Kate Coventry Part 13

I should have burst into tears, I verily believe, but just then Lady Scapegrace sailed in, and the usual forms of society had to be gone through; and she kissed me, and shook hands with Mr. Jones, as if she really liked us; and we talked of the weather, and the shameful stoppages of the train we had come by, and the general inconveniences of railways; and presently more ladies came down, neat and crisp as if turned out of a bandbox, followed by their lords in choking white neckcloths; and then Sir Guy himself appeared in a costume of surpa.s.sing splendour; but still, although in his evening dress, brilliant with starch and polish and b.u.t.tons and jewellery, looking like a coachman in masquerade; and "dinner" was announced, and we all paired off with the utmost ceremony, and I found myself seated between Frank Lovell and dear old Mr. Lumley, and opposite the elder Miss Mola.s.ses, who scowled at me with an asperity of which I should have believed her unmeaning face incapable, as if she hated me on this particular evening more than all the other days of the year. I soon discovered the cause. Frank was more attentive to me than I had ever known him, although there was a _something_ in his manner that I did not altogether like, a sort of freedom that I had never remarked before, and which made me colder and more reserved than usual. It was evident he thought he might venture as far as he liked with a young lady who drove four horses and smoked a cigar the while. I felt I was blus.h.i.+ng _under my skin_; but I was determined to brave it all out, to hide from every living soul my own vexation and self-contempt. Once I caught a telegraphic signal exchanged between my neighbour and Miss Mola.s.ses, after which she seemed more at ease, and went on with her dinner in comfort. I was so angry now that I turned my shoulder towards Master Frank, and took refuge with my dear old friend Mr.

Lumley, who, utterly regardless of the noise and flirtation his better half was carrying on at the other end of the table, discussed his cutlet quite contentedly, and prosed away to me in his usual kind, consolatory manner. I was one of his great favourites; in fact, he told me so, then and there. He always called me "my dear," and often vowed that if he had only the use of his legs he would walk to the end of the world to make me a thoroughgoing naturalist like himself. I was getting more at ease under his dear old wing. I had gone through so much excitement during the day that this comparative inaction was a positive relief, and I was really beginning to enjoy a sort of repose, when the Baronet's horrid voice from the bottom of the table aroused me once more to an agony of shame and despite.

"Do me the honour to drink a gla.s.s of champagne; the champagne to Miss Coventry!" shouted Sir Guy; "you must require it after your exertion.

Egad! my team won't get over it in a hurry--the roads were woolly and the time short--hey, Miss Kate? But d----n me if the whipcord was scarce. I've done that seven miles in all weathers, and a sweet seven miles it is, but I never came anything like the pace we did to-day.

Your good health, Miss Kate; I'll have a fresh team put together for you to-morrow, and a better cigar to smoke than the one I gave you to-day."

I could willingly have sunk into the earth--nay, crept under the table-cloth--anything to hide my dishonoured head. The ladies looked at each other aghast, and then at _me_. The gentlemen, even the stiffest of them, turned boldly round to survey such a phenomenon as the tobacco-smoking, four-in-hand Miss Coventry. Mrs. Lumley showered her long ringlets all over her face with one toss of her pretty little head that I might not see how heartily she was laughing. Lady Scapegrace good-naturedly made an immense clatter with something that was handed to her, to distract attention from my unfortunate self; but I believe I must have got up and left the room had not Cousin John come adroitly to the rescue. He had not been studying the daily paper for nothing, and his voice rose loud and clear through the awful silence that succeeded Sir Guy's polished remarks.

"Did you see that article in to-day's _Times_ about Ministers?" asked John, of the public in general; "there's another split in the Cabinet--this time it's on the malt-tax. To-day, in the City, they were betting five to two there's a general election within a fortnight, and taking two to one Ambidexter is Premier before the first of next month."

John! John! if you had saved my life I could not have been more obliged to you. Many of the present party were members of Parliament--all were deep in politics. Most of them had seen the Times, but none, like John, had the earliest intelligence from the City. I have since had reason to believe he invented every syllable of it. However, such a topic was too engrossing not to swamp every other, and no more allusions were made to my unfortunate escapade till Lady Scapegrace had drawn on her gloves, bent her haughty head, and "made the move," at which we all sailed away to tea and coffee in the drawing-room.

