by R S Surtees
Just as our friend had come to this resolution, a voice was heard in the passage exclaiming —
“Has anybody seen anything of Mr. Bunting? Has anybody seen anything of Mr. Bunting?”
“Mr. Bunting is in Mr. Boyston’s room, sir,” replied a servant; and scarcely bad the Jug confirmed the answer with a view-holloa, ere a clank, clank, of spurs sounded along the passage, and the standing-ajar door flying open revealed the person of Mr. Jovey Jessop in the full mud and enthusiasm of a victorious fox-hunter. He was well splashed from head to foot. Advancing, he greeted Mr. Bunting with a cordial shake of the hand, welcoming him to Appleton Hall, apologising for not being there to receive him, and hoping his horse had carried him well, which Mr. Bunting assured him he had.
“Well, you’ve killed him I see,” said the Jug, eyeing Mr. Jessop’s pawed and blood-stained leathers.
“Killed him! aye to be sure!” replied Jovey, joyously, “killed him after os good a run as ever was seen;” adding, as he laid his hand on the Jug’s broad back, “but what got you, my good friend?”
“What got me?” replied the Jug, thinking what he should say. “What got (puff) me? Why, you see I got bothered with the (curl) water — water’s a bothering thing,” added he, “if you don’t take it at (curl) once there’s an end of the (cloud) matter; for the more you look, the less you like it, and one (puff) person said one (cloud) thing and another another, till at last we lost the (curl) chance.”
Mr. Jovey Jessop then briefly related the residue of the run; but, not wishing to crow, he presently turned the conversation by asking Mr. Bunting if he would like to take anything before dinner. Mr. Bowderoukins, however, having effectually prevented any want of that sort, our master presently retired to pass through his cold-water bath into his other clothes, leaving his guest to the intermediate care of his Jug. Mr. Boyston then resumed his former position, and sat in a meditative mood, with his eyes fixed on the Boyston picture, smoking and making a mental panorama of the concluding portion of the run, which he thought must have been very fine. At length his red-ended cigar approached so near the tip of his own red nose as to be no longer agreeable, whereupon he threw the remains into the fire, and, rising from his uneasy couch, took up the fine folding French-polished mahogany boot-jack, and offered to show Mr. Bunting the way to his bedroom. They then passed out of the Jug’s apartment into the passage, and, our friend adhering to his short cuts, led him up the back stairs as if he were taking him to some second-rate bachelor bed-room instead -of the state apartment of the house. The opening of a once red, but now nearly drab, baize-covered door at the first landing rectified matters, and introduced the stranger to the wider space and loftier proportions of an elegant staircase, whose perfections and imperfections were alike displayed by a profusion of well-directed light. On the once peach but now dirty drab-coloured walls might be traced the inscriptions and poetical effusions as well of the school girls as of the nuns, and the patients of the cold-water-cure doctor who stole the lead, while sundry heads and hieroglyphics exhibited a bountiful ignorance of the art of drawing. Cocoa-nut-matting was still the order of the day — cocoa-nut-matting up the stairs, cocoanut-matting along the corridor, cocoa-nut-mats before the doors. A hurrying-out housemaid bearing the last putting-to-rights emblems in her arms denoted the door, and Mr. Boyston ushered Mr. Bunting into a noble room, whose blazing fire illumined the amber-coloured hangings of a prodigious four-post bed, which stood like a tabernacle in the centre. Both the bed-hangings and the window-curtains were festooned and draped in a way that looked as if there had been a trial of skill on the part of the upholsterers as to how much stuff they could put into each; a prodigality that was painfully at variance with the meagreness of the rest of the furniture. The flower-garlanded Brussells carpet was brushed into a mere shadow of its former self; there was no sofa; the chairs were few and far between, while an immense high-backed one stood like a throne by the fire, with a large foot-stool in front. The chamberware did not match, being of three sorts: white, blue, and green; but there was a good fire, an ample supply of nice linen, and a spacious hip-bath at hand.
“Plenty of bed,” said the Jug, contrasting its great carved posts and lofty canopy with his own little stump one down below. “Hope you won’t tumble out of it,” continued he, thinking of his own exploits in that line.
“Hope not, indeed,” replied Mr. Bunting, measuring its height from the floor with his eye, and thinking it would require a good spring to get into it.
“Well, now,” said the Jug, taking his boot-jack from under his arm and unfolding it, “will you take your boots off now, or shall I leave this with you?”
“Oh, why, p’raps you may as well leave it with me,” replied Mr. Bunting, carelessly.
“Well, then,” rejoined the Jug, placing it on the floor, “will you have the kindness to put it into the toilette-table drawer when you are done with it, lest any of the careless maids carry it off?”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Bunting, “certainly.”
“So be it then,” rejoined the Jug, wishing he might not be doing a rash act; adding, as he moved slowly away, “when you are dressed you will find your way down by the lights — no ladies’ rooms here to get into by mistake.”
CHAPTER LXXVII.
APPLETON HALL HOSPITALITY.
AS PARTIES IN the country are only of rare occurrence, there was generally a dinner-party at Appleton Hall every hunting-day, to which sportsmen were asked, or invited themselves by sending or leaving their names with Ambrose the butler, on or before the morning of the day. The table was usually laid for six, which was easily extended to eight or ten, if the harvest of the hunting-field yielded a greater crop of guests.
Mr. Jessop being an even-going man, with the word “comfort” for his motto, there was never any fuss or hurry of inconvenience, Jovey and his Jug always having a good dinner, even if they sat down to it alone. Monsieur Ragout, the cook, of course liked to know when there was a new-corner, so that he might put on the extra steam of astonishment, otherwise the culinary current ran pretty evenly.
When our re-arranged hero descended the grand staircase, he found Ambrose and a drab and red liveried footman waiting to receive the candles of the inmates, and to meet and announce the out-of-door guests on their arrival. Receiving Mr. Bunting’s candle with a bow, and handing it to the footman to set down, Ambrose conducted our Mend across the spacious entrance hall towards a lofty, richly-carved, but very dirty door on the right. This being well thrown open, Mr. Bunting entered a large well-proportioned drawing-room, whose once costly gilding and decorations were almost made respectable by the force of the fire, and the light that was now thrown upon them. It was, however, but a momentary triumph, for a second glance showed the indignities to which the room had been subjected, as well by the girls as the nuns, and the cold-water-cure gentleman. The hundred guinea mirror was starred in three places, the white marble chimney-piece was chipped and scratched, the crest in the middle was wholly gone, while the coloured coat-of-arms was nearly obliterated.
“Whatever extravagance there might have been in the furniture in former days, there was nothing of that sort now, for Mr. Jessop had discarded all the faded finery, substituting good cocoa-nut-matting for the fine Kidderminster carpet, whose holes were always tripping people up, chasséed the footstools and ottoman, and sent all the invalided furniture up stairs into the garret. It now looked more like a ball-room with a little hired rout furniture than anything else.
Some people look better in hunting things, others worse; Mr Jessop, for instance, looked better, the Jug worse. Mr. Bunting scarcely knew the former, as he now stood in the usual British ease-before-elegance style warming himself at the blazing fire. Neither would Mr. Bunting have recognised the Jug in his clerical costumed upper half, but for the notorious nankins below. Mr. Jessop, we may state, did not effect a dress-uniform, not wishing to promote the growth of cock-tails in the country. His theory was, that no man should be allowed to ride in scarlet
who had not first ridden three seasons in black, an arrangement that he thought would be greatly productive of sport, for very few men, he observed, entered a fourth season — so that all their mischief was confined to the three years, which in all probability they would not take if they were not allowed to ride in red. So he always set the example of dressing quite plainly, not even wearing a hunt-button of an evening, and now, if he had been felt, he would have been found to be enveloped in black tweed, all except a cloth coat and black silk cravat.
Making way for Mr. Bunting at the fire, as he advanced up the room, Mr. Jessop hoped he had found all he wanted in his bed-room, adding, that as it was not a very sumptuously furnished house, he begged he would ring, or rather call for whatever was deficient; whereupon Mr. Bunting assured him there was every requirement, since his good friend Mr. Boyston had been good enough to lend him his boot-jack, which, he informed the owner, he had put safely into the drawer as requested: whereupon Mr. Jessop laughed, and said Boyston was very particular about his boot-jack, and had once nearly lost it by lending it to a friend. He then turned the conversation upon the more agreeable topic of dinner, asking Mr. Bunting if he was ready for his, whereupon Mr. Jessop made the grand announcement, that it was the rule of the house never to wait for anyone, adding, that it was wonderful what an effect it had in procuring punctuality.
