Miss Marjoribanks
Page 50
_Chapter L_
Mr Ashburton went away from Lucilla's side, thinking to come back again,and clear everything up: but he did not come back. Though he heardnothing, and saw nothing, that could throw any distinct light on thestate of her mind, yet instinct came to his aid, it is to be supposed,in the matter. He did not return: and Lucilla sat on her sofa with herhands clasped together to support her, and her heart leaping in her verymouth. She was in a perfect frenzy of suspense, listening with her wholeheart and soul; but that did not prevent the same crowd of thoughtswhich had been persecuting her for twenty-four hours from keeping uptheir wild career as before. What reason had she to suppose that "anyone" had arrived? Who could arrive in that accidental way, without aword of warning? And what possible excuse had she to offer to herselffor sending the new member for Carlingford--a man so excellent andhonourable and eligible--away? The minutes, or rather the seconds,passed over Miss Marjoribanks like hours, as she sat thus waiting, notdaring to stir lest the slightest movement might keep from her ears somesound from below, till at last the interval seemed so long that herheart began to sink, and her excitement to fail. It could not be anyone--if it had been any one, something more must have come of it beforenow. It must have been Lydia Richmond coming to see her sister nextdoor, or somebody connected with the election, or----
When she got as far as this, Lucilla's heart suddenly mounted up againwith a spring into her ears. She heard neither words nor voice, but sheheard something which had as great an effect upon her as either couldhave had. On the landing half-way up the stairs, there had stood in DrMarjoribanks's house from time immemorial a little old-fashioned table,with a large china bowl upon it, in which the cards of visitors wereplaced. It was a great bowl, and it was always full, and anybody rushingupstairs in a reckless way might easily upset table and cards and all intheir progress. This was what happened while Lucilla sat listening.There was a rumble, a crash, and a sound as of falling leaves, and itmade her heart, as we have said, jump into her ears. "It is the tableand all the cards," said Lucilla--and in that moment her composure cameback to her as by a miracle. She unclasped her hands, which she had beenholding pressed painfully together by way of supporting herself, and shegave a long sigh of unutterable relief, and her whirl of thought stoppedand cleared up with an instantaneous rapidity. Everything seemed to beexplained by that sound; and there never was a greater change upon thelooks and feelings of any one in this world than that which passed uponthe looks and feelings of Lucilla, in the interval between the drawingup of that cab and the rush of Tom Marjoribanks at the drawing-roomdoor.
For after the commotion on the staircase Lucilla had no further doubt onthe subject. She even had the strength to get up to meet him, and holdout her hands to him by way of welcome--but found herself, before sheknew how, in the arms of a man with a beard, who was so much changed inhis own person that he ventured to kiss her, which was a thing TomMarjoribanks, though her cousin, had never dared to do before. He kissedher--such was his audacity; and then he held her at arm's length to havea good look at her; and then, according to all appearance, would haverepeated his first salutation, but that Lucilla had come to herself, andtook the reins at once into her hand.
"Tom!" she said, "of course it is you; nobody else would have been soimpertinent. When did you come? Where did you come from? Who could everhave thought of your appearing like this, in such an altogetherunexpected----?"
"Unexpected!" said Tom, with an astonished air. "But I suppose you hadother things to think of. Ah, Lucilla, I could not write to you. I feltI ought to be beside you, trying if there was not something I could do.My mother told you, of course; but I could not trust myself to write to_you_."
Then Lucilla saw it all, and that Aunt Jemima had meant to do MrAshburton a good turn. And she was not grateful to her aunt, howeverkind her intentions might have been. But Tom was holding her hand, andlooking into her face while this thought passed through her mind, andMiss Marjoribanks was not the woman, under any circumstances, to makedispeace.
"I am sure I am very glad," said Lucilla. "I would say you were changed,but only of course that would make you think how I am changed; andthough one knows one has gone off----"
"I never saw you look so nice all your life," cried Tom energetically;and he took hold of both her hands, and looked into her face more andmore. To be sure he had a kind of right, being a cousin, and newlyreturned after so long an absence; but it was embarrassing all the same.
