CHAPTER XXIII.
NEW FACES.
The inmates of Fairoaks were drowsily pursuing this humdrum existencewhile the great house upon the hill, on the other side of the RiverBrawl, was shaking off the slumber in which it had lain during the livesof two generations of masters, and giving extraordinary signs of renewedliveliness.
Just about the time of Pen's little mishap, and when he was so absorbedin the grief occasioned by that calamity as to take no notice of eventswhich befell persons less interesting to himself than Arthur Pendennis,an announcement appeared in the provincial journals which caused nosmall sensation in the county at least, and in all the towns, villages,halls and mansions, and parsonages for many miles round Clavering Park.At Clavering Market, at Cackleby Fair; at Chatteries Sessions; onGooseberry Green, as the squire's carriage met the vicar's one-horsecontrivance, and the inmates of both vehicles stopped on the road totalk; at Tinkleton Church gate, as the bell was tolling in the sunshine,and the white smocks and scarlet cloaks came trooping over the greencommon, to Sunday worship; in a hundred societies round about--the wordwas, that Clavering Park was to be inhabited again.
Some five years before, the county papers had advertised the marriage atFlorence, at the British Legation, of Francis Clavering, Esq., only sonof Sir Francis Clavering, Bart., of Clavering Park, with Jemima Augusta,daughter of Samuel Snell, of Calcutta, Esq., and widow of the late J.Amory, Esq. At that time the legend in the county was that Clavering,who had been ruined for many a year, had married a widow from India withsome money. Some of the county folks caught a sight of the newly-marriedpair. The Kickleburys, traveling in Italy had seen them. Claveringoccupied the Poggi Palace at Florence, gave parties, and livedcomfortably--but could never come to England. Another year--youngPeregrine, of Cackleby, making a long vacation tour, had fallen in withthe Claverings occupying Schloss Schinkenstein, on the Mummel See. AtRome, at Lucca, at Nice, at the baths and gambling places of the Rhineand Belgium, this worthy couple might occasionally be heard of by thecurious, and rumors of them came, as it were by gusts, to Clavering'sancestral place.
Their last place of abode was Paris, where they appear to have lived ingreat fashion and splendor after the news of the death of Samuel Snell,Esq., of Calcutta, reached his orphan daughter in Europe.
Of Sir Francis Clavering's antecedents little can be said that would beadvantageous to that respected baronet. The son of an outlaw, livingin a dismal old chateau near Bruges, this gentleman had made a feebleattempt to start in life with a commission in a dragoon regiment, andhad broken down almost at the outset. Transactions at the gambling-tablehad speedily effected his ruin; after a couple of years in the army hehad been forced to sell out, had passed some time in Her Majesty'sprison of the Fleet, and had then shipped over to Ostend to join thegouty exile, his father. And in Belgium, France, and Germany, for someyears, this decayed and abortive prodigal might be seen lurking aboutbilliard-rooms and watering-places, punting at gambling-houses, dancingat boarding-house balls, and riding steeple-chases on other folks'horses.
It was at a boarding-house at Lausanne, that Francis Clavering made whathe called the lucky _coup_ of marrying the widow Amory, very latelyreturned from Calcutta. His father died soon after, by consequence ofwhose demise his wife became Lady Clavering. The title so delighted Mr.Snell of Calcutta, that he doubled his daughter's allowance; and dyinghimself soon after, left a fortune to her and her children, the amountof which was, if not magnified by rumor, something very splendid indeed.
Before this time there had been, not rumors unfavorable to LadyClavering's reputation, but unpleasant impressions regarding herladyship. The best English people abroad were shy of making heracquaintance; her manners were not the most refined; her origin waslamentably low and doubtful. The retired East Indians, who are to befound in considerable force in most of the continental towns frequentedby English, spoke with much scorn of the disreputable old lawyer andindigo-smuggler her father, and of Amory, her first husband, who hadbeen mate of the Indiaman in which Miss Snell came out to join herfather at Calcutta. Neither father nor daughter were in society atCalcutta, or had ever been heard of at Government House. Old Sir JasperRogers, who had been Chief Justice of Calcutta, had once said to hiswife, that he could tell a queer story about Lady Clavering's firsthusband; but greatly to Lady Rogers's disappointment, and that of theyoung ladies his daughters, the old judge could never be got to revealthat mystery.