Here I was more at my ease. Lady Scapegrace and Mrs. Lumley, hating each other, were, of course, inclined to be excessively kind to me--I formed a bond of union between the foes. We three, particularly with such a weapon as the tongue of Mrs. Lumley, were more than a match for any number of our own s.e.x, and most of the other ladies gave in at once. Only Miss Mola.s.ses held out, and eyed me once more with an expression of eager malice for which I could not easily account. I remarked, too, that she seemed restless and fidgety, glanced anxiously ever and anon at the door by which the gentlemen would join us, and seemed uncomfortable if any of us approached an empty chair which was next to her seat. I began to have my suspicions of Frank Lovell, notwithstanding all his a.s.severations. I determined to watch him narrowly; and _if_ I found my misgivings were true--if I discovered he was false and treacherous, why, then, I would--after all, what _could_ I do? It stung me to think how powerless I was.

Now, the establishment of Scamperley, although doubtless the bonds of domestic discipline were by no means over-tightly drawn, was one in which servants, from the stately curly-headed "groom of the chambers,"

down to the little boy in green that was always too late for the post, had more than enough upon their hands. In the first place, n.o.body ever seemed to think of going to bed much before daylight. This entailed a breakfast, protracted by one late sleeper after another till luncheon-time; that meal was of unusual magnificence and variety; besides which, a hot repast, dressed by the French cook, and accompanied by iced champagne, etc., required to be served in one of the woods for the refreshment of Sir Guy's shooting guests. Then in the afternoon there were constant fresh arrivals and rooms to be got ready; for when the host and hostess were at home they kept the house full, and the day concluded with a large dinner-party, at which seldom less than sixteen sat down to discuss the inspirations of Monsieur Horsd'oeuvre and the priceless wines of Sir Guy. No wonder the servants looked tired and overworked, though I fancy the luxury and good living _downstairs_ was quite equal to that which elicited encomiums from _bon-vivants_ and connoisseurs above. Nevertheless, it was but just that they too should have their share of relaxation and amus.e.m.e.nt; therefore did Sir Guy in his generosity give an annual servants' ball, which he attended and opened himself in a state of hilarity not calculated to inspire much respect amongst his retainers.

He had, however, sufficient self-command invariably to select as his partner the prettiest maidservant in his establishment. But if the baronet failed in his dignity as head of the house, her ladys.h.i.+p had enough for both. She looked like a queen as she sailed in, amongst her own domestics and all the retainers and hangers-on for miles round. On the evening in question it amused me much to see the admiration, almost the adoration, she elicited from old and young. No wonder: that stately form, that queenly brow, had been bent over many a sick-bed; those deep, thrilling tones had spoken words of comfort to many a humble sufferer; that white hand was ever ready to aid, ever open to relieve; good or bad, none ever applied to Lady Scapegrace in vain.

"The virtuous it is pleasant to relieve and make friends of," she has often said to me in her moments of confidence; "the wicked it is a duty to a.s.sist and to pity. Who should feel for them, Kate, if I didn't? G.o.d knows I have been wicked enough myself."

The men-servants never took their eyes off her, and I fear made but sorry partners to the buxom la.s.ses of the household till "my lady" had left the room. I saw two stable-boys, evidently fresh arrivals, who seemed perfectly transfixed with admiration, as at an apparition such as they had never pictured to themselves in their dreams; and one rough fellow, a sort of under-keeper in velveteen, with the frame of a Hercules and a fist that could have stunned an ox, having gazed at her open-mouthed for about ten minutes without winking an eyelash, struck his hand against his thigh, and exclaimed aloud to his own inexpressible relief, though utterly unconscious of anything but the presence which so overpowered him,--

"Noa, dashed if ever I _did_!"

This was soon after "my lady" had sailed into the servants' hall at the head of her guests. It was the custom of the place for all the "fas.h.i.+onables" and smart people who were actually in the house to attend the servants' ball, most of us only staying long enough to set the thing going with spirit, though I believe some of the young dandies who found partners to their liking remained to the end, and "kept it up" till daylight. Down we all went, as soon as the gentlemen had finished their wine and discussed their coffee in the drawing-room, down we went, through stone pa.s.sages and long underground galleries into a splendidly-lighted apartment, somewhat devoid of furniture, but decorated with evergreens, and further adorned by a sort of muslin transparency hanging from the roof. This was the servants' hall, and although on a stone floor, a capital room for dancing it was. We were all soon provided with partners. Sir Guy, much to her triumph, selected my maid, Gertrude. Lady Scapegrace paired off with the steward, a fat, rosy man, who quite _shone_ with delight at the honour. The French cook carried off Miss Mola.s.ses, with whose native stupidity I thought the vivacious foreigner seemed a little disappointed. Frank Lovell was taken possession of by the fat housekeeper, to whom he "did the amiable," as Frank had the knack of doing to anything with a petticoat. Cousin John handed off a stately damsel, whom I afterwards recognized as the upper housemaid, and I was claimed by a dapper little second-horse rider, of whom I flatter myself I made a complete conquest by the interest I took in his profession and the thorough knowledge I displayed of its details. I had to make most of the conversation myself, certainly, for his replies, though couched in terms of the deepest respect, and accompanied by a chivalrous deference for my s.e.x to which I was totally unaccustomed from the partners of a London ball-room, consisted for the most part of little more than "Yes, Miss," and "No, Miss," with an additional smooth of the smoothest, s.h.i.+niest head I ever beheld. When I had exhausted the meets of the hounds for the ensuing week, with a few general observations on the pursuit of hunting, and the merits of that n.o.ble animal, the horse, I began to get high and dry for further topics, and was not sorry when three fiddles and a flute struck up their inspiriting tones, and away we all went, "cross hands," "down the middle and up again," to the lively and by this time tolerably familiar air of "Sir Roger de Coverley."