"Oh, Tom, don't say so," cried Lucilla; "if you but knew how differentthe house is, and everything so altered--and dear papa!"
It was natural, and indeed it was only proper, that Miss Marjoribanksshould cry--which she did abundantly, partly for grief, and partlybecause of the flutter of agitation, and something like joy, in whichshe was, and which, considering that she had always frankly owned thatshe was fond of Tom, was quite natural too. She cried with honestabandonment, and did not take much notice what her cousin was doing tocomfort her, though indeed he applied himself to that benevolent officein the most anxious way.
"Don't cry, Lucilla," he said, "I can't bear it. It don't look naturalto see you cry. My poor uncle was an old man, and you were always thebest daughter in the world----"
"Oh, Tom! sometimes I don't think so," sobbed Lucilla; "sometimes Ithink if I had sat up that last night----And you don't know how good hewas. It was me he was thinking of, and never himself. When he heard themoney was lost, all that he said was, Poor Lucilla! You rang his bellthough it is the night-bell, and nobody ever touches it now; I knew itcould be nobody but you; and to see you again brings up everything sodistinctly. Oh, Tom! he was always very fond of you."
"Lucilla," said Tom Marjoribanks, "you know I always had a great regardfor my uncle. But it was not for him I came back. He was never half sofond of me as I am of you. You know that as well as I do. There neverwas a time that I would not have gone to the other end of the world ifyou had told me; and I have done it as near as possible. I went to Indiabecause you sent me away. And I have come back----"
"You have not come back only for an hour, I hope?" said MissMarjoribanks, with momentary impatience; "you are not obliged to talk ofeverything all in a moment--and when one has not even got over one'ssurprise at seeing you. When _did_ you come back? When did you haveanything to eat? You want your breakfast or your lunch or something;and, Tom! the idea of sitting here talking to me, and talking nonsense,when you have not seen your mother. She is in her own room, youunnatural boy--the blue room, next to what used to be yours. To thinkAunt Jemima should be in the house, and you should sit here talkingnonsense to me!"
"This minute," said Tom apologetically; but he drew his chair in frontof Miss Marjoribanks, so that she could not get away. "I have come backto stay as long as you will let me," he said; "don't go away yet. Lookhere, Lucilla--if you had married, I would have tried to bear it; but aslong as you are not married, I can't help feeling as if there might be achance for me yet. And that is why I have come home. I met somebodycoming downstairs."
"Tom," said Miss Marjoribanks, "it is dreadful to see that you have comeback just as tiresome as ever. I always said I would not marry for tenyears. If you mean to think I have never had any opportunities----"
"Lucilla," said Tom, and there was decision in his eye, "somebody camedownstairs as I came in. I want to know whether it is to be him or me!"
"Him--or you!" said Lucilla, in dismay. Blunderer as he was, he had gonedirect to the very heart of the question, and it was impossible not totremble a little in the presence of such straightforwardclear-sightedness. Miss Marjoribanks had risen up to make her escape assoon as it should be possible, but she was so much struck by Tom'sunlooked-for perspicuity, that she sat down again in her consternation."I think you are going out of your mind," she said. "What do you knowabout the gentleman who went downstairs? I am not such a wonderfulbeauty, nor such a witch, that everybody who sees me should want to--tomarry me. Don't talk any more nonsense, but let me go and get yousomething to eat."
"I am not going to be tyrannised over like this," said Lucilla, withindignation, again rising, though he still held her hands. "You talk asif you had just come for a call, and had everything to say in a moment.When a man comes off a long journey it is his breakfast he wants, andnot a--not anything else that I know of. Go up to your mother, and letme go."
