Miss Mackenzie's First Acquaintances
In the first fortnight of Miss Mackenzie's sojourn at Littlebath,
four persons called upon her; but though this was a success as far
as it went, those fourteen days were very dull. During her former
short visit to the place she had arranged to send her niece to a
day school which had been recommended to her as being very genteel,
and conducted under moral and religious auspices of most exalted
character. Hither Susanna went every morning after breakfast, and
returned home in these summer days at eight o'clock in the evening.
On Sundays also, she went to morning church with the other girls; so
that Miss Mackenzie was left very much to herself.
Mrs Pottinger was the first to call, and the doctor's wife contented
herself with simple offers of general assistance. She named a baker
to Miss Mackenzie, and a dressmaker; and she told her what was the
proper price to be paid by the hour for a private brougham or for a
public fly. All this was useful, as Miss Mackenzie was in a state
of densest ignorance; but it did not seem that much in the way of
amusement would come from the acquaintance of Mrs Pottinger. That
lady said nothing about the assembly rooms, nor did she speak of the
Stumfoldian manner of life. Her husband had no doubt explained to
her that the stranger was not as yet a declared disciple in either
school. Miss Mackenzie had wished to ask a question about the
assemblies, but had been deterred by fear. Then came Mr Stumfold in
person, and, of course, nothing about the assembly rooms was said
by him. He made himself very pleasant, and Miss Mackenzie almost
resolved to put herself into his hands. He did not look sour at her,
nor did he browbeat her with severe words, nor did he exact from her
the performance of any hard duties. He promised to find her a seat in
his church, and told her what were the hours of service. He had three
"Sabbath services," but he thought that regular attendance twice
every Sunday was enough for people in general. He would be delighted
to be of use, and Mrs Stumfold should come and call. Having promised
this, he went his way. Then came Mrs Stumfold, according to promise,
bringing with her one Miss Baker, a maiden lady. From Mrs Stumfold
our friend got very little assistance. Mrs Stumfold was hard,
severe, and perhaps a little grand. She let fall a word or two which
intimated her conviction that Miss Mackenzie was to become at all
points a Stumfoldian, since she had herself invoked the countenance
and assistance of the great man on her first arrival; but beyond
this, Mrs Stumfold afforded no comfort. Our friend could not have
explained to herself why it was so, but after having encountered Mrs
Stumfold, she was less inclined to become a disciple than she had
been when she had seen only the great master himself. It was not
only that Mrs Stumfold, as judged by externals, was felt to be more
severe than her husband evangelically, but she was more severe also
ecclesiastically. Miss Mackenzie thought that she could probably obey
the ecclesiastical man, but that she would certainly rebel against
the ecclesiastical woman.
There had been, as I have said, a Miss Baker with the female
minister, and Miss Mackenzie had at once perceived that had Miss
Baker called alone, the whole thing would have been much more
pleasant. Miss Baker had a soft voice, was given to a good deal of
gentle talking, was kind in her manner, and prone to quick intimacies
with other ladies of her own nature. All this Miss Mackenzie felt
rather than saw, and would have been delighted to have had Miss Baker
without Mrs Stumfold. She could, she knew, have found out all about
everything in five minutes, had she and Miss Baker been able to sit
close together and to let their tongues loose. But Miss Baker, poor
soul, was in these days thoroughly subject to the female Stumfold
influence, and went about the world of Littlebath in a repressed
manner that was truly pitiable to those who had known her before the
days of her slavery.
But, as she rose to leave the room at her tyrant's bidding, she spoke
a word of comfort. "A friend of mine, Miss Mackenzie, lives next door
to you, and she has begged me to say that she will do herself the
pleasure of calling on you, if you will allow her."
The poor woman hesitated as she made her little speech, and once cast
her eye round in fear upon her companion.
"I'm sure I shall be delighted," said Miss Mackenzie.
"That's Miss Todd, is it?" said Mrs Stumfold; and it was made
manifest by Mrs Stumfold's voice that Mrs Stumfold did not think much
of Miss Todd.
"Yes; Miss Todd. You see she is so close a neighbour," said Miss
Baker, apologetically.
Mrs Stumfold shook her head, and then went away without further
speech.