I am bound to confess that, as far as the servants were concerned, everything went on with the utmost propriety and respect. Sir Guy, indeed, pulled his partner about with an unnecessary degree of vigour, which at times almost degenerated into a romp, and squeezed my hands in "the Poussette" with an energy of affection which I could well have dispensed with; but every one else was a very pattern of politeness and decorum. In fact, the thing was almost getting stupid, when my little second-horse rider and myself, returning breathless from our rapid excursion down some two-and-thirty couple, were "brought up,"

startled and dismayed, by a piercing scream from at least that number of female voices, all raised at the same instant.

"Fire! fire!" exclaimed the tall housemaid at my elbow.

"Save me! save me!" shrieked the fat housekeeper, plumping into Frank Lovell's arms, and well-nigh bringing him to the ground, in which case she _must_ have crushed him.

"Murder! murder!" shouted my idiot of a maid, Gertrude, rus.h.i.+ng frantically for the doorway, followed by Sir Guy, who was swearing, I am sorry to say, most fearfully.

"Stand still, fools!" I heard Lady Scapegrace exclaim in her deep tones, "and let n.o.body open the door!"

By this time there was a rush of all the women towards the door; and as the centre of the room was cleared, I saw what had happened. The muslin transparency had caught fire--a large fragment of it was even now blazing on the floor, and the consequences amongst all those light floating dresses and terrified women might have been indeed awful. For an instant everybody seemed paralyzed--everybody but Cousin John; during that instant he had flung off his coat, and kneeling upon it, extinguished the flames. They were still blazing over his head: with a desperate bound he tore down the ill-fated transparency; regardless of singed hair and blistered hands, he clasped and pressed it, and stamped upon it, and smothered it. Ere one could have counted fifty the danger was over and not a vestige of the fire remained. How handsome he looked with his brave face lighted up and his eyes sparkling with excitement! n.o.body could say John wanted expression of countenance now. The next moment he was quietly apologizing in his usual tone to Lady Scapegrace for "spoiling her beautiful transparency," and parrying her thanks and encomiums on his courage and presence of mind with an a.s.surance that he "only pulled it down because he happened to be directly under it;" but he could not help turning to me and saying,--

"Kate, I hope you were not much frightened."

The words were not much, but they were uttered in the old kind voice; they rung in my ears all the evening, and I went to bed happier than I ever thought I could have been after such a day.

CHAPTER XXI.

The Sunday at Scamperley, I am sorry to say, was hardly observed with that degree of respect and strictness which is due to the one sacred day of the week. Very few people went to morning service, as indeed the late hours overnight kept most of us in our rooms till eleven or twelve o'clock, when we dawdled down to a breakfast that seemed to lengthen itself out till luncheon-time. To be sure, when the latter meal had been discussed, and we had marked our reverence for the day by a conversation in which we expressed our disapproval of the personal appearance, faults and foibles, and general character of our friends, some of us would declare an intention of attending afternoon church; on which subject much discussion would arise, and the probability of the weather holding up would be volubly commented on--the church being situated about a quarter of a mile from the house, and the way to it through the Park being so completely sheltered by evergreens that to have got wet, save in a downright _pour_ of rain, was next to impossible. At last we would get under way--the ladies mincing along with their magnificently covered prayer-books, affecting an air of unwilling decorum; the dandies carrying cloaks, shawls, and umbrellas for their respective G.o.ddesses, and following them, so to speak, under protest, as if there was something to be ashamed of in the whole proceeding. Lady Scapegrace always went early, and quite by herself; she sat apart, too, from her guests and relatives. Not so Sir Guy. It was his great delight to create as much noise and confusion as possible, that on his entrance the respectable yeomen and humble paris.h.i.+oners might be dazzled with his glory, and whisper one to another, "That be Sir Guy," as he marched to the front of his family pew in a blaze of wondrous apparel.

