchamp, to say the least of it, was in
very bad taste.
But these irreverent pilgrims at last brought their inspection of the
famous shrine to a conclusion, having displayed on the whole, perhaps,
no more want of veneration than is usually shown by such sightseers,
and, picking up the philosophic Cottrell in the close, wended their way
once more back to "The Sweet Waters."
"Don't you think Lady Mary was enraptured to see me this morning, Mr.
Cottrell?" inquired Sylla Chipchase, as they lingered for a minute or
two behind the rest.
"Quite sure of it," was the reply, and the speaker's keen dark eyes
twinkled with fun as he spoke; "and what is more, if my ears do not
deceive me, we shall carry back to the Grange a little bit of
intelligence that I am quite sure will gladden the heart of our
hostess."
"What is that?" inquired Sylla.
"Don't you know? No; how could you possibly, considering that you are
only now about to make your _début_ in the London world? You must
know, then, that your aunt Mrs. Wriothesley is the object of Lady
Mary's particular detestation."
"But how came that about? What was the cause of their quarrel? I am
sure my aunt is a very charming woman."
"An assertion that I most cordially endorse, and so would all the men
of her acquaintance, and most of the women; but when you come to ladies
in society, there are wheels within wheels, you see. Your aunt and
Lady Mary have been rivals."
"Nonsense, Mr. Cottrell!" exclaimed Sylla; "why, my aunt is at least
fifteen years younger than Lady Mary. She was not only married, but
all her children born, before my aunt Mrs. Wriothesley came out."
"True, Miss Sylla; but there are rivalries of many kinds, as you will
find as you grow older. I can only repeat what I have said
before--Mrs. Wriothesley and Lady Mary have been rivals."
"Please explain," said Sylla in her most coaxing tones.
"No, no," rejoined Cottrell, laughing; "you are quick enough, and can
afford to trust to your own ears and your own observation when you
reach town."
On again arriving at "The Sweet Waters" Jim ordered tea at once, and
the horses in half an hour. The conversation became general around the
tea-table, and Jim Bloxam was suddenly moved by one of those strokes of
inspiration of which his mother had such wholesome dread.
"Miss Sylla," he explained, "I hear you are a theatrical 'star' of
magnitude in your own country; there is Mrs. Sartoris too, well known
on the amateur London boards; and there are others amongst us who have
figured with more or less success. It would be sinful to waste so much
dramatic talent; don't you think so, Blanche? We have not time to get
up regular theatricals, but there is no reason we should not do some
charades to-morrow evening; don't you all think it would be great fun?"
There was a general chorus of assent from all but Blanche, though Miss
Bloxam did not venture upon any protest.
"Then I consider that settled," exclaimed Jim. "You will do the proper
thing, Laura; my mother's compliments to your father, and she hopes you
will all come up in the evening for charades and an impromptu valse or
two in the hall. And now, ladies and gentlemen, to horse, to horse! or
else we shall never save the dressing-bell."
"And, Jim," exclaimed Miss Bloxam, as she gathered up her habit, "let's
go the cross-country way home."
"Certainly; well thought of, sister mine. It's a lovely evening for a
gallop."