Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  “Think!” repeated Mr. Brandenberry, after the interval of two or three minutes, and with a sigh that seemed to relieve an almost suffocating oppression on his breast. “Think!.... what do I think of it?... Margaret, Margaret!.... There was no need of this!”

  “Poor fellow!” cried his sister, evidently much touched. “I guessed how it would strike him.... Come, come, Richard!.... Don’t turn away your eyes in that manner,” she added, as if endeavouring to give a playful turn to the subject. “What in the world will Miss Martin Thorpe think of you?.... She must suppose, of course, that she is too ugly to be looked at.”

  “Margaret!.... You are unfeeling,” said Mr. Brandenberry, in a low, mournful voice, and passing his hand across his forehead, as if, poor gentleman, he would have willingly wiped away the impression he had all-too-strongly received; then, taking along striding step or two across the room, he remained for a moment at the open window, and the balmy breath of spring which entered there having done much towards restoring his composure, he returned to the spot where the two ladies still stood, and said, with an abashed and most truly penitent air, “Miss Martin Thorpe,.... I know not how to apologise to you as I ought;.... Forget and forgive my weakness. Poor Margaret is very thoughtless! It is dangerous playing with edged tools.... But no more of this.... Your head-dress is, indeed, beautifully arranged, and the county of Hereford will, by seeing you in this costume, know, at once, how.... how very lovely a creature is added to their society.” Feeling, probably, that he had reached a climax from which it would not be advantageous to descend abruptly, Mr. Brandenberry made signal to his faithful Margaret that it was time to go, and they departed accordingly, the brother and sister comparing notes on the progress they believed themselves to be making towards the brilliant object of their common hope; and the heiress, as she now, with lingering enjoyment, perused each separate jewel in the glass, paying herself many pleasant compliments in her heart, upon the superiority of wisdom, which thus enabled her to enjoy the passionate admiration of a lover, without running the very slightest risk of being beguiled by it into bestowing her wealth upon him.

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  A very gentle, modest hint from Miss Brandenberry about the capability of an old coach to hold six persons, not having taken effect, Major and Mrs. Heathcote, Florence, and, lastly, the jewelled heiress herself, made their entrée into the Hereford ball-room without any native guard whatever. As it was the decided though secret purpose of Miss Martin Thorpe to produce as much sensation by her entrance, as possible, she had ordered her horses rather at a late hour, and the room, as she had intended it should be, was full when they arrived. It was exceedingly fortunate for the success of Sophia’s projected coup de théâtre that she followed the advice of her Brandenberry friends, and adorned herself with those speaking appendages of wealth, which had been so happily brought to light; for without this very legible label, it is extremely probable that the late Mr. Thorpe’s penniless niece, Florence, might have carried away all eyes from his rich niece, Sophia. Nothing, certainly, could be more unpretending than Florence’s plain white frock and black ribbons, nothing more simple than the smoothly laid braids of her glossy brown hair. But nature will, sometimes, puzzle the most accomplished gentleman-usher, and Florence is not the first undowered girl, whose slight, tall figure, swan-like neck, and graceful step, may have thrown into the shade a stunted, brown, dull-looking little body, with three or four thousand a-year. But what shade is obscure enough to conceal the glitter of diamonds? Certainly none that an English ball-room can throw; and, accordingly, no eye blundered, though some few juvenile ones might wander, as the party walked up the room, and Miss Martin Thorpe, the heiress of Thorpe-Combe, stood as unmistakably conspicuous before all the assembly, as she could have herself desired. —

  Many, more accustomed to find themselves the centre of a circle of eyes, might, however, have borne it worse than our young heiress. The quiet, posé, demure look of her email features was in no degree altered, though, perhaps, her gait was a little more stiff than usual, from the consciousness of the precious weight she carried on her head! —

  Several of the neighbouring families who had already called upon her, crowded round to pay their compliments. To some of these Major Heathcote and his wife had been already introduced, and those who had not, requested the favour without loss of time, the guardian of nearly four thousand a-year being, by nomeans, apersontobe neglected. But, as it happened, the pretty Florence had never been beheld by any eye in that assembly before, and it certainly speaks well for the independent spirit of the young county gentlemen, that no less than three of them desired to be presented, and asked her to dance, though the rumour was speedily circulated that she was one of twenty children, and that her father, the Major, had nothing but his half-pay to live upon.