They were all, however, glad enough to go to Lady Clavering's parties,when her ladyship took the Hotel Bouilli in the Rue Grenelle at Paris,and blazed out in the polite world there in the winter of 183-. TheFaubourg St. Germain took her up. Viscount Bagwig, our excellentembassador, paid her marked attention. The princes of the familyfrequented her salons. The most rigid and noted of the English ladiesresident in the French capital, acknowledged and countenanced her; thevirtuous Lady Elderbury, the severe Lady Rockminster, the venerableCountess of Southdown--people, in a word, renowned for austerity, andof quite a dazzling moral purity:--so great and beneficent an influencehad the possession of ten (some said twenty) thousand a year exercisedupon Lady Clavering's character and reputation. And her munificenceand good-will were unbounded. Any body (in society) who had a scheme ofcharity was sure to find her purse open. The French ladies of piety gotmoney from her to support their schools and convents; she subscribedindifferently for the Armenian patriarch; for Father Barbarosa, who cameto Europe to collect funds for his monastery on Mount Athos; for theBaptist Mission to Quashyboo, and the Orthodox Settlement in Feefawfoo,the largest and most savage of the Cannibal Islands. And it is onrecord of her, that, on the same day on which Madame de Cricri got fiveNapoleons from her in support of the poor persecuted Jesuits, who wereat that time in very bad odor in France, Lady Budelight put her down inher subscription-list for the Rev. J. Ramshorn, who had had a visionwhich ordered him to convert the Pope of Rome. And more than this, andfor the benefit of the worldly, her ladyship gave the best dinners, andthe grandest balls and suppers, which were known at Paris during thatseason.
And it was during this time, that the good-natured lady must havearranged matters with her husband's creditors in England, for SirFrancis re-appeared in his native country, without fear of arrest; wasannounced in the Morning Post, and the county paper, as having taken uphis residence at Mivart's Hotel; and one day the anxious old housekeeperat Clavering House beheld a carriage and four horses drive up the longavenue, and stop before the moss-grown steps in front of the vastmelancholy portico.
Three gentlemen were in the carriage--an open one. On the back seat wasour old acquaintance, Mr. Tatham of Chatteries, while in the placesof honor sate a handsome and portly gentleman enveloped in mustaches,whiskers, fur collars, and braiding, and by him a pale, languid man,who descended feebly from the carriage, when the little lawyer, and thegentleman in fur, had nimbly jumped out of it.
They walked up the great moss-grown steps to the hall-door, and aforeign attendant, with ear-rings, and a gold-laced cap, pulledstrenuously at the great bell-handle at the cracked and sculptured gate.The bell was heard clanging loudly through the vast, gloomy mansion.Steps resounded presently upon the marble pavement of the hall within;and the doors opened, and, finally, Mrs. Blenkinsop, the housekeeper,Polly, her aid-de-camp, and Smart, the keeper, appeared, bowing humbly.
Smart, the keeper, pulled the wisp of hay-colored hair which adornedhis sunburned forehead, kicked out his left heel, as if there were adog biting at his calves, and brought down his head to a bow. Old Mrs.Blenkinsop dropped a courtesy. Little Polly, her aid-de-camp, made acourtesy, and several rapid bows likewise; and Mrs. Blenkinsop, with agreat deal of emotion, quavered out, "Welcome to Clavering, Sir Francis.It du my poor eyes good to see one of the family once more."
The speech and the greetings were all addressed to the grand gentlemanin fur and braiding, who wore his hat so magnificently on one side, andtwirled his mustaches so royally. But he burst out laughing, and said,"You've saddled the wrong horse, old lady--
I'm not Sir Francis Claveringwhat's come to revisit the halls of my ancestors. Friends and vassals!behold your rightful lord!"
And he pointed his hand toward the pale, languid gentleman, who said,"Don't be an ass, Ned."
"Yes, Mrs. Blenkinsop, I'm Sir Francis Clavering; I recollect you quitewell. Forgot me, I suppose?--How-dy-do?" and he took the old lady'strembling hand; and nodded in her astonished face, in a not unkindmanner.
Mrs. Blenkinsop declared upon her conscience that she would have knownSir Francis any where, that he was the very image of Sir Francis hisfather, and of Sir John who had gone before.
"O yes--thanky--of course--very much obliged--and that sort of thing,"Sir Francis said, looking vacantly about the hall. "Dismal old place,ain't it Ned? Never saw it but once, when my governor quarreled with mygwandfather, in the year twenty-thwee."
"Dismal?--beautiful!--the Castle of Otranto!--the Mysteries of Udolpho,by Jove!" said the individual addressed as Ned. "What a fire-place! Youmight roast an elephant in it. Splendid carved gallery! Inigo Jones, byJove! I'd lay five to two it's Inigo Jones."
"The upper part by Inigo Jones; the lower was altered by the eminentDutch architect, Vanderputty, in George the First his time, by SirRichard, fourth baronet," said the housekeeper.
"O, indeed," said the baronet. "Gad, Ned, you know every thing."
"I know a few things, Frank," Ned answered. "I know that's not a Snydersover the mantel-piece--bet you three to one it's a copy. We'll restoreit, my boy. A lick of varnish, and it will come out wonderfully, sir.That old fellow in the red gown, I suppose, is Sir Richard."
