AN UNPLEASANT RUMOUR.
Once more a year has gone its round, bringing again to London all the
stir and bustle of another season. It is a lovely afternoon towards
the close of May, and there is some slight commotion in Chenevix
House. Only the commotion of an unexpected arrival. Lady Mary
Cleveland, with her infant child and its nurse, had come up from
Netherleigh on a short visit. The infant, barely four weeks old yet,
was a very small and fretful young gentleman, who had chosen to make
his appearance in the world two good months before the world expected
him.
No one was at home but Lady Grace. She ran down the stairs to welcome
her sister.
"My dear Mary! I am so glad to see you! We did not expect you until
Monday. You are doubly welcome."
"I thought it would make no difference--my coming a few days earlier,
and without warning you," said Lady Mary, as she kissed her elder
sister. "I am not very strong, Grace, and Mr. Forth has been anxious
that I should have a change. This morning was so warm and fine, and I
felt so languid, that he said to me, 'Why not start today?' So he and
my husband packed me off, whether I would or no. Where's mamma?"
"Mamma is out somewhere. Gone to see the pictures, I think," added
Grace, as Lady Mary turned, of her own accord, into a small, cosy
sitting-room that used to belong to the girls, and which they had
nicknamed "The Hut." "Harriet is with her."
Lady Mary looked surprised. "Harriet! Are the MacIvors here?"
"Oh dear, yes; staying with us. They came up from Scotland on Monday."
"I am rather sorry I came, then. It may be an inconvenience. And there
won't be a bit of quiet in the house."
"It will be no inconvenience at all, Mary--what are you thinking of?
You are to have your old room, and the baby the room next it. As to
the house, it shall be as quiet as you please. I assure you it is
wonderfully changed, in that respect, since all you girls were at home
together."
"That time seems ages ago," remarked Lady Mary.
"What light-headed, frivolous girls we were--and how life's cares
change us! Fancy our all marrying and leaving you behind!"
"There's Frances also."
"I forgot Frances. She is at Sarah's, I suppose, as usual. She will be
marrying next, no doubt. _I_ always thought she would be one of the
first to marry, though she is the youngest except Adela. And then it
will be your turn, Grace."
Grace slightly shook her head. "It will never be mine, Mary--as I
believe. I have settled down into an old maid--and I feel like one. I
would rather not marry now; at least, I think so. The time has gone by
for it."
"What nonsense you talk! Why, you are only about three or four and
thirty, Grace, though you are the eldest. A woman is not too old to
marry, at that age."
"Well, I am not anxious to marry," replied Grace. "Papa and mamma
should have one of us with them in their old age; and Frances will no
doubt marry. It will, I know, be all as God pleases. Morning by
morning as I get up, I put myself into His good care, and beseech Him
to undertake for me--to use me as He will."
Lady Mary Cleveland smiled. This was all very right, of course--Grace
had always had a religious corner in her heart.
"And now tell me all the news of Netherleigh," began Grace, when her
sister had taken some refreshment, and the small mite of a baby was
asleep, and they were back again in "The Hut," Mary lying on the sofa.
"How is Aunt Margery?"
"You have had this room refurnished!" cried Mary, looking about
her--at the bright carpet and chintz curtains.
"Yes, this spring. It
was so very shabby."
"It is very pretty now. Aunt Margery?--oh, she is fairly well. Not too
strong, I fancy. I went to the Court yesterday and had lunch with her.
She is my baby's godmother."
"Is she? The baby's christened, then?"
"As if we should bring him away from home if he were not! You will
laugh at his old-fashioned name, Grace--Thomas."
"Thomas is a very good name. It is your husband's."
"Yes--and not one of his first wife's children bear it. So I thought
it high time this one should."
"Why did your husband not bring you up today?"
"Because he has two funerals this afternoon--people are sure to die at
the wrong time," added Lady Mary, quaintly. "And the vicar of the next
parish, who is always ready to help him, is away this week."
"And the godfathers?--who are they, Mary?"
"My husband is one of them: he has stood to all his children. The
other is Oscar Dalrymple."
"Oscar Dalrymple?" echoed Grace.
"Yes. He is not a general favourite; but Mr. Cleveland likes him. And
he thinks he has behaved very well in this wretched business of
Selina's. The one we should have preferred to have for godfather, we
did not like to ask--if you can understand that apparent
contradiction, Gracie?"
"And who was that?" asked Grace, looking up.
"Francis Grubb. He has been so very, very kind to us, and we like and
respect him so greatly, above all other men on the face of the earth,
that we quite longed to ask him to stand to the poor little waif. On
the other hand, he is so wealthy and so generous, that my husband
thought it might look like coveting more benefits. And so we fixed on
Mr. Dalrymple."
Grace mused.
"I never use my beautiful pony-carriage but I feel grateful to Mr.
Grubb," went on Lady Mary. "And look how good he has been in regard to
Charles!"
A slight frown at the last word contracted Grace's fair and open brow,
as though the name brought her some sort of discomfort. It was
smoothed away at once.
"Are the Dalrymples at Moat Grange?" she asked.
"Still there; living like hermits, in the most inexpensive manner
possible, with two servants only--or three, I forget which. Two maids,
I think it is; and a man who has to do the garden--as much as one man
can do of it--and feed the two pigs, and milk the cow, and see to the
cocks and hens."
A smile crossed Grace's lips. "Does Selina like that kind of life?"
"Selina has to like it; at any rate, to put up with it, and she does
it with a good grace. It is she who has reduced Oscar to poverty; the
least she can do is to share in his retirement and retrenchments
without murmuring. Oscar is trying to let Moat Grange, but does not
seem able to succeed. His own little place, Knutford, was let for a
term of years when he came into Moat Grange, so they cannot retire to
that."
"It was very sad of Selina to act so," sighed Grace.
"It was unpardonable," corrected Lady Mary. "She knew how limited her
husband's income was. Thoughtlessness runs in the Dalrymple family.
Poor Mrs. Dalrymple wanted to give up the cottage and the income Oscar
allows her, and go out into the world to shift for herself; but Oscar
would not hear of it. We respect him for it. Close he may be, rather
crabbed in temper; but he has a keen sense of honour. It is said his
debts amount to ten thousand pounds."
"Ten thousand pounds!" almost screamed Grace.
"Quite that. Though indeed I should have said Selina's debts, rather
than his. Mr. Grubb's sister, Mary Lynn, comes sometimes to
Netherleigh, to spend a week with Mrs. Dalrymple--who was to have been
Mary's mother-in-law, you know, had things gone straight with Robert.
What a sweet girl she is!"
"I have always thought Mary Lynn that, since I knew her."
"Do you see Alice Dalrymple often?" continued Lady Mary.
"Pretty often, except when the Hopes are in Gloucestershire. Alice
looks very delicate."
"The colonel is not reconciled to Gerard yet?"
"No; and not likely to be. Poor Gerard is somewhere abroad."
"And that mysterious bracelet of Sarah's--I conclude it has never come
to light. Grace," added Lady Mary, dropping her voice, "is it still
thought that Gerard helped himself to it?"
Grace shook her head. "The colonel thinks so. And as long as he does
he will never forgive him, or take him back to favour."
"Well, I don't know that he could be expected to. Poor Gerard! If he
did do it, he must have been reduced to some pitiable strait. And my
husband's boy, Charley--do you see much of him, Grace?"
"Oh, we see him now and then," replied Grace, in a tone of constraint.
"Adela has quite taken him up, we find. It is a relief to us, for we
feared she might not; might even, we thought, resent having him in the
house. How kind Mr. Grubb was over that; how considerately
thoughtful!" continued Lady Mary. "None can know how truly good he
is?"
"You are right there," acquiesced Grace. "But he does not always find
his reward."
"How does Adela behave to him now?" questioned Lady Mary, who had
understood the last remark to apply to her sister Adela; and again she
dropped her voice as she asked it.
"Just as usual. There's no improvement in her."
The previous summer, when the marriage of Lady Mary Chenevix took
place with Mr. Cleveland, he, the Rector, came up the day before it,
and stayed at Mr. Grubb's by invitation, to be in readiness for the
morrow's ceremony. Mr. Grubb liked the Rector: he had felt deeply
sorry for him when he was left a widower with so many children, and
was glad he was going to have a new helpmate and they a second mother.
That night, as they sat talking together after dinner--Adela being at
her mother's, deep in all the wedding paraphernalia--the Rector opened
his heart and his sorrows to Mr. Grubb: what a care his children were
to him, and what he should do to place his many sons out in life.
Charles, the second, was chiefly on his mind now. The eldest son,
Harry, was in the army, and getting on well; expected to get his
company soon. Charles, who was then twenty years of age, had been
intended for the Church, but he had never taken to the idea kindly,
and was now evincing a most unconquerable dislike to it. "I cannot
force him into it," said the Rector, sadly. "I must find some other
opening for him. He must go out and begin to earn a living somehow--I
have too many of them at home. I suppose,"--he added, in a hesitating
tone of deprecation--"you could not make room for him in Leadenhall
Street?" But Mr. Grubb told the Rector that he would gladly make room
for him; and, amid the grateful thanks of the Rector, it was decided
upon, there and then, Mr. Grubb being most liberal in his
arrangements. "I must find him a lodging," said the Rector; "perhaps
some family would take him and board him." "No, no; he had better come
here," said Mr. Grubb; "provided Adela makes no objection. Strange
lodgings are the ruin of many a young fellow--and will be of many
more. London lodgings are no true home for young men; they take to
going abroad at night out of sheer loneliness, get exposed to the
temptations of this most dangerous city, teeming with its specious
allurements, and fall helplessly into its evil ways. Your son, Mr.
Cleveland, shall come here and be sheltered from the danger, if my
wife will have him."
Lady Adela apathetically consented, when the proposal was made to her;
the lad might come if he liked, she did not care, was all she
answered. And so Charles Cleveland came: and his father believed and
declared that no man had ever been so good and generous as Mr. Grubb.
A tall, slender, gentlemanly, dark-eyed, very handsome and somewhat
idle young fellow Mr. Charles Cleveland turned out to be. He took well
enough to his duties in the counting-house; far better than he had
taken to Latin and Greek and theology; and Mr. Grubb was as kind to
him as could be; and the more active partner, Mr. Howard, not too
severe.
But at the close of winter, when Charles Cleveland had been some
months located in Grosvenor Square, Lady Adela began to show herself
very foolish. She struck up a flirtation with him. Whether it was done
out of sheer ennui at the prolonged cold weather, or in very
thoughtlessness, or by way of inventing another source of vexation for
her husband, Adela set up a strong flirtation with Charles Cleveland,
and the world was already talking of it and laughing at it. The
matter, absurd though it was in itself, was vexing Grace Chenevix, and
her sister's mention of Charley brought the vexation before her.
"We heard something about Adela last week," spoke Lady Mary,
maintaining her low tone, "not at all creditable to her: but we hope
it is not true."
Grace Chenevix felt her face flush. She assumed that her sister
alluded to what was filling her thoughts, and she would have been glad
to be spared speaking of it.
"It is only nonsense, Mary. It comes of sheer idle thoughtlessness on
Adela's part, nothing more. Rely upon that."
"I am glad to hear you say so, Grace. But--do you ever go there with
her?"
"Go where with her?"
"To Lady Sanely's."
The two sisters gazed at one another. They were at cross-purposes.
"To Lady Sanely's?" exclaimed Grace, in surprise. "I don't go there
with Adela; I don't go there at all. Mamma has scarcely any
acquaintance with Lady Sanely."
"Then how can you speak so confidently?" returned Mary Cleveland.
"Adela may be quite deep in the mischief, for all you know."
"Mary, I do not understand you. You must explain what you mean."
"It is said," whispered Mary, glancing round at the walls, as if to
reassure herself no one else was present, "that Adela has taken to
gambling. That----"
"To gambling?" gasped Grace.
Lady Mary nodded. "It is said that gambling to a very dangerous extent
is carried on at Lady Sanely's and that Adela has been drawn into the
snare, and goes there nightly, and plays deeply. How do you think we
heard this?"
"Heaven knows!" cried poor Grace, feeling a conviction that it might
be true.
"From Harry; my husband's eldest son. He has got his promotion at
last, as perhaps you know, and is daily expecting orders to embark for
India. He ran down last week to see us, and it was he who mentioned
it. My husband told him to be careful; that it could not be true.
Harry maintained that it was true, and was, moreover, quite well
known. He said he thought Lord Acorn was aware of it--but that Mr.
Grubb was not."
"Papa _cannot_ be aware of it," disputed Grace.
"Don't make too sure of it, Grace. Papa does a little in that line
himself, you know; he may not look upon it in the dreadful light that
you do, or that we people do in a rustic parsonage. Anyway, Harry says
there's no mistake about Adela."
"Mr. Grubb ought to be warned--that he may save her."
"It is what my husband says--that Mr. Grubb ought to be told. I hope
Adela has enough petty sins on her conscience!"
"This the worst of all. She may ruin her husband, rich though he is."
"As poor Robert Dalrymple ruined himself. Scarcely that, however, in
this case, Gracie. Mr. Grubb cannot be brought to ruin blindfold by
his wife: and it strikes me he will take very good care, for her sake
as well as his own, that she does not bring him to it. But he ought to
be told without delay."
Grace Chenevix fell into one of the most unpleasant reveries she had
ever experienced. Adela went often to Lady Sanely's; she knew that.
Another moment, and Lord Acorn came in.
"Papa," cried Lady Mary, after she had greeted her father, "we were
talking of Adela. A rumour reached us at Netherleigh that she was
growing too fond of card-playing. It is carried on to a high extent at
Lady Sanely's house, we are led to believe, and that Adela is often
there, and joining in it."
"Ay, they go in for tolerably high stakes at Lady Sanely's," replied
the earl, in his careless, not to say supercilious manner. "Very silly
of Adela!"
"It is true then, papa!" gasped Grace.
"True enough," he remarked. "I dare say, though, Adela can take care
of her purse-strings, and draw them in when necessary."
"How indifferent papa is!" thought Grace, with a sigh.
She was anything but indifferent. She was thinking what it might be
best to do; how save Adela from further folly. After dinner, when the
carriage came round to take her mother and Harriet to a small early
gathering at old Lady Cust's, and Mary, tired with her day's journey,
had retired for the night, Grace suddenly spoke.
"Mamma, I think, if you have no objection, I will go with you in the
carriage and let it leave me at Adela's. I should like to sit an hour
with her."
"I have no objection," was the answer of Lady Acorn, spoken rather
tartly; as usual; for she lived in a chronic state of dissatisfaction
with her daughter Adela. "Go, if you like. And just give her a hint to
mend her manners, Grace, with regard to that boy."
"_That_ is pure idle pastime," was the mental comment of Grace
Chenevix. "This other may be worse."