  A cruel accident, a very cruel accident, had prevented Mr and Miss Brandenberry from being in the ball-room when the chosen of both their hearts entered it. A jibbing post-horse had absolutely refused to mount a certain hill which rose between Broad Grange and the town of Hereford; and for a few dreadful moments it appeared very uncertain whether, after all their efforts, the brother and sister would not have been obliged to give up this important meeting with the heiress at her first ball, and walk back, pumps satin shoes, and all, leaving her to the unimpeded agreeableness or all the single men far and near. After an excruciating interval, however, a neighbouring farmer lent a cart-horse, by whose aid the anxious pair were at length safely deposited at the wished-for door.

  The sort of eagerness with which they sought the figure of her whom alone of all the world they wished to see, may be more easily imagined than described. It was with a perfect thrill of delight that Miss Brandenberry at length discerned an object at once both black and brilliant, at the farthest extremity of the room. “There, Richard, there!)” she whispered with an almost convulsive grasp of the fraternal arm on which she rested. “For heaven’s sake, come on!” And on they went; but ere they had made their way to the spot where she had been visible, Miss Martin Thorpe had already walked off under the escort of some far happier man, and taken her place in a quadrille.

  “Go up at once, and remind her that she is engaged to you, Richard!” said the firm-minded and resolute Margaret.

  “I can’t!,... It is impossible!” replied her tortured brother. “Don’t you see that she is dancing with Lord Thelwell?”

  “Merciful Heaven! Was there ever anything one ten thousandth part so provoking?” cried poor Miss Brandenberry. “That is precisely the very thing that I was most anxious to prevent. If she once takes it into her head to fancy that she is as fashionable as she is rich, I would not give one penny for your chance, let her believe you to be ever so much dying for her. I know how she will behave, I am quite sure that she will hardly speak to us.... But go, at any rate, go Richard! and stand looking at her just where she can see you. It is folly to give up in such a cowardly way at once.”

  The exemplary brother obeyed without uttering a word; and was better rewarded for his obedience than he had dared hope to be. It happened that Sophia’s vis-à-vis was no other than her cousin Florence, and before the young nobleman who had taken out the heiress had performed two figures with her, the watchful Mr. Brandenberry perceived to a certainty that he inquired of Miss Martin Thorpe who the lady was who had spoken to her as they made their traversée. He perceived, too, and his heart beat joyously as he made the remark, that from that moment the noble steward was infinitely more occupied in looking at the pretty lady than in talking to the rich one; and when at last the dance being over he noted the look of frowning displeasure with which Miss Martin Thorpe complied with Lord Thelwell’s request, and presented him to her cousin, the most sanguine hope arose that he should derive important benefit from the whole adventure. He had taken effectual care, according to his sister’s instructions, that Sophia should see him hovering near her — and he was conscious that the passionate misery his eyes had expressed must appear in very favourabl
e contrast with the indifferent air and careless nonchalance with which the young nobleman now led her back to her place, and seated her by the side of Mrs. Heathcote.

  Mr. Brandenberry wasted no farther time in watching Lord Thelwell; quite satisfied that he had not only asked Florence to dance, but also that he had desired an introduction to her father; and feeling a satisfactory assurance that this evident and offensive preference of her beautiful cousin to herself would put her in the most favourable state of mind possible for receiving a stronger display of his own devotion than he had ever yet ventured upon, he drew near her with the aspect of a man so borne down with sorrow and disappointment as hardly to have sufficient energy left to sustain the hated load of existence.

