MR. JERVIS
NEW NOVELS AT ALL LIBRARIES.
=AT MARKET VALUE.= By GRANT ALLEN. 2 vols.
=RACHEL DENE.= By ROBERT BUCHANAN. 2 vols.
=A COUNTRY SWEETHEART.= By DORA RUSSELL. 3 vols.
=DR. ENDICOTT’S EXPERIMENT.= By ADELINE SERGEANT. 2 vols.
=IN AN IRON GRIP.= By MRS. L. T. MEADE. 2 vols.
=LOURDES.= By E. ZOLA. 1 vol.
=ROMANCES OF THE OLD SERAGLIO.= By H. N. CRELLIN. 1 vol.
=A SECRET OF THE SEA.= By T. W. SPEIGHT. 1 vol.
=THE SCORPION.= A Romance of Spain. By E. A. VIZETELLY. 1 vol.
LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY.
MR. JERVIS
BY
B. M. CROKER
AUTHOR OF
“PRETTY MISS NEVILLE,” “DIANA BARRINGTON,” “A BIRD OF PASSAGE,”
“A FAMILY LIKENESS,” ETC.
[Illustration]
_IN THREE VOLUMES_
VOL. I.
London
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1894
“Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.”
SIR H. WOTTON.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A GIRL IN A THOUSAND 1
II. “TELL ME ALL THE NEWS” 18
III. “OTHER PEOPLE HAS NIECES TOO” 27
IV. THE THREE YOUNG MAIDS OF HOYLE 44
V. AN INDIAN LETTER 58
VI. “ROWENA”--FULL LIFE SIZE 71
VII. FAIRY RELENTS 91
VIII. DANIEL POLLITT, ESQ., AND FAMILY 103
IX. PERMISSION TO TRAVEL 118
X. MAJOR BYNG’S SUGGESTION 144
XI. A RESERVED LADY 158
XII. TWO GOOD SAMARITANS 176
XIII. TOBY JOY 191
XIV. STEALING A MARCH 208
XV. A PROUD MOMENT 221
XVI. A MESSAGE FROM MISS PASKE 242
MR. JERVIS.
CHAPTER I.
A GIRL IN A THOUSAND.
“I suppose I must write, and say she may come. Personally, I shall be
delighted to have her; but I’m afraid Granby will think a girl in the
house rather a bore. Three _is_ such an awkward number in India!”
“And sometimes in other places,” added a lady who sat on the
fender-stool, blowing a great wood fire, with a preposterously small
pair of bellows.
“You know what I mean, Milly,” retorted her companion, a handsome,
indolent-looking woman, who reclined in an easy-chair, with an open
letter in her lap. “Houses out here are only built for two, as a
rule--especially in cantonments. A victoria or pony-cart holds but
two, and two is a much more manageable number for dinners and tiffins.
Still, I shall be glad to have a girl to chaperon; it will give me an
object in life, and more interest in going out.”
“Could you take more?” asked the lady with the bellows, casting a sly
smile over her shoulder.
“To be sure I could, you disagreeable little creature! When a woman is
no longer quite young, and her days of romance are at an end, the hopes
and prospects of a pretty companion give her another chance in the
matrimonial lucky-bag--a chance at second-hand, but still sufficiently
exciting. Alas! life after a certain age is like a bottle of flat
soda-water.”
“I do not think so,” rejoined the lady with the bellows, stoutly.
“No; I should be surprised if you did. You are so sympathetic and
energetic. You throw yourself heart and soul into Dorcas meetings,
bazaars, nurse-tending, and other people’s joys or afflictions. Now,
my sympathies and energies rarely extend beyond Granby and myself. I am
becoming torpid. I can scarcely get up the steam for a ball; even the
prospect of cutting out old Mother Brande fails to rouse me. However,
when I have a charming niece to marry--and to marry well--things will
assume a different aspect. How amusing it will be to eclipse the
other girls and their scheming mothers; how gratifying to see all the
best _partis_ in the place grovelling at her feet! Her triumphs will
be mine.” And Mrs. Langrishe slowly closed her heavy eyelids, and
appeared--judging from her expression--to be wrapped in some beatific
vision. From this delicious contemplation she was abruptly recalled by
the prosaic question--
“How old is she?”
“Let me see--dear, dear me! Yes,” sitting erect and opening her fine
eyes to their widest extent, “why, strictly between ourselves, she must
be twenty-six. How time flies! She is my eldest brother’s daughter,
one of a large family. Fanny, my sister in Calcutta, had her out
eighteen months ago, and now she is obliged to go home, and wants to
hand Lalla over to me.”
“I understand,” assented her listener, with a sagacious nod.
“Can you also understand, that, simply because Fanny and I have no
children of our own, our people seem to expect us to provide for their
olive-branches? I don’t quite see it myself, though I do send them my
old dresses. Now let me read you my letter,” unfolding it as she spoke.
“450, Chowringhee, Feb. 22nd.
“DEAREST IDA,
“The doctors here say that Richard must positively go home at once.
He has been out too long, and it is quite time that another member of
the firm took a turn in the East. He has been working hard, and it is
essential for him to have a complete holiday; and I must accompany
him--a step for which I was quite unprepared. I have taken a house at
Simla for the season--that I can easily relet and get off my hands;
but what am I to do with dear little Lalla?
“The poor child only came out last cold weather year, and cannot
endure the idea of leaving India--and no wonder, with any number of
admirers, and a box of new dresses just landed by the mail steamer!
I had intended giving her such a gay season, and sending Dick home
alone; but now all my nice little schemes have been knocked on the
head--how soon a few days, even a few hours, out here alters all
one’s plans! And now to come to the gist of my letter--will you take
Lalla? I would not trust her with any one but her own aunt, though I
know that Mrs. Monty-Kute is dying to have her. You will find her a
most amusing companion; no one could be dull with Lalla in the house.
She is a pretty girl, and will do you credit, and is certain to be
the belle of the place. She has rather a nice little voice, plays
the banjo and guitar, and dances like a professional. As to her
disposition, nothing in this world is capable of ruffling her serene
temper--I cannot think who she takes after, for it is not a _family_
trait--I have never once seen her put out, and that is more than
can be said for a girl in a thousand. In fact, she _is_ a girl in a
thousand. I can send her to you with a lovely outfit, a new habit and
saddle, and her pony, if you wish. I am sure, dear, you will receive
her if you can possibly manage it; and do your best to get her well
_settled_, for you know poor Eustace has Charlotte and Sophy now quite
grown up; even May is eighteen. You are so clever, so popular, so full
of sense, dearest Ida--so superior to my stupid self--that if you do
consent to take Lalla under your wing, her fortune is practically
made. We have engaged passages in the _Paramatta_, which sails on the
twelfth, so write by return of post to
“Your loving sister,
“FANNY CRAUFORD.”
“Fanny is quite right,” said Mrs. Langrishe, with a slight tinge of
contempt in her tone. “She is by no means clever--just an impulsive,
good-natured goose, without a scrap of tact, and is taken in and
imposed on on all sides. I won’t have the pony, that is positive, and
gram ten seers for the rupee.”
“Then you have quite decided to take the young lady?” exclaimed her
companion incredulously.
“Yes;” now leaning back and clasping two long white hands behind her
head. “Pretty, amusing, accomplished, good-tempered--I don’t see _how_
I can possibly say no this time, though hitherto I have steadily set my
face against having out one of my nieces. I have always said it was so
dreadfully unfair to Granby. However, this niece is actually stranded
in the country, and it would look so odd if I declined; besides, I
shall like to have her; we shall mutually benefit one another. She will
amuse me--rejuvenate me; be useful in the house--arrange flowers,
write notes, read to me, dust the ornaments, make coffee and salad, and
do all sorts of little odd jobs, and ultimately cover me with glory by
making the match of the season!”
“And on your part--what is to be your _rôle_?”
“I will give her a charming home; I will have all the best men here,
and I will take her everywhere; give her, if necessary, a couple of
smart new ball-dresses, and that too delicious opera-mantle that has
grown too small for me.”
“Or you too large for it--which?” inquired Mrs. Sladen, with a slight
elevation of her eyebrows.
“Milly, how odious you can be!”
“And about Major Langrishe?” continued Milly, unabashed.
“Oh, Granby will be all right; but I must write to Fanny by this post,
and say that I shall be delighted to have Lalla. Pour out the tea like
a good little creature, whilst I scribble a line; the dâk goes down at
six.”
The other lady, who had kindled the fire and was now making tea, was
not, as might be supposed, the mistress of the house, but merely an
old friend who had dropped in for a chat this cold March afternoon.
She was a slight, delicate-looking woman, with dark hair, dark eyes,
and numerous lines on her thin, careworn face, though she was barely
thirty. No one ever dreamt of calling Mrs. Sladen pretty, but most
women voted her “a darling,” and all men “a little brick.” Married
in her teens, before she knew her own mind (but when her relations
had thoroughly made up theirs), to an elderly eligible, she had
become, from the hour she left the altar, the slave of a selfish,
irascible husband, whose mental horizon was bordered by two tables--the
dinner-table and the card-table--and whose affections were entirely
centred in his own portly person. Milly Fraser’s people were on the
eve of quitting India; they were poor; they had a large and expensive
family at home; otherwise they might have hesitated before giving
their pretty Milly (she _was_ pretty in those days) to a man more than
double her age, notwithstanding that he was drawing good pay, and his
widow would enjoy a pension. They would have discovered--had they made
inquiries--that he was heavily in debt to the banks; that he could not
keep a friend or a servant; and that, after all, poor young Hastings,
of the staff-corps, whom they had so ruthlessly snubbed, would have
made a more satisfactory son-in-law.
Mrs. Sladen had two little girls in England, whom her heart yearned
over--little girls being brought up among strangers at a cheap suburban
school. How often had her husband solemnly promised that “next year
she should go home and see the children;” but, when the time came, he
invariably hardened his heart, like Pharaoh, King of Egypt, and would
not let her go. If she went, who was to manage the house and servants,
and see after his dinner and his comforts? _He_ was not going to be
left in the hands of a khansamah! And, moreover, where was the money
for her passage to come from? He had not a rupee to spare (for her).
Colonel Sladen was a shrewd man when his own interests were concerned.
He was alive to the fact that he was not popular, but that things were
made pleasant to him all round for the sake of the unfortunate lady
whom he harried, and bullied, and drove with a tongue like the lash of
a slaver’s whip. Yes; if she went home, it would make a vast difference
in his comfort, socially and physically. Many a rude rebuff she had
saved him; many a kindness was done to him for her sake; and many a
woman fervently thanked her good genius that she was not his wife. In
spite of her uncongenial partner, Mrs. Sladen managed to be cheerful,
and generally bright and smiling, ready to nurse the sick, to decorate
the club for dances, to help girls to compose ball-dresses, to open
her heart to all their troubles, and to give them sympathy and sound
advice. “Oh, do not marry a man simply because your people wish it,”
she might have said (but she never did), “and merely because he is
considered a good match; far better to go home and earn your bread as a
shop-assistant, or even a slavey. Take a lesson from _my_ fate.”
Mrs. Langrishe, on the other hand, ruled her dear Granby with a
firm but gracious sway. _Their_ match had been made in England, and
had proved in one respect a severe and mutual disappointment. Well,
“disappointment” is an ugly word; shall we say “surprise”? Captain
Langrishe had been attracted by Ida Paske’s handsome face, stately
deportment, and magnificent toilettes. He was impressed by her superb
indifference to money--rumour endowed her with a large income, and
rumour had no real grounds for this agreeable assertion. Ida was one
of a numerous family, was good-looking, self-reliant, ambitious, and
eight and twenty. Her dresses were unpaid for, and her face was her
fortune. She, on her part, believed the insignificant-looking little
officer--whose pale profile looked exactly as if it were cut out of
a deal board--to be enormously rich. He, too, affected to despise
outlay, and kept hunters, and talked of his yacht. He was going to
India, immediately, and the wedding was hurried on; but long ere the
happy pair had reached Bombay, they had discovered the real state of
affairs. He knew that his bride was penniless; and she was aware that
the hunters had been hired, the yacht had been a loan, and that three
hundred a year, besides his pay, was the utmost limit of her husband’s
purse. They were a wise couple, and made the best of circumstances;
and by-and-by Captain Langrishe came to the conclusion that he had got
hold of a treasure, after all! His Ida was full of tact and worldly
wisdom, and possessed administrative powers of the highest order.
She understood the art of keeping up appearances, and laid to her
heart that scriptural text which says, “As long as thou doest well
unto thyself, men will speak well of thee.” She ensured her husband a
comfortable home, studied his tastes, flattered his weaknesses, was
always serene, affectionate, and well-dressed. Her dinners were small
but celebrated; her entrées and savouries, a secret between her cook
and herself. She did not dispense indiscriminate hospitalities--no,
she merely entertained a few important officials, smart women, and
popular men, who would be disposed to noise abroad the fame of her
dainty feasts, and to pay her back again with interest. Shabby people,
and insignificant acquaintances, never saw the interior of her abode,
which was the embodiment of comfort and taste. Her dresses were well
chosen and costly; diamonds sparkled on her fingers and on her neck;
and though but till recently a captain’s wife, her air and manner of
calm self-approval was such, that the wives of higher officials meekly
accepted her at her own valuation, and frequently suffered her to
thrust them into the background and usurp their place. Such was her
ability, that people took the cue from her, and valued an invitation to
afternoon tea with Mrs. Langrishe far above an elaborate dinner with
less exclusive hostesses.
Neither the furious attacks of her enemies (and she had not a few),
nor the occasional indiscretions of her friends, ever ruffled the even
temperament of this would-be “grande dame.” It was an astonishing
but patent fact that she invariably occupied, so to speak, a chief
seat; that she was always heralded on her arrival at a station--met,
entertained, and regretfully sped. Whilst ladies as worthy languished
in the dâk bungalow, and drove in rickety ticca gharries, she had
the carriages of rajahs at her disposal, and was overwhelmed with
attentions and invitations. Surely all this was amply sufficient to
make these women “talk her over” and hold her at arms’ length. Men who
knew Captain Langrishe’s resources marvelled amongst themselves, and
said, “Gran has very little besides his pay; how the deuce does he do
it? Look at his wife’s dresses! And they give the best dinners in the
place. There will be a fine smash there some day!” But years rolled on,
and there was no sign of any such crisis. The truth was that Granby
Langrishe had married an exceedingly able woman--a woman who thoroughly
understood the art of genteel pushing and personal advertisement. She
had persistently edged--yea, driven her husband to the front, and he
now enjoyed an excellent appointment at the price of the two dewy tears
that stood in his Ida’s expressive eyes when bemoaning his bad luck
to an influential personage. The Langrishes were drawing two thousand
rupees a month,--and were held in corresponding esteem.
Mrs. Langrishe does not look forty--far from it. She has taken
excellent care of herself--no early rising, no midday visiting, for
this wise matron. She is tall, with a fine figure, alas! getting
somewhat stout; her brows are straight and pencilled; beneath them
shine a pair of effective grey eyes; her features are delicately cut;
if her face has a fault, it is that her jaw is a _little_ too square.
Whatever people may say of Ida Langrishe, they cannot deny that she is
remarkably handsome, and as clever as she is handsome. As a spinster,
she had not been entirely successful in her own aims; but it would
go hard, if, with her brains, her circle of acquaintances, and her
valuable experience, she did not marry her niece brilliantly.