CHAPTER XXV.
HOLLINGFORD IN A BUSTLE.
All Hollingford felt as if there was a great deal to be done beforeEaster this year. There was Easter proper, which always required newclothing of some kind, for fear of certain consequences from littlebirds, who were supposed to resent the impiety of those that didnot wear some new article of dress on Easter-day. And most ladiesconsidered it wiser that the little birds should see the new articlefor themselves, and not have to take it upon trust, as they wouldhave to do if it were merely a pocket-handkerchief, or a petticoat,or any article of under-clothing. So piety demanded a new bonnet, ora new gown; and was barely satisfied with an Easter pair of gloves.Miss Rose was generally very busy just before Easter in Hollingford.Then this year there was the charity ball. Ashcombe, Hollingford, andCoreham were three neighbouring towns, of about the same number ofpopulation, lying at the three equidistant corners of a triangle. Inimitation of greater cities with their festivals, these three townshad agreed to have an annual ball for the benefit of the countyhospital to be held in turn at each place; and Hollingford was to bethe place this year.
It was a fine time for hospitality, and every house of any pretensionwas as full as it could hold, and flys were engaged long monthsbefore.
If Mrs. Gibson could have asked Osborne, or in default, Roger Hamleyto go to the ball with them and to sleep at their house,--or if,indeed, she could have picked up any stray scion of a "county family"to whom such an offer would have been a convenience, she would haverestored her own dressing-room to its former use as the spare-room,with pleasure. But she did not think it was worth her while to putherself out for any of the humdrum and ill-dressed women who had beenher former acquaintances at Ashcombe. For Mr. Preston it might havebeen worth while to give up her room, considering him in the light ofa handsome and prosperous young man, and a good dancer besides. Butthere were more lights in which he was to be viewed. Mr. Gibson, whoreally wanted to return the hospitality shown to him by Mr. Prestonat the time of his marriage, had yet an instinctive distaste to theman, which no wish of freeing himself from obligation, nor even themore worthy feeling of hospitality, could overcome. Mrs. Gibsonhad some old grudges of her own against him, but she was not oneto retain angry feelings, or be very active in her retaliationshe was afraid of Mr. Preston, and admired him at the same time.It was awkward too--so she said--to go into a ball-room withoutany gentleman at all, and Mr. Gibson was so uncertain! On thewhole--partly for this last-given reason, and partly becauseconciliation was the best policy, Mrs. Gibson was slightly in favourof inviting Mr. Preston to be their guest. But as soon as Cynthiaheard the question discussed--or rather, as soon as she heard itdiscussed in Mr. Gibson's absence, she said that if Mr. Preston cameto be their visitor on the occasion, she for one would not go to theball at all. She did not speak with vehemence or in anger; but withsuch quiet resolution that Molly looked up in surprise. She sawthat Cynthia was keeping her eyes fixed on her work, and that shehad no intention of meeting any one's gaze, or giving any furtherexplanation. Mrs. Gibson, too, looked perplexed, and once or twiceseemed on the point of asking some question but she was not angryas Molly had fully expected. She watched Cynthia furtively and insilence for a minute or two, and then said that, after all, she couldnot conveniently give up her dressing-room; and, altogether, they hadbetter say no more about it. So no stranger was invited to stay atMr. Gibson's at the time of the ball; but Mrs. Gibson openly spokeof her regret at the unavoidable inhospitality, and hoped that theymight be able to build an addition to their house before the nexttriennial Hollingford ball.
Another cause of unusual bustle at Hollingford this Easter was theexpected return of the family to the Towers, after their unusuallylong absence. Mr. Sheepshanks might be seen trotting up and down onhis stout old cob, speaking to attentive masons, plasterers, andglaziers about putting everything--on the outside at least--aboutthe cottages belonging to "my lord," in perfect repair. Lord Cumnorowned the greater part of the town; and those who lived under otherlandlords, or in houses of their own, were stirred up by the dreadof contrast to do up their dwellings. So the ladders of whitewashersand painters were sadly in the way of the ladies tripping daintilyalong to make their purchases, and holding their gowns up in a bunchbehind, after a fashion quite gone out in these days. The housekeeperand steward from the Towers might also be seen coming in to giveorders at the various shops; and stopping here and there at thosekept by favourites, to avail themselves of the eagerly-tenderedrefreshments.
Lady Harriet came to call on her old governess the day after thearrival of the family at the Towers. Molly and Cynthia were outwalking when she came--doing some errands for Mrs. Gibson, who had asecret idea that Lady Harriet would call at the particular time shedid, and had a not uncommon wish to talk to her ladyship without thecorrective presence of any member of her own family.
Mrs. Gibson did not give Molly the message of remembrance that LadyHarriet had left for her; but she imparted various pieces of newsrelating to the Towers with great animation and interest. The Duchessof Menteith and her daughter, Lady Alice, were coming to the Towers;would be there the day of the ball; would come to the ball; and theMenteith diamonds were famous. That was piece of news the first.The second was that ever so many gentlemen were coming to theTowers--some English, some French. This piece of news would have comefirst in order of importance had there been much probability of theirbeing dancing men, and, as such, possible partners at the comingball. But Lady Harriet had spoken of them as Lord Hollingford'sfriends, useless scientific men in all probability. Then, finally,Mrs. Gibson was to go to the Towers next day to lunch; Lady Cumnorhad written a little note by Lady Harriet to beg her to come; ifMrs. Gibson could manage to find her way to the Towers, one of thecarriages in use should bring her back to her own home in the courseof the afternoon.
"The dear countess!" said Mrs. Gibson, with soft affection. It wasa soliloquy, uttered after a minute's pause, at the end of all thisinformation.
And all the rest of that day her conversation had an aristocraticperfume hanging about it. One of the few books she had brought withher into Mr. Gibson's house was bound in pink, and in it she studied"Menteith, Duke of, Adolphus George," &c., &c., till she was fully upin all the duchess's connections, and probable interests. Mr. Gibsonmade his mouth up into a droll whistle when he came home at night,and found himself in a Towers' atmosphere. Molly saw the shadeof annoyance through the drollery; she was beginning to see itoftener than she liked, not that she reasoned upon it, or that sheconsciously traced the annoyance to its source; but she could nothelp feeling uneasy in herself when she knew her father was in theleast put out.
Of course a fly was ordered for Mrs. Gibson. In the early afternoonshe came home. If she had been disappointed in her interview withthe countess she never told her woe, nor revealed the fact that whenshe first arrived at the Towers she had to wait for an hour in LadyCumnor's morning-room, uncheered by any companionship save that ofher old friend, Mrs. Bradley, till suddenly, Lady Harriet coming in,she exclaimed, "Why, Clare! you dear woman! are you here all alone?Does mamma know?" And, after a little more affectionate conversation,she rushed to find her ladyship, who was perfectly aware of the fact,but too deep in giving the duchess the benefit of her wisdom andexperience in trousseaux to be at all aware of the length of timeMrs. Gibson had been passing in patient solitude. At lunch Mrs.Gibson was secretly hurt by my lord's supposing it to be her dinner,and calling out his urgent hospitality from the very bottom of thetable, giving as a reason for it, that she must remember it was herdinner. In vain she piped out in her soft, high voice, "Oh, my lord!I never eat meat in the middle of the day; I can hardly eat anythingat lunch." Her voice was lost, and the duchess might go away with theidea that the Hollingford doctor's wife dined early; that is to say,if her grace ever condescended to have any idea on the subject atall; which presupposes that she was cognizant of the fact of therebeing a doctor at Hollingford, and that he had a wife, and that hiswife was the pretty, faded, elegant-looki
ng woman sending away herplate of untasted food--food which she longed to eat, for she wasreally desperately hungry after her drive and her solitude.
And then after lunch there did come a _tete-a-tete_ with Lady Cumnor,which was conducted after this wise:--
"Well, Clare! I am really glad to see you. I once thought I shouldnever get back to the Towers, but here I am! There was such a cleverman at Bath--a Doctor Snape--he cured me at last--quite set me up. Ireally think if ever I am ill again I shall send for him: it is sucha thing to find a really clever medical man. Oh, by the way, I alwaysforget you've married Mr. Gibson--of course he is very clever, andall that. (The carriage to the door in ten minutes, Brown, and desireBradley to bring my things down.) What was I asking you? Oh! how doyou get on with the stepdaughter? She seemed to me to be a young ladywith a pretty stubborn will of her own. I put a letter for the postdown somewhere, and I cannot think where; do help me look for it,there's a good woman. Just run to my room, and see if Brown can findit, for it is of great consequence."
Off went Mrs. Gibson, rather unwillingly; for there were severalthings she wanted to speak about, and she had not heard half of whatshe had expected to learn of the family gossip. But all chance wasgone; for when she came back from her fruitless errand, Lady Cumnorand the duchess were in full talk, Lady Cumnor with the missingletter in her hand, which she was using something like a baton toenforce her words.
"Every iota from Paris! Every i-o-ta!"
Lady Cumnor was too much of a lady not to apologize for uselesstrouble, but they were nearly the last words she spoke to Mrs.Gibson, for she had to go out and drive with the duchess; and thebrougham to take "Clare" (as she persisted in calling Mrs. Gibson)back to Hollingford followed the carriage to the door. Lady Harrietcame away from her _entourage_ of young men and young ladies, allprepared for some walking expedition, to wish Mrs. Gibson good-by.
"We shall see you at the ball," she said. "You'll be there with yourtwo girls, of course, and I must have a little talk with you there;with all these visitors in the house, it has been impossible to seeanything of you to-day, you know."
Such were the facts, but rose-colour was the medium through whichthey were seen by Mrs. Gibson's household listeners on her return.
"There are many visitors staying at the Towers--oh, yes! a greatmany: the duchess and Lady Alice, and Mr. and Mrs. Grey, and LordAlbert Monson and his sister, and my old friend Captain James of theBlues--many more, in fact. But, of course, I preferred going to LadyCumnor's own room, where I could see her and Lady Harriet quietly,and where we were not disturbed by the bustle downstairs. Of coursewe were obliged to go down to lunch, and then I saw my old friends,and renewed pleasant acquaintances. But I really could hardly get anyconnected conversation with any one. Lord Cumnor seemed so delightedto see me there again: though there were six or seven between us, hewas always interrupting with some civil or kind speech especiallyaddressed to me. And after lunch Lady Cumnor asked me all sorts ofquestions about my new life with as much interest as if I had beenher daughter. To be sure, when the duchess came in we had to leaveoff, and talk about the trousseau she is preparing for Lady Alice.Lady Harriet made such a point of our meeting at the ball; she issuch a good, affectionate creature, is Lady Harriet!"
This last was said in a tone of meditative appreciation.
The afternoon of the day on which the ball was to take place, aservant rode over from Hamley with two lovely nosegays, "with theMr. Hamleys' compliments to Miss Gibson and Miss Kirkpatrick."Cynthia was the first to receive them. She came dancing into thedrawing-room, flourishing the flowers about in either hand, anddanced up to Molly, who was trying to settle to her reading, by wayof passing the time away till the evening came.
"Look, Molly, look! Here are bouquets for us! Long life to thegivers!"
"Who are they from?" asked Molly, taking hold of one, and examiningit with tender delight at its beauty.
"Who from? Why, the two paragons of Hamleys, to be sure. Is it not apretty attention?"
"How kind of them!" said Molly.
"I'm sure it is Osborne who thought of it. He has been so muchabroad, where it is such a common compliment to send bouquets toyoung ladies."
"I don't see why you should think it is Osborne's thought!" saidMolly, reddening a little. "Mr. Roger Hamley used to gather nosegaysconstantly for his mother, and sometimes for me."
"Well, never mind whose thought it was, or who gathered them; we'vegot the flowers, and that's enough. Molly, I'm sure these red flowerswill just match your coral necklace and bracelets," said Cynthia,pulling out some camellias, then a rare kind of flower.
"Oh, please, don't!" exclaimed Molly. "Don't you see how carefullythe colours are arranged--they have taken such pains; please, don't."
"Nonsense!" said Cynthia, continuing to pull them out; "see, here arequite enough. I'll make you a little coronet of them--sewn on blackvelvet, which will never be seen--just as they do in France!"
"Oh, I am so sorry! It is quite spoilt," said Molly.
"Never mind! I'll take this spoilt bouquet; I can make it up againjust as prettily as ever; and you shall have this, which has neverbeen touched." Cynthia went on arranging the crimson buds and flowersto her taste. Molly said nothing, but kept watching Cynthia's nimblefingers tying up the wreath.
"There!" said Cynthia, at last, "when that is sewn on black velvet,to keep the flowers from dying, you'll see how pretty it will look.And there are enough red flowers in this untouched nosegay to carryout the idea!"
"Thank you" (very slowly). "But sha'n't you mind having only thewrecks of the other?"
"Not I; red flowers would not go with my pink dress."
"But--I daresay they arranged each nosegay so carefully!"
"Perhaps they did. But I never would allow sentiment to interferewith my choice of colours; and pink does tie one down. Now you,in white muslin, just tipped with crimson, like a daisy, may wearanything."
Cynthia took the utmost pains in dressing Molly, leaving the cleverhousemaid to her mother's exclusive service. Mrs. Gibson was moreanxious about her attire than was either of the girls; it had givenher occasion for deep thought and not a few sighs. Her deliberationhad ended in her wearing her pearl-grey satin wedding-gown, with aprofusion of lace, and white and coloured lilacs. Cynthia was the onewho took the affair most lightly. Molly looked upon the ceremony ofdressing for a first ball as rather a serious ceremony; certainly asan anxious proceeding. Cynthia was almost as anxious as herself; onlyMolly wanted her appearance to be correct and unnoticed; and Cynthiawas desirous of setting off Molly's rather peculiar charms--hercream-coloured skin, her profusion of curly black hair, her beautifullong-shaped eyes, with their shy, loving expression. Cynthia tookup so much time in dressing Molly to her mind, that she herself hadto perform her toilette in a hurry. Molly, ready dressed, sate on alow chair in Cynthia's room, watching the pretty creature's rapidmovements, as she stood in her petticoat before the glass, doing upher hair, with quick certainty of effect. At length, Molly heaved along sigh, and said,--
"I should like to be pretty!"
"Why, Molly," said Cynthia, turning round with an exclamation on thetip of her tongue; but when she caught the innocent, wistful look onMolly's face, she instinctively checked what she was going to say,and, half-smiling to her own reflection in the glass, she said,--"TheFrench girls would tell you, to believe that you were pretty wouldmake you so."
Molly paused before replying,--
"I suppose they would mean that if you knew you were pretty, youwould never think about your looks; you would be so certain of beingliked, and that it is caring--"
"Listen! that's eight o'clock striking. Don't trouble yourself withtrying to interpret a French girl's meaning, but help me on with myfrock, there's a dear one."
The two girls were dressed, and were standing over the fire waitingfor the carriage in Cynthia's room, when Maria (Betty's successor)came hurrying into the room. Maria had been officiating as maid toMrs. Gibson, but she had had intervals of le
isure, in which she hadrushed upstairs, and, under the pretence of offering her services,had seen the young ladies' dresses, and the sight of so many niceclothes had sent her into a state of excitement which made her thinknothing of rushing upstairs for the twentieth time, with a nosegaystill more beautiful than the two previous ones.
"Here, Miss Kirkpatrick! No, it's not for you, miss!" as Molly, beingnearer to the door, offered to take it and pass it to Cynthia. "It'sfor Miss Kirkpatrick; and there's a note for her besides!"
Cynthia said nothing, but took the note and the flowers. She held thenote so that Molly could read it at the same time she did.
I send you some flowers; and you must allow me to claim the first dance after nine o'clock, before which time I fear I cannot arrive.--R. P.
"Who is it?" asked Molly.
Cynthia looked extremely irritated, indignant, perplexed--what was itturned her cheek so pale, and made her eyes so full of fire?
"It is Mr. Preston," said she, in answer to Molly. "I shall not dancewith him; and here go his flowers--"
Into the very middle of the embers, which she immediately stirreddown upon the beautiful shrivelling petals as if she wished toannihilate them as soon as possible. Her voice had never been raised;it was as sweet as usual; nor, though her movements were promptenough, were they hasty or violent.
"Oh!" said Molly, "those beautiful flowers! We might have put them inwater."
"No," said Cynthia; "it's best to destroy them. We don't want them;and I can't bear to be reminded of that man."
"It was an impertinent familiar note," said Molly. "What right hadhe to express himself in that way--no beginning, no end, and onlyinitials! Did you know him well when you were at Ashcombe, Cynthia?"
"Oh, don't let us think any more about him," replied Cynthia. "It isquite enough to spoil any pleasure at the ball to think that he willbe there. But I hope I shall get engaged before he comes, so that Ican't dance with him--and don't you, either!"
"There! they are calling for us," exclaimed Molly, and with quickstep, yet careful of their draperies, they made their way downstairsto the place where Mr. and Mrs. Gibson awaited them. Yes; Mr. Gibsonwas going,--even if he had to leave them afterwards to attend to anyprofessional call. And Molly suddenly began to admire her fatheras a handsome man, when she saw him now, in full evening attire.Mrs. Gibson, too--how pretty she was! In short, it was true that nobetter-looking a party than these four people entered the Hollingfordball-room that evening.
Wives and Daughters Page 27
