Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  “Anyhow, aunt, I do hope you’ll manage to stop, till I’m sure of coming after you, for I should like to be housekeeper at the Combe, before I was counting my full six-and-twenty. It would make all the people stare so.”

  “Well, Nancy, I have done my part towards it, and I’ll stand it; garrets, little boys washing, ginger sweetmeat, and all — if she don’t come too sharp over me.”

  * * * * *

  Whatever else Miss Martin Thorpe might be, she was not an idle young woman; and considering that in all she did, she had a very strong averseness to spending more money than Was absolutely necessary (excepting indeed where her own personal indulgences were particularly concerned), considering this, it was quite astonishing to see how rapidly she made all the arrangements necessary for the manner of living she had sketched out for herself.

  Without the loss of a single day, workmen were sent into the house to prepare the apartments she intended for her own especial use. Sophia had seen something of luxury among some few extravagant people in whose neighbourhood her parents had lived and died; and she liked it well enough to have a very tolerably clear notion how to set about making herself comfortable. The great room, in which Mr. Thorpe had slept, was soon converted into a gay-looking handsome sitting-room, upon the door of which she determined to set a solemn seal, never to be removed without her especial permission. The smaller room next to it was fitted up with every possible attention to comfort, as her bed-room; and on this occasion no expense was spared to obtain exactly the thing she wished, and obtain it quickly. The carpenters, painters, and upholsterer of Hereford, delighted to perceive the active spirit of improvement so promptly set to work upon the long-untouched mansion, were careful not to check it by any dilatoriness on their parts, and the work went on with such rapidity, that the two rooms were ready to be occupied in their metamorphosed state within six weeks after the metamorphosis began. But rapidly as Miss Martin Thorpe, and the ministers she employed, proceeded in what they were about, the time seemed rather mysteriously long to the Heathcote family, and after in vain awaiting for three weeks the premised summons from his ward, Major Heathcote thought it advisable to address her with an inquiry as to whether she had changed her plans respecting them The return of the post brought him the following reply: —

  “DEAR SIR, “I am sorry that you should feel disappointed at not having heard from me. I have lost no time since my arrival at the Combe in doing what I felt necessary in repairs and alterations, so as to render the house capable of accommodating all who are to be lodged in it. The distance at which some of my most agreeable neighbours reside renders it necessary that I should have many spare bed-rooms, and this consideration of course adds to the difficulty. A few weeks, however, will, I hope, be sufficient to finish what I shall think it necessary to do, and I will not fail to let you know when I am ready to receive you and your family. Meanwhile, I must beg to observe that it will be particularly convenient to me if you can immediately settle your three daughters at the school you spoke of. Their coming here just at present would unsettle all my arrangements very disagreeably, and, therefore, I cannot for a moment doubt that what you have so wisely determined to do, you will do at once. I beg to be kindly remembered to all your circle, and “I am, dear sir, “Sincerely yours, “SOPHIA MARTIN THORPE.”

  The whole family, excepting those who were at a distance, and the two little boys in the nursery, heard this letter read aloud. They looked at each other a little, and then the Major said, “I am afraid, Poppsy, that she Is laying out a great deal of money in preparing for us. Young people who have not been much used to the management of money, make sad blunders before they find out how far it will go. I had no notion she meant to do anything to the house. It seemed to me large enough for us all, and a dozen more.”

  “Not if the young lady looks forward to haying such a vast deal of staying company,” replied Mrs. Heathcote,... “But what nonsense that is!” she added. “Where is she to get company from? We never saw a single soul while we were mere.... And I must say that I do take it very ill-natured of her not letting the poor dear girls have a sight of the place before they go to school. They had so set their young hearts upon it.”

  “Oh, nevermind that, mamma said the eldest of the three, who had a large portion of the family good-humour.... “We shall see it at the holidays, you know.... and the going to school is pleasure and novelty enough for one bout. I declare I think it will be better to divide the two journeys into two different times of the year. And everything may be quite ready, you know, for our going to school just the same as for going to Thorpe-Combe.”

  “That’s true, dear, and you are a dear good girl for saying it,” said Mrs. Heathcote.... “But do tell me, Florence, are you not a good deal surprised at your cousin’s talking in this extravagant style, about altering her house and having such quantities of company?”

  “I don’t think that my cousin Sophy will ever be extravagant, mamma,” replied Florence, with a merry smile. “And I never should have guessed it either, from anything I have ever seen of her.... but yet this letter looks as if she was intending to set off in fine style.”

  “And she has a very fine fortune, my dear, to support it,” said Major Heathcote. “I am chiefly vexed that she should think it necessary to put herself to any extra expense about preparing for us. I am sure we were exceedingly well lodged at Christmas, and could not wish for anything better, if we had to continue for years. It is a great pity that she should think of spending money in preparing rooms for us.... But as for the dear girls going to school a week or two sooner, it would be childish to make any objection. The Misses Western will be ready for them at a day’s notice, and it will save a good deal of travelling backwards and forwards.”