The Jug then hauled a great turnip of a watch out of his nankin-trousered fob by the big sealed jack-chain to which it was attached, and first putting it to his ear, to be sure it was going, which was not always the case, the Jug sometimes forgetting to wind it up, he said it only wanted seven minutes to dinner.
“They’ll all come in a rush,” observed Mr. Jessop. “Wheeler brings Lightfoot, and Langford brings Daintry.” When Mr. Bunting now thinking it was as cheap sitting as standing, advanced towards a scanty line of bird’s-eye maple chairs ranged against the wall, from which he drew one, to bring to the fire.
“Stop half a minute!” cried Mr. Jessop, darting forward—” stop half a minute!” adding, “let’s see that that chair will carry you, for its more than all the chairs in this room will do:” adding, “if you’d seen old Archey Ellenger go down, cup of coffee in hand, the other night, you’d have been amused. The old sinner looked as if ha thought he was wanted.”
Mr. Jessop then took the chair, and, after trying its legs all round, as he would a horse’s, stamped it soundly on all fours, saying —
“Yes, I think it’ll do.”
Mr. Bunting then deposited himself gingerly upon it, and ere three minutes more had elapsed, the sound of wheels outside was followed by the shuffling of feet within, and a faint sound of voices presently swelled into chorus as the coming party advanced to the drawing-room door.
“When are you going to get your door-bell replaced?” asked George Wheeler, as Jovey advanced to greet him.
“Hang the bell! — no ringing allowed here,” replied Mr. Jessop, shaking hands, adding, “How are you all? What sort of a night is it?”
“Dinner is on the table,” now announced Ambrose, advancing pompously up to the glad group.
“I told you so!” said Mr. Jessop, glancing at his watch, and showing Mr. Bunting that it was half-past six o’clock to a minute. “Come!” added he, taking Mr. Bunting by the arm, “let me show you the way so saying, he led him out of the drawing-room across the marble-flagged hall into the dining-room on the opposite side of the way. The spacious room was a perfect blaze of light. Ambrose had just given the fire a polishing stir, and which was lending its radiance to the effulgence of the wax and oil.
On the massive carved side-board at the far end stood the splendid Bough and Ready-shire testimonial — a magnificent candelabra, flanked by a profusion of beautiful glass and family plate.
“Where will you sit? Near the fire or from it?” asked our host, offering his guest the choice of seats at the round table, adding, “any of these chairs will carry you, for our friend Boyston there tries them all at high-pressure, and he rides fourteen stone in his nankins.”
Mr. Bunting chose the chair with his back to the fire, and the redcoats and yellow facings of the Duke’s men drawing up, the dark coats followed suit, and the Jug having said grace, quietly slipped his nankins under the table, and began to help the soup — while Ambrose and the footmen plied the plates, and lap, lap, sup, sup, was the order of the day. The dining, like the drawing-room, was large and dirty, the latter being more apparent when contrasted with the brightness of the plate and the snowy whiteness of the linen.
The Hydropathic gentleman used to sluice his patients in the bedroom above, and a continuous flow of drippings had expanded into a sort of large map of Europe on the ceiling. But it is now no time for airified criticism, looking at plaster, and looking at portraits, belongs to a much later period of the evening — these hungry gentlemen are much better employed in discussing Monsieur Bagout’s varied and excellent dishes, all sent in beautifully hot, and washing them down with copious draughts of sweet and dry. Monsieur had indeed exerted himself to the utmost, nor had Mrs. Allspice been behind in the sweets and savouries, for which she was so justly famous, and when the Jug’s nankins again appeared, all the guests did feel extremely thankful for what they had received.
They then sat at ease, Wheeler turning to Lightfoot, and Daintry to Gumley, each couple with a distinct topic of conversation, while the table was arranged for the second part of the entertainment. A neat dessert, of which nice thin water-biscuits formed a prominent part, being set on, a goodly array of richly-cut decanters presently set sail from before Mr. Jessop — to the toast of “foxhunting,” which immediately raised the doings of the morning, prematurely cut short by the quick announcement of dinner, and the importance of discussing its delicacies under the Jug’s injunction of the silent system. Then each man gave his own version of his own doings, explaining how it happened he wasn’t up at the finish, one having lost a shoe, another having lost two, a third having followed a bad leader, and vowing he would always take a line of his own for the future, — a resolution very often come to after a good dinner.
