A Sunday of Excitement
Strangers in court do take her for the queen.--Shakespeare
The first Sunday of Julius Charnock's ministry was spent in an
unexpected manner. In the darkness of the autumn morning there was
a knock at the door, and a low hurried call in Anne's voice at the
bedroom door: "Rosamond! Julius, pray look out! Isn't there a
great fire somewhere?"
"Fire! Here?" cried Rosamond, springing up.
"No, not here. A great way off. You could beat it back."
Rosamond had by this time rushed to the window which looked out the
wrong way, found her dressing-gown, and scrambled into it in the
dark ere joining Anne in the gallery, from the end window of which
the lurid light in the sky, with an occasional flame leaping up, was
plainly visible. When Julius joined them he declared it to be at
Willansborough, and set off to call up the coachman and despatch the
fire-engine, his wife calling after him to send for the soldiers at
Backsworth.
Frank and Charlie came rushing down in gratified excitement,
declaring that it was tremendous--the church at least--and exulting
in the attainment of their life-long ambition, the riding out on the
fire-engine. Servants bustled about, exclaiming, tramping, or
whisking on the stairs; and Raymond presently appeared to ask
whether his mother were ill, and, when reassured on that score,
hurrying to ascertain whether she were alarmed, before he started
for the scene of action.
"Let me come and stay with her," said Rosamond, a striking figure,
in a scarlet dressing-gown, with a thick plait of black hair hanging
down to her waist on either side.
"Thank you, it will be very kind," said Raymond, running down before
her, and meeting Susan waddling out in a fringe of curl-papers, for
some mysterious instinct or echo had conveyed to her and her
mistress that there was fire somewhere--perhaps at home. Mrs.
Poynsett was not a nervous woman, and from the time she saw her
eldest son come in, all fright was over, and she could have borne to
hear that the house over her head was burning, in the perfect trust
that he would save her from all peril; nor had he any difficulty in
committing her to Rosamond, when he hurried away to finish dressing
and repair to the spot.
Nothing could be seen from her room, but the little ante-room
between it and the drawing-room had an excellent view, as the ground
fell away from it, and there was an opening among the trees.
"We must get you there!" exclaimed Rosamond, in her excitement,
helping her into some garments, and then running out as she heard a
step--"Here, Julius, help me;" and without more ado, the mother was
transported between them to the broad low couch under the window,
and there bestowed in a nest of pillows, shawls, and rugs, that
seemed to grow up under Rosamond's touch.
Then following Julius out into the hall as he met his brother,
Rosamond clung to him, entreating, "Please, please don't run into
any dangerous places."
"Never fear, dearest; I am not likely."
"Don't let him, pray!" she said, turning to Raymond. "Make him
remember how blind he is."
"I'll take good care of him, Rosamond," said the elder brother
kindly; "I'm used to it."
"And send for the ---th," she added. "There is nothing like
soldiers at a fire."
"The glare must have given notice," said Julius, "but we'll send if
needful. Let go, you foolish girl; I'm not leading a forlorn hope."
Did Raymond, as he mounted his horse, turning from the contact of
the white and black heads, admire the reasonableness of the Cecil
who had never shown any fears for his safety, nor any tendency to
run about the passages in her robe de chambre, though she was now
dressing with all speed?
The women-folk had to depend on their own eyes for intelligence, for
every male, not only of the household but of the village, between
the ages of five and seventy, started for Wil'sbro', and a good many
females followed their example, including the cook and her suite.
However, Susan remained, to find her mistress flown, and in her
fright, give Lady Rosamond as round a scolding as if she had been
Charlie, for her rashness in attempting a transit, which Dr. Hayter
had pronounced to be as much as her mistress's life was worth.
Having thus relieved her mind, and finding that Mrs. Poynsett was
really very comfortable, or else too eager and anxious to find out
if she was not, the good woman applied herself to the making of
coffee.
Anne and Cecil had found their way to the leads, and were thence
summoned to partake of this hasty meal, after which they proposed
going to look from the brow of the hill; and Mrs. Poynsett insisted
that Rosamond should not stay behind on her account; and, glad to
appease the restlessness of anxiety, out went the ladies, to find
the best view of the town,--usually a white object in the distance,
but now blurred by smoke thick and black in the daylight, and now
and then reddened by bursts of flame.