"Will you have him or me?" repeated Tom. It was not wisdom, is wasinstinct, that made him thus hold fast by his text; and as for Lucilla,nothing but the softened state in which she was, nothing but the factthat it was Tom Marjoribanks who had been ten years away, and was alwaysridiculous, could have kept her from putting down at once such anattempt to coerce her. But the truth was, that Miss Marjoribanks did notfeel her own mistress at that moment, and perhaps that was why he hadthe audacity to repeat, "Will you have him or me?"
Then Lucilla found herself fairly driven to bay. "Tom!" she said, with asolemnity that overwhelmed him for the moment, for he thought at first,with natural panic, that it was himself who was being rejected, "I wouldnot have _him_ if he were to go down on his knees. I know he is verynice and very agreeable, and the best man----And I am sure I ought to doit," said Miss Marjoribanks, with a mournful sense of her own weakness;"and everybody will expect it of me; but I am not going to have him, andI never meant it, whatever you or anybody may say."
When Lucilla had made this decisive utterance she turned away with acertain melancholy majesty to go and see after lunch--for he had loosedher hand and fallen back in consternation, thinking for the moment thatit was all over. Miss Marjoribanks sighed, and turned round, notthinking of Tom, who was safe enough, but with a natural regret for themember for Carlingford, who now, poor man, was as much out of thequestion as if he had been dead and buried. But before she reached thedoor Tom had recovered himself. He went up to her in his ridiculous waywithout the slightest regard either for the repast she was so anxious toprepare for him, or for his mother's feelings, or indeed for anythingelse in the world, except the one thing which had brought him, as hesaid, home.
"Then, Lucilla, after all, it is to be me," he said, taking her to him,and arresting her progress as if she had been a baby; and though he hadsuch a beard, and was twice as big and strong as he used to be, therewere big tears in the great fellow's eyes. "It is to be me after all,"said Tom, looking at her in a way that startled Lucilla. "Say it is tobe me!"
Miss Marjoribanks had come through many a social crisis with dignity andcomposure. She had never yet been known to fail in an emergency. She hadmanaged Mr Cavendish, and, up to the last moment, Mr Ashburton, and allthe intervening candidates for her favour, with perfect self-control andcommand of the situation. Perhaps it was because, as she had herselfsaid, her feelings had never been engaged. But now, when it was onlyTom--he whom, once upon a time, she had dismissed with affectionatecomposure, and given such excellent advice to, and regarded in somotherly a way--all Lucilla's powers seemed to fail her. It is hard tohave to wind up with such a confession after having so long entertaineda confidence in Lucilla which nothing seemed likely to impair. She brokedown just at the moment when she had most need to have all her witsabout her. Perhaps it was her past agitation which had been too much forher. Perhaps it was the tears in Tom Marjoribanks's eyes. But the factwas that Lucilla relinquished her superior position for the time being,and suffered him to make any assertion he pleased, and was so weak as tocry, for the second time, too--which, of all things in the world, wassurely the last thing to have been expected of Miss Marjoribanks at themoment which decided her fate.
Lucilla cried, and acquiesced, and thought of her father and of theMember for Carlingford, and gave to each a tear and a regret; and shedid not even take the trouble to answer any question, or to think who itwas she was leaning on. It was to be Tom after all--after all thearchdeacons, doctors, generals, members of Parliament--after the tenyears and more in which she had not gone off--after the poor oldDoctor's grudge against the nephew whom he did not wish to inherit hiswealth, and Aunt Jemima's quiet wiles, and attempt to disappoint herboy. Fate and honest love had been waiting all the time till theirmoment came; and now it was not even necessary to say anything about it.The fact was so clear that it did not require stating. It was to be Tomafter all.
To do him justice, Tom behaved at this moment, in which affairs wereleft in his hands, as if he had been training for it all his life.Perhaps it was the first time in which he had done anything absolutelywithout a blunder. He had wasted no time, and no words, and left no roomfor consideration, or for that natural relenting towards his rival whichwas inevitable as soon as Mr Ashburton was off the field. He hadinsisted, and he had perceived that there was but one alternative forLucilla. Now that all was over, he took her back to her seat, andcomforted her, and made no offensive demonstrations of triumph. "It isto be me after all!" he repeated; and it was utterly impossible to addanything to the eloquent brevity of this succinct statement of the case.
"Tom," said Miss Marjoribanks, when she had a little recovered, "if itis to be you, that is no reason why you should be so unnatural. Go updirectly and see your mother. What will Aunt Jemima think of me if sheknows I have let you stay talking nonsense here?"
"Yes, Lucilla--this moment," said Tom; but all the same he showed notthe slightest inclination to go away. He did not quite believe in it asyet, and could not help feeling as if, should he venture to leave her,the whole fabric of his incredible good fortune must dissolve and meltaway. As for Lucilla, her self-possession gradually came back to herwhen the crisis was over, and she felt that her involuntary abdicationhad lasted long enough, and that it was full time to take the managementof affairs back into her own hands.
"You shall go _now_," she said, drying her eyes, "or else you cannotstay here. I thought of letting you stay in the house, as Aunt Jemima iswith me; but if you do not mean to go and tell your mother, I will tellNancy to send your things up to the Blue Boar. Ring the bell, please; ifyou will not ring the bell, I will do it myself, Tom. You may say whatyou like, but I know you are famishing; and Aunt Jemima is in the blueroom, next door to----Oh, here is Nancy. It is Mr Tom, who has comehome," said Lucilla hastily, not without a rising colour; for it washard to explain why, when his mother was in the blue room all thistime, he should have stayed here.
"Yes, Miss Lucilla--so I heard," said Nancy, dropping a doubtfulcurtsey. And then only Tom was persuaded, and bethought himself of hisnatural duty, and rushed upstairs. He seized Nancy's hand, and shook itviolently, as he passed her, to her great consternation. The moment ofhis supremacy was over. It was to be Tom after all; but Lucilla hadrecovered her self-possession, and taken the helm in her hand again, andTom was master of the situation no more.
"Yes, it is Mr Tom," said Lucilla, shaking her head with somethingbetween a smile and a sigh. "It could be nobody but him that would ring_that_ bell, and upset all the cards. I hope he has not broken dearpapa's punch-bowl that he used to be so fond of. He must have somethingto eat, Nancy, though he is such an awkward boy."
"I don't see nothing like a boy in him," said Nancy; "he's big andstout, and one o' them awful beards. There's been a deal of changessince he went away; but if he's new comed off that terrible longjourney, it is but natural, as you say, Miss Lucilla, that he shouldwant something to eat."
And then Miss Marjoribanks made various suggestions, which were receivedstill doubtfully by her prime minister. Nancy, to tell the truth, didnot like the turn things were taking. Lucilla's maiden household hadbeen on the whole getting along very comfortably, and there was notelling how long it might have lasted without any new revolution. To besure, Mr Ashburton had looked dangerous, but Nancy had seen a great manydangers of that kind blow over, and was not easily alarmed. Mr Tom,however, was a very d
ifferent person; and Nancy was sufficientlypenetrating to see that something had happened. Therefore, she receivedvery coldly Lucilla's suggestions about lunch. "It ain't like the oldtimes," she said at last, "when there was always something as one couldput to the fire in a hurry;" and Nancy stood turning round the handle ofthe door in her hand, and contemplating the changed state of affairswith a sigh.
"That would be all very true if you were like anybody else," saidLucilla; "but I hope you would not like to send Mr Tom off to the BlueBoar. After all, perhaps it is better to have a--a gentleman in thehouse. I know you always used to think so. They are a great deal oftrouble; but--for some things, you know----" said Lucilla; "and then MrTom is not just like other people; and whatever happens, Nancy, you arean old dear, and it shall never make any difference between you and me."