The Jug, who was a steady “Port-if-you-please man,” found a companion in Old Fullerton, while the rest adhered to the excellent Claret, which circulated briskly — the Jug keeping himself awake by repeated excursions to the bell, which sometimes rang and sometimes didn’t — but, nevertheless, always produced the butler. The pace having somewhat slackened, devil’d biscuits made their appearance, which gave a slight impetus to the evening, and carried the guests through another bottle of Latour. At length the map of Europe began to be studied, the height and length of the room discussed, with occasional conjectures indulged in as to what would have been the fate of the house if Mr. Jessop had not taken it. Sherry then began to be asked for, clean glasses sought, watches slyly looked at, and other symptoms of complete satisfaction given. The Jug and Fullerton still held on with their second bottle of Port, but the former seeing the general inclination, trudged away to the old bell-place, and, on Ambrose appearing, said, “We’ll take tea and coffee in here, if you please.”
Ambrose then retired, and presently reappeared with his attendant aides-de-camp bearing the massive articles of the family plate-chest covered with the usual paraphernalia of the drawing-room, whereupon parties arose from the dining-table, shook their legs, took a turn up and down the room, agreeing that cocoa-nut-matting made a very good carpet, and then drew up to the salvers and sweets — creaming and sugaring themselves, each man to his mind. Meanwhile, the Jug having buzzed the bottle, gradually sunk into a profound sleep, at his end of the table, with his right hand on the glass, and was presently dreaming o’er the events of the day, recalling Mr. Jessop’s oft-repeated injunctions in going to cover, to keep the field quiet, and not let them press on the hounds, when the Jug, fancying himself again at the cover-side, with the Prince breaking away after the fox, exclaimed, “Hold hard, you beggar with the beard!” and raising his glass like a whip, dashed the whole contents full into h
is own face! Up the Jug jumped half blinded with wine, which streamed from his visage down on to the unfortunate nankins, looking such a figure of fun that even the most sympathising of the guests could not help laughing at him. Mr. Jessop, however, who was used to such scenes, just gave him a napkin to rub himself dry, which the Jug proceeded to do, merely observing that he “must have been dreaming.” And this observation operating as a hint upon the dinner guests, there was presently a calling for carriages, great-coating, good-nighting, and getting away-ing. It being then past eleven o’clock, and Mr. Bunting declining any further potations, Mr. Jessop and he retired to bed, while the Jug went to have a quiet drink and a rock in his own room.
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
THE BACHELOR BREAKFAST AND BILLY ROUGH’UN.
WHEN MR. JOVEY Jessop awoke the next morning and thought over the events of the preceding day, as he lay cool and comfortable in his curtainless bed, for he was no kinder to himself than he was to his Jug, he felt rather sorry that he had said anything to Mr. Bunting about following Mr. Boyston, for, thought Jovey, our hero might have taken a line of his own, and seen the end of the run, whereas, he perhaps thought I told him to follow Tom Boyston for the sake of saving my horse. And being a liberal-minded man, and not liking to do things by halves Jovey considered how he could put matters right. That was a non-hunting day, but the hounds met at Branforth Bridge on the following one, and the Bold Pioneer would be all the better of the gallop from Brushwood Banks; so he determined if the horse was all right to offer him again to Mr. Bunting. That point decided, he bounded out of bed, and after passing through his bath, proceeded to array himself in a loosely fitting suit of black and green tweed. Though so punctual to his dinner, Mr. Jessop was quite a latitudinarian in the matter of breakfast, and guests just rolled in, and rang or called for theirs whenever they liked, each man having his own tea-pot, and water-pot, eggs, muffin, toast, and so on, after the manner of the Clubs, while there was always a plentiful supply of cold meat and game on the sideboard, and fish, omelette, and frys in a great iron stand before the fire. So breakfasting continued till everybody was done, when the remains were removed, a clean cloth supplied, and the cold meats advanced from the sideboard to the dining-table, for the entertainment of those who might drop in during the day. So long as Mr. Jessop was not obliged to partake, he was always glad to give anybody a luncheon, and the Jug’s appetite being accommodating, he found him useful in the eating as well as in the drinking-way.
