Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  “I am ready to hear whatever you may wish to say, sir,” replied Sophia; “only,” she added, half-raising her eyes to look round the circle, and permitting them to rest for half an instant on her cousin Algernon, “only, it appears to me, that the party is rather large for the transaction of private business.”

  Mrs. Heathcote instantly rose to leave the room, Florence, Algernon, and the eldest of Mrs Heathcote’s daughters (the only one of them present) following her example. But there was something so nearly approaching to quiet impertinence in the tone in which she had spoken, and the manner in which she retained her place while putting her aunt and cousins to the rout, as to rouse a feeling of opposition in her younger guardian, which induced him to say, “Surely, Mrs. Heathcote, it cannot be necessary for you to leave your usual sitting-room, in order to furnish us with a secret council-chamber for our consultations. Cannot you and I, Major, attend Miss Sophia to some other room, without disturbing Mrs and the Misses Heathcote?”

  “We can go into my little study, if Sophia has no objection,” replied the Major, endeavouring to address the young lady in his usual tone, but nevertheless with a slight shade of deference in his manner, of which she was perfectly aware.

  “Where you please, sir,” she replied. “It is a matter of perfect indifference to me.”

  Algernon rubbed his hands, and almost clapped them with delight, at perceiving the approach of the heiress-like graces he was looking out for. Florence raised her eyes from the needle-work she had just taken up, and for a moment looked earnestly at her cousin. The heiress chanced to catch that sweet yet somewhat startled look, and it produced, unconsciously perhaps, a trifling toss of the head, which gave a dignified sort of air to her exit. “For what we are going to receive Heaven make us patient!” said Algernon, as the door closed behind her.

  A very small room, with a very small fire in it, received Miss Martin Thorpe and her guardians. The good Major did the honours of it, as well as he might, by placing two out of its three chairs on each side of the chimney, and depositing his own person on the third, with a little table before him, in the front of it. it was not from reverence to Sir Charles Temple’s superior rank, that the elder guardian appeared desirous of yielding to him the honour of opening the conference, for Major Heathcote was really a gentleman, and not accustomed to give either more or less of deference to any, than the established etiquettes of society demanded. He knew perfectly well that on this occasion, as much the older man, he ought to take the lead; but he had always felt a sort of shyness before his niece Sophy, of which he was unconscious with almost anybody else. Even when she was the destitute object of his charity, it was very nearly the same. There are some tempers which, though they rarely push their owners into a quarrel, manage to keep all kinder and gentler natures at arm’s length. Such may be seen in every station of society, exercising a sort of power that is exceedingly mysterious. It is certainly a repulsive power, and therefore not greatly to be envied; yet still it is power, and when seen, as it very often may be, in a menial dependent exercising a most disagreeable, yet seemingly irresistible influence upon those above him, it has something very puzzling in it. It is only the kind temper, however, that suffers from this species of repulsion. But there is many a gentle mistress, ay, and master too, who with the power of chasing the discordant individual from about them, endure the unpronounced, but ever felt, ill-humour for years, and go on, painfully puzzling to guess what it is that has offended Richard, or Robert, Betty, or Jane. Perhaps this sort of annoyance arises oftener from a dependent than an equal; for the species of temper which suffers from it, would find it more easy to seek a prompt explanation from one above, than from one below them. There had always been a sort of dumb sensitiveness about Sophia Martin which had kept her cheerful spirited, kind-hearted, protectors ever on the watch not to offend her; and, for the most part, their children followed their example, constantly yielding, where they could discover what her wishes were, and only wishing that cousin Sophy would just say what she did like.

  Algernon, indeed, though a fine-hearted creature too, could not, on this point, be correctly classed in the same category as the rest of his race. Nature had bestowed upon him an intuitive keenness of perception, which, had circumstances nurtured it, might have given him a good deal of Machiavellian acuteness; and even, as it was, he contrived to dip deeper into the hidden workings of the human natures around him, than most people. Where his father, mother, brothers, and sisters read in the impassible stillness of Sophia Martin the shrinking sadness of dependent poverty, he perceived a spirit galled indeed, but wanting occasion only to make it rampant. He discovered pride, obstinacy, selfishness, and cunning, where the rest saw only melancholy, indifference, a broken spirit, and a most sad though silent nature. The consequence of this was, that, though nobody loved, he alone hated her; and cordially did she pay him for it. For every other member of the family she felt rather a comfortable sort of contempt, but towards him her feelings were of a very different nature. Florence too, since the important expedition to Thorpe-Combe, had taken rather a different place in her estimation from that which she had previously occupied. From considering her as a silly chit, easily led by the nose, with no talent in the world but an unprofitable passion for reading, and a voice that broke the air into vibrations which seemed most unaccountably to tickle every ear but her own, she suddenly perceived that she was beautiful, and that everybody, in a greater or less degree, perceived it too. She certainly did not like her the better for this, and was quite avare that it would be more agreeable to be without her than with her. But until this disagreeable discovery was made, Florence was decidedly the individual whom she the least disliked in the family of her benefactors; for in fact it was very difficult to dislike Florence Heathcote; but, of course, when all sorts of eyes were seen to fix themselves upon her with admiration, there was more to object to in her than before.

  To return, however, from this long digression, to the trio in Major Heathcote’s study. It was Sir Charles Temple who now again opened the subject they had retired thither to discuss.... “I cannot doubt, Miss Martin Thorpe,” he said, “that the novelty of the circumstances in which you find yourself, and the suddenness with which the change has come upon you, would render meditation and perfect tranquillity much more agreeable to you than being thus early obliged to turn your attention to business.... But I assure you it is a matter of necessity.”

  “I have no wish, sir,” replied Sophia, gravely, and with great distinctness of enunciation, “to indulge in any reveries which may interfere with the transaction of necessary business,”

  “Indeed!.... I am extremely glad to hear you say so,” returned Sir Charles, feeling a very rapid approach in the same order of sentiments towards the young lady, which he well knew filled the heart of his friend Algernon. “This will enable me to enter, without any farther ceremony, upon the only question whereon I conceive it will be necessary to trouble you for your opinion, before I leave England. Your excellent uncle Major Heathcote, and myself, wish to learn from you — in case we find, as I imagine we shall, the financial part of both schemes equally within reach of the income we can prudently afford to spend; we wish, Miss Martin Thorpe, to learn from you what mode of life you would prefer during the period of your minority.”

  “Before I can answer that question, Sir Charles Temple, it will be necessary for me to inquire what varieties of choice are in my power as long as I remain under the legal protection of yourself and Major Heathcote.”

  “A very pertinent question, Miss Martin Thorpe, and one that Major William Henry Heathcote and myself have fully made up our minds how to answer. We cannot, of course, permit you to reside anywhere, without the personal protection of the only guardian who is capable of taking the charge of you. It follows, therefore, that you must reside with him and his family, in his house, or that he and his family must reside with you in yours. I must know, before I leave England, which of these two plans is to be decided on, as the rate of a
llowance which I shall have to sanction w ill entirely depend upon this. Of course you can easily understand this, without our detaining you now to enter into particulars.”

  “Would it be necessary for the whole of Major Heathcote’s family to reside with me, were I to decide upon immediately taking up my residence at Thorpe-Combe?” demanded the heiress.

  Sir Charles Temple had very fine eyes, and he gave her a look (it was but for half an instant), which made her turn her face a little away from him, in order to contemplate the fire.

  “Which members of the family, Miss Martin Thorpe, would you propose to dismiss from the parental protection before you take advantage of it for yourself?” said he.

  Perhaps Sir Charles Temple might fancy that it would be some time after this, before the young lady would turn her eyes again from the fire to himself; and perhaps the kind-hearted Major Heathcote might think that poor Sophy would feel quite cut up by receiving so much sharper an answer than had ever been given her before, since she had entered the house. But if they did so think and so fancy, they were altogether mistaken. A full-fledged nest of hornets holds not itself more ready for attack and defence, when occasion calls for or permits it, than did Miss Martin Thorpe. She started at the words, thus addressed to her, and the movement brought her head and her eyes again full in front of her young guardian. The hitherto penniless girl felt her new power in every swelling vein; and, though her eyes were by no means such handsome eyes as those of Sir Charles Temple, they served indifferently well to express what she thought of him. They looked at each other very steadily for a minute or two, in silence, Major Heathcote sitting rather uneasily in his chair the while; and then, having recourse to the poker, with which he very unnecessarily lessened the quantity of fuel which the grate contained. Sir Charles, at length, not greatly admiring the aspect of the young lady’s silence, was about to break it, but ere he could do so, she said, “I presume, Sir Charles Temple, it is not necessary that before you leave England I should accurately settle all the minor circumstances of my house and home?.... There are likely enough to be many points that it will be necessary for Major Heathcote’s family and myself to arrange, in which we shall not at all require your assistance; and, at the present moment, I wish to banish all such from our discussion. What I shall require to know, before I give the answer you ask of me, is, what the difference of expense is likely to be between my submitting to continue my residence here during my minority, and my taking possession of my own mansion at Thorpe-Combe?”

  A slight smile passed across the countenance of the young baronet. The vulgar proverb, “Set a beggar on horseback, etc.,” occurred to him forcibly. “Yet she rides well,” thought he, as he contemplated the calm, cold, yet haughty expression of the little brown face before him. “Only I must take care that she does not manage her steed so as to trample us all in the dust. Poor Florence!.... Lovely, gay-hearted, innocent, Florence! What a home will this odious girl’s mansion make for her! “As this last thought crossed him the whole expression of his countenance changed, he fixed his eyes upon the carpet, and, instead of giving the sort of answer which a minute before he felt disposed to do, he turned to Major Heathcote, and said, “Will you have the kindness, my dear sir, to consult with Mrs. Heathcote upon this subject? It will be, I think, for you to make an estimate of the sum you should deem sufficient to repay you for continuing to receive Miss Martin Thorpe as a member of your family here, on one side of the question, and, on the other, to state what sum it would be convenient for you to pay her towards her maintaining a suitable establishment at Thorpe-Combe, provided you consent to remove your family thither.”

  “Exactly so,” said the heiress, rising. “Be so good, Major Heathcote, as to let me receive both these statements in writing, and I will not keep you long waiting for my answer.” So saying she rose, and walked out of the room with the same quietness of movement as heretofore, but with a step that had lost all its doubting timidity, and an eye that no longer spoke of shyness or of fear.

  She did not trouble herself to shut the door she had passed through; but the Major, recovering from the sort of paralysis which had seemed to hold him chained, while she remained, Started up, and gently closing it stood leaning with his back against it, as if to secure himself and his companion from her return.

  “She has lost her senses, Sir Charles Temple,” said he. “Upon my soul and honour I think the poor little girl is gone mad.”

  “No, Major. She is not mad; but I am afraid that we shall find it necessary to take considerable care that she does not make us so. I hope you will forgive my sincerity, but I declare to you that I am unable to conceive the possibility of any young lady’s appearing more detestable under such a change of circumstances, than this Sophia Martin Thorpe. I am sadly fearful that your family will find a residence with her intolerably disagreeable, let her decide which way she will.”

  The good Major sighed, and for him deeply, for he was by no means of a desponding temper, but the recollection of Sophia’s look as she left the room, and of her words and manner while she remained in it, did cause him for a few moments some disagreeable forebodings. But he shook them off, as he had sometimes done in days of yore the thoughts of a coming siege or a threatened storming, by a rather vague but very firm belief, that whatever came upon him, would be exactly what it would be best and most right should come. “We must not take up sorrow at interest, Sir Charles. Things don’t look very promising, I confess; but they may turn out better, perhaps, than we think for. Luckily we have no very bad tempers among us, and my wife never quarrelled with anybody in her life, I believe, unless it was with my boy Algernon for not taking care enough of himself.”

  “If anybody living could turn discord into harmony, I believe most truly that she could do it,” replied Sir Charles, with very earnest sincerity. “But depend upon it, she has no easy task before her. Poor Algernon too, so keenly observant as he is, so rapid to descry motives, and so nobly indignant where he finds them base, how will he ever endure the perverse impertinence of this girl?”

  “My dear Sir Charles,” replied Major Heathcote, “your position in society renders you too independent of circumstances to permit your submitting yourself patiently to them. But with us the case is different. My eldest boy is rather a singular sort of fellow, I confess, and his good step-mother has petted and spoiled him not a little; nevertheless he knows perfectly well that my circumstances are a good deal straitened, and that we must do, and not do, many things which might be more agreeably arranged were we rich. But Algernon has too much good sense, and loves tis all a great deal too well, to suffer his dislike to his cousin to increase our difficulties. I wish, dear fellow, he were a little stouter, for he has excellent abilities, and were I not afraid, and my wife still more so, of his being sent from home, lest his returning health should suffer from want of care, I have little doubt, that I could get him to Sandhurst, and give him a fair chance of following my own profession with credit. If we keep him with us much longer, he will be too old for it; he was sixteen his last birthday, and though I flatter myself he could pass a very creditable examination, for we are none of us idle, I should opt choose him to go at in age when he ought to be quite past competition With the other boys. The idea of sending him at once certainly suggests itself now, with greater force, from my feeling persuaded that he would suffer more from the high and mighty airs which this poor girl seems inclined to assume, than any of us.”

  “Does Algernon himself seem desirous of adopting the army as a profession?” demanded Sir Charles.

  “I cannot say he does. But in what other have I any hope of poshing him forward?” returned the Major.

  The young baronet did not answer this question, but remained silently and absently turning over the leaves of a volume be bad taken front the chimney piece.

  “I do not very well know how to set about making the statements our young heiress asks for,” resumed Major Heathcote, after permitting the silence to endure for several minutes. “On
What data are we to proceed, Sir Charles? The income of the property is about three thousand a year, is it not?”

  “Rather more than less, I believe.”

  “And what do you think would be a proper allowance for the owner of it during the last year of minority?”

  “I think, Major Heathcote, that an answer to that question, in order to be reasonable, must be entirely guided by circumstances. If it were left, for instance, to a girl who was residing in good and sufficient style with her own parents, who neither wished nor wanted payment for her maintenance with them, a couple of hundred a year would be Sufficient; but if the young lady’s future prospects in life might be supposed to depend upon a style of life that must, as in this case, be of necessity supported by her own property, I should not consider two thousand as at all beyond the mark.”

  “Two thousand pounds is a very handsome income, Sir Charles; and to a girl brought up as Sophy Martin has been, must, I should think, appear enormous. Of course, I should be willing to contribute the same sum that I expend here to assist the establishment, if it be settled that we all remove to Thorpe-Combe. That is about five hundred a year; and if you think two thousand would suffice to keep up the place in sufficient style for a minor, fifteen hundred a year would be all that we should find it necessary to allow her.”