CHAPTER II.
ALL THAT THE DRAPER'S WIFE COULD TELL.
THIS street, in a few hundred steps emerging from the little town,changes its character into that of a narrow rural road, overhung bynoble timber, and descending with a gentle curve toward the melancholywoods of Malory.
"How beautifully she walks, too! By Jove, she's the loveliest being Iever beheld. She's the most perfectly beautiful girl in England. How Iwish some d--d fellow would insult her, that I might smash him, and havean excuse for attending her home."
So spoke enthusiastic Tom Sedley, as they paused to watch the retreat ofthe ladies, leaning over the dwarf stone wall, and half hidden by thefurrowed stem of a gigantic ash tree.
From this point, about a quarter of a mile distant from Malory, they sawthem enter the wide iron gate and disappear in the dark avenue thatleads up to that sombre place.
"_There!_ I _said_ it was Malory," exclaimed Sedley, laying his handbriskly on Cleve's arm.
"Well, I hope you're pleased; and tell me, now, what stay do you make atCardyllian, Tom? Can you come over to Ware--not to-morrow, for I'm notquite sure that I shall be there, but on Tuesday, for a day or two?"
No--Tom Sedley couldn't. He must leave to-morrow, or, at latest, onTuesday morning; and, for to-day, he had promised to go to afternoonservice with the Etherges, and then home to tea with them. He was tomeet the party on the Green.
So after a little talk, they turned together toward the town; and theyparted near the Verney Arms, where Cleve's dog-cart awaited him. Havinggiven his order in the hall, he walked into the coffee-room, in which,seated demurely, and quite alone, he found stout Mrs. Jones, thedraper's wife--suave, sedate, wearing a subdued Sabbath smile upon herbroad and somewhat sly countenance.
Her smile expanded as Cleve drew near. She made a great and graciouscourtesy, and extended her short fat hand, which Cleve Verney took andshook--for the tradition of homelier, if not kindlier times, stilllingered in Cardyllian, and there were friendly personal relationsbetween the great family and the dozen and a half of shop-keepers whoconstituted its commercial strength.
So Cleve Verney joked and talked with her, leaning on the back of achair, with one knee on the seat of it. He was pleased to have lightedupon such a gossip, as good Mrs. Jones, the draper, who was waiting forthe return of her husband, who was saying a word to Mr. Watkyn Hughes,in the bar, about a loan of his black horse for a funeral next morning.
"So it seems Lady Verney has got a tenant in Malory?" he said at last.
"Yes, _indeed_, sir," she replied, in her most confidential manner; "andI _hope_--I do _indeed_--it may turn out such a thing as she wouldlike."
Mrs. Jones usually spoke in low and significant tones, and with amystery and caution worthy of deeper things than she often talked about.
"Why, is there anything odd?" asked the young gentleman curiously.
"Well, it is _not_, now, _altogether_ what I would _wish_ for LadyVerney. I haven't seen any of the Malory family, excepting in churchto-day; not one, indeed, sir; they are very strange; they never _come_into the town--not once since ever they came to Malory! but _dear_ me!you know, sir, that might _be_, and yet everything as we could wish,mightn't it; yes, sure; still, you know, people _will_ be _talking_;it's a pity we don't mind our own business more, and let others be,isn't it, sir?"
"Great pity; but--but what's the matter?" urged Cleve Verney.
"Well, Master Cleve, you know, Cardyllian, and how we _do talk_ here; Idon't say _more_ than _other_ places, but we _do_, and I do not like_repeatin'_ everything I hear. There's more mischief than good, _I_think, comes of repeatin' stories."
"Oh! come, pray what's the good of a story except to repeat it? I oughtto know, perhaps I should tell Lady Verney about it," said Cleve, whowas really curious, for nothing could be more quiet than the get up anddemeanour of the ladies.
"They haven't been here, you know, very _long_," murmured Mrs. Jones,earnestly.
"No, I _don't_ know. I know nothing about it; _how_ long?"
"Well, about five weeks--a little more; and we never saw the gentlemanonce; he's never been down to the town since he came; never indeed, sir,not once."
"He shows his sense; doesn't he?"
"Ah, you were always pleasant, Master Cleve, but you don't think _so_;no, you don't _indeed_; his conduct is _really most singular_, he'snever been outside the walls of Malory all that time, in the_daylight_; very odd; he has hired Christmass Owen's boat, and he goesout in it _every night_, unless twice, the wind was too high, and Owendidn't choose to venture his boat. He's a _tall_ man, Christmass Owensays, and holds himself straight, like an officer, for people _will_ bemaking _inquiries_, you know; and he has _gray_ hair; not _quite_ white,you know."
"How _should_ I know?"
"Ah, ha, you were always _funny_; yes, indeed, but it _is_ gray, gone_quite_ gray, Christmass Owen says."
"Well, and what about the ladies?" inquired the young gentleman."_They_'re not gone gray, _all_? though I shouldn't wonder much, inMalory."
"The _ladies_? _Well_. There's _two_, you know; there's Miss Sheckleton,that's the elderly lady, and all the Malory accounts in the town isopened in her name. Anne Sheckleton, very reg'lar she is. I have nothingto say concerning her. They don't spend a great _deal_, you understand,but their money is _sure_."
"Yes, of course; but, you said, didn't you? that there was something notquite right about them."
"Oh dear, no, sir; I did not say quite _that_; nothing _wrong_, nosure, but very odd, sir, and most _unpleasant_, and that is all."
"And that's a good deal; isn't it?" urged Cleve.
"Well, it _is_ something; it is _indeed_ a great _deal_," Mrs. Jonesemphasised oracularly.
"And _what is_ it, what do you know of them, or the people here what dothey _say?_"
"Well, they say, putting this and that together, and some hints from theservant that comes down to order things up from the town--for servants,you know, will be talking--that the family is _mad_."
"_Mad!_" echoed Cleve.
"That's what they say."
"The whole family are _mad!_ and yet continue to manage their affairs asthey do! By Jove, it is a comfort to find that people can get on withoutheads, on emergency."
"They don't say, no, dear me! that _all_ that's in the house are mad;_only_ the old man and the young lady."
"And what is she mad upon?"
"Well, they don't say. I don't know--melancholy I do suppose."
"And what is the old gentleman's name?"
"We don't _know_, the _servants_ don't know, they say; they were hiredby Miss Sheckleton, in Chester, and never saw the old gentleman, northe young lady, till after they were two or three days in Malory; andone night comes a carriage, with a madhouse gentleman, they do say, adoctor, in charge of the old gentleman, and the young lady, poor thing!and so they were handed over by him, to Miss Sheckleton."
"And what sort of lunacies do they commit? They're not pulling down thehouse among them, I hope?"
"Very gentle--very. I'm told, quite, as you may say, _manageable_. It'sa very sad thing, sir, but _what_ a world it is! yes, indeed. Isn't it?"
"Ay, so it is.--I've heard that, I think, before."
"You may have heard it from _me_, sir, and it's long been my feeling andopinion, dear me! The longer I live the more melancholy sights I see!"
"How long is Malory let for?"
"Can't say, indeed, sir. That is they may give it up every three months,but has the right to keep it two whole years, that is if they _like_,you understand."
"Well, it is rather odd. It was they who sat in the Malory seat to-day?"
"That was Miss Sheckleton, was the old lady; and the young one, didn'tyou think her very pretty, sir?"
"Yes--she's pretty," he answered carelessly. "But I really could not seevery well."
"I was very near as she turned to leave--before she took down herveil--and I thought what a really _beautiful_ creature she was!"
"And what do they call h
er?"
"Miss Margaret, sir."
"Margaret! a pretty name--rather. Oh! here's Mr. Jones;" and Mr. Joneswas greeted--and talked a little--somewhat more distantly and formallythan his goodwife had done--and Mr. and Mrs. Jones, with a dutifulfarewell, set off upon their Sunday's ramble.
The Tenants of Malory, Volume 1 Page 2
