Lady Silverdale saw the force of this argument; but as she continued to regret it for the next twenty minutes Henrietta could hardly blame Charlie for dragging himself up from the sofa, and walking out of the room.
She was sorry for him, but she had suspected long since that his haggard appearance and slow recovery from his injuries were due not so much to his accident, but to the dissipated life he had been leading, in the company of those choice spirits who, in her private opinion, belonged to a fast, rackety set, and were rapidly ruining his character. The suspicion had been confirmed by the Squire, who had visited him two days after his accident, and had told her bluntly that it was just as well that the young ram-stam had knocked himself up. He was one of Charlie's trustees, and had been intimately acquainted with both him and his sister all their lives, and he saw no need to mince his words. He said that what Charlie wanted was a long repairing lease. 'Been going the pace, m'dear: only have to look at him to know that! I warned your mother he was too callow to be let loose on the town, but all she would do was to talk gibble-gabble about not keeping him tied to her apron-strings, and having complete confidence in him, and a lot more to that tune. "All very well," I told her, "if the boy's father were alive, or he had elder brothers, or a male guardian, to tell him how he should go on, and warn him against the things no female knows anything about, but – " Oh, well! No use crying over spilt milk, so I'll say no more. Though how your father, as shrewd a man as ever I knew, could have allowed her ladyship to bamboozle him into appointing her to be Charlie's guardian – Well, well, my tongue runs away with me, but you're a sensible girl, Hetta, and you won't take it amiss! We must hope that this latest bit of folly will have taught Charlie a lesson!' He refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff, and added, in a heartening tone: 'No reason why he shouldn't turn out to be as good a man as his father! Most codlings take time to find their feet, y'know, Hetta! Best thing for him would be to get himself buckled to a nice girl! He's been philandering after dashing women of fashion, but there's no harm in that! He don't have petticoat affairs with straw damsels, and you may take it from me that's true, for I've had my eye on him, ever since he set up for himself in London!'
'What can I do, Sir John?' she asked straitly.
'Can't do anything!' he answered, restoring his snuff-box to the capacious pocket of his riding-coat. 'Just try what you can to keep him amused, so that he don't run off before he's in better point than he is now!'
With this piece of advice she had to be satisfied, but she found it almost impossible to follow. The only things that amused Charlie were the country-sports which he was debarred from pursuing, and almost every variety of gaming. To do him justice, he enjoyed, for their own sake, such games as offered a challenge to his skill, but Henrietta, who played a good game at chess, had so little card-sense that it bored him to play with her. Cherry, on the other hand, had neither the desire nor the ability to master the intricacies of chess, but she possessed a certain quickness which enabled her to grasp the rules and the objects of any card game he taught her, and to play well enough to make him declare that it wouldn't be long before she became a dashed dangerous opponent.
'Such a good thing, dearest!' Lady Silverdale confided to her daughter. 'At last we have hit upon something that keeps him tolerably well entertained! Gentlemen, you know, always like to instruct one, but they are much inclined to be vexed when people like you and me, my love, show no aptitude, or, at any hand, don't instantly comprehend what they tell us. What a fortunate circumstance it is that dear little Cherry has a turn for cards! I declare I am positively grateful to Desford for having brought her to me!'
But two days later Cherry's star suffered a temporary eclipse, when the most longstanding of Lady Silverdale's cicisbeos was so ill-advised as to beg her to bestow on him one of the roses she was carrying into the house. With playful gallantry he insisted that she should put it into his buttonhole with her own fair hands, saying that it would smell the sweeter. Since she regarded him in the light of a grandparent, which indeed he was, she complied with his requests, but could not help giggling a little at the fulsome compliment he had paid her. Lady Silverdale, on the other hand, was not amused; and for an anxious moment Henrietta feared that Cherry's popularity had already come to an end. Happily, Lady Silverdale's faithful admirer had the wit to say (after one look at her stiffening countenance) that he was glad Cherry had gone into the house, because he never knew what to say to chits of her age, adding, as he sat down again on the rustic seat beside my lady: 'Now we can be comfortable together, my lady!' This mollified her so much that instead of scolding Cherry she merely warned her not to encourage strange gentlemen to flirt with her. But even this mild reproof made startled tears spring to Cherry's eyes as she exclaimed in trembling accents: 'Oh, no, no! Indeed I didn't! I thought he was being kind to me because you had asked him to be, ma'am!' She added imploringly, as the tears coursed down her face: 'Don't be vexed with me! Pray don't be vexed with me, dear, dear Lady Silverdale! I can't bear you to be displeased with me, for I wouldn't displease you for the world, after all your goodness to me!'