  He remained for at least a minute exactly in front of her before she perceived he was there, so intently was she occupied, apparently, in drawing up her short little white gloves, but really in watching from the corner of her eye the tone and style in which her late noble partner who had not pronounced three words while he was dancing with her, was now exhibiting his conversational powers to her cousin.

  But the strength of man could endure this situation no longer, and Miss Martin Thorpe’s oblique contemplations were interrupted by a profound sigh so close to her that she looked up with a start.

  “You are come then, at last, Mr. Brandenberry? I supposed, by not seeing you in the room, that you had given up your intention of being at the ball?” said she.

  For an instant Mr. Brandenberry’s only answer was given by steadily fixing the large languishing grey eyes which have been already mentioned, upon the sharp small black ones of the heiress. But as soon as the young lady, notwithstanding her steadiness of character, could bear it no longer, and turned away her head, a signal which Mr. Brandenberry always watched for as a cook does for the rising up of the milk in her skillet, to convince him that the fire of his passion had in this way been applied long enough, he replied, “How comes it, can you tell me?... Dearest and best Miss Martin Thorpe! Can you tell me how it is that you, with an eye that seems gifted with the power of looking into the very heart and soul of man, can so mistake as to believe that one who has for weeks lived upon the dear hopes to which the anticipation of this ball gave birth, could give up his intention of coming to it?... Would to Heaven I had the power to do so!” he added hastily, and in a voice so low that had he not at the same time dropped into the vacant chair that was beside her, and permitted his lips very nearly to touch her ear, she could not have heard him. As it was, however, she did hear him, and she knew perfectly well what he meant. Mr. Brandenberry perceived this, by a slight, a very slight approach to a smile at one corner of her mouth; but as her general demeanour continued as calm and composed as usual, he ventured to go on, and before the orchestra gave them to understand that it was time they should take their places, if it were their intention to dance in the next quadrille, he had made as vehement love as a gentleman in a ball-room could make, short of saying, “Will you marry me?”

  They joined the set that was nearest to them, and Miss Martin Thorpe certainly found this dance a good deal more agreeable than the last. But notwithstanding the necessity of attending to the figure, and, notwithstanding that she listened to every one of Mr. Brandenberry’s speeches, and now and then said two or three words in reply, the reflective Sophia found time to make up her mind very decidedly on one point — namely, that the choosing a partner for life, and a partner for a dance, ought not to be regulated by the same principles — an original and very profound thought, which is here recorded rather for the sake of the young than the old reader.

  Florence, meanwhile, was very quietly going through her quadrille with Lord Thelwell, enjoying that sort of peaceful indifference which engaged young ladies only can taste, and which renders even a first ball a matter of nearly as little importance as a first puppet show. Florence, indeed, had not even the gentle stimulant of perceiving that she was greatly admired by a score or two of persons whom she never saw before, and did not feel particularly anxious ever to see again — for not being used to the sort of thing, the tolerably well-bred symptoms of it escaped her attention entirely.

  The flair Miss Brandenberry, notwithstanding she had the advantage of knowing nearly every gentleman in the room, was not so fortunate as the young débutantes, for she got no partner at all. The circumstance, however, was not new to her, so, like the eels of natural-historical celebrity, she did not much mind it, but amused herself, as she had often done before, by distinguishing dresses that were her old acquaintance, from dresses that were not, and by watching whether young Mr. This danced with young Miss The other, as often this ball as the last. She had, moreover, in addition to these accustomed sources of amusement, two others, which greatly helped to pass away the time. The first, was the noting with an anxious but well-contented eye, the rather unusual portion of conversation which her brother was mixing up with his dance with the heiress. “Ah, ha!” thought she, in her usual lively spirit of remark, “Richard is not only dancing a set with her, but a set at her.”

  The other source of extra entertainment which this amiable descendant of a long line of county ancestors found for herself, while wandering round and round what she was wont to call “her native ball-room,” was derived from the examination of an object which all individuals of the race of Brandenberry, from the beginning of time, have delighted to honour with their particular attention, whenever any such have been encountered at their county balls, — namely, a stranger.

  Leaning on the arm of the Earl of Broughton, the still youthful-looking father of Lord Thelwell, was a gentleman, but little resembling in appearance any of the persons who were usually seen there. His complexion was extremely dark, and, what but rarely accompanies this, his head was nearly bald; but though the spare fringe of crisped black hair which yet remained on the back part of it was sprinkled with grey, he did not altogether appear to be an old man. He wore a thin moustache, which contrasted with the shaven and-shorn air of the rest of his head and face, gave him very much the look of a Chinese; and a quick, jerking, sort of gesticulation which seemed to accompany every word he uttered, suggested to Miss Brandenberry the idea that he must be a foreigner. But let him be what he would, no doubt could be entertained as to his being somebody; for Lord Broughton seemed to devote his whole attention to him, evidently following wherever he led, and assiduously bending his tall person to the level of his jerking companion, as if anxious not to lose a word he said.

  It was in vain that Miss Brandenberry asked every soul she met, who that strange-looking person was, that Lord Broughton had got with him; no one appeared better informed, though many were as curious as herself.

  Finding all inquiry vain, she gave it up, and began to hover about the quadrille in which Miss Martin Thorpe and her brother were dancing in order to be in readiness to catch a few rays from that distinguished young lady’s diamonds, and a few words from her lips, as soon as the dance ended.

  In this, her success was as great as she could reasonably expect; for Miss Martin Thorpe presented two fingers to her, and said, “How do you do, Miss Brandenberry?” with very nearly her usual degree of cordiality, though Mrs. Templeton, and two of the Misses Brickerley, both county families of four horse-power gentility, came up to pay their compliments almost at the same time. She had, moreover, the great satisfaction of seeing these ladies, as well as two or three others, who, in like manner approached the heiress, retire again, after a very few words spoken and answered; for, to say truth, there was something in the still, solemn aspect of little Miss Martin Thorpe, which did not greatly tend to exhilarate the spirits of those who approached her, and when people come to a ball they do not wish to be frozen if they can help it.

  Perceiving this, Miss Brandenberry resolved at once to attach herself, without shyness, or hesitation of any kind, to the Thorpe-Combe party. By hazarding this step she would, beyond all question, be giving an immense advantage to Richard, and she might, moreover, find it extremely pleasant to
sit and chat with that good-natured looking Mrs. Heathcote, to whom she had never happened to be introduced before, because, when she had asked Miss Martin Thorpe’s permission one morning, to wait upon her and her daughter, it had been found upon inquiry that the ladies were not at home. But this was an excellent opportunity for making the acquaintance; and as soon as she perceived that Miss Martin Thorpe was left to herself, and at liberty to reseat herself by the side of her chaperon, she preferred her request for an introduction, which was immediately complied with.

  Mr Brandenberry had, by this time, undeniably advanced a degree or two farther in Miss Martin Thorpe’s estimation, than when he had first entered the ball-room; and the reason of this was, that though he had once been seen to look full in the face of Florence Heathcote, he had never turned his eyes towards her again, or given in any way the slightest indication of wishing for an introduction, or of having anything to say to her whatever. This showed a degree of gentlemanlike, rational good sense, which she had never remarked in Sir Charles Temple; who had disgusted her extremely by running the risk of spoiling the poor unfortunate child, though knowing that she had only her own industry to depend upon, and that, merely for the sake of amusing himself with the silly prattle of a girl who had nothing on earth to recommend her but her trumpery beauty.

  In contrast with such conduct as this, Mr. Brandenberry’s behaviour certainly appeared to great advantage; and when, after their quadrille was ended, he once more stationed himself before her, with his eyes riveted (as the phrase goes) upon her face, she actually made a movement which very plainly indicated a request that he would be pleased to sit down by her. His sister Margaret, at the other extremity of the bench, was hardly less fortunate, having succeeded in edging herself in between Mrs. Heathcote and Florence, who had both smiled with the most perfect good-humour when she made a remark about crowding them.