  In short “the Heathcotes” again proved upon this occasion, that they were by no means difficult people to manage, a fact which it is highly probable Miss Martin Thorpe had ascertained, before she consented to pass her minority under their protection. The young heiress meanwhile was taking measures to make it known In the neighbourhood of Thorpe-Combe that she was by no means averse to society. Mr. Westley the lawyer, with whom she had, of necessity, repeated Interviews, was enabled to state this from the very best authority; and Mr. Bentall the apothecary, who was called in to prescribe for a trifling attack of indigestion, left her presence, equally capable of circulating this important fact. To both these gentlemen, as well as to the clergyman of the parish, and his obliging wife, who of course had waited upon her immediately, Sophia talked much of the kindness of both her guardians in permitting her immediately to occupy her own house, in consideration of the shortness of her minority. She mentioned also the obligingness of Major and Mrs. Heathcote in having consented to become her guests, with their whole family, till she should be of age. It somehow or other happened, accidentally of course, that not one of these personages were left in ignorance as to the nature of the engagement she had entered into with her guardian, namely, that she had positively refused to permit their remaining with her otherwise than as honoured guests beneath her hospitable roof.

  It can hardly be doubted that such accounts as these professionally communicative persons were thus enabled to spread, produced the desired effect... In fact before Miss Martin Thorpe had displayed her crape and bombasin in “church and market,” for a month, most of the families in her immediate neighbourhood had called upon her. She was not perhaps calculated to make a very vehement impression at first sight, but the general impression was decidedly in her favour, as a neighbour who wished to be sociable.

  Mr. Westley, the lawyer, thought she would live to make an excellent woman of business, Mr, Bentall, the apothecary, said she was just the sort of person to become a blessing to the neighbourhood, perfectly affable, and certainly inclined a little to dyspepsia. Mr. Ogleby, the clergyman, declared himself exceedingly well pleased with his new parishioner; and the ladies of all three spoke in terms of high admiration of her style of mourning, so perfectly lady-like, rich, and
not fantastical in any way, and as deep as if it had beep for her father; a sort of respectfulness that showed an excellent turn of mind in one so young. Their daughters hoped she would give parties, for she was so civil and quiet looking that they should never be afraid of her giving herself airs, though she was such a great fortune. Nor was there less of unanimity in the judgment passed by their sons; all of them being of opinion that she would be a capital good catch for some one, and that, with four thousand a year, people wouldn’t be particular about her complexion.

  Sophia herself was in as good humour with her new acquaintance, as they were with her. She had no propensity whatever to quizzing; and when people displeased her, her feelings were of a kind rather to place her in the class which it has pleased “the great moralist” to say “he liked,” than among those who suffer their antipathies to evaporate in a jest. What she sought was the gratification of a vulgar sort of pride; which was essentially a part of herself; but which hitherto had been crushed and chained down by circumstances, too overpowering to leave the passion place to show itself, yet not of a nature to smother it outright... And now, like a plant that during the long winter has shown no sign of life, but puts forth vigorous shoots at the first warm breath of the fostering spring, it sprouted and flourished, and reared its head on high, with a vigorous strength that seemed almost to laugh at heaven itself. Under the influence of such a feeling as this, it will be easily understood by those who love to study shades of character, that the highly-born, and all who in any way were decidedly her superiors in station, were less valuable to her than such as she knew were gazing upon her greatness with admiration, and almost with wonder. Persons tinctured with the species of pride which beset Miss Martin Thorpe, are often exceedingly condescending; and if they spoke sincerely, would, one and all, (provided the thought were skilfully brought down to earthly littleness, ) be ready to exclaim —

  “Better to rule in Hell, than serve in Heaven.”

  Of all the neighbours who had yet visited her, she decidedly gave the preference to an old lady, her son and daughter, who all lived together in an old-fashioned house, upon the income of a small freehold estate, which had the dignity of being long-descended, but the disadvantage of being hardly sufficient to maintain them. The old lady, being near eighty, was pretty well hors de combat; but the son and daughter, the former, aged forty, and the latter, thirty-six, made themselves agreeable, in a variety of ways, to the young heiress. Their approaches at first, however, were made with the slow and solemn step that indicates profound respect. Never before had Sophia been addressed as a being superior to all who surrounded her — never, till Miss Brandenberry mentioned the circumstance to her, had she been aware of the peculiar charm of her voice and manner, or of the extraordinary influence she produced on all who approached her, by the tranquil dignity of every movement and of every word.

  Miss Brandenberry and her brother were the first visitors she received in her own private sitting-room; and it was there, too, that, for the first time, she learned to understand the charm which all her individual peculiarities communicated to everything which in any degree proceeded from herself.

  “Could you not have said, Richard, if you had been brought into this room blindfold, and knew not in what house or in what county it was situated, could you not have said, Richard, that it must have been conceived and arranged by Miss Martin Thorpe herself?”