It was natural that he should create a sensation with his red face and gaudy-coloured clothes, and huge, dyed whiskers, and the eternal flower in his mouth, which was always on duty save when relieved by a cigar or a toothpick. Pew it could scarcely with propriety be called, inasmuch as it was more like a box at the opera than a seat in a place of wors.h.i.+p. We entered by a staircase outside the church, with a private door of our own; pa.s.sing through which we found ourselves in a very comfortable chamber, with a good many chairs and sofas, a handsome bookcase, and a blazing fire. This, again, led to a smaller apartment, into which Sir Guy would swagger with much unnecessary noise and bustle. Throwing up a large window, he leaned over as it were from a hustings, and, behold! we were at church.

When the sermon was concluded Sir Guy shut the window down again, and we took our departure, much edified, as may easily be imagined, by the lessons of meekness and humility which we had received in so becoming a manner. From church we invariably proceeded to the kennel, where a stout, healthy-looking keeper paraded the Baronet's pointers and setters for the inspection of the ladies. Here Sir Guy took entire possession of me once more.

"Don't be alarmed, my dear," said he, as a great bull-headed, black-and-white brute, surnamed Don, came blundering up and tried to put his muddy paws on my dress. Sir Guy's affectation of the "paternal," and his odious way of calling one "my dear," provoked me intensely; and I gave Don such a crack over his double nose with my parasol as broke the ivory handle of that instrument, and completely quelled all further demonstrations of affection from the uninteresting brute. Sir Guy was charmed.

"Hit him hard," said he; "he's got no friends. What a vixen it is! How she punished my near leader the other day! I _love_ that girl!"

The latter sentence, be it observed, was spoken _sotto voce_, and required, as indeed it received, no reply.

"What interesting creatures!" exclaimed Miss Mola.s.ses, indicating an old pointer lady, who went swinging by with all the appearance of having lately brought up a large and thirsty family. "Do tell me, can that dog really _catch_ a hare?"

The keeper's face was a study; he was apparently a humorous individual. But Miss Mola.s.ses addressed her remarks to Frank Lovell; and Frank, as in duty bound, replied. That girl was evidently making up to him, and, thinking he was fond of field-sports, pretended to take an interest in everything connected with those pursuits for his sake.

"Come and see the tame pheasants, Miss Coventry," said Sir Guy. I knew what this meant: I knew it would entail a _tete-a-tete_ walk with my aversion, and I cast an imploring look at Frank, as much as to say, "_Do_ save me." He caught my meaning in an instant, and skilfully interposed. Of course, as he accompanied us, so did Miss Mola.s.ses; but Frank and I lingered a little behind the rest of the party, made a wrong turn in the shrubbery, and found ourselves, I never knew exactly how, taking a long walk all alone in the waning twilight. I don't know what Aunt Deborah would have said to such proceedings, and I am quite sure Lady Horsingham would have been unspeakably shocked; but these Sunday walks were the custom of the country at Scamperley--and, after all, it was not my doing, and consequently not my fault.

I wonder why it is that, in the very convenient code of morality which the world has adopted for its private use, places and people should so completely alter facts. You may do things with impunity in London that would destroy the character of a Diana in the country; and, again, certain rural practices, harmless--nay, even praiseworthy--when confined to a picturesque domain, if flourished before the eyes of the metropolis, would sink the performer to the lowest depths of social degradation. It is not what you _do_ that matters one whit, but what the world _thinks_ of your actions; and the gentlemen use a proverb which I have often heard in connection with certain racing enormities, that "One man may steal a horse, while another must not even _look at a halter_:" and if this be the case with that s.e.x who arrogate to themselves the exclusive privilege of doing wrong, how much more does the adage hold good with us poor, weak, trampled-upon women? Lady Straitlace may do what she likes: she a.s.sumes a severe air in society, is strict with her children, and harsh with her servants. In all ranks of her acquaintance (of course below that of a countess) she visits the slightest dereliction from female propriety with unrelenting bitterness. Woe be to the trespa.s.ser, high or low! The weapon is always ready to probe and gash and lacerate; the lash is constantly raised, "swift to smite and never to spare." But who would venture to speak a word against the decorum of Lady Straitlace? If she goes out in the dark, 'tis to visit a sick friend; if she encourages young Antinous to be what ladies call continually "in her pocket," that is only in order to give the lad good advice and keep him out of mischief. Major Ramrod is never out of the house; but what then? The visits of fifty Major Ramrods would not ent.i.tle the world to breathe a whisper against a person of such strict propriety as Lady Straitlace.

