by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XVII
A DASH OF ONIONS
It was about a fortnight later that one afternoon, soon after lunch,Mrs. Fanning came into the drawing-room. She was somewhatshort-sighted, and she stood in the middle of the room, looking roundher. After a time, to my great horror, she caught sight of me. If Ihad a moment to spare, I should have got behind the curtain, in orderto avoid her, but I had not that moment; she discovered her prey, andmade for me as fast as an arrow from a bow.
"Ah," she said, "here you are; I am going out driving in Albert'sbrougham this afternoon. You didn't know, perhaps, that Albert had abrougham of his own?"
"I did not," I answered.
"It is a recent acquisition of his; he is becoming a wealthy man isAlbert, and he started the brougham a short time ago. He had the bodypainted red and the wheels dark brown--I was for having the wheelsyellow, because I like something distinct, but Albert said, 'No, _she_would rather have dark brown.' Who do you think he meant by _she_,now? That's the puzzle I am putting to you. Who do you think _she_is?"
"You, of course," I answered boldly.
Mrs. Fanning favoured me with a broad wink.
"Ah now, that's very nice of you," she said, "but the old motherdoesn't come in anywhere when the young girl appears on the horizon.It is about time for Albert to be meeting the young girl, and meet herhe will. Indeed, it is my opinion that he has met her, and that thebrougham which she likes is standing at the door. It is for the sakeof that young girl he has had those wheels painted brown, it is notthe wish of his old mother. But come for a drive with me, will you,dear?"
"I am sorry," I began.
"Oh no, I am not going to take any refusal. Ah, there is your preciousdear mother coming into the room."
Before I could interrupt her, Mrs. Fanning had gone to meet my mother.She never walked in the ordinary sense of the word, she waddled. Shewaddled now in her stiff brown satin across the drawing-room, andstood before mother.
"And how are you feeling this morning, Mrs. Wickham?" she said; "ah!but poorly, I can tell by the look of your face, you are dreadfullyblue round the lips, it's the effect of indigestion, isn't it, now?"
"I have suffered a good deal lately from indigestion," replied motherin her gentle tones.
"And a bad thing it is, a very bad thing," said Mrs. Fanning. "I curedmyself with Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People. Did you ever try'em, Mrs. Wickham?"
"No," replied mother gravely.
"Well, well, they pulled me round. Albert was terribly concerned aboutme a year ago. I couldn't fancy the greatest dainties you could giveme, I turned against my food, and as to going upstairs, why, if you'llbelieve me, I could have no more taken possession of that attic nextto your young daughter than I could have fled. Now there ain't a stairin Britain would daunt me; I'd be good for climbing the Monument anyfine morning, and it's all owing to Williams' Pink Pills. They're agrand medicine. But what I wanted to say to you now was this: May MissWickham come for a drive with me in my son's own brougham? I amanxious to have an outing with her, and I see by her face she isdesirous to come; may she? Say yes, madam; if you are wise, you will."
I saw that mother was becoming a little excited and a little agitated,and I knew that that would never do, so I said hastily--
"Don't worry mother, please, Mrs. Fanning; I will certainly come withyou for an hour or so."
"We won't be back in an hour, dear," said Mrs. Fanning, "nor for twohours; we are going to enjoy ourselves with a tea out. You'll spareyour daughter until she comes back, won't you, madam? I mean you won'tfret about her."
I was just about absolutely to refuse, when Miss Mullins came into theroom. To my astonishment and disgust she came straight over to wherewe were talking, and immediately took Mrs. Fanning's part.
"Oh yes," she said, "you must not disappoint dear Mrs. Fanning,Westenra; she was so looking forward to having a time out with you. Gowith her. As to your mother, I will look after her. I have nothing atall to do this afternoon, and mean to go and sit with her in thedrawing-room, or rather to bring her into my private room, where wewill have a cosy tea to ourselves."
There was no help for it. After Jane's treachery in siding with Mrs.Fanning, I could only have refused by making a fuss, which would havebeen extremely bad for mother, so I went upstairs and spent a littletime considering in which of my hats I looked worst, and which of myjackets presented the most dowdy appearance. Alack and alas! I had nodowdy jackets and no unbecoming hats. I put on, however, the quietestI could find, and ran downstairs. Mrs. Fanning was waiting for me inthe hall. One of the servants of the establishment was standing nearwith a heavy fur rug over her arm. Mrs. Fanning was attired in a hugesealskin cape, which went down below her knees, and a bonnet with alarge bird of paradise perched on one side of the brim. She had aveil, with huge spots on it, covering her broad face, and she wasdrawing on a pair of gloves a great deal too small for her fat hands.
"Here you are, Miss Wickham," she said; "now, then, we'll go. Open thedoor, please, Emma."
Emma did so, and we entered the carriage.
"Spread the rug, Emma," said Mrs. Fanning in a lordly tone. This wasalso accomplished, and the next moment we were whirling away. Mrs.Fanning laid her fat hand on my lap.
"Now, this is pleasant," she said; "I have been looking forward tothis. Do you know where I am going to take you?"
"I am sure I cannot tell," I answered; "but as we are out, I hope youwill let me look at the shops; I want to tell mother something aboutthe latest fashions; it often entertains her."
"Well, I am glad to hear you speak in that strain, it sounds so humanand womanly. Your tastes and mine coincide to a nicety. There's no oneloves shop-gazing better than I do; I have flattened my nose againstshop windows times and again, as long as I can remember. Before mydear Albert became so wealthy, I used to get into my bus, and do myhour of shop-gazing a-most every afternoon, but now it fidgets thecoachman if I ask him to pull up the horses too often. You like theswing of the carriage, don't you, my dear? It's very comfortable,isn't it? nearly as nice as if it had the yellow wheels that Albertwould not gratify his old mother by allowing. Ah, SHE has a deal toanswer for--a deal to answer for--however nice she may be in herself."Here Mrs. Fanning favoured me with one of her broadest winks.
"The carriage is very nice," I replied.
"I fancied somehow that it would suit you, and I was most anxious tosee how you looked in it. Some people don't look as if they were bornto a carriage, others take to it like a duck takes to the water. Now,you look very nice in it; you and your mother in this carriage wouldlook as genteel as two ladies could look. You don't know what a greatadmiration I have for your mother. She is one of the most beautifulwomen on God's earth."
"And one of the best," I said impulsively, and as I thought of allthat was going to happen to that most precious mother, and how soonthat presence would be withdrawn from our mortal gaze, and how soonthat spirit would go to the God who gave it, tears sprang to my eyes,and even Mrs. Fanning became more tolerable.
"Ah, you are feeling cut to bits about her great delicacy," said thatgood lady. "Any one can see that; but cheer up, cheer up, the youngought to rejoice, and you of all women under the sun have the mostcause for rejoicement, Miss Wickham."
I did not ask her why, I did not dare, we drove on. It seemed to methat we were not going anywhere near the shops, we were steadilypursuing our way into the suburbs. After a drive of over an hour, wesuddenly found ourselves in a part of Highgate quite unknown to me. Wehad been going uphill for some time, and we stopped now before someiron gates; a woman ran out of a lodge and opened the gates, and thenwe drove down a short avenue shaded by some fine trees. We drew up infront of a large, substantial red-brick house, the door of which wasopen, and on the steps stood Mr. Fanning. He ran down to meet us, withboth his hands extended.
"Ah! and you have brought the little thing," he said to his mother.
"What little thing?" I said to myself. This was really the finalstraw. I had never,
never even by my most intimate friends, beenspoken of as the "little thing," for I was a tall girl and somewhatlarge in my ideas, and if anything rather masculine in my mind, and tobe spoken of as a little thing, and by Albert Fanning, was about thefinal straw which broke the camel's back. My first intention was torefuse to budge from the carriage, to fiercely demand that thecoachman should turn round and drive me straight back again to mother,but on second thoughts, I reflected that I should lose a good deal ofdignity by this proceeding, and the best possible plan was to appearas if nothing at all extraordinary had occurred, and to follow Mrs.Fanning into the house.
"Yes, I have brought her," said that good woman; "here she is. Shelooks slim beside your old mother, eh! Albert? but she's young; astime goes on she'll spread like all the rest of us. Well, and here weare, and she likes the brougham extremely; don't you, my dear? I couldsee that if you had yielded to me with regard to the yellow wheels shewould not have approved. We must all humour her while she is young; itis always the way, always the way, ain't it, Albert? And I never saw agirl look nicer in a brougham than she does. She did enjoy her drive;it was lovely to see her. Well, now, she'll enjoy still more what'sbefore her--the house and the grounds. It's a bit of a surprise wehave for you, my dear," continued the old lady, turning to me. "It isnot every girl would have the luck to be brought here by _his_ mother;but everything that can be made easy and pleasant for you, MissWickham, shall be made easy and pleasant. It was Albert's wish thatyou should come here with me, and he said you would much rather it wasnot bragged about at the boarding-house beforehand. This is my sonAlbert's new house, furnished according to his own taste, which isexcellent, nothing showy nor gimcrack, all firm and good, bought atMaple's, dear, in Tottenham Court Road, and the very best theestablishment could furnish. Everything new, shining, and _paid_ for,dear, paid for. You can see the bills, not a debt to hang over yourhead by-and-by, love. But come in, come in."
I really felt that I could not stand much longer on the steps of themansion, listening to this most extraordinary address made to me byMrs. Fanning. What did it matter to me whether Albert Fanning paid forhis household goods or not? and how could it concern me what shop hechose to buy them at? But I felt myself more or less in a trap, andknew the best way to prevent any crisis taking place was to put on anassumed air of absolute indifference, and to take the first possibleopportunity of returning home.
"Jane must get the Fannings to leave to-morrow, whatever happens," Isaid to myself, "and I must cling now to Mrs. Fanning for dear life. Idon't suppose Albert Fanning will propose for me while she is by." Butalas! I little knew the couple with whom I had to deal. Albert Fanninghad willed that I was not to cling close to his mother. Turning to theold lady, he said--
"You're fagged and flustered. You have done things uncommonly well,and now you'll just have the goodness to sit with your feet on thefender in the drawing-room, and give yourself a right good toastingwhile Miss Wickham and I are examining the house."
"Oh no," I began.
"Oh yes," said Mrs. Fanning; "don't be shy, love." She gave me anotherwink so broad that I did not dare to expostulate further. Had I doneso, Albert would probably have gone on his knees on the spot andimplored of me there and then to make him the happiest of men.
Accordingly we all entered the drawing-room which was furnished _a la_Maple. It was a large room, and there were a great many tables about,and I wondered how stout Mrs. Fanning could cross the room withoutknocking over one or two. She looked round her with admiration.
"It's amazing the taste you have," she said, gazing at her son as ifhe were a sort of demigod. He put her into a comfortable chair by thefire, and then he and I began to do the house. Was there ever such adreadful business? We began at the attics, and we thoroughly exploredroom after room. I did not mind that. As long as I could keep AlbertFanning off dangerous ground I was quite ready to talk to him. I wasready to poke at the mattresses on the new beds, and to admire thechain springs, and to examine the ventilators in the walls of everysingle room. I said "Yes" to all his remarks, and he evidently thoughthe was making a most favourable impression. We took a long time goingover the house, but I did not mind that, for Mr. Fanning was in hiselement, and was so pleased with his own consummate common sense andhis own skill in getting the right things into the right corners, andin showing me what a mind he had for contriving and for making moneygo as far as possible, that I allowed him to talk to his heart'scontent. The brougham must soon be ordered again, and we must get backto town, and the awful time would be at an end. But when at last eventhe kitchens had been inspected, and the action of the new rangeexplained to me, Albert said that he must now show me the grounds.There was no escaping this infliction, and accordingly into thegrounds we went.
These were fairly spacious. There was a large fruit garden, and akitchen garden behind it, and Albert Fanning told me exactly what hewas going to plant in the kitchen garden in the spring--a certain bedin particular was to be devoted to spring onions. He told me that hehated salad without a good dash of onion in it, and as he spoke helooked at me as much as to say, "Don't you ever give me salad withoutonion," and I began to feel the queerest sensation, as if I was beingmastered, creeping over me. I wondered if the man really intended totake me from the garden to the church, where the priest would bewaiting to perform the ceremony which would tie us together for life.The whole proceeding was most extraordinary, but just at the crucialmoment, just when I was feeling that I could bear things no longer, Iheard Mrs. Fanning's cheery voice. How I loved the old lady at thatmoment!
"Albert! Albert!" she called out, "the tea is cooling. I don't approveof tea being drawn too long, and it has been in the teapot for tenminutes. Come in this minute, you naughty young folks, come in andenjoy your tea."
"I am coming," I answered, "I am very hungry and thirsty."
"Are you?" said Mr. Fanning, looking at me. "Coming, mother, coming."
I turned to run after the old lady, but he suddenly put out his handand caught one of mine, I pulled it away from him.
"Don't," I said.
"Don't!" he replied; "but I certainly shall. I mean often to touch youin the future, so what does it matter my taking your hand now. I hopeto have you near me all day long and every day in the future. You musthave guessed why I brought you out here."
"I have guessed nothing, except that I am thirsty and want my tea," Ireplied. "I cannot talk to you any longer."
"Oh yes, you can," he replied, "and you don't stir from here until Ihave had my say. You thought to escape me that time in thedrawing-room a few weeks back, but you won't now. Don't be angry;don't look so frightened. I mean well, I mean--I cannot tell you whatI _quite_ mean when I look at you, but there, you like the house?"
"Yes," I said, "very well."
"Very well indeed; let me tell you, Miss Wickham, there isn't a morecomfortable house nor a better furnished house, nor a better paid-forhouse in the length and breadth of the county. And you like thesegardens, eh?"
"Certainly," I said.
"I thought so. Well, now, the fruit garden, and the kitchen garden,and the pleasure garden, and the house, and the furniture, and themaster of the house are all at your disposal. There! I have spoken.You are the one I am wishing to wed; you are the one I intend to wed.I am wanting you, and I mean to have you for better, for worse. I havenot the slightest doubt that you have faults, but I am willing to runthe risk of finding them out; and I have no doubt that I have faultstoo, but I do not think that they are too prominent, and, at any rate,I am a real, downright son of Britain, an honest, good-hearted,well-meaning man. I believe in the roast beef of Old England and thebeer of Old England, and the ways of Old England, and I want anEnglish girl like yourself to be my wife, and I will treat you well,my dear, and love you well--yes, I will love you right well."
Here his voice broke, and a pathetic look came into his eyes, and Iturned away more embarrassed, and more distressed than ever I was inmy life.
"You will have all that heart can de
sire, little girl, and your poor,delicate mother, shall come and live with you in this house; and sheand my mother can have a sitting-room between them. We shall be ahappy quartette, and you shall come to me as soon as ever you like,the sooner the better. Now you need not give me your answer yet. Weknow, of course, what it will be; it is a great chance for you, and Iam not denying it, but come and enjoy your tea."
"But I must and will give you my answer now," I replied. "How can youfor a single moment imagine that I can seriously consider your offer?It is kind of you; yes, it is kind of any man to give his whole heartto a girl; and, I believe, you are sincere, but I can only give youone answer, Mr. Fanning."
"And that?" he said.
"It is quite--quite absolutely impossible! I could never love you; Icould never, never marry you. I am sorry, of course, but I havenothing--nothing more to say."
"You mean," said Albert Fanning, turning pale, and a queer, halfangry, half wild look coming and going on his face, "that you _refuse_me--me, and my house, and my brougham, and my gardens, and my paid-forfurniture! Is it true?"
"I refuse you, and all that you want to confer upon me," I answered."I know you mean well, and I am--oh, yes, I _am_ obliged to you. Anygirl ought to be obliged to a man who offers her the best he has; butI could never under any circumstances marry you. Now, you know."
"You will rue it, and I do not think you mean it," he said. His faceturned red, then purple, he turned on his heel, and allowed me to walkback to the house alone.
My head was swimming. My eyes were full of smarting tears which Idared not shed. I entered the drawing-room where Mrs. Fanning waswaiting for me.
"Ah! here you are," she cried, rubbing her hands, and speaking in avery cheerful tone; "and where is Albert? Has he--has he?--why, whatis the matter, my love?"
"I must tell you the truth," I answered, "for I know you will guessit. Your son has been kind enough to ask me to marry him. You knew hemeant to ask me, did you not? but I--I have refused him. No, I don'twant any tea; I don't want even to go back in the brougham. I cannever, never marry your son, Mrs. Fanning; and you must have knownit--and it was very unkind of you to bring me here without sayinganything about it." And then I sank on the nearest chair, and sobbedas if my heart would break.