Much touched by this speech, Lady Silverdale melted completely, to the extent of shedding a few tears herself; and within the hour told her dresser, when that jealous spinster uttered a sly criticism of Cherry, that she was a nasty, illnatured creature, and if she ever again dared to speak of Miss Steane as That Miss Steane she would find herself turned off without a character. Upon which, Cardle too burst into tears, but as this display of sensibility was accompanied by lamentations that her own virtues should go unrecognized, and a pious hope that my lady would learn before it was too late who were her real friends, Lady Silverdale was easily able to refrain from succumbing to her own tendency to become lachrymose upon the smallest provocation. She accepted an apology from Cardle, but with chilly dignity; and immediately went off to tell Henrietta that Cardle was growing to be intolerably bumptious, and that if it weren't for the circumstances of her being such an excellent dresser she would be much inclined to get rid of her. Henrietta knew, of course, that nothing would prevail upon her to put this threat into execution, but her mother's account of the painful scene which had taken place, made her heart sink. Nothing, she thought, could have more surely increased Cardle's jealousy of one whom she persisted in believing to be her rival. She embarked on the task of peacemaking, soothing her ruffled parent by agreeing that Cardle was detestably uppish, but saying that she was so devoted to her mistress that she resented it if even Mama's own daughter dared to perform any service for her which she regarded as her sole prerogative. 'Do, pray, say something kind to her, Mama, when she puts you to bed tonight! She'll cry herself to sleep, if she thinks you are still angry with her!'
These tactics succeeded very well with Lady Silverdale, but Henrietta failed to induce any softening of Cardle's heart towards Cherry. Not even a casual reference to the probability that Cherry's visit would soon come to an end had the least effect on Cardle. 'And the sooner the better, miss!' she said tartly. 'One thing's certain! The day my lady invites her to live here is the day I leave this house! I pity you, Miss Hetta, having your nose put out of joint by that designing little hussy, and being taken in by her coaxing ways, every bit as much as my poor deluded mistress is! And it's no good telling me I've got no business to say she's a designing hussy, which I wouldn't have presumed to do if you hadn't opened the subject, for I know what I know, and I hope and pray you won't regret your kindness to her!'
Henrietta went down to dinner fervently hoping, for her part, that Desford's return from Harrowgate would not be long delayed.
In fact, it was delayed for longer than the Viscount had antici pated, for his journey south was not attended by the good fortune which had made his northward journey so speedy. A series of mishaps befell him, the most serious of which, the loss of a tyre, kept him kicking his heels for a day and a half, this accident occurring on the first day out from Harrowgate, which hap pened to be a Saturday, midway between Chester
field and Mansfield. By the time the chaise bumped its way into Mansfield it was too late for the necessary repair to be effected, and on the Sunday the premises of both the wheelwright and the blacksmith were found to be closed: the one because its owner was a stern opposer of Sunday Travel; the other because the smith had gone off to spend the day with his married sister. It was not until Monday morning was merging into Monday afternoon that a new tyre was fitted to the wheel, and the Viscount was able to proceed on his way. And then (proving to him his belief that his luck had run out) one of his wheelers went dead lame, so that his progress to the next post-house more nearly resembled a funeral cortège than the swift journey of a gentleman of wealth and fashion. What with this, and several minor hindrances, it was four days before he reached Dunstable, where he decided to put up for the night, since there were still almost thirty miles to cover to Inglehurst, and he had no wish to arrive there long after the dinner-hour.
So it was not until a fortnight after he had deposited Cherry at Inglehurst that Henrietta, a little before noon, was at last gratified by having him ushered into her presence. Grimshaw announced him, in a sepulchral voice, and she started up out of her chair in front of the writing-desk, exclaiming impulsively: 'Oh, Des, I am so thankful you've come at last!'
'Good God, Hetta, what's amiss?' he demanded, brought up short in his advance across the room.
'Nothing! – that is to say, I hope nothing, but I am much afraid that things are beginning to go amiss.' He had taken her hands in his, and kissed them both, and was still holding them in his strong clasp, but she gently drew them away, and said, scanning his face: 'Your errand hasn't prospered, has it?'
He shook his head. 'No. Nettlecombe has become an April-gentleman!'
Her eyes widened. 'Married?' she asked incredulously.
'That's it: leg-shackled to his housekeeper – oh, I beg her pardon! his lady-housekeeper!'
'Ah!' she said, with a twinkle of perfect comprehension. 'No doubt she told you so herself !'
He grinned at her. 'No, she told Nettlecombe, when he told me that he had married his cook. She said she would thank him to remember it, too, and I don't doubt he will. Oh, Hetta, you can't think how much I longed for you to be present at that interview! You must have laughed yourself into stitches!'
She moved to the sofa, and sat down, patting the place beside her. 'Tell me!' she invited.
He did tell her, and she appreciated the story just as he had known she would. But he ended on a sober note, when, having described the final scene, in the corridor, he paused for an instant, before saying abruptly: 'Hetta, I could not thrust that unfortunate child into such a household!'
'No,' she agreed, her own brow as troubled as his. 'Only – Des, what is to be done with her? Mama said, a week ago, that if Nettlecombe repudiated her she had a good mind to keep her here, but – it wouldn't do – I know it wouldn't do! It is always the same when Mama takes a violent fancy to anyone! At first she thinks the new treasure perfect, and then she begins to per ceive faults in her – and even when they are quite trivial faults she exaggerates them in her mind, and – which is worse! – remembers them, and adds them on to the next error her wretched favourite falls into!'
