Mrs Tom Mackenzie's Dinner Party
Mrs Tom was ever so gracious on the arrival of her sister-in-law, but
even in her graciousness there was something which seemed to Margaret
to tell of her dislike. Near relatives, when they are on good terms
with each other, are not gracious. Now, Mrs Tom, though she was ever
so gracious, was by no means cordial. Susanna, however, was delighted
to see her aunt, and Margaret, when she felt the girl's arms round
her neck, declared to herself that that should suffice for her,--that
should be her love, and it should be enough. If indeed, in after
years, she could make Jack love her too, that would be better still.
Then her mind went to work upon a little marriage scheme that would
in due time make a baronet's wife of Susanna. It would not suit her
to become Lady Ball, but it might suit Susanna.
"We are going to have a little dinner party to-day," said Mrs Tom.
"A dinner party!" said Margaret. "I didn't look for that, Sarah."
"Perhaps I ought not to call it a party, for there are only one or
two coming. There's Dr Slumpy and his wife; I don't know whether you
ever met Dr Slumpy. He has attended us for ever so long; and there
is Miss Colza, a great friend of mine. Mademoiselle Colza I ought to
call her, because her father was a Portuguese. Only as she never saw
him, we call her Miss. And there's Mr Rubb,--Samuel Rubb, junior. I
think you met him at Littlebath."
"Yes; I know Mr Rubb."
"That's all; and I might as well say how it will be now. Mr Rubb will
take you down to dinner. Tom will take Mrs Slumpy, and the doctor
will take me. Young Tom,"--Young Tom was her son, who was now
beginning his career at Rubb and Mackenzie's,--"Young Tom will take
Miss Colza, and Mary Jane and Susanna will come down by themselves.
We might have managed twelve, and Tom did think of asking Mr Handcock
and one of the other clerks, but he did not know whether you would
have liked it."
"I should not have minded it. That is, I should have been very glad
to meet Mr Handcock, but I don't care about it."
"That's just what we thought, and therefore we did not ask him.
You'll remember, won't you, that Mr Rubb takes you down?" After that
Miss Mackenzie took her nieces to the Zoological Gardens, leaving
Mary Jane at home to assist her mother in the cares for the coming
festival, and thus the day wore itself away till it was time for them
to prepare themselves for the party.
Miss Colza was the first to come. She was a young lady somewhat older
than Miss Mackenzie; but the circumstances of her life had induced
her to retain many of the propensities of her girlhood. She was as
young looking as curls and pink bows could make her, and was by no
means a useless guest at a small dinner party, as she could chatter
like a magpie. Her claims to be called "Mademoiselle" were not very
strong, as she had lived in Finsbury Square all her life. Her father
was connected in trade with the Rubb and Mackenzie firm, and dealt,
I think, in oil. She was introduced with great ceremony, and having
heard that Miss Mackenzie lived at Littlebath, went off at score
about the pleasures of that delicious place.
"I do so hate London, Miss Mackenzie."
"I lived here all my life, and I can't say I liked it."
"It is such a crowd, isn't it? and yet so dull. Give me Brighton! We
were down for a week in November, and it was nice."
"I never saw Brighton."
"Oh, do go to Brighton. Everybody goes there now; you really do see
the world at Brighton. Now, in London one sees nothing."
Then came in Mr Rubb, and Miss Colza at once turned her attention to
him. But Mr Rubb shook Miss Colza off almost unceremoniously, and
seated himself by Miss Mackenzie. Immediately afterwards arrived
the doctor and his wife. The doctor was a very silent man, and as
Tom Mackenzie himself was not given to much talking, it was well
that Miss Colza should be there. Mrs Slumpy could take her share in
conversation with an effort, when duly assisted; but she could not
lead the van, and required more sprightly aid than her host was
qualified to give her. Then there was a whisper between Tom and Mrs
Tom and the bell was rung, and the dinner was ordered. Seven had been
the time named, and a quarter past seven saw the guests assembled
in the drawing-room. A very dignified person in white cotton gloves
had announced the names, and the same dignified person had taken the
order for dinner. The dignified person had then retreated downstairs
slowly, and what was taking place for the next half-hour poor Mrs
Mackenzie, in the agony of her mind, could not surmise. She longed
to go and see, but did not dare. Even for Dr Slumpy, or even for his
wife, had they been alone with her she would not have cared much.
Miss Colza she could have treated with perfect indifference--could
even have taken her down into the kitchen with her. Rubb, her own
junior partner, was nothing, and Miss Mackenzie was simply her
sister-in-law. But together they made a party. Moreover she had on
her best and stiffest silk gown, and so armed she could not have been
effective in the kitchen. And so came a silence for some minutes, in
spite of the efforts of Miss Colza. At last the hostess plucked up
her courage to make a little effort.
"Tom," she said, "I really think you had better ring again."
"It will be all right, soon," said Tom, considering that upon the
whole it would be better not to disturb the gentleman downstairs just
yet.
"Upon my word, I never felt it so cold in my life as I did to-day,"
he said, turning on Dr Slumpy for the third time with that remark.
"Very cold," said Dr Slumpy, pulling out his watch and looking at it.
"I really think you'd better ring the bell," said Mrs Tom.
Tom, however, did not stir, and after another period of five minutes
dinner was announced. It may be as well, perhaps, to explain, that
the soup had been on the table for the last quarter of an hour or
more, but that after placing the tureen on the table, the dignified
gentleman downstairs had come to words with the cook, and had refused
to go on further with the business of the night until that ill-used
woman acceded to certain terms of his own in reference to the manner
in which the foods should be served. He had seen the world, and had
lofty ideas, and had been taught to be a tyrant by the weakness of
those among whom his life had been spent. The cook had alleged that
the dinner, as regarded the eating of it, would certainly be spoilt.
As to that, he had expressed a mighty indifference. If he was to have
any hand in them, things were to be done according to certain rules,
which, as he said, prevailed in the world of fashion. The cook,
who had a temper and who regarded her mistress, stood out long and
boldly, but when the housemaid, who was to assist Mr Grandairs
upstairs, absolutely deserted her, and sitting down began to cry,
saying: "Sairey, why don't you do as he tells you? What signifies its
being greasy if it hain't never to go hup?" then Sarah's courage gave
way, and Mr Grandairs, with all the conqueror in his bosom, announced
that dinner was served.
It was a great relief. Even Miss Colza's tongue had been silent,
and Mr Rubb had found himself unable to carry on any further small
talk with Miss Mackenzie. The minds of men and women become so
tuned to certain positions, that they go astray and won't act when
those positions are confused. Almost every man can talk for fifteen
minutes, standing in a drawing-room, before dinner; but where is the
man who can do it for an hour? It is not his appetite that impedes
him, for he could well have borne to dine at eight instead of seven;
nor is it that matter lacks him, for at other times his eloquence
does not cease to flow so soon. But at that special point of the day
he is supposed to talk for fifteen minutes, and if any prolonged call
is then made upon him, his talking apparatus falls out of order and
will not work. You can sit still on a Sunday morning, in the cold,
on a very narrow bench, with no comfort appertaining, and listen for
half an hour to a rapid outflow of words, which, for any purpose
of instruction or edification, are absolutely useless to you. The
reading to you of the "Quae genus," or "As in praesenti," could not be
more uninteresting. Try to undergo the same thing in your own house
on a Wednesday afternoon, and see where you will be. To those ladies
and gentlemen who had been assembled in Mrs Mackenzie's drawing-room
this prolonged waiting had been as though the length of the sermon
had been doubled, or as if it had fallen on them at some unexpected
and unauthorised time.
But now they descended, each gentleman taking his allotted lady, and
Colza's voice was again heard. At the bottom of the stairs, just
behind the dining-room door, stood the tyrant, looking very great,
repressing with his left hand the housemaid who was behind him. She
having observed Sarah at the top of the kitchen stairs telegraphing
for assistance, had endeavoured to make her way to her friend while
Tom Mackenzie and Mrs Slumpy were still upon the stairs; but the
tyrant, though he had seen the cook's distress, had refused and
sternly kept the girl a prisoner behind him. Ruat dinner, fiat
genteel deportment.
The order of the construction of the dinner was no doubt a la Russe;
and why should it not have been so, as Tom Mackenzie either had or
was supposed to have as much as eight hundred a year? But I think
it must be confessed that the architecture was in some degree
composite. It was a la Russe, because in the centre there was a green
arrangement of little boughs with artificial flowers fixed on them,
and because there were figs and raisins, and little dishes with dabs
of preserve on them, all around the green arrangement; but the soups
and fish were on the table, as was also the wine, though it was
understood that no one was to be allowed to help himself or his
neighbour to the contents of the bottle. When Dr Slumpy once made
an attempt at the sherry, Grandairs was down upon him instantly,
although laden at the time with both potatoes and sea-kale; after
that he went round and frowned at Dr Slumpy, and Dr Slumpy understood
the frown.
That the soup should be cold, everybody no doubt expected. It was
clear soup, made chiefly of Marsala, and purchased from the pastry
cook's in Store Street. Grandairs, no doubt, knew all about it, as he
was connected with the same establishment. The fish--Mrs Mackenzie
had feared greatly about her fish, having necessarily trusted its
fate solely to her own cook--was very ragged in its appearance, and
could not be very warm; the melted butter too was thick and clotted,
and was brought round with the other condiments too late to be of
much service; but still the fish was eatable, and Mrs Mackenzie's
heart, which had sunk very low as the unconsumed soup was carried
away, rose again in her bosom. Poor woman! she had done her best, and
it was hard that she should suffer. One little effort she made at the
moment to induce Elizabeth to carry round the sauce, but Grandairs
had at once crushed it; he had rushed at the girl and taken the
butter-boat from her hand. Mrs Mackenzie had seen it all; but what
could she do, poor soul?
The thing was badly managed in every way. The whole hope of
conversation round the table depended on Miss Colza, and she was
deeply offended by having been torn away from Mr Rubb. How could
she talk seated between the two Tom Mackenzies? From Dr Slumpy Mrs
Mackenzie could not get a word. Indeed, with so great a weight on
her mind, how could she be expected to make any great effort in
that direction? But Mr Mackenzie might have done something, and she
resolved that she would tell him so before he slept that night. She
had slaved all day in order that he might appear respectable before
his own relatives, at the bottom of his own table--and now he would
do nothing! "I believe he is thinking of his own dinner!" she said to
herself. If her accusation was just his thoughts must have been very
sad.
In a quiet way Mr Rubb did talk to his neighbour. Upstairs he had
spoken a word or two about Littlebath, saying how glad he was that
he had been there. He should always remember Littlebath as one of
the pleasantest places he had ever seen. He wished that he lived
at Littlebath; but then what was the good of his wishing anything,
knowing as he did that he was bound for life to Rubb and Mackenzie's
counting house!
"And you will earn your livelihood there," Miss Mackenzie had
replied.
"Yes; and something more than that I hope. I don't mind telling
you,--a friend like you,--that I will either spoil a horn or make a
spoon. I won't go on in the old groove, which hardly gives any of us
salt to our porridge. If I understand anything of English commerce, I
think I can see my way to better things than that." Then the period
of painful waiting had commenced, and he was unable to say anything
more.
That had been upstairs. Now below, amidst all the troubles of Mrs
Mackenzie and the tyranny of Grandairs, he began again:
"Do you like London dinner parties?"
"I never was at one before."
"Never at one before! I thought you had lived in London all your
life."
"So I have; but we never used to dine out. My brother was an
invalid."
"And do they do the thing well at Littlebath?"
"I never dined out there. You think it very odd, I dare say, but I
never was at a dinner party in my life--not before this."
"Don't the Balls see much company?"
"No, very little; none of that kind."
"Dear me. It comes so often to us here that we get tired of it. I do,
at least. I'm not always up to this kind of thing. Champagne--if you
please. Miss Mackenzie, you will take some champagne?"
Now had come the crisis of the evening, the moment that was all
important, and Grandairs was making his round in all the pride of his
vocation. But Mrs Mackenzie was by no means so proud at the present
conjuncture of affairs. There was but one bottle of champagne. "So
little wine is drank now, that, what is the good of getting more? Of
course the children won't have it." So she had spoken to her husband.
And who shall blame her or say where economy ends, or where meanness
begins? She had wanted no champagne herself, but had wished to treat
her friends well. She had seized a moment after Grandairs had come,
and Mrs Slumpy was not yet there, to give instructions to the great
functionary.
"Don't mind me with the champagne, nor yet Mr Tom, nor the young
ladies."
Thus she had reduced the number to six, and had calculated that
the bottle would certainly be good for that number, with probably
a second glass for the doctor and Mr Rubb. But Grandairs had not
condescended to be put out of his way by such orders as these. The
bottle had first come to Miss Colza, and then Tom's glass had been
filled, and Susanna's--through no fault of theirs, innocent bairns,
"but on purpose!" as Mrs Mackenzie afterwards declared to her husband
when speaking of the man's iniquity. And I think it had been done on
purpose. The same thing occurred with Mary Jane--till Mrs Mackenzie,
looking on, could have cried. The girl's glass was filled full, and
she did give a little shriek at last. But what availed shrieking?
When the bottle came round behind Mrs Mackenzie back to Dr Slumpy, it
was dry, and the wicked wretch held the useless nozzle triumphantly
over the doctor's glass.
"Give me some sherry, then," said the doctor.
The little dishes which had been brought round after the fish, three
in number,--and they in the proper order of things should have been
spoken of before the champagne,--had been in their way successful.
They had been so fabricated, that all they who attempted to eat
of their contents became at once aware that they had got hold of
something very nasty, something that could hardly have been intended
by Christian cooks as food for men; but, nevertheless, there had
been something of glory attending them. Little dishes require no
concomitant vegetables, and therefore there had been no scrambling.
Grandairs brought one round after the other with much majesty, while
Elizabeth stood behind looking on in wonder. After the second little
dish Grandairs changed the plates, so that it was possible to partake
of two, a feat which was performed by Tom Mackenzie the younger. At
this period Mrs Mackenzie, striving hard for equanimity, attempted
a word or two with the doctor. But immediately upon that came the
affair of the champagne, and she was crushed, never to rise again.
Mr Rubb at this time had settled down into so pleasant a little
series of whispers with his neighbour, that Miss Colza resolved once
more to exert herself, not with the praiseworthy desire of assisting
her friend Mrs Mackenzie, but with malice prepense in reference to
Miss Mackenzie.
Miss Mackenzie seemed to be having "a good time" with her neighbour
Samuel Rubb, junior, and Miss Colza, who was a woman of courage,
could not see that and not make an effort. It cannot be told here
what passages there had been between Mr Rubb and Miss Colza. That
there had absolutely been passages I beg the reader to understand.
"Mr Rubb," she said, stretching across the table, "do you remember
when, in this very room, we met Mr and Mrs Talbot Green?"
"Oh yes, very well," said Mr Rubb, and then turning to Miss
Mackenzie, he went on with his little whispers.
"Mr Rubb," continued Miss Colza, "does anybody put you in mind of Mrs
Talbot Green?"
"Nobody in particular. She was a thin, tall, plain woman, with red
hair, wasn't she? Who ought she to put me in mind of?"
"Oh dear! how can you forget so? That wasn't her looks at all. We
all agreed that she was quite interesting-looking. Her hair was just
fair, and that was all. But I shan't say anything more about it."
"But who do you say is like her?"
"Miss Colza means Aunt Margaret," said Mary Jane.
"Of course I do," said Miss Colza. "But Mrs Talbot Green was not at
all the person that Mr Rubb has described; we all thought her very
nice-looking. Mr Rubb, do you remember how you would go on talking to
her, till Mr Talbot Green did not like it at all?"
"No, I don't."
"Oh, but you did; and you always do."
Then Miss Colza ceased, having finished that effort. But she made
others from time to time as long as they remained in the dining-room,
and by no means gave up the battle. There are women who can fight
such battles when they have not an inch of ground on which to stand.
After the little dishes there came, of course, a saddle of mutton,
and, equally of course, a pair of boiled fowls. There was also a
tongue; but the a la Russe construction of the dinner was maintained
by keeping the tongue on the sideboard, while the mutton and chickens
were put down to be carved in the ordinary way. The ladies all
partook of the chickens, and the gentlemen all of the mutton. The
arrangement was very tedious, as Dr Slumpy was not as clever with
the wings of the fowls as he perhaps would have been had he not been
defrauded in the matter of the champagne; and then every separate
plate was carried away to the sideboard with reference to the tongue.
Currant jelly had been duly provided, and, if Elizabeth had been
allowed to dispense it, might have been useful. But Grandairs was too
much for the jelly, as he had been for the fish-sauce, and Dr Slumpy
in vain looked up, and sighed, and waited. A man in such a condition
measures the amount of cold which his meat may possibly endure
against the future coming of the potatoes, till he falls utterly
to the ground between two stools. So was it now with Dr Slumpy. He
gave one last sigh as he saw the gravy congeal upon his plate, but,
nevertheless, he had finished the unpalatable food before Grandairs
had arrived to his assistance.
Why tell of the ruin of the maccaroni, of the fine-coloured
pyramids of shaking sweet things which nobody would eat, and by the
non-consumption of which nothing was gained, as they all went back to
the pastrycook's,--or of the ice-puddings flavoured with onions? It
was all misery, wretchedness, and degradation. Grandairs was king,
and Mrs Mackenzie was the lowest of his slaves. And why? Why had she
done this thing? Why had she, who, to give her her due, generally
held her own in her own house pretty firmly,--why had she lowered her
neck and made a wretched thing of herself? She knew that it would be
so when she first suggested to herself the attempt. She did it for
fashion's sake, you will say. But there was no one there who did
not as accurately know as she did herself, how absolutely beyond
fashion's way lay her way. She was making no fight to enter some
special portal of the world, as a lady may do who takes a house
suddenly in Mayfair, having come from God knows where. Her place in
the world was fixed, and she made no contest as to the fixing. She
hoped for no great change in the direction of society. Why on earth
did she perplex her mind and bruise her spirit, by giving a dinner a
la anything? Why did she not have the roast mutton alone, so that all
her guests might have eaten and have been merry?
She could not have answered this question herself, and I doubt
whether I can do so for her. But this I feel, that unless the
question can get itself answered, ordinary Englishmen must cease to
go and eat dinners at each other's houses. The ordinary Englishman,
of whom we are now speaking, has eight hundred a year; he lives in
London; and he has a wife and three or four children. Had he not
better give it up and go back to his little bit of fish and his leg
of mutton? Let him do that boldly, and he will find that we, his
friends, will come to him fast enough; yes, and will make a gala day
of it. By Heavens, we have no gala time of it when we go to dine with
Mrs Mackenzie a la Russe! Lady Mackenzie, whose husband has ever
so many thousands a year, no doubt does it very well. Money, which
cannot do everything,--which, if well weighed, cannot in its excess
perhaps do much,--can do some things. It will buy diamonds and give
grand banquets. But paste diamonds, and banquets which are only
would-be grand, are among the poorest imitations to which the world
has descended.
"So you really go to Littlebath to-morrow," Mr Rubb said to Miss
Mackenzie, when they were again together in the drawing-room.
"Yes, to-morrow morning. Susanna must be at school the next day."
"Happy Susanna! I wish I were going to school at Littlebath. Then I
shan't see you again before you go."
"No; I suppose not."
"I am so sorry, because I particularly wished to speak to you,--most
particularly. I suppose I could not see you in the morning? But, no;
it would not do. I could not get you alone without making such a fuss
of the thing."
"Couldn't you say it now?" asked Miss Mackenzie.
"I will, if you'll let me; only I suppose it isn't quite the thing to
talk about business at an evening party; and your sister-in-law, if
she knew it, would never forgive me."
"Then she shan't know it, Mr Rubb."
"Since you are so good, I think I will make bold. Carpe diem, as
we used to say at school, which means that one day is as good as
another, and, if so why not any time in the day? Look here, Miss
Mackenzie--about that money, you know."
And Mr Rubb got nearer to her on the sofa as he whispered the word
money into her ear. It immediately struck her that her own brother
Tom had said not a word to her about the money, although they had
been together for the best part of an hour before they had gone up to
dress.
"I suppose Mr Slow will settle all that," said Miss Mackenzie.
"Of course;--that is to say, he has nothing further to settle just
as yet. He has our bond for the money, and you may be sure it's all
right. The property is purchased, and is ours,--our own at this
moment, thanks to you. But landed property is so hard to convey.
Perhaps you don't understand much about that! and I'm sure I don't.
The fact is, the title deeds at present are in other hands, a mere
matter of form; and I want you to understand that the mortgage is not
completed for that reason."
"I suppose it will be done soon?"
"It may, or it may not; but that won't affect your interest, you
know."
"I was thinking of the security."
"Well, the security is not as perfect as it should be. I tell you
that honestly; and if we were dealing with strangers we should expect
to be called on to refund. And we should refund instantly, but at a
great sacrifice, a ruinous sacrifice. Now, I want you to put so much
trust in us,--in me, if I may be allowed to ask you to do so,--as to
believe that your money is substantially safe. I cannot explain it
all now; but the benefit which you have done us is immense."
"I suppose it will all come right, Mr Rubb."
"It will all come right, Miss Mackenzie."
Then there was extracted from her something which he was able to take
as a promise that she would not stir in the matter for a while, but
would take her interest without asking for any security as to her
principal.
The conversation was interrupted by Miss Colza, who came and stood
opposite to them.
"Well, I'm sure," she said; "you two are very confidential."
"And why shouldn't we be confidential, Miss Colza?" asked Mr Rubb.
"Oh, dear! no reason in life, if you both like it."
Miss Mackenzie was not sure that she did like it. But again she was
not sure that she did not, when Mr Rubb pressed her hand at parting,
and told her that her great kindness had been of the most material
service to the firm. "He felt it," he said, "if nobody else did."
That also might be a sacrificial duty and therefore gratifying.
The next morning she and Susanna left Gower Street at eight, spent
an interesting period of nearly an hour at the railway station, and
reached Littlebath in safety at one.