“Dear Mama, I am perfectly ready to join you in abusing Lady Bugle, but that is going too far!” expostulated Henrietta laughingly. “She is a horrid creature, but I’m persuaded that she is quite boringly respectable!”
“Good gracious, Hetta, how you do take one up!” Lady Silverdale complained. “You know very well what I mean! She’s an excessively underbred woman, and that, you will allow, dear little Cherry is not! I think it remarkable that she shouldn’t be, for we all know what the Steanes are like, and although I never heard anything said against the Wissets they did not move in the first circles. I believe old Mr Wisset was an attorney, or something of the sort. And when you consider that Cherry has had no other home than her aunt’s house it has me in a puzzle to know how she came by her pretty, modest manners. She certainly cannot have learnt them from Amelia Bugle!”
“No, I fancy she must have learnt them from Miss Fletching,” said Henrietta. “From what Cherry has told me, she must be an excellent woman—and it is to Mr Wilfred Steane’s credit that he placed Cherry in her school, even if he did forget to pay the bills!”
“Well, it may be so,” acknowledged Lady Silverdale, reluctant to perceive any saving grace in Mr Wilfred Steane’s character, “but for my part I should rather suppose that he chose the first school that hit his eye. And I am much inclined to think that Cherry’s manners spring from her disposition—so very amiable and obliging, and with such delicacy of principle!—than from any lesson Miss Fletching could have taught her. You know, dearest, how very rarely I take a fancy to anyone, but I own I have taken a strong fancy to Cherry, and shall miss her sadly when she leaves us. Indeed, if Nettlecombe refuses to adopt her, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least, because he was always known to be as close as wax, and has “become positively freakish of late years—I have a very good mind to keep her here!”
Henrietta, who knew well, not how rarely her mama took fancies to people, but how frequently she did, and how inevitably she discovered that she had been mistaken in the character of her latest protégée, was startled into exclaiming: “Handsomely over the bricks, Mama, I do beg of you! You have only known Cherry for a sennight!”
“I have known her for nine days,” replied her ladyship, with dignity. “And I must request you, Hetta, not to employ vulgar slang when you are talking to me! Or to anyone, for it is not at all becoming in you! I have not the remotest conjecture what handsomely over the bricks may signify, but I collect that you have heard Charlie say it, and I must tell you that you are very ill-advised to copy the things young men say.”
“Oh, don’t blame Charlie, ma’am!” Henrietta said, her eyes alight with laughter. “It is what Desford says, when he thinks I am about to do something rash! But I should not have said it to you, and I beg your pardon! In—in unexceptionable language, I hope that you will consider carefully before you come to any decision about Cherry.”
“Naturally I shall do so,” said Lady Silverdale. “You may be sure of that!”
Henrietta was anything but sure of it, but she said no more, knowing that few things were more likely to goad Lady Silverdale into precipitate action than opposition from herself. Upon reflection she realized that she ought to have been prepared for the announcement which had startled her into uttering the slang phrase which had offended her mama’s chaste ears for she had watched Cherry winning more and more approval, and had several times heard Lady Silverdale say that she couldn’t conceive how she ever contrived to exist without “our sweet little sunbeam.” Well, there was nothing surprising in that: still less was it surprising that Lady Silverdale should be enjoying Cherry’s visit, for Cherry was always ready to do whatever her kind hostess wished, and happily ran errands, unravelled tangled embroidery silks, went for tediously slow walks with her round the gardens, accompanied her on sedate drives in her landaulette, read aloud to her, and listened with unfeigned interest to her store of very dull anecdotes. These duties had hitherto fallen to Henrietta’s lot, and although she had performed them cheerfully they had bored her very much, and none of them more than listening to reminiscences which had been told her many times before, and reading aloud absurdly romantic and adventurous novels, for which form of literature Lady Silverdale had an incurable passion. But three days after Cherry’s arrival at Inglehurst Henrietta contracted a slight cold, which made her throat too sore for reading aloud, and she had suggested that Cherry might take her place until she had recovered from her trifling indisposition. She had apologized to Cherry for saddling her with a task which she feared she would think abominably dull, but Cherry had said that indeed she wouldn’t think it dull, and the wonder was that she didn’t. At least, it seemed wonderful at the outset, but it was soon brought home to Henrietta, that Cherry’s literary taste exactly matched Lady Silverdale’s. Never having been permitted by Miss Fletching to read novels, she was instantly entranced by the specimen Henrietta gave her, entering into all the hapless heroine’s alarms, adoring the hero, hating the villain, uncritically accepting every extravagance of the plot, and eagerly discussing with Lady Silverdale how the story would end. Almost as absorbing did she find the Mirror of Fashion, a monthly periodical to which Lady Silverdale subscribed, and was ready to pore over it for as long as Lady Silverdale pleased. It had to be admitted that with all the advantages of a pretty face, engaging manners, and sweetness of disposition, one attribute had been denied her: she was regrettably lacking in intellect, Henrietta thought that when the ingenuousness of youth left her she would be as foolish as Lady Silverdale (though probably not as indolent), and a sad bore to any man of superior sense, for she was interested only in trivialities and domestic matters, and had very little understanding of wider issues. To Henrietta, who possessed considerable force of mind, this made her no more companionable than a small child would have been, but it suited Lady Silverdale admirably, and would possibly suit some other elderly and rather silly lady just as well. But what a bleak prospect for an affectionate girl, crying out to be loved and cherished! Henrietta sighed over it, but could see no other solution to the problem of her future, if Nettlecombe refused to acknowledge her. The realization that her mother had taken it into her head to keep Cherry with her seriously dismayed her. No dependence could be placed on Lady Silverdale’s continuing to dote on the girl: at any moment she might take her in dislike; and even if she did not do that she would almost certainly find her an irksome burden when the family removed to London, which they always did in the spring, and she became engaged in too many social activities to have the smallest need of any other attendant than her dresser. In London, Cherry would inevitably be regarded as that tiresome Extra Female, the bane of all hostesses, and could count herself fortunate if the sudden indisposition of one of the invited ladies led to her inclusion in some of her ladyship’s dinner-parties. To suppose that Lady Silverdale’s matchmaking instincts would prompt her to find a suitable husband for Cherry was to indulge fancy far beyond the bounds of probability: they were concentrated on her daughter, whose obstinate spinsterhood constituted almost the only flaw in her otherwise carefree existence. In a year or two she would no doubt be seeking a bride for her adored son, but at no time would she think it incumbent upon her to find a mate for Cherry. The thought of her brother caused Henrietta to feel a twinge of uneasiness. It had not occurred to Lady Silverdale that he might seek distraction in his enforced stay at Inglehurst by pursuing an à suivie flirtation with Cherry, but Henrietta laboured under no delusions about him, and she knew that he had begun to look far more favourably upon Cherry than when he had first seen her. He no longer spoke contemptuously of her as a snippety-thing, but had described her to at least two of Lady Silverdale’s morning visitors as a taking little puss. Henrietta did not for a moment suppose that he had any serious intention in mind; and she had a shrewd suspicion that Cherry’s friendly manner towards him rose from a very proper wish to avoid offending the susceptibilities of his mother and sister, and not at all from a desire to encourage his advances. She had at first
been very shy of him, but that, naturally, had worn off, as she became better acquainted with him, and it was not many days before she was able to take him very much for granted, behaving towards him with little more ceremony than she would have used towards an elder brother. She fetched and carried for him, and sought to divert him by playing cribbage and backgammon and draughts with him, or even such infantile games as span-counters, in which his superior skill was counterbalanced by his inability to use his right hand. She did these things because she was sorry for him, and anxious to help his mother and sister to keep him amused; but although she enjoyed playing such games and was young enough to be intent on proving herself a match for him, Henrietta did not think that she liked him very much. That made Henrietta sigh again. Not that she wanted Cherry to fall a victim to Charlie’s lures, but she did wish that Cherry were not so indifferent to every young man she met, for her indifference, coupled as it was with a tongue-tied shyness, did not make her appear to advantage. The only men with whom she was natural and at ease were nearly all of them old enough to have fathered her; or, if not quite so middle-aged, too old to be considered as possible suitors, at all events. She certainly liked Desford, but although in years he was only ten years her senior, in experience he was at least twenty years older; and Henrietta believed (and hoped) that she regarded him in the light of a protector, not as a possible suitor. Cary Nethercott, and Sir James Radcliffe had also won her liking, but both these kindly gentlemen were in their thirties, which was probably why she didn’t retire into her shell when they came to Inglehurst, but chatted away to, them in the most natural style imaginable. She even told Mr Nethercott all about the lurid romance she was reading to Lady Silverdale, when she was seated beside him at dinner one evening. Henrietta heard her doing it and was moved to silent admiration of the good-nature which made him listen with apparent interest to the tangled story that was being described to him.
As for Charlie, she had little doubt that if some dashing beauty were to come within his ken he would have no thoughts to spare for Cherry. Unfortunately, there were no dashing beauties living in the vicinity, and very few unattached young females of any description. Whether it was unfortunate that his particular cronies, none of whom hailed from Hertfordshire, were either disporting themselves at Brighton, or had retired to their parental homes in distant parts of the country, to recover from the ravages to their constitutions and purses caused by too many sprees, jollifications, and revel-routs, was a moot point. Lady Silverdale was for ever saying that if only two or three of his friends lived within visiting-distance they could have ridden over to entertain him; and she even went so far as to suggest to him that he should invite one of them to spend a week or two at Inglehurst. He spurned the notion, saying ungraciously that his friends would think it curst flat to be stuck down in the country with nothing to do all day, and nothing to enliven the evenings but short whist, or half-guinea commerce. Having uttered this disagreeable speech, he found that his sister had raised her eyes from her book and was steadily regarding him from under lifted brows. He coloured, and begged his mother’s pardon, saying: “I didn’t mean to be uncivil, ma’am, but you don’t understand how it is! I mean—oh, dash it, how could it be possible to invite anyone to visit me when I can’t ride, or drive, or play billiards, or—or anything?”
Lady Silverdale saw the force of this argument; but as she continued to regret it for the next twenty minutes Henrietta could hardly blame Charlie for dragging himself up from the sofa, and walking out of the room.
She was sorry for him, but she had suspected long since that his haggard appearance and slow recovery from his injuries were due not so much to his accident, but to the dissipated life he had been leading, in the company of those choice spirits who, in her private opinion, belonged to a fast, rackety set, and were rapidly ruining his character. The suspicion had been confirmed by the Squire, who had visited him two days after his accident, and had told her bluntly that it was just as well that the young ram-stam had knocked himself up. He was one of Charlie’s trustees, and had been intimately acquainted with both him and his sister all their lives, and he saw no need to mince his words. He said that what Charlie wanted was a long repairing lease. “Been going the pace, m’dear: only have to look at him to know that! I warned your mother he was too callow to be let loose on the town, but all she would do was to talk gibble-gabble about not keeping him tied to her apron-strings, and having complete confidence in him, and a lot more to that tune. ‘All very well,’ I told her, ‘if the boy’s father were alive, or he had elder brothers, or a male guardian, to tell him how he should go on, and warn him against the things no female knows anything about, but—’ Oh, well! No use crying over spilt milk, so I’ll say no more. Though how your father, as shrewd a man as ever I knew, could have allowed her ladyship to bamboozle him into appointing her to be Charlie’s guardian—Well, well, my tongue runs away with me, but you’re a sensible girl, Hetta, and you won’t take it amiss! We must hope that this latest bit of folly will have taught Charlie a lesson!” He refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff, and added, in a heartening tone: “No reason why he shouldn’t turn out to be as good a man as his father! Most codlings take time to find their feet, y’know, Hetta! Best thing for him would be to get himself buckled to a nice girl! He’s been philandering after dashing women of fashion, but there’s no harm in that! He don’t have petticoat affairs with straw damsels, and you may take it from me that’s true, for I’ve had my eye on him, ever since he set up for himself in London!”
“What can I do, Sir John?” she asked straitly.
“Can’t do anything!” he answered, restoring his snuffbox to the capacious pocket of his riding-coat. “Just try what you can to keep him amused, so that he don’t run off before he’s in better point than he is now!”
With this piece of advice she had to be satisfied, but she found it almost impossible to follow. The only things that amused Charlie were the country-sports which he was debarred from pursuing, and almost every variety of gaming. To do him justice, he enjoyed, for their sake, such games as offered a challenge to his skill, but Henrietta, who played a good game at chess, had so little card-sense that it bored him to play with her. Cherry, on the other hand, had neither the desire nor the ability to master the intricacies of chess, but she possessed a certain quickness which enabled her to grasp the rules and the objects of any card game he taught her, and to play well enough to make him declare that it wouldn’t be long before she became a dashed dangerous opponent.
“Such a good thing, dearest!” Lady Silverdale confided to her daughter. “At last we have hit upon something that keeps him tolerably well entertained! Gentlemen, you know, always like to instruct one, but they are much inclined to be vexed when people like you and me, my love, show no aptitude, or, at any hand, don’t instantly comprehend what they tell us. What a fortunate circumstance it is that dear little Cherry has a turn for cards! I declare I am positively grateful to Desford for having brought her to me!”
But two days later Cherry’s star suffered a temporary eclipse, when the most longstanding of Lady Silverdale’s cicisbeos was so ill-advised as to beg her to bestow on him one of the roses she was carrying into the house. With playful gallantry he insisted that she should put it into his buttonhole with her own fair hands, saying that it would smell the sweeter. Since she regarded him in the light of a grandparent, which indeed he was, she complied with his requests, but could not help giggling a little at the fulsome compliment he had paid her. Lady Silverdale, on the other hand, was not amused; and for an anxious moment Henrietta feared that Cherry’s popularity had already come to an end. Happily, Lady Silverdale’s faithful admirer had the wit to say (after one look at her stiffening countenance) that he was glad Cherry had gone into the house, because he never knew what to say to chits of her age, adding, as he sat down again on the rustic seat beside my lady: “Now we can be comfortable together, my lady!” This mollified her so much that instead of scolding Cherry she merely
warned her not to encourage strange gentlemen to flirt with her. But even this mild reproof made startled tears spring to Cherry’s eyes as she exclaimed in trembling accents: “Oh, no, no! Indeed I didn’t! I thought he was being kind to me because you had asked him to be, ma’am!” She added imploringly, as the tears coursed down her face: “Don’t be vexed with me! Pray don’t be vexed with me, dear, dear Lady Silverdale! I can’t bear you to be displeased with me, for I wouldn’t displease you for the world, after all your goodness to me!”
Much touched by this speech, Lady Silverdale melted completely, to the extent of shedding a few tears herself; and within the hour told her dresser, when that jealous spinster uttered a sly criticism of Cherry, that she was a nasty, ill-natured creature, and if she ever again dared to speak of Miss Steane as That Miss Steane she would find herself turned off without a character. Upon which, Cardle too burst into tears, but as this display of sensibility was accompanied by lamentations that her own virtues should go unrecognized, and a pious hope that my lady would learn before it was too late who were her real friends, Lady Silverdale was easily able to refrain from succumbing to her own tendency to become lachrymose upon the smallest provocation. She accepted an apology from Cardle, but with chilly dignity; and immediately went off to tell Henrietta that Cardle was growing to be intolerably bumptious, and that if it weren’t for the circumstances of her being such an excellent dresser she would be much inclined to get rid of her. Henrietta knew, of course, that nothing would prevail upon her to put this threat into execution, but her mother’s account of the painful scene which had taken place, made her heart sink. Nothing, she thought, could have more surely increased Cardle’s jealousy of one whom she persisted in believing to be her rival. She embarked on the task of peace-making, soothing her ruffled parent by agreeing that Cardle was detestably uppish, but saying that she was so devoted to her mistress that she resented it if even Mama’s own daughter dared to perform any service for her which she regarded as her sole prerogative. “Do, pray, say something kind to her, Mama, when she puts you to bed tonight! She’ll cry herself to sleep, if she thinks you are still angry with her!”
Charity Girl Page 16