'Good God, has it come to that? Poor Cherry!'
'No, no, not yet!' she assured him. 'But she has begun to criticize her – oh, not unkindly! merely noticing little innocent habits, or tricks of speech, and saying that she wishes Cherry would rid herself of them. And that odious woman of hers is so jealous of Cherry that she never loses an opportunity to drop poison into Mama's ears. So far, she hasn't succeeded in turning Mama against poor Cherry, but I own to you, Des, that I can't persuade myself that – '
'Don't tease yourself !' he interrupted. 'There can be no question of Cherry's remaining here! I never for a moment had such a solution to the problem in my mind. I had hoped to have left her with you only for a very few days, but I didn't discover Nettlecombe's whereabouts until Monday of last week, and even when I did discover that he had gone to Harrowgate I couldn't induce his man of business to divulge his exact direction, and was obliged to spend the better part of two days scouring the town for him.'
'Oh, poor Des! No wonder you are looking so tired!'
'Am I? Well, if I am it's only because I had the most devilish journey up from Yorkshire,' he said cheerfully. 'No sooner did we get over one check than we fell into another, which is why I'm so late showing my front, as Horace would say. However, I've had time to decide what I had best do for Cherry – and that's the most urgent matter I want you to consider, my best of friends!'
The door opened. 'Mr Nethercott!' announced Grimshaw.
Cary Nethercott trod into the room, but checked at sight of the Viscount, and said: 'I beg pardon! Grimshaw must have misunderstood me! I enquired for Lady Silverdale, and he ushered me into this room, where – where I can only trust that I am not intruding, Miss Hetta!'
'Not at all,' she responded, rising, and shaking hands with him. 'You have already met Lord Desford, haven't you?'
The gentlemen exchanged bows. Mr Nethercott said pains-takingly that he had indeed had that pleasure, and the Viscount said nothing at all. Mr Nethercott then explained he had ridden over to bring Lady Silverdale his copy of the last number of the New Monthly Magazine, which contained an interesting article which he had mentioned to her ladyship on the occasion of his last visit, and which she had expressed a desire to read.
'How very kind of you!' said Henrietta. 'She has gone for a stroll in the shrubbery, with Miss Steane.'
'Oh, then I will take it to her myself !' he said, his cheeks slightly reddening. 'I shall hope to see you again presently, Miss Hetta!' He then said: 'Your servant, sir!' and bowed himself out of the room.
The Viscount, who had been eyeing him with disfavour, hardly waited for the door to be shut before demanding: 'Does that fellow live at Inglehurst, Hetta?'
'No,' replied Henrietta calmly. 'He lives at Marley House.'
'Well, he seems to be here every time I come to visit you!' said the Viscount irritably.
She wrinkled her brow, and, after apparently cudgelling her memory, said, with a wholly spurious air of innocence: 'But had you met him before you came to visit us on your way to Hazelfield?'
The Viscount ignored this home-question, and said: 'I wonder which of us he thought he was hoaxing with his gammon about the New Monthly? Lord, what a fimblefamble!' He did not resume his seat, but glanced frowningly down at Henrietta, and said, with unaccustomed asperity: 'I can't conceive why you – No, never mind! What were we saying when that fellow interrupted us?'
'You were about to tell me what you have decided will be the best thing to do for Cherry,' she replied. 'The most urgent question to be considered – or, rather, which you wish me to consider.'
'Yes, so I was. There are other things I should wish to talk about, but until I've provided for her Cherry must be my only concern.'
'Provided for her?' she repeated, her eyes lifting quickly to his face.
'Yes, of course. What else can I do but try to establish her comfortably? It was no doing of mine when she ran away from Maplewood, but when I drove her to London I became responsible for her: there's no getting away from that, Hetta! Good God, what a shabster I should be if I abandoned her now!'
'Very true. What scheme have you in mind?' she asked. 'I have thought that – that marriage is the only answer to the problem, only – her parentage, and her want of fortune must stand in the way – don't you think?'
He nodded, but said: 'Not in the way of a man who fell in love with her, and had no need of a rich wife. But that's for the future: my concern is for the immediate present. I'm going to Bath, to try if I can persuade Miss Fletching to help Cherry. Has she spoken to you about her? She was at Miss Fletching's school, and talked to me about her on the way to London, saying how kind she had been.'
'Yes, indeed she has, and most affectionately, but when I suggested to her that she might return to that school, as a teacher,
rather than hire herself out as a companion, she said Miss Fletching would have offered her that position if she had had enough learning, or enough skill on the pianoforte to teach music. Only she hadn't. And I am afraid, Des, that that is true. Her only skill is in stitchery. She has the most amiable disposition in the world, but she is not at all bookish, you know. If Miss Fletching were to offer to take her I am very sure she would refuse, because she feels herself to be under a heavy obligation to her already.'
Charity Girl Page 17