  “I could have sworn it!” replied Mr. Brandenberry, with a slight sigh.

  “It is so like her!.... That mouse-coloured paper, with the delicate pink flowers upon it, and the chintz so elegantly to match!.... It all reminds one of her in a way I cannot describe.”

  “You need not describe it, Margaret; the feeling describes itself,” rejoined Mr. Brandenberry. And this time he appeared to be very strongly affected by the remark; for he left his chair, though it bad the advantage of being exactly opposite to Miss Martin Thorpe, and walked to the window, blowing his nose when he got there, in the way people do blow their noses when they have some very strong emotion to get rid of. —

  “DO you sit much in this sweet room?” said Mr. Brandenberry, gently returning to his place, but moving his chair so as to sit beside the young lady, instead of in front of her. “Are many of your solitary hours passed in this Elysium of your own creation?”

  The effect of this question was considerably increased by Mr. Brandenberry’s fixing his large, languishing, heavy, grey eyes so earnestly on Miss Martin Thorpe’s small black ones, that, a she never had had anything of the same sort happen to her before, she felt “quite odd,” as she would have herself expressed it, and actually turned away, and looked down, as she ‘replied, “Oh, dear, yes!.... I quite live here.”

  With an eager movement, Mr. Brandenberry now started up, and flew to the windows. “Margaret!” he exclaimed, “must not those be the very windows we see from the leads of the Terrace summer-house? I am almost certain of it. How very singular!”

  “Why is it singular, Mr. Brandenberry?” said Sophia, with a smile.

  “Why?.... Good Heaven!.... I beg your pardon, Miss Martin Thorpe, you must forgive me.... But it is so impossible.... That is, I mean, it is so difficult....”

  “Well then, do be quiet, Richard,” said his sister, appearing rather anxiously to interrupt him, “what is difficult is generally dangerous. I don’t know what is come to you.... I believe, Miss Martin Thorpe,” continued Miss Brandenberry, playfully, “that my brother is going to turn poet. He is decidedly growing absent and fanciful.”

  “Are the symptoms quite new to him?” returned Sophia, in the same tone.

  “Perfectly. I never saw anything of the kind in him till within the last few weeks..., But when I can get hold of a page, you may depend upon it I will bring it to you. As it will be a first beginning, however, we must be merciful in our criticisms.”

  “Are you a merciful critic, Miss Martin Thorpe?... or a hard and cruel one?” said Mr. Brandenberry, again ordering his eyes upon duty, “I suppose that would depend upon the sort of poetry,” said Sophia, again looking away from him.

  “Your grounds appear to be excessively beautiful, Miss Martin Thorpe,” said the cautious sister, interposing very judiciously. “My brother and I were too young to know much about the late Mr. Thorpe’s family, during the time that they were in the habit of visiting in the neighbourhood. My poor father, indeed, was the most intimate friend, I believe, that Mr. Thorpe had, when he first came to reside here for good, after returning from his embassy to Madrid, My poor father was such a genealogist! You know people always care particularly, for what they are remarkable for, themselves; and there was nothing that my poor dear father loved so much as talking about old long-descended families and their pedigrees. And your late uncle had so many delightful Spanish stories, about the old pedigrees of that country! But Richard was quite a little boy then, and I believe I was hardly born, so that we can hardly remember the happy time of this delightful intimacy... And, therefore, dear Miss Martin Thorpe, I am going to ask you the greatest of all possible favours. My brother and I are passionately fond of rambling in woods and shrubberies, and your late uncle lived, at last, in so retired a manner that we never ventured to intrude by coming into the grounds, and what I want you to grant, is the permission for my brother and me to walk sometimes in your woods. There is a little gate, you know, that opens upon a cross road, that runs behind Broad Grange, and if you would have the excessive kindness and condescension to let us have a key made for that gate, I declare you would make me the happiest creature alive.”

  “I do not know what gate you speak of,” said the cautious Sophia, hesitatingly.

  “Is it possible!” cried Mr. Brandenberry, waving the business like part of the transaction, and coming to the sentimental. “Is it possible, Miss Martin Thorpe, that you have never rambled through your own beautiful woods as far as the gate that opens upon Mill Lane?”

  “No, indeed, I have never yet walked in the woods at all: I have been so very busy since
I came to the place. But I will certainly walk to see the gate you mention. I mean to know everything about the premises by degrees.”

  “Oh, Margaret! fancy, — just fancy the delight of showing Miss Martin Thorpe the cataract for the first time!... Will you, oh will you let me — let us, I mean, be your guides when you walk to that gate?”

  Sophia had a very decided preference for poking about her property by herself, when examining it for the first time; and what she liked best to do, that, as her cousin Algernon had observed, it was most likely she would do. Nevertheless she did not feel at all disposed to be churlish to her neighbours at Broad Grange, and therefore replied, “When the spring is a little farther advanced, I should like such a walk very much; but I cannot hear mud.”