But how that same forbearing world indemnifies itself on poor Mrs.

Peony! It is never tired of shrugging its worldly shoulders and raising its worldly hands and eyebrows at the sayings and doings of unfortunate Mrs. Peony.

"Did you hear of her going to the bachelors' ball with three gentlemen in a fly?" (n.o.body thinks it worth while to specify that the three Lotharios consisted of her grandfather, her husband, and her nephew.) "Did you see her drop her bracelet, to make young Stiffneck pick it up? Do you know that she takes morning walks with Colonel Chanticleer, and evening strolls with Bob Bulbul? She chatters, she laughs, she flirts, she makes eyes; she's bad style, she's an odious woman; 'pon my word, I don't know whether mamma will go on visiting her!"

And why should the world make this dead set at poor Mrs. Peony? She is good-looking, soft-hearted, and unaffected; she laughs when she is pleased, and cries when she is touched. She is altogether frank, and natural, and womanly. Can these be good reasons for running her down?

Heavens knows! but run down she is, just as the hypocritical Lady Straitlace is cried up. Well, we must take things as they are and make the best of them. So Frank and I walked on through the pleasant fields in the darkening twilight, and I, for one, enjoyed it excessively, and was quite sorry when a great bell sounding from the house warned us that it was time to return, and that our absence would too surely be the subject of remark should we linger out of doors any longer. I never knew Frank so agreeable; on every topic he was brilliant, and lively, and amusing. Only once, in some casual remark about the future, there was a shade of melancholy in his tone, more like what he used to be formerly. Somehow, I don't think I liked him so well in his best spirits; perhaps I was myself changed in the last few weeks. I used often to think so. At first, during that walk, I feared lest Frank should touch upon a topic which would have been far from unwelcome a short time ago. I soon saw he had not the slightest intention of doing so, and I confess I was immensely relieved. I had dreaded the possibility of being obliged at last to give a decided answer--of having my own fate in my own hands, and feeling totally incapable of choosing for myself. But I might have spared my nerves all such misgivings: my cavalier never gave me an opportunity of even fancying myself in such a dilemma till just as we reached the house, when, espying Mrs. Lumley and Miss Mola.s.ses returning from _their_ stroll, he started, coloured up a little, like a guilty man, and acted as though he would have escaped their notice. I was provoked.

"Don't desert your colours, Captain Lovell," I said, in a firm voice; "Miss Mola.s.ses is looking for you, even now."

"Unfeeling," muttered Frank, biting his lip, and looking really annoyed. "O Miss Coventry! O Kate! give me an opportunity of explaining all."

"Explain nothing," was my reply; "we understand each other perfectly.

It is time for me to go in and dress."

So I marched into the house, and left him looking foolish--if Frank ever _could_ look foolish--on the doorstep. As I hurried along the pa.s.sages I encountered Lady Scapegrace.

"What's the matter, Kate?" said she, following me into my room; "you look as if something had happened. No bad news, I trust, from Aunt Deborah?"

I burst into tears. Kindness always overcomes me completely, and then I make a fool of myself.

"Nothing's the matter," I sobbed out; "only I'm tired and nervous, Lady Scapegrace, and I want to dress."

My hostess slipped quietly out of the room, and presently returned with some sal volatile and water: she made me drink it every drop.

"I must have a talk to you, Kate," said she, "but not now; the dinner-bell will ring in ten minutes." And she too hurried away to perform her toilette.

As I get older I take to moralizing, and I am afraid I waste a good deal of valuable time in speculating on the thoughts, ideas, and, so to speak, the inner life of my neighbours. It is curious to observe a large, well-dressed party seated at dinner, all apparently frank and open as the day, full of fun and good humour, saying whatever comes uppermost, and to all outward seeming laying bare every crevice and cranny of their hearts, and then to reflect that each one of the throng has a separate life, entirely distinct from that which he or she parades before the public, cherished perhaps with a miser's care or endured with a martyr's fort.i.tude. Sir Guy, sitting at the bottom of his table, drinking rather more wine than usual--perhaps because it was Sunday, and the enforced decencies of the day had somewhat damped his spirits--looked a jovial, thoughtless, merry country gentleman, somewhat slang, it may be, not to say vulgar, but still open-hearted, