Wives and Daughters (101 page)

‘You are the kindest person I know,’ said she; ‘and I don’t know how to thank you in words.’

‘If you tumble my shirt-collars again in that way, I’ll charge you for the washing. Just now, too, when I’m trying so hard to be trim and elegant, like your Mr. Henderson.’

‘But you do like him, don’t you?’ said Cynthia, pleadingly. ‘He does so like you.’

‘Of course. We’re all angels just now, and you’re an archangel. I hope he’ll wear as well as Roger.’

Cynthia looked grave. ‘That was a very silly affair,’ she said. ‘We were two as unsuitable people—’

‘It has ended, and that’s enough. Besides, I’ve no more time to waste; and there’s your smart young man coming here in all haste.’

Mr. and Mrs. Kirkpatrick sent all manner of congratulations; and Mrs. Kirkpatrick, in a private letter, assured Mrs. Gibson that her ill-timed confidence about Roger should be considered as quite private. For as soon as Mr. Henderson had made his appearance in Hollingford, she had written a second letter, entreating them not to allude to anything she might have said in her first; which she said was written in such excitement on discovering the real state of her daughter’s affections, that she had hardly known what she said, and had exaggerated some things, and misunderstood others: all that she did know now was, that Mr. Henderson had just proposed to Cynthia, and was accepted, and that they were as happy as the day was long, and (‘excuse the vanity of a mother’) made a most lovely couple. So Mr. and Mrs. Kirkpatrick wrote back an equally agreeable letter, praising Mr. Henderson, admiring Cynthia, and generally congratulatory; insisting into the bargain that the marriage should take place from their house in Hyde Park Street, and that Mr. and Mrs. Gibson and Molly should all come up and pay them a visit. There was a little postscript at the end. ‘Surely you do not mean the famous traveller, Hamley, about whose discoveries all our scientific men are so much excited. You speak of him as a young Hamley, who went to Africa. Answer this question, pray, for Helen is most anxious to know.’ This PS. being in Helen’s handwriting. In her exultation at the general success of everything, and desire for sympathy, Mrs. Gibson read parts of this letter to Molly; the postscript among the rest. It made a deeper impression on Molly than even the proposed kindness of the visit to London.

There were some family consultations; but the end of them all was that the Kirkpatrick invitation was accepted. There were many small reasons for this, which were openly acknowledged, but there was one general and unspoken wish to have the ceremony performed out of the immediate neighbourhood of the two men whom Cynthia had previously rejected; that was the word now to be applied to her treatment of them. So Molly was ordered and enjoined and entreated to become strong as soon as possible, in order that her health might not prevent her attending the marriage; Mr. Gibson himself, though he thought it his duty to damp the excellent anticipations of his wife and her daughter, being not at all averse to the prospect of going to London, and seeing half-a-dozen old friends, and many scientific exhibitions, independently of the very fair amount of liking which he had for his host, Mr. Kirkpatrick himself.

T
he whole town of Hollingford came to congratulate and inquire into particulars. Some indeed—Mrs. Goodenough at the head of this class of malcontents—thought that they were defrauded of their right to a fine show by Cynthia’s being married in London. Even Lady Cumnor was moved into action. She, who had hardly ever paid calls ‘out of her own sphere,’ who had only once been to see ‘Clare’ in her own house—she came to congratulate after her fashion. Maria had only just time to run up into the drawing-room one morning, and say—

‘Please, ma’am, the great carriage from the Towers is coming up to the gate, and my lady the Countess is sitting inside.’ It was but eleven o’clock, and Mrs. Gibson would have been indignant at any commoner who had ventured to call at such an untimely hour, but in the case of the peerage the rules of domestic morality were relaxed.

The family ‘stood at arms,’ as it were, till Lady Cumnor appeared in the drawing-room; and then she had to be settled in the best chair, and the light adjusted before anything like conversation began. She was the first to speak; and Lady Harriet, who had begun a few words to Molly, dropped into silence.

‘I have been taking Mary—Lady Cuxhaven—to the railway station on this new line between Birmingham and London,
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and I thought I would come on here, and offer you my congratulations. Clare, which is the young lady?’—putting on her glasses, and looking at Cynthia and Molly, who were dressed pretty much alike. ‘I did not think it would be amiss to give you a little advice, my dear,’ said she, when Cynthia had been properly pointed out to her as bride-elect. ‘I have heard a good deal about you; and I am only too glad for your mother’s sake,—your mother is a very worthy woman, and did her duty very well while she was in our family—I am truly rejoiced, I say, to hear that you are going to make so creditable a marriage. I hope it will efface your former errors of conduct—which we will hope were but trivial in reality—and that you will live to be a comfort to your mother,—for whom both Lord Cumnor and I entertain a very sincere regard. But you must conduct yourself with discretion in whatever state of life it pleases God to place you, whether married or single. You must reverence your husband, and conform to his opinion in all things. Look up to him as your head, and do nothing without consulting him.’—It was as well that Lord Cumnor was not amongst the audience; or he might have compared precept with practice.—‘Keep strict accounts; and remember your station in life. I understand that Mr.—’ looking about for some help as to the name she had forgotten ‘Henderson—Henderson is in the law. Although there is a general prejudice against attorneys, I have known two or three who are very respectable men; and I am sure Mr. Henderson is one, or your good mother and our old friend Gibson would not have sanctioned the engagement.’

‘He’s a barrister,’ put in Cynthia, unable to restrain herself any longer. ‘Barrister-at-law.’
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‘Ah, yes. Attorney-at-law. Barrister-at-law. I understand without your speaking so loud, my dear. What was I going to say before you interrupted me? When you have been a little in society you will find that it is reckoned bad manners to interrupt. I had a great deal more to say to you, and you have put it all out of my head. There was something else your father wanted me to ask—what was it, Harriet?’

‘I suppose you mean about Mr. Hamley?’

‘Oh, yes! we are intending to have the house full of Lord Hollingford’s friends next month, and Lord Cumnor is particularly anxious to secure Mr. Hamley.’

‘The squire?’ asked Mrs. Gibson in some surprise. Lady Cumnor bowed slightly, as much as to say, ‘If you did not interrupt me I should explain.’

‘The famous traveller—the scientific Mr. Hamley, I mean. I imagine he is son to the squire. Lord Hollingford knows him well; but when we asked him before, he declined coming, and assigned no reason.’

Had Roger indeed been asked to the Towers and declined? Mrs. Gibson could not understand it. Lady Cumnor went on—

‘Now this time we are particularly anxious to secure him, and my son Lord Hollingford will not return to England until the very week before the Duke of Atherstone is coming to us. I believe Mr. Gibson is very intimate with Mr. Hamley; do you think he could induce him to favour us with his company?’

And this from the proud Lady Cumnor; and the object of it Roger Hamley, whom she had all but turned out of her drawing-room two years ago for calling at an untimely hour; and whom Cynthia had turned out of her heart. Mrs. Gibson was surprised, and could only murmur out that she was sure Mr. Gibson would do all that her ladyship wished.

‘Thank you. You know me well enough to be aware that I am not the person, nor is the Towers the house, to go about soliciting guests. But in this instance I bend my head; high rank should always be the first to honour those who have distinguished themselves by art or science.’

‘Besides, mamma,’ said Lady Harriet, ‘papa was saying that the Hamleys have been on their land since before the Conquest; while we only came into the county a century ago; and there is a tale that the first Cumnor began his fortune through selling tobacco in King James’s reign.’

If Lady Cumnor did not exactly shift her trumpet and take snuff there on the spot, she behaved in an equivalent manner. She began a low-toned but nevertheless authoritative conversation with Clare about the details of the wedding, which lasted until she thought it fit to go, when she abruptly plucked Lady Harriet up, and carried her off in the very midst of a description she was giving to Cynthia about the delights of Spa, which was to be one of the resting-places of the newly-married couple on their wedding-tour.

Nevertheless, she prepared a handsome present for the bride: a Bible and a Prayer-book bound in velvet with silver clasps; and also a collection of household account-books, at the beginning of which Lady Cumnor wrote down with her own hand the proper weekly allowance of bread, butter, eggs, meat, and groceries per head, with the London prices of the articles, so that the most inexperienced housekeeper might ascertain whether her expenditure exceeded her means, as she expressed herself in the note which she sent with the handsome, dull present.

‘If you are driving into Hollingford, Harriet, perhaps you will take these books to Miss Kirkpatrick,’ said Lady Cumnor, after she had sealed her note with all the straightness and correctness befitting a countess of her immaculate character. ‘I understand they are all going up to London to-morrow for this wedding, in spite of what I said to Clare of the duty of being married in one’s own parish church. She told me at the time that she entirely agreed with me, but that her husband had such a strong wish for a visit to London, that she did not know how she could oppose him consistently with her wifely duty. I advised her to repeat to him my reasons for thinking that they would be ill-advised to have the marriage in town; but I am afraid she has been overruled. That was her one great fault when she lived with us; she was always so yielding, and never knew how so say “No.” ’

‘Mamma!’ said Lady Harriet, with a little sly coaxing in her tone, ‘do you think you would have been so fond of her, if she had opposed you, and said “No” when you wished her to say “Yes”?’

‘To be sure I should, my dear. I like everybody to have an opinion of their own; only when my opinions are based on thought and experience, which few people have had equal opportunities of acquiring, I think it is but proper deference in others to allow themselves to be convinced. In fact, I think it is only obstinacy which keeps them from acknowledging that they are. I am not a despot, I hope?’ she asked, with some anxiety.

‘If you are, dear mamma,’ said Lady Harriet, kissing the stern uplifted face very fondly, ‘I like a despotism better than a republic, and I must be very despotic over my ponies, for it’s already getting very late for my drive round by Ash-holt.’

But when she arrived at the Gibsons’, she was detained so long there by the state of the family, that she had to give up her going to Ash-holt.

Molly was sitting in the drawing-room pale and trembling, and keeping herself quiet only by a strong effort. She was the only person there when Lady Harriet entered: the room was all in disorder, strewed with presents and paper, and pasteboard boxes, and half-displayed articles of finery.

‘You look like Marius sitting amidst the ruins of Carthage,
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my dear! What’s the matter? Why have you got on that woebegone face? This marriage isn’t broken off, is it? Though nothing would surprise me where the beautiful Cynthia is concerned.’

‘Oh, no! that’s all right. But I’ve caught a fresh cold, and papa says he thinks I had better not go to the wedding.’

‘Poor little one! And it’s the first visit to London too!’

‘Yes. But what I most care for is the not being with Cynthia to the last; and then, papa’—she stopped, for she could hardly go on without open crying, and she did not want to do that. Then she cleared her voice. ‘Papa!’ she continued, ‘has so looked forward to this holiday,—and seeing—and—and going—oh! I can’t tell you where; but he has quite a list of people and sights to be seen,—and now he says he should not be comfortable to leave me all alone for more than three days,—two for travelling, and one for the wedding.’ Just then Mrs. Gibson came in, ruffled too after her fashion, though the presence of Lady Harriet was wonderfully smoothing.

‘My dear Lady Harriet—how kind of you! Ah, yes, I see this poor unfortunate child has been telling you of her ill-luck; just when everything was going on so beautifully; I’m sure it was that open window at your back, Molly,—you know you would persist that it could do you no harm, and now you see the mischief! I’m sure I shan’t be able to enjoy myself—and at my only child’s wedding too—without you; for I can’t think of leaving you without Maria. I would rather sacrifice anything myself than think of you, uncared for, and dismal at home.’

‘I’m sure Molly is as sorry as any one,’ said Lady Harriet.

‘No. I don’t think she is,’ said Mrs. Gibson, with happy disregard of the chronology of events, ‘or she would not have sat with her back to an open window the day before yesterday, when I told her not. But it can’t be helped now. Papa too—but it is my duty to make the best of everything, and look at the cheerful side of life. I wish I could persuade her to. do the same’ (turning and addressing Lady Harriet). ‘But, you see, it is a great mortification to a girl of her age to lose her first visit to London.’

‘It is not that,’ began Molly; but Lady Harriet made her a little sign to be silent while she herself spoke.

‘Now, Clare! you and I can manage it all, I think, if you will but help me in a plan I’ve got in my head. Mr. Gibson shall stay as long as ever he can in London; and Molly shall be well cared for, and have some change of air and scene too, which is really what she needs as much as anything, in my poor opinion. I can’t spirit her to the wedding and give her a sight of London; but I can carry her off to the Towers, and invite her myself; and send daily bulletins up to London, so that Mr. Gibson may feel quite at ease, and stay with you as long as you like. What do you say to it, Clare?’