Anne had been reassured as to the need of beating out the fire and
trampling down a place to isolate it, as in the bush-fires of her
experience; and Rosamond related the achievements of the regiment in
quenching many a conflagration in inflammable colonial cities.
It occurred to her that the best place whence to see it was the
tower of the church, which, placed upon a little knoll, was standing
out in full relief against the lurid light. She found the key at
the sexton's, and led the way up the broken stone stair to the trap-
door, where they emerged on the leads, and, in spite of the cold
wind and furious flapping of the flag above their heads, stood
absorbed in the interest of the sight.
There was a black mass in the open space, whence rose fitful clouds
of smoke, the remnants of the fire, which had there done its worst;
and beyond was a smoky undefined outline, with tongues of flame
darting up, then volumes of dense white smoke, denoting a rush of
water from the engines. Black beings flitted about like ants round
a disturbed nest; Rosamond hoped she detected some scarlet among
them, and Cecil lamented over not having brought her opera-glass.
Even without this, it was possible to make out two long lines of men
between the fire and the river, and at times they fancied they heard
the shouting, but the wind generally carried it away. The cold was
bitter, and they had to hold together and keep a tight grip upon
their garments against the gusts that seemed to rock the tower; but
they could not bear to turn away, though the clock beneath pealed
out hour after hour; for still, as the flames were subdued in one
place they broke out in another; but gradually smoke became
predominant, and then grew thinner, and as some of the black specks
began to straggle into the road as if returning to Compton, the
desire to hear became more pressing than that to see, and the three
ladies began to descend--a slow and weary process, cutting them off
from the view, and lasting so long, that the road was no longer
deserted when they finally emerged into the churchyard.
Young Mr. Bowater, grimed, dusty, hatless, and his hair on end, and
Rollo following with his feathery tail singed, hurried up at once.
"I'm not fit to touch, Lady Rosamond," as he showed a black hand,
and bowed to the others.
"Where's Ju--where's my husband?" exclaimed Rosamond.
"Just behind, riding home with Raymond and the rest of them. Wasn't
it a magnificent flare-up? But there was no loss of life; and this
dog was of as much use as two men--carried whatever I told him."
"Good old man! You've suffered too!" said Rosamond. "Pah! you're
like a singed horse; but never mind, you're a hero."
"And where is Mr. Charnock Poynsett?" said Cecil, retreating from
the dog, which her sisters-in-law were vehemently patting.
"He was arranging with the mayor. Church, paper-mills, and town-
hall got the worst of it. It was well he came down; old Briggs, the
mayor, lost his head, and Fuller never had one. Every one gave
contrary orders till he came down, and then, didn't we work!"
The curate stretched his stalwart limbs, as if they were becoming
sensible of the strain they had undergone.
"Did you say the church was burnt?" asked Cecil.
"Yes; and a very good thing too! Hideous place, where you couldn't
do right if you died for it! The fire began there--stoves no doubt--
and there it would have stopped if any one had had any sense; but
there they would run and gape, and the more I tried to get them to
form a chain and drench the warehouses, the more they wouldn't do
it. And when the flame once got hold of the paper--did you see it?--
it was not a thing to forget. I verily believe the whole town
would have gone if the Charnocks hadn't come and got a little
discipline into the asses. It was just life and death work,
fighting the fire to hinder it from getting across Water Lane, and
then it would have been all up with High Street. The tongues broke
out like live things ready to lick up everything; and it was like
killing dragons to go at them with the hose and buckets. I declare
my arms are fit to drop out of their sockets. And the Rector
devoted himself to carrying out bed-ridden old women. I forgot to
tell you, Lady Rosamond, he has broken his--There now, I never meant
to frighten you--broken his spectacles."
"You did it on purpose," she said, laughing at her own start.
"No, indeed, I did not."
"And is it quite out now?"
"Yes; when the Backsworth engines and the soldiers came up, it was
like the Prussians at Waterloo."
"Oh, then it was done," said Rosamond. "Take care! my grandfather
was in the Light Division."
"And my uncle in the Guards," said the curate. But before the
Waterloo controversy could be pursued, four or five figures on
horseback came round the knoll, and Raymond and Julius sprang off
their horses, introducing the three officers who followed their
example.
One was Rosamond's old acquaintance, the Colonel, a friend of her
father; but she had little attention to spare for them till she had
surveyed her husband, who looked nothing worse than exceedingly
dusty, and at fault without his spectacles.
Inquiries were made for Frank and Charlie. They were walking home.
They had worked gallantly. The flames were extinguished, but the
engines must go on playing on them for some time longer. No lives
lost, and very few casualties, but the paper-mills were entirely
destroyed, and about twenty tenements, so that great distress was to
be apprehended.
Such intelligence was being communicated as the party stood together
in a group, when there was a light tinkling of bells, and two ladies
in a light open carriage, drawn by two spirited ponies, dashed round
the knoll; and at the moment something must have gone wrong with
them, for there was a start, a pull, a call of "Raymond! Raymond!"
Throwing his bridle to Herbert Bowater, he sprang to the horses'
heads.
"Mr. Poynsett! Thank you! I beg your pardon," said the lady,
recovering herself; and Rosamond instantly perceived that she must
be Lady Tyrrell, for she was young-looking, very handsome, and in
slight mourning; and her companion was Miss Vivian. Julius, holding
his surviving glass to his eye, likewise stepped forward. "Thank
you, it was so stupid," the lady ran on. "Is not there something
wrong with the traces? I don't know how they got themselves
harnessed, but there was no keeping at home."
"I think all is right," said Raymond, gravely, making the
examination over to a servant. "Let me introduce my wife, Lady
Tyrrell."
The lady held out her hand. "I hope we shall be excellent
neighbours.--My sister.--You remember little Lena," she added to the
brothers. "She stole a march on us, I find. I heard of your
encounter on Friday. It was too bad of you not to come in and let
us send you home; I hope you did not get very wet, Lady Rosamond.--
Ah! Mr. Strangeways, I did not know you were there," she proceeded,
as the youngest of the officers accosted her; "come over and see us.
You're better provided now; but come to luncheon any day. I am sure
to be at home at half-past one; and I want so much to hear of your
mother and sisters." And with a universal bow and smile she
nourished her whip, her ponies jangled their bells, and the ladies
vanished.
"Stunning pair that!" was young Strangeways' exclamation.
"Most beautiful!" murmured Cecil, in a low voice, as if she was
quite dazzled. "You never said she was like that," she added
reproachfully to Julius.
"Our encounter was in the dark," he answered.
"Oh, I did not mean the young one, but Lady Tyrrell. She is just
like a gem we saw at Firenze--which was it?"
"Where?" said Raymond, bewildered.
"Firenze--Florence," she said, deigning to translate; and finding
her own reply. "Ah, yes, the Medusa!" then, as more than one
exclaimed in indignant dismay, she said, "No, not the Gorgon, but
the beautiful winged head, with only two serpents on the brow and
one coiled round the neck, and the pensive melancholy face."
"I know," said Julius, shortly; while the other gentlemen entered
into an argument, some defending the beauty of the younger sister,
some of the elder; and it lasted till they entered the park, where
all were glad to partake of their well-earned meal, most of the
gentlemen having been at work since dawn without sustenance, except
a pull at the beer served out to the firemen.
Cecil was not at all shy, and was pleased to take her place as
representative lady of the house; but somehow, though every one was
civil and attentive to her, she found herself effaced by the more
full-blown Rosamond, accustomed to the same world as the guests; and
she could not help feeling the same sense of depression as when she
had to yield the head of her father's table to her step-mother.
Nor could she have that going to church for the first time in state
with her bridegroom she had professed to dread, but had really
anticipated with complacency; for though Julius had bidden the bells
to be rung for afternoon service, Raymond was obliged to go back to
Wil'sbro' to make arrangements for the burnt-out families, and she
had to go as lonely as Anne herself.
Lady Tyrrell and her sister were both at Compton Church, and
overtook the three sisters-in-law as they were waiting to be joined
by the Rector.
"We shall have to take shelter with you," said Lady Tyrrell, "poor
burnt-out beings that we are."
"Do you belong to Wil'sbro'?" said Rosamond.
"Yes; St. Nicholas is an immense straggling parish, going four miles
along the river. I don't know how we shall ever be able to go back
again to poor old Mr. Fuller. You'll never get rid of us from
Compton."
"I suppose they will set about rebuilding the church at once," said
Cecil. "Of course they will form a committee, and put my husband on
it."
"In the chair, no doubt," said Lady Tyrrell, in a tone that sounded
to Rosamond sarcastic, but which evidently gratified Cecil. "But we
will have a committee of our own, and you will have to preside, and
patronize our bazaar. Of course you know all about them."
"Oh yes!" said Cecil, eagerly. "We have one every year for the
Infirmary, only my father did not approve of my selling at a stall."
"Ah! quite right then, but you are a married woman now, and that is
quite a different thing. The stall of the three brides. What an
attraction! I shall come and talk about it when I make my call in
full form! Good-bye again."
Cecil's balance was more than restored by this entire recognition to
be prime lady-patroness of everything. To add to her satisfaction,
when her husband came home to dinner, bringing with him both the
curates, she found there was to be a meeting on Tuesday in the
Assembly-room, of both sexes, to consider of the relief of the work-
people, and that he would be glad to take her to it. Moreover, as
it was to be strictly local, Rosamond was not needed there, though
Raymond was not equally clear as to the Rector, since he believed
that the St. Nicholas parishioners meant to ask the loan of Compton
Poynsett Church for one service on a Sunday.
"Then I shall keep out of the way," said Julius. "I do not want to
have the request made to me in public."
"You do not mean to refuse?" said Cecil, with a sort of self-
identification with her constituents.
"The people are welcome to attend as many of our services as they
like; but there is no hour that I could give the church up to Mr.
Fuller on a Sunday."
"Nor would the use of St. Nicholas be very edifying for our people,"
added Mr. Bindon.
His junior clenched it by saying with a laugh, "I should think not!
Fancy old Fuller's rusty black gown up in our pulpit!"
"I rejoice to say that is burnt," rejoined Mr. Bindon.
"What bet will you take that a new one will be the first thing
subscribed for?" said the deacon, bringing a certain grave look on
the faces of both the elder clergy, and a horror-stricken one upon
Anne's; while Cecil pronounced her inevitable dictum, that at
Dunstone Mr. Venn always preached in a gown, and "we" should never
let him think of anything nonsensical.
Rosamond was provoked into a display of her solitary bit of
ecclesiastical knowledge--"A friar's gown, the most Popish vestment
in the church."
Cecil, thoroughly angered, flushed up to the eyes and bit her lips,
unable to find a reply, while all the gentlemen laughed. Frank
asked if it were really so, and Mr. Bindon made the well-known
explanation that the Geneva gown was neither more nor less than the
monk's frock.
"I shall write and ask Mr. Venn," gasped Cecil; but her husband
stifled the sound by saying, "I saw little Pettitt, Julius, this
afternoon, overwhelmed with gratitude to you for all the care you
took of his old mother, and all his waxen busts."
"Ah! by the bye!" said Charlie, "I did meet the Rector staggering
out, with the fascinating lady with the long eyelashes in one arm,
and the moustached hero in the other."
"There was no pacifying the old lady without," said Julius. "I had
just coaxed her to the door, when she fell to wringing her hands.
Ah! those lovely models, that were worth thirty shillings each, with
natural hair--that they should be destroyed! If the heat or the
water did but come near them, Adolphus would never get over it. I
could only pacify her by promising to go back for these idols of his
heart as soon as she was safe; and after all, I had to dash at them
through the glass, and that was the end of my spectacles."
"Where was Pettitt himself?"
"Well employed, poor little fellow, saving the people in those three
cottages of his. No one supposed his shop in danger, but the fire
took a sudden freak and came down Long Street; and though the house
is standing, it had to be emptied and deluged with water to save it.
I never knew Pettitt had a mother till I found her mounting guard,
like one distracted, over her son's bottles of perfumery."
"And dyes?" murmured Raymond under his breath; but Frank caught the
sound, and said, "Ah, Julius! don't I remember his inveigling you
into coming out with scarlet hair?"
"I don't think I've seen him since," said Julius, laughing. "I
believe he couldn't resist such an opportunity of practising his
art. And for my part, I must say for myself, that it was in our
first holidays, and Raymond and Miles had been black and blue the
whole half-year from having fought my battles whenever I was called
either 'Bunny' or 'Grandfather.' So when he assured me he could
turn my hair to as sweet a raven-black as Master Poynsett's, I
thought it would be pleasing to all, forgetting that he could not
dye my eyes, and that their effect would have been some degrees more
comical."
"For shame, Julius!" said Rosamond. "Don't you know that one
afternoon, when Nora had cried for forty minutes over her sum, she
declared that she wanted to make her eyes as beautiful as Mr.
Charnock's. Well, what was the effect?"
"Startling," said Raymond. "He came down in shades of every kind of
crimson and scarlet. A fearful object, with his pink-and-white face
glowing under it."
"And what I had to undergo from Susan!" added Julius. "She washed
me, and soaped me, and rubbed me, till I felt as if all the
threshing-machines in the county were about my head, lecturing me
all the time on the profanity of flying against Scripture by trying
to alter one's hair from what Providence had made it. Nothing would
do; her soap only turned it into shades of lemon and primrose. I
was fain to let her shave my head as if I had a brain fever; and I
was so horribly ashamed for years after, that I don't think I have
set foot in Long Street since till to-day."
"Pettitt is a queer little fellow," said Herbert. "The most
truculent little Radical to hear him talk, and yet staunch in his
votes, for he can't go against those whose hair he has cut off from
time immemorial."
"I hope he has not lost much," said Julius.
"His tenements are down, but they were insured; and as to his stock,
he says he owes its safety entirely to you, Julius. I think he
would present you with both his models as a testimonial, if you
could only take them," said Raymond.
Cecil had neither spoken nor laughed through all this. She was
nursing her wrath; and after marching out of the dining-room, lay in
wait to intercept her husband, and when she had claimed his
attention, began, "Rosamond ought not to be allowed to say such
things."
"What things?"
"Speaking in that improper way about a gown."
"She seems to have said what was the fact."
"It can't be! It is preposterous! I never heard it before."
"Nor I; but Bindon evidently is up in those matters."
"It was only to support Rosamond; and I am quite sure she said it
out of mere opposition to me. You ought to speak to Julius."
"About what?" said Raymond.
"Her laughing whenever I mention Dunstone, and tell them the proper
way of doing things."
"There may be different opinions about the proper way of doing
things." Then as she opened her eyes in wonder and rebuke, he
continued, in his elder-brotherly tone of kindness, "You know I told
you already that you had better not interfere in matters concerning
his church and parish."
"We always managed things at Dunstone."
Hang Dunstone! was with some difficulty suppressed; but in an extra
gentle voice Raymond said, "Your father did what he thought his
duty, but I do not think it mine, nor yours, to direct Julius in
clerical matters. It can only lead to disputes, and I will not have
them."
"It is Rosamond. I'm sure I don't dispute."
"Listen, Cecil!" he said. "I can see that your position may be
trying, in these close quarters with a younger brother's wife with
more age and rank than yourself."
"That is nothing. An Irish earl, and a Charnock of Dunstone!"
"Dunstone will be more respected if you keep it in the background,"
he said, holding in stronger words with great difficulty. "Once for
all, you have your own place and duties, and Rosamond has hers. If
you meddle in them, nothing but annoyance can come of it; and
remember, I cannot be appealed to in questions between you and her.
Julius and I have gone on these nine-and-twenty years without a
cloud between us, and I'm sure you would not wish to bring one now."
Wherewith he left her bewildered. She did not perceive that he was
too impartial for a lover, but she had a general sense that she had
come into a rebellious world, where Dunstone and Dunstone's daughter
were of no account, and her most cherished notions disputed. What
was the lady of the manor to do but to superintend the church,
parsonage, and parish generally? Not her duty? She had never heard
of such a thing, nor did she credit it. Papa would come home, make
these degenerate Charnocks hear reason, and set all to rights.