Miss Mackenzie became at once impatient for Miss Todd's arrival,
and was induced to keep an eye restlessly at watch on the two
neighbouring doors in the Paragon, in order that she might see Miss
Todd at the moment of some entrance or exit. Twice she did see a
lady come out from the house next her own on the right, a stout
jolly-looking dame, with a red face and a capacious bonnet, who
closed the door behind her with a slam, and looked as though she
would care little for either male Stumfold or female. Miss Mackenzie,
however, made up her mind that this was not Miss Todd. This lady, she
thought, was a married lady; on one occasion there had been children
with her, and she was, in Miss Mackenzie's judgment, too stout, too
decided, and perhaps too loud to be a spinster. A full week passed
by before this question was decided by the promised visit,--a week
during which the new comer never left her house at any hour at which
callers could be expected to call, so anxious was she to become
acquainted with her neighbour; and she had almost given the matter
up in despair, thinking that Mrs Stumfold had interfered with her
tyranny, when, one day immediately after lunch--in these days Miss
Mackenzie always lunched, but seldom dined--when one day immediately
after lunch, Miss Todd was announced.
Miss Mackenzie immediately saw that she had been wrong. Miss Todd was
the stout, red-faced lady with the children. Two of the children,
girls of eleven and thirteen, were with her now. As Miss Todd walked
across the room to shake hands with her new acquaintance, Miss
Mackenzie at once recognised the manner in which the street door had
been slammed, and knew that it was the same firm step which she had
heard on the pavement half down the Paragon.
"My friend, Miss Baker, told me you had come to live next door to
me," began Miss Todd, "and therefore I told her to tell you that
I should come and see you. Single ladies, when they come here,
generally like some one to come to them. I'm single myself, and these
are my nieces. You've got a niece, I believe, too. When the Popes
have nephews, people say all manner of ill-natured things. I hope
they ain't so uncivil to us."
Miss Mackenzie smirked and smiled, and assured Miss Todd that she
was very glad to see her. The allusion to the Popes she did not
understand.
"Miss Baker came with Mrs Stumfold, didn't she?" continued Miss Todd.
"She doesn't go much anywhere now without Mrs Stumfold, unless when
she creeps down to me. She and I are very old friends. Have you known
Mr Stumfold long? Perhaps you have come here to be near him; a great
many ladies do."
In answer to this, Miss Mackenzie explained that she was not a
follower of Mr Stumfold in that sense. It was true that she had
brought a letter to him, and intended to go to his church. In
consequence of that letter, Mrs Stumfold had been good enough to call
upon her.
"Oh yes: she'll come to you quick enough. Did she come with her
carriage and horses?"
"I think she was on foot," said Miss Mackenzie.
"Then I should tell her of it. Coming to you, in the best house in
the Paragon, on your first arrival, she ought to have come with her
carriage and horses."
"Tell her of it!" said Miss Mackenzie.
"A great many ladies would, and would go over to the enemy before the
month was over, unless she brought the carriage in the meantime. I
don't advise you to do so. You haven't got standing enough in the
place yet, and perhaps she could put you down."
"But it makes no difference to me how she comes."
"None in the least, my dear, or to me either. I should be glad to see
her even in a wheelbarrow for my part. But you mustn't suppose that
she ever comes to me. Lord bless you! no. She found me out to be past
all grace ever so many years ago."
"Mrs Stumfold thinks that Aunt Sally is the old gentleman himself,"
said the elder of the girls.
"Ha, ha, ha," laughed the aunt. "You see, Miss Mackenzie, we run very
much into parties here, as they do in most places of this kind, and
if you mean to go thoroughly in with the Stumfold party you must tell
me so, candidly, and there won't be any bones broken between us. I
shan't like you the less for saying so: only in that case it won't be
any use our trying to see much of each other."
Miss Mackenzie was somewhat frightened, and hardly knew what answer
to make. She was very anxious to have it understood that she was not,
as yet, in bond under Mrs Stumfold--that it was still a matter of
choice to herself whether she would be a saint or a sinner; and she
would have been so glad to hint to her neighbour that she would like
to try the sinner's line, if it were only for a month or two; only
Miss Todd frightened her! And when the girl told her that Miss Todd
was regarded, ex parte Stumfold, as being the old gentleman himself,
Miss Mackenzie again thought for an instant that there would be
safety in giving way to the evangelico-ecclesiastical influence, and
that perhaps life might be pleasant enough to her if she could be
allowed to go about in couples with that soft Miss Baker.
"As you have been so good as to call," said Miss Mackenzie, "I hope
you will allow me to return your visit."
"Oh, dear, yes--shall be quite delighted to see you. You can't hurt
me, you know. The question is, whether I shan't ruin you. Not that I
and Mr Stumfold ain't great cronies. He and I meet about on neutral
ground, and are the best friends in the world. He knows I'm a lost
sheep--a gone 'coon, as the Americans say--so he pokes his fun at me,
and we're as jolly as sandboys. But St Stumfolda is made of sterner
metal, and will not put up with any such female levity. If she pokes
her fun at any sinners, it is at gentlemen sinners; and grim work it
must be for them, I should think. Poor Mary Baker! the best creature
in the world. I'm afraid she has a bad time of it. But then, you
know, perhaps that is the sort of thing you like."
"You see I know so very little of Mrs Stumfold," said Miss Mackenzie.
"That's a misfortune will soon be cured if you let her have her own
way. You ask Mary Baker else. But I don't mean to be saying anything
bad behind anybody's back; I don't indeed. I have no doubt these
people are very good in their way; only their ways are not my ways;
and one doesn't like to be told so often that one's own way is broad,
and that it leads--you know where. Come, Patty, let us be going.
When you've made up your mind, Miss Mackenzie, just you tell me.
If you say, 'Miss Todd, I think you're too wicked for me,' I shall
understand it. I shan't be in the least offended. But if my way
isn't--isn't too broad, you know, I shall be very happy to see you."
Hereupon Miss Mackenzie plucked up courage and asked a question.
"Do you ever go to the assembly rooms, Miss Todd?"
Miss Todd almost whistled before she gave her answer. "Why, Miss
Mackenzie, that's where they dance and play cards, and where the
girls flirt and the young men make fools of themselves. I don't go
there very often myself, because I don't care about flirting, and I'm
too old for dancing. As for cards, I get plenty of them at home. I
think I did put down my name and paid something when I first came
here, but that's ever so many years ago. I don't go to the assembly
rooms now."
As soon as Miss Todd was gone, Miss Mackenzie went to work to reflect
seriously upon all she had just heard. Of course, there could be no
longer any question of her going to the assembly rooms. Even Miss
Todd, wicked as she was, did not go there. But should she, or should
she not, return Miss Todd's visit? If she did she would be thereby
committing herself to what Miss Todd had profanely called the broad
way. In such case any advance in the Stumfold direction would be
forbidden to her. But if she did not call on Miss Todd, then she
would have plainly declared that she intended to be such another
disciple as Miss Baker, and from that decision there would be no
recall. On this subject she must make up her mind, and in doing so
she laboured with all her power. As to any charge of incivility which
might attach to her for not returning the visit of a lady who had
been so civil to her, of that she thought nothing. Miss Todd had
herself declared that she would not be in the least offended. But
she liked this new acquaintance. In owning all the truth about Miss
Mackenzie, I must confess that her mind hankered after the things of
this world. She thought that if she could only establish herself as
Miss Todd was established, she would care nothing for the Stumfolds,
male or female.
But how was she to do this? An establishment in the Stumfold
direction might be easier.
In the course of the next week two affairs of moment occurred to
Miss Mackenzie. On the Wednesday morning she received from London a
letter of business which caused her considerable anxiety, and on the
Thursday afternoon a note was brought to her from Mrs Stumfold,--or
rather an envelope containing a card on which was printed an
invitation to drink tea with that lady on that day week. This
invitation she accepted without much doubt. She would go and see
Mrs Stumfold in her house, and would then be better able to decide
whether the mode of life practised by the Stumfold party would be
to her taste. So she wrote a reply, and sent it by her maid-servant,
greatly doubting whether she was not wrong in writing her answer on
common note-paper, and whether she also should not have supplied
herself with some form or card for the occasion.