"Sheriff of the county, and sate in parliament in the reign of QueenAnne," said the housekeeper, wondering at the stranger's knowledge;"that on the right is Theodosia, wife of Harbottle, second baronet, byLely, represented in the character of Venus, the Goddess of Beauty--herson Gregory, the third baronet, by her side, as Cupid, God of Love, witha bow and arrows; that on the next panel, is Sir Rupert, made a knightbanneret by Charles the First, and whose property was confuscated byOliver Cromwell."
"Thank you--needn't go on, Mrs. Blenkinsop," said the baronet. "We'llwalk about the place ourselves. Frosch, give me a cigar. Have a cigar,Mr. Tatham?"
Little Mr. Tatham tried a cigar which Sir Francis's courier handed tohim, and over which the lawyer spluttered fearfully, "Needn't come withus, Mrs. Blenkinsop. What's-his-name--you--Smart--feed the horses andwash their mouths. Shan't stay long. Come along, Strong,--I know theway; I was here in twenty-thwee, at the end of my gwandfather's time."And Sir Francis and Captain Strong, for such was the style and title ofSir Francis's friend, passed out of the hall into the reception-rooms,leaving the discomfited Mrs. Blenkinsop to disappear by a side-door,which led to her apartments, now the only habitable rooms in thelong-uninhabited mansion.
It was a place so big that no tenant could afford to live in it; and SirFrancis and his friend walked through room after room, admiring theirvastness, and dreary and deserted grandeur. On the right of the halldoor were the saloons and drawing-rooms, and on the other side the oakroom, the parlor, the grand dining-room, the library, where Pen hadfound books in old days. Round three sides of the hall ran a gallery, bywhich, and corresponding passages, the chief bed-rooms were approached,and of which many were of stately proportions and exhibited marks ofsplendor. On the second story was a labyrinth of little discomfortablegarrets, destined for the attendants of the great folks who inhabitedthe mansion in the days when it was first built; and I do not know anymore cheering mark of the increased philanthropy of our own times, thanto contrast our domestic architecture with that of our ancestors, and tosee how much better servants and poor are cared for now, than in timeswhen my lord and my lady slept under gold canopies, and their servantslay above them not so airy or so clean as stables are now.
Up and down the house the two gentlemen wandered, the owner of themansion being very silent and resigned about the pleasure of possessingit; whereas, the captain, his friend, examined the premises with somuch interest and eagerness, that you would have thought he was themaster, and the other the indifferent spectator of the place. "I seecapabilities in it--capabilities in it, sir," cried the captain. "Gad,sir, leave it to me, and I'll make it the pride of the country, at asmall expense. What a theater we can have in the library here, thecurtains between the columns which divide the room! What a famous roomfor a galop! it will hold the whole shire. We'll hang the morning parlorwith the tapestry in your second salon in the Rue de Grenelle, andfurnish the oak room with the Moyen-age cabinets and the armor. Armorlooks splendid against black oak, and there's a Venice glass in the QuaiVoltaire, which will suit that high mantle-piece to an inch, sir. Thelong saloon, white and crimson of course; the drawing-room yellow satin;and the little drawing-room light blue, with lace over--hay?"
"I recollect my old governor caning me in that little room," Sir Francissaid, sententiously; "he always hated me, my old governor."
"Chintz is the dodge, I suppose, for my lady's rooms--the suite inthe landing, to the south, the bed-room, the sitting-room, and thedressing-room. We'll throw a conservatory out, over the balcony. Wherewill you have your rooms?"
"Put mine in the north wing," said the baronet, with a yawn, "and outof the reach of Miss Amory's confounded piano. I can't bear it. She'sscweeching from morning till night."
The captain burst out laughing. He settled the whole further arrangementsof the house in the course of their walk through it; and, the promenadeended, they went into the steward's room, now inhabited by Mrs.Blenkinsop, and where Mr. Tatham was sitting, poring over a plan of theestate, and the old housekeeper had prepared a collation in honor of herlord and master.
Then they inspected the kitchen and stables, about both of which SirFrancis was rather interested, and Captain Strong was for examining thegardens: but the baronet said, "D---- the gardens, and that sort ofthing!" and finally, he drove away from the house as unconcernedly as hehad entered it; and that night the people of Clavering learned that SirFrancis Clavering had paid a visit to the Park, and was coming to livein the county.
When this fact came to be known at Chatteries, all the folks in theplace were set in commotion: High Church and Low Church, half-paycaptains and old maids and dowagers, sporting squireens of the vicinage,farmers, tradesmen, and factory people--all the population in and roundabout the little place. The news was brought to Fairoaks, and receivedby the ladies there, and by Mr. Pen, with some excitement. "Mrs. Pybussays there is a very pretty girl in the family, Arthur," Laura said, whowas as kind and thoughtful upon this point as women generally are: "aMiss Amory, Lady Clavering's daughter by her first marriage. Of course,you will fall in love with her as soon as she arrives."
Helen cried out, "Don't talk nonsense, Laura." Pen laughed, and said,"Well, there is the young Sir Francis for you."
"He is but four years old," Miss Laura replied. "But I shall consolemyself with that handsome officer, Sir Francis's friend. He was atchurch last Sunday, in the Clavering pew, and his mustaches werebeautiful."
Indeed, the number of Sir Francis's family (whereof the members have allbeen mentioned in the above paragraphs) was pretty soon known in histown, and every thing else, as nearly as human industry and ingenuitycould calculate, regarding his household. The Park avenue and groundswere dotted now with town folks, of the summer evenings, who made theirway up to the great house, peered about the premises, and criticised theimprovements which were taking place there. Loads upon loads of furniturearrived in numberless vans from Chatteries and London; and numerous asthe vans were, there was not one but Captain Glanders knew what itcontained, and escorted the baggage up to the Park House.
He and Captain Edward Strong had formed an intimate acquaintanceby this time. The younger captain occupied those very lodgings atClavering, which the peaceful Smirke had previously tenanted, and wasdeep in the good graces of Madame Fribsby, his landlady; and of thewhole town, indeed. The captain was splendid in person and raiment;fresh-colored, blue-eyed, black-whiskered, broad-
chested, athletic--aslight tendency to fullness did not take away from the comeliness of hisjolly figure--a braver soldier never presented a broader chest to theenemy. As he strode down Clavering High-street, his hat on one side, hiscane clanking on the pavement, or waving round him in the execution ofmilitary cuts and soldatesque manoeuvres--his jolly laughter ringingthrough the otherwise silent street--he was as welcome as sunshine tothe place, and a comfort to every inhabitant in it.
On the first market-day he knew every pretty girl in the market: hejoked with all the women; had a word with the farmers about their stock,and dined at the Agricultural Ordinary at the Clavering Arms, where heset them all dying with laughing by his fun and jokes. "Tu be sure he bea vine feller, tu be sure that he be," was the universal opinion of thegentlemen in top-boots. He shook hands with a score of them, as theyrode out of the inn-yard on their old nags, waving his hat to themsplendidly as he smoked his cigar in the inn-gate. In the course of theevening he was free of the landlady's bar, knew what rent the landlordpaid, how many acres he farmed, how much malt he put in his strong beer;and whether he ever run in a little brandy, unexcised by kings, fromBaymouth, or the fishing villages along the coast.
He had tried to live at the great house first; but it was so dull hecouldn't stand it. "I am a creature born for society," he told CaptainGlanders. "I'm down here to see Clavering's house set in order; forbetween ourselves, Frank has no energy, sir, no energy; he's not thechest for it, sir (and he threw out his own trunk as he spoke); but Imust have social intercourse. Old Mrs. Blenkinsop goes to bed at seven,and takes Polly with her. There was nobody but me and the Ghost for thefirst two nights at the great house, and I own it, sir, I like company.Most old soldiers do."
Glanders asked Strong where he had served? Captain Strong curled hismustache, and said with a laugh, that the other might almost ask wherehe had _not_ served. "I began, sir, as cadet of Hungarian Uhlans, andwhen the war of Greek independence broke out, quitted that servicein consequence of a quarrel with my governor, and was one of sevenwho escaped from Missolonghi, and was blown up in one of Botzaris'sfireships, at the age of seventeen. I'll show you my Cross of theRedeemer, if you'll come over to my lodgings and take a glass of grogwith me, captain, this evening. I've a few of those baubles in my desk.I've the White Eagle of Poland; Skrzynecki gave it me" (he pronouncedSkrzynecki's name with wonderful accuracy and gusto); "upon the fieldof Ostrolenka, I was a lieutenant of the fourth regiment, sir, and wemarched through Diebitsch's lines--bang thro' 'em into Prussia, sir,without firing a shot. Ah, captain, that was a mismanaged business.I received this wound by the side of the king before Oporto--where hewould have pounded the stock-jobbing Pedroites, had Bourmont followed myadvice; and I served in Spain with the king's troops, until the death ofmy dear friend, Zumalacarreguy, when I saw the game was over, and hungup my toasting iron, captain. Alava offered me a regiment, the Queen'sMuleteros; but I couldn't--damme, I couldn't--and now, sir, you know NedStrong--the Chevalier Strong they call me abroad--as well as he knowshimself."
In this way almost every body in Clavering came to know Ned Strong. Hetold Madame Fribsby, he told the landlord of the George, he told Bakerat the reading-rooms, he told Mrs. Glanders, and the young ones, atdinner: and, finally, he told Mr. Arthur Pendennis, who, yawning intoClavering one day, found the Chevalier Strong in company with CaptainGlanders; and who was delighted with his new acquaintance.
Before many days were over, Captain Strong was as much at home inHelen's drawing-room as he was in Madame Fribsby's first floor; andmade the lonely house very gay with his good humor and ceaseless flowof talk. The two women had never before seen such a man. He had athousand stories about battles and dangers to interest them--about Greekcaptives, Polish beauties, and Spanish nuns. He could sing scores ofsongs, in half a dozen languages, and would sit down to the piano andtroll them off in a rich manly voice. Both the ladies pronounced him tobe delightful--and so he was; though, indeed, they had not had muchchoice of man's society as yet, having seen in the course of their livesbut few persons, except old Portman and the major, and Mr. Pen, who wasa genius, to be sure; but then your geniuses are somewhat flat and moodyat home.
And Captain Strong acquainted his new friends at Fairoaks, not only withhis own biography, but with the whole history of the family now comingto Clavering. It was he who had made the marriage between his friendFrank and the widow Amory. She wanted rank, and he wanted money. Whatmatch could be more suitable? He organized it; he made those two peoplehappy. There was no particular romantic attachment between them; thewidow was not of an age or a person for romance, and Sir Francis, if hehad his game at billiards, and his dinner, cared for little besides. Butthey were as happy as people could be. Clavering would return to hisnative place and country, his wife's fortune would pay his encumbrancesoff, and his son and heir would be one of the first men in the county.
"And Miss Amory?" Laura asked. Laura was uncommonly curious about MissAmory.
Strong laughed. "Oh, Miss Amory is a muse--Miss Amory is a mystery--MissAmory is a _femme incomprise_." "What is that?" asked simple Mrs.Pendennis--but the chevalier gave her no answer; perhaps could not giveher one. "Miss Amory paints, Miss Amory writes poems, Miss Amory composesmusic, Miss Amory rides like Diana Vernon. Miss Amory is a paragon, ina word."
"I hate clever women," said Pen.
"Thank you," said Laura. For her part she was sure she should be charmedwith Miss Amory, and quite longed to have such a friend. And with thisshe looked Pen full in the face, as if every word the little hypocritesaid was gospel truth.
Thus, an intimacy was arranged and prepared beforehand between theFairoaks family and their wealthy neighbors at the Park; and Pen andLaura were to the full as eager for their arrivals, as even the mostcurious of the Clavering folks. A Londoner, who sees fresh faces andyawns at them every day, may smile at the eagerness with which countrypeople expect a visitor. A cockney comes among them, and is rememberedby his rural entertainers for years after he has left them, andforgotten them very likely--floated far away from them on the vastLondon sea. But the islanders remember long after the mariner has sailedaway, and can tell you what he said, and what he wore, and how he lookedand how he laughed. In fine, a new arrival is an event in the country,not to be understood by us, who don't and had rather not, know who livesnext door.
When the painters and upholsterers had done their work in the house, andso beautified it, under Captain Strong's superintendence, that he mightwell be proud of his taste, that gentleman announced that he should goto London, where the whole family had arrived by this time, and shouldspeedily return to establish them in their renovated mansion.
Detachments of domestics preceded them. Carriages came down by sea, andwere brought over from Baymouth by horses which had previously arrivedunder the care of grooms and coachmen. One day the "Alacrity" coachbrought down on its roof two large and melancholy men, who were droppedat the park lodge with their trunks, and who were Messieurs Frederic andJames, metropolitan footmen, who had no objection to the country, andbrought with them state and other suits of the Clavering uniform.
On another day, the mail deposited at the gate a foreign gentleman,adorned with many ringlets and chains. He made a great riot at the lodgegate to the keeper's wife (who, being a West-country woman, did notunderstand his English or his Gascon French), because there was nocarriage in waiting to drive him to the house, a mile off, and becausehe could not walk entire leagues in his fatigued state and varnishedboots. This was Monsieur Alcide Mirobolant, formerly Chef of hisHighness the Duc de Borodino, of H. Eminence Cardinal Beccafico, and atpresent Chef of the bouche of Sir Francis Clavering, Baronet:--MonsieurMirobolant's library, pictures, and piano, had arrived previously incharge of the intelligent young Englishman, his aid-de-camp. He was,moreover, aided by a professed female cook, likewise from London, whohad inferior females under her orders.
He did not dine in the steward's room, but took his nutriment in solitudein his own apartments, where a female servant was aff
ected to hisprivate use. It was a grand sight to behold him in his dressing-gowncomposing a _menu_. He always sate down and played the piano for sometime before that. If interrupted, he remonstrated pathetically with hislittle maid. Every great artist, he said, had need of solitude toperfectionate his works.
But we are advancing matters, in the fullness of our love and respectfor Monsieur Mirobolant, and bringing him prematurely on the stage.
The Chevalier Strong had a hand in the engagement of all the Londondomestics, and, indeed, seemed to be the master of the house. There werethose among them who said he was the house-steward, only he dined withthe family. Howbeit, he knew how to make himself respected, and two ofby no means the least comfortable rooms of the house were assigned tohis particular use.
He was walking upon the terrace finally upon the eventful day, when,amid an immense jangling of bells from Clavering Church, where the flagwas flying, an open carriage and one of those traveling chariots orfamily arks, which only English philo-progenitiveness could invent,drove rapidly with foaming horses through the park gates, and up to thesteps of the hall. The two _battans_ of the sculptured door flew open.Two superior officers in black, the large and melancholy gentlemen, nowin livery with their hair in powder, the country menials engaged to aidthem, were in waiting in the hall, and bowed like tall elms when autumnwinds wail in the park. Through this avenue passed Sir Francis Claveringwith a most unmoved face; Lady Clavering with a pair of bright blackeyes, and a good-humored countenance, which waggled and nodded verygraciously: Master Francis Clavering, who was holding his mamma's skirt(and who stopped the procession to look at the largest footman, whoseappearance seemed to strike the young gentleman), and Miss Blandy,governess to Master Francis, and Miss Amory, her ladyship's daughter,giving her arm to Captain Strong. It was summer, but fires of welcomewere crackling in the great hall chimney, and in the rooms which thefamily were to occupy.
Monsieur Mirobolant had looked at the procession from one of thelime-trees in the avenue. "Elle est la," he said, laying his jeweledhand on his richly-embroidered velvet waistcoat with glass buttons. "Jet'ai vue, je te benis, O ma sylphide, O mon ange!" and he dived into thethicket, and made his way back to his furnaces and saucepans.
The next Sunday the same party which had just made its appearance atClavering Park, came and publicly took possession of the ancient pew inthe church, where so many of the baronet's ancestors had prayed, andwere now kneeling in effigy. There was such a run to see the new folks,that the Low Church was deserted, to the disgust of its pastor; and asthe state barouche, with the grays and coachman in silver wig, andsolemn footmen, drew up at the old churchyard gate, there was such acrowd assembled there as had not been seen for many a long day. CaptainStrong knew every body, and saluted for all the company--the countrypeople vowed my lady was not handsome, to be sure, but pronounced heruncommon fine dressed, as indeed she was--with the finest of shawls, thefinest of pelisses, the brilliantest of bonnets and wreaths, and a powerof rings, cameos, brooches, chains, bangles, and other namelessgimcracks; and ribbons of every breadth and color of the rainbow flamingon her person. Miss Amory appeared meek and dove-color like a vestalvirgin--while Master Francis was in the costume then prevalent of RobRoy Macgregor, a celebrated Highland outlaw. The baronet was not moreanimated than ordinarily--there was a happy vacuity about him whichenabled him to face a dinner, a death, a church, a marriage, with thesame indifferent ease.
A pew for the Clavering servants was filled by these domestics, and theenraptured congregation saw the gentlemen from London with "vlower ontheir heeds," and the miraculous coachman with his silver wig, take theirplaces in that pew so soon as his horses were put up at the ClaveringArms.
In the course of the service, Master Francis began to make such ayelling in the pew, that Frederic, the tallest of the footmen, wasbeckoned by his master, and rose and went and carried out MasterFrancis, who roared and beat him on the head, so that the powder flewround about, like clouds of incense. Nor was he pacified until placedon the box of the carriage, where he played at horses with John's whip.
"You see the little beggar's never been to church before, Miss Bell,"the baronet drawled out to a young lady who was visiting him; "no wonderhe should make a row; I don't go in town neither, but I think it's rightin the country to give a good example--and that sort of thing."
Miss Bell laughed, and said, "The little boy had not given aparticularly good example."
"Gad, I don't know, and that sort of thing," said the baronet. "It ain'tso bad neither. Whenever he wants a thing, Frank always cwies, andwhenever he cwies he gets it."
Here the child in question began to howl for a dish of sweetmeats, onthe luncheon table, and making a lunge across the table-cloth, upset aglass of wine over the best waistcoat of one of the guests present, Mr.Arthur Pendennis, who was greatly annoyed at being made to look foolish,and at having his spotless cambric shirt front blotched with wine.
"We do spoil him so," said Lady Clavering to Mrs. Pendennis, fondlygazing at the cherub, whose hands and face were now frothed over withthe species of lather which is inserted in the confection called_meringues a la creme_.
"It is very wrong," said Mrs. Pendennis, as if she had never done such athing herself as spoil a child.
"Mamma says she spoils my brother--do you think any thing could. MissBell? Look at him--isn't he like a little angel?"
"Gad, I was quite wight," said the baronet. "He has cwied, and he hasgot it, you see. Go it, Fwank, old boy."
"Sir Francis is a very judicious parent," Miss Amory whispered. "Don'tyou think so, Miss Bell? I shan't call you Miss Bell--I shall call youLaura. I admired you so at church. Your robe was not well made, nor yourbonnet very fresh. But you have such beautiful gray eyes, and such alovely tint."
"Thank you," said Miss Bell, laughing.
"Your cousin is handsome, and thinks so. He is uneasy _de sa personne_.He has not seen the world yet. Has he genius? Has he suffered? A lady,a little woman in a rumpled satin and velvet shoes--a Miss Pybus--camehere and said he has suffered. I, too, have suffered--and you, Laura,has your heart ever been touched?"
Laura said "No!" but perhaps blushed a little at the idea of thequestion, so that the other said--
"Ah, Laura! I see it all. It is the beau cousin. Tell me every thing. Ialready love you as a sister."
"You are very kind," said Miss Bell, smiling, "and--and it must be ownedthat it is a very sudden attachment."
"All attachments are so. It is electricity--spontaneity. It isinstantaneous. I knew I should love you from the moment I saw you. Doyou not feel it yourself?"
"Not yet," said Laura; "but I dare say I shall if I try."
"Call me by my name, then."
"But I don't know it," Laura cried out.
"My name is Blanche--isn't it a pretty name? Call me by it."
"Blanche--it is very pretty, indeed."
"And while mamma talks with that kind looking lady--what relation isshe to you? She must have been pretty once, but is rather _passee_;she is not well _gantee_, but she has a pretty hand--and while mammatalks to her, come with me to my own room--my own, own room. It's adarling room, though that horrid creature, Captain Strong, did arrangeit. Are you _eprise_ of him? He says you are, but I know better; it isthe beau cousin. Yes--_il a de beaux yeux_. _Je n'aime pas les blondsordinairement. Car je suis blonde moi--je suis Blanche et blonde_,"--andshe looked at her face and made a _moue_ in the glass; and never stoppedfor Laura's answer to the questions which she had put.
Blanche was fair and like a sylph. She had fair hair, with greenreflections in it. But she had dark eyebrows. She had long blackeyelashes, which vailed beautiful brown eyes. She had such a slimwaist, that it was a wonder to behold; and such slim little feet, thatyou would have thought the grass would hardly bend under them. Her lipswere of the color of faint rosebuds, and her voice warbled limpidly overa set of the sweetest little pearly teeth ever seen. She showed themvery often, for they were very pretty. She was very good-natured, a
nd asmile not only showed her teeth wonderfully, but likewise exhibited twolovely little pink dimples, that nestled in either cheek.
She showed Laura her drawings, which the other thought charming. Sheplayed her some of her waltzes, with a rapid and brilliant finger, andLaura was still more charmed. And she then read her some poems, inFrench and English, likewise of her own composition, and which she keptlocked in her own book--her own dear little book; it was bound in bluevelvet with a gilt lock, and on it was printed the title of "MesLarmes."
"Mes Larmes!--isn't it a pretty name?" the young lady continued, who waspleased with every thing that she did, and did every thing very well.Laura owned that it was. She had never seen any thing like it before;any thing so lovely, so accomplished, so fragile and pretty; warblingso prettily, and tripping about such a pretty room, with such a numberof pretty books, pictures, flowers, round about her. The honest andgenerous country girl forgot even jealousy in her admiration. "Indeed,Blanche," she said, "every thing in the room is pretty; and you are theprettiest of all." The other smiled, looked in the glass, went up andtook both of Laura's hands, and kissed them, and sat down to the piano,and shook out a little song, as if she had been a nightingale.
This was the first visit paid by Fairoaks to Clavering Park, in returnfor Clavering Park's visit to Fairoaks, in reply to Fairoaks's cardsleft a few days after the arrival of Sir Francis's family. The intimacybetween the young ladies sprang up like Jack's Bean-stalk to the skiesin a single night. The large footmen were perpetually walking withlittle rose-colored-pink notes to Fairoaks; where there was a prettyhousemaid in the kitchen, who might possibly tempt those gentlemen toso humble a place. Miss Amory sent music, or Miss Amory sent a newnovel, or a picture from the "Journal des Modes," to Laura; or my lady'scompliments arrived with flowers and fruit; or Miss Amory begged andprayed Miss Bell to come to dinner; and dear Mrs. Pendennis, if she wasstrong enough; and Mr. Arthur, if a humdrum party were not too stupidfor him; and would send a pony-carriage for Mrs. Pendennis; and wouldtake no denial.
Neither Arthur nor Laura wished to refuse. And Helen, who was, indeed,somewhat ailing, was glad that the two should have their pleasure; andwould look at them fondly, as they set forth, and ask in her heart thatshe might not be called away until those two beings whom she loved bestin the world should be joined together. As they went out and crossedover the bridge, she remembered summer evenings five-and-twenty yearsago, when she, too, had bloomed in her brief prime of love andhappiness. It was all over now. The moon was looking from the purplingsky, and the stars glittering there, just as they used in the early,well-remembered evenings. He was lying dead, far away, with the billowsrolling between them. Good God! how well she remembered the last look ofhis face as they parted. It looked out at her through the vista of longyears, as sad and as clear as then.
* * * * *
So Mr. Pen and Miss Laura found the society at Clavering Park anuncommonly agreeable resort of summer evenings. Blanche vowed that she_raffoled_ of Laura; and, very likely, Mr. Pen was pleased with Blanche.His spirits came back; he laughed and rattled till Laura wondered tohear him. It was not the same Pen, yawning, in a shooting jacket, in theFairoaks parlor, who appeared, alert and brisk, and smiling and welldressed, in Lady Clavering's drawing-room. Sometimes they had music.Laura had a sweet contralto voice, and sang with Blanche, who had hadthe best continental instruction, and was charmed to be her friend'smistress. Sometimes Mr. Pen joined in these concerts, or oftener lookedsweet upon Miss Blanche as she sang. Sometimes they had glees, whenCaptain Strong's chest was of vast service, and he boomed out in aprodigious bass, of which he was not a little proud.
"Good fellow, Strong--ain't he, Miss Bell?" Sir Francis would say toher. "Plays at _ecarte_ with Lady Clavering--plays any thing, pitch andtoss, pianoforty, cwibbage, if you like. How long do you think he's beenstaying with me? He came for a week with a carpet bag, and, Gad, he'sbeen staying here thwee years. Good fellow, ain't he? Don't know how hegets a shillin, though, begad I don't, Miss Laura."
And yet the chevalier, if he lost his money to Lady Clavering, alwayspaid it; and if he lived with his friend for three years, paid for thattoo--in good humor, in kindness and joviality, in a thousand littleservices by which he made himself agreeable. What gentleman could wanta better friend than a man who was always in spirits, never in the wayor out of it, and was ready to execute any commission for his patron,whether it was to sing a song or meet a lawyer, to fight a duel or tocarve a capon?
Although Laura and Pen commonly went to Clavering Park together, yetsometimes Mr. Pen took walks there unattended by her, and about which hedid not tell her. He took to fishing the Brawl, which runs through thepark, and passes not very far from the garden-wall. And by the oddestcoincidence, Miss Amory would walk out (having been to look at herflowers), and would be quite surprised to see Mr. Pendennis fishing.
I wonder what trout Pen caught while the young lady was looking on? orwhether Miss Blanche was the pretty little fish which played round hisfly, and which Mr. Pen was endeavoring to hook? It must be owned, hebecame very fond of that healthful and invigorating pursuit of angling,and was whipping the Brawl continually with his fly.
As for Miss Blanche, she had a kind heart; and having, as she owned,herself "suffered" a good deal in the course of her brief life andexperience--why, she could compassionate other susceptible beingslike Pen, who had suffered too. Her love for Laura and that dear Mrs.Pendennis redoubled: if they were not at the Park, she was not easyunless she herself was at Fairoaks. She played with Laura; she readFrench and German with Laura; and Mr. Pen read French and German alongwith them. He turned sentimental ballads of Schiller and Goethe intoEnglish verse for the ladies, and Blanche unlocked "Mes Larmes" for him,and imparted to him some of the plaintive outpourings of her own tendermuse.
It appeared from these poems that this young creature had indeedsuffered prodigiously. She was familiar with the idea of suicide. Deathshe repeatedly longed for. A faded rose inspired her with such griefthat you would have thought she must die in pain of it. It was a wonderhow a young creature (who had had a snug home, or been at a comfortableboarding-school, and had no outward grief or hardship to complain of)should have suffered so much--should have found the means of getting atsuch an ocean of despair and passion (as a run-away boy who _will_ getto sea), and having embarked on it, should survive it. What a talent shemust have had for weeping to be able to pour out so many of Mes Larmes!
They were not particularly briny, Miss Blanche's tears, that is thetruth; but Pen, who read her verses, thought them very well for alady--and wrote some verses himself for her. His were very violent andpassionate, very hot, sweet, and strong: and he not only wrote verses;but--O, the villain! O, the deceiver! he altered and adapted formerpoems in his possession, and which had been composed for a certain MissEmily Fotheringay, for the use and to the Christian name of Miss BlancheAmory.
A History of Pendennis, Volume 1 Page 25