When she had said these words, Lucilla gave her faithful servant a hug,and sent her off to look after Tom Marjoribanks's meal; and then sheherself went half-way downstairs and picked up the cards that were stillscattered about the landing, and found with satisfaction that theDoctor's old punch-bowl was not broken. All Tom's things were lyingbelow in the hall--heaps of queer Indian-looking baggage--tossed downanyhow in a corner, as if the owner had been in much too great a hurryto think of any secondary circumstances. "And it was there he met poorMr Ashburton," said Lucilla to herself, with a certain pathos. There itwas indeed that the encounter had taken place. They had seen each otherbut for a moment, but that moment had been enough to send the Member forCarlingford away dejected, and to impress upon Tom's mind thealternative that it was either to be "him or me." Miss Marjoribankscontemplated the spot with a certain tender sentimental interest, as anygentle moralist might look at a field of battle. What feelings must havebeen in the minds of the two as they met and looked at each other! Whata dread sense of disappointment on the one side; what sharp stimulationon the other! Thus Lucilla stood and looked down from her own landingupon the scene of that encounter, full of pensive interest. And now itwas all over, and Mr Ashburton had passed away as completely as MrChiltern, who was in his grave, poor man; or Mr Cavendish, who was goingto marry Barbara Lake. The thought of so sudden a revolution madeLucilla giddy as she went thoughtfully upstairs. Poor Mr Ashburton! Ithardly seemed real even to Miss Marjoribanks when she sat down again inthe drawing-room, and confessed to herself that, after all, it was to beTom.
But when he came downstairs again with his mother, Lucilla was quiteherself, and had got over all her weakness. Aunt Jemima, for her part,was in a very agitated state of mind. Tom had come too soon or MrAshburton too late, and all the fruits of her little bit of treacherywere accordingly lost, and at the same time, the treachery itselfremained, revealed at least to one person in the very clearest light.It did not seem possible to Aunt Jemima that Lucilla would not tell. Ifshe had not done it now, in the excitement of the moment, at least itwould come out some time when she was least expecting it, and her son'sesteem and confidence would be lost. Therefore it was with a very blankcountenance that Mrs John Marjoribanks came downstairs. She dared notsay a word, and she had to kiss her niece, and take her to her maternalbosom, Tom looking on all the while; but she gave Lucilla a look thatwas pitiful to see. And when Tom finally was dismissed to his room, toopen his trunks, and show the things he had brought home, Aunt Jemimadrew near her future daughter with wistful guiltiness. There was nocomfort to her in the thought of the India shawl, which her son had goneto find. Any day, any hour, Lucilla might tell; and if the unluckymother were put on her defence, what could she say?
"Lucilla," said the guilty woman, under her breath, "I am sure you thinkit very strange. I don't attempt to deceive _you_. I can't tell you howthankful and glad I am that it has all ended so well; but you know,Lucilla, in the first place, I did not know what your feelings were; andI thought, perhaps, that if anything would tell, it would be a surprise,and then----"
"Did you, Aunt Jemima?" said Miss Marjoribanks, with gentle wonder. "Ithought you had been thinking of Mr Ashburton, for my part."
"And so I was, Lucilla," said the poor lady, with great relief andeagerness. "I thought he was coming forward, and of course he would havebeen a far better match than my Tom. I had to think for you both, mydear. And then I never knew what your feelings were, nor if you wouldcare; and then it was not as if there had been a day fixed----"
"Dear Aunt Jemima," said Miss Marjoribanks, "if you are pleased now,what does it matter? but I do hope you are pleased now?"
And Mrs John took her niece into her arms again this time with betterwill, and cried. "I am as happy as ever I can be," said the inconsistentmother. "I always knew you were fond of each other, Lucilla; before youknew it yourselves, I saw what would come of it. But my poorbrother-in-law----And you will make my boy happy, and never turn himagainst his mother," cried the repentant sinner. Lucilla was not thewoman to resist such an appeal. Mrs John had meant truly enough towardsher in other ways, if not in this way; and Miss Marjoribanks was fond ofher aunt, and it ended in a kiss of peace freely bestowed, and a vow ofprotection and guidance from the strong to the weak, though the last wasonly uttered in the protectress's liberal heart.