The letter of business was from her brother Tom, and contained an
application for the loan of some money,--for the loan, indeed, of a
good deal of money. But the loan was to be made not to him but to
the firm of Rubb and Mackenzie, and was not to be a simple lending
of money on the faith of that firm, for purposes of speculation or
ordinary business. It was to be expended in the purchase of the
premises in the New Road, and Miss Mackenzie was to have a mortgage
on them, and was to receive five per cent for the money which she
should advance. The letter was long, and though it was manifest
even to Miss Mackenzie that he had written the first page with much
hesitation, he had waxed strong as he had gone on, and had really
made out a good case. "You are to understand," he said, "that this
is, of course, to be done through your own lawyer, who will not allow
you to make the loan unless he is satisfied with the security. Our
landlords are compelled to sell the premises, and unless we purchase
them ourselves, we shall in all probability be turned out, as we have
only a year or two more under our present lease. You could purchase
the whole thing yourself, but in that case you would not be sure of
the same interest for your money." He then went on to say that Samuel
Rubb, junior, the son of old Rubb, should run down to Littlebath
in the course of next week, in order that the whole thing might be
made clear to her. Samuel Rubb was not the partner whose name was
included in the designation of the firm, but was a young man,--"a
comparatively young man,"--as her brother explained, who had lately
been admitted to a share in the business.
This letter put Miss Mackenzie into a twitter. Like all other single
ladies, she was very nervous about her money. She was quite alive to
the beauty of a high rate of interest, but did not quite understand
that high interest and impaired security should go hand in hand
together. She wished to oblige her brother, and was aware that she
had money as to which her lawyers were looking out for an investment.
Even this had made her unhappy, as she was not quite sure whether
her lawyers would not spend the money. She knew that lone women were
terribly robbed sometimes, and had almost resolved upon insisting
that the money should be put into the Three per Cents. But she had
gone to work with figures, and having ascertained that by doing so
twenty-five pounds a year would be docked off from her computed
income, she had given no such order. She now again went to work with
her figures, and found that if the loan were accomplished it would
add twenty-five pounds a year to her computed income. Mortgages, she
knew, were good things, strong and firm, based upon landed security,
and very respectable. So she wrote to her lawyers, saying that she
would be glad to oblige her brother if there were nothing amiss. Her
lawyers wrote back, advising her to refer Mr Rubb, junior, to them.
On the day named in her brother's letter, Mr Samuel Rubb, junior,
arrived at Littlebath, and called upon Miss Mackenzie in the Paragon.
Miss Mackenzie had been brought up with contempt and almost with
hatred for the Rubb family. It had, in the first instance, been the
work of old Samuel Rubb to tempt her brother Tom into trade; and he
had tempted Tom into a trade that had not been fat and prosperous,
and therefore pardonable, but into a trade that had been troublesome
and poor. Walter Mackenzie had always spoken of these Rubbs
with thorough disgust, and had persistently refused to hold any
intercourse with them. When, therefore, Mr Samuel Rubb was announced,
our heroine was somewhat inclined to seat herself upon a high horse.
Mr Samuel Rubb, junior, came upstairs, and was by no means the sort
of person in appearance that Miss Mackenzie had expected to see. In
the first place, he was, as well as she could guess, about forty
years of age; whereas she had expected to see a young man. A man who
went about the world especially designated as junior, ought, she
thought, to be very young. And then Mr Rubb carried with him an
air of dignity, and had about his external presence a something of
authority which made her at once seat herself a peg lower than she
had intended. He was a good-looking man, nearly six feet high, with
great hands and feet, but with a great forehead also, which atoned
for his hands and feet. He was dressed throughout in black, as
tradesmen always are in these days; but, as Miss Mackenzie said
to herself, there was certainly no knowing that he belonged to
the oilcloth business from the cut of his coat or the set of his
trousers. He began his task with great care, and seemed to have none
of the hesitation which had afflicted her brother in writing his
letter. The investment, he said, would, no doubt, be a good one. Two
thousand four hundred pounds was the sum wanted, and he understood
that she had that amount lying idle. Their lawyer had already seen
her lawyer, and there could be no doubt as to the soundness of the
mortgage. An assurance company with whom the firm had dealings was
quite ready to advance the money on the proposed security, and at
the proposed rate of interest, but in such a matter as that, Rubb
and Mackenzie did not wish to deal with an assurance company. They
desired that all control over the premises should either be in their
own hands, or in the hands of someone connected with them.
By the time that Mr Samuel Rubb had done, Miss Mackenzie found
herself to have dismounted altogether from her horse, and to be
pervaded by some slight fear that her lawyers might allow so
favourable an opportunity for investing her money to slip through
their hands.
Then, on a sudden, Mr Rubb dropped the subject of the loan, and Miss
Mackenzie, as he did so, felt herself to be almost disappointed. And
when she found him talking easily to her about matters of external
life, although she answered him readily, and talked to him also
easily, she entertained some feeling that she ought to be offended.
Mr Rubb, junior, was a tradesman who had come to her on business, and
having done his business, why did he not go away? Nevertheless, Miss
Mackenzie answered him when he asked questions, and allowed herself
to be seduced into a conversation.
"Yes, upon my honour," he said, looking out of the window into the
Montpelier Gardens, "a very nice situation indeed. How much better
they do these things in such a place as this than we do up in London!
What dingy houses we live in, and how bright they make the places
here!"
"They are not crowded so much, I suppose," said Miss Mackenzie.
"It isn't only that. The truth is, that in London nobody cares what
his house looks like. The whole thing is so ugly that anything not
ugly would be out of place. Now, in Paris--you have been in Paris,
Miss Mackenzie?"
In answer to this, Miss Mackenzie was compelled to own that she had
never been in Paris.
"Ah, you should go to Paris, Miss Mackenzie; you should, indeed. Now,
you're a lady that have nothing to prevent your going anywhere. If I
were you, I'd go almost everywhere; but above all, I'd go to Paris.
There's no place like Paris."
"I suppose not," said Miss Mackenzie.
By this time Mr Rubb had returned from the window, and had seated
himself in the easy chair in the middle of the room. In doing so he
thrust out both his legs, folded his hands one over the other, and
looked very comfortable.
"Now I'm a slave to business," he said. "That horrid place in the New
Road, which we want to buy with your money, has made a prisoner of me
for the last twenty years. I went into it as the boy who was to do
the copying, when your brother first became a partner. Oh dear, how I
did hate it!"
"Did you now?"
"I should rather think I did. I had been brought up at the Merchant
Taylors' and they intended to send me to Oxford. That was five years
before they began the business in the New Road. Then came the crash
which our house had at Manchester; and when we had picked up the
pieces, we found that we had to give up university ideas. However,
I'll make a business of it before I'm done; you see if I don't, Miss
Mackenzie. Your brother has been with us so many years that I have
quite a pleasure in talking to you about it."
Miss Mackenzie was not quite sure that she reciprocated the pleasure;
for, after all, though he did look so much better than she had
expected, he was only Rubb, junior, from Rubb and Mackenzie's; and
any permanent acquaintance with Mr Rubb would not suit the line of
life in which she was desirous of moving. But she did not in the
least know how to stop him, or how to show him that she had intended
to receive him simply as a man of business. And then it was so seldom
that anyone came to talk to her, that she was tempted to fall away
from her high resolves. "I have not known much of my brother's
concerns," she said, attempting to be cautious.
Then he sat for another hour, making himself very agreeable, and at
the end of that time she offered him a glass of wine and a biscuit,
which he accepted. He was going to remain two or three days in the
neighbourhood, he said, and might he call again before he left?
Miss Mackenzie told him that he might. How was it possible that
she should answer such a question in any other way? Then he got up,
and shook hands with her, told her that he was so glad he had come
to Littlebath, and was quite cordial and friendly. Miss Mackenzie
actually found herself laughing with him as they stood on the floor
together, and though she knew that it was improper, she liked it.
When he was gone she could not remember what it was that had made her
laugh, but she remembered that she had laughed. For a long time past
very little laughter had come to her share.
When he was gone she prepared herself to think about him at length.
Why had he talked to her in that way? Why was he going to call again?
Why was Rubb, junior, from Rubb and Mackenzie's, such a pleasant
fellow? After all, he retailed oilcloth at so much a yard; and little
as she knew of the world, she knew that she, with ever so much good
blood in her veins, and with ever so many hundreds a year of her own,
was entitled to look for acquaintances of a higher order than that.
She, if she were entitled to make any boast about herself--and she
was by no means inclined to such boastings--might at any rate boast
that she was a lady. Now, Mr Rubb was not a gentleman. He was not a
gentleman by position. She knew that well enough, and she thought
that she had also discovered that he was not quite a gentleman in his
manners and mode of speech. Nevertheless she had liked him, and had
laughed with him, and the remembrance of this made her sad.
That same evening she wrote a letter to her lawyer, telling him that
she was very anxious to oblige her brother, if the security was
good. And then she went into the matter at length, repeating much of
what Mr Rubb had said to her, as to the excellence of mortgages in
general, and of this mortgage in particular. After that she dressed
herself with great care, and went out to tea at Mrs Stumfold's. This
was the first occasion in her life in which she had gone to a party,
the invitation to which had come to her on a card, and of course she
felt herself to be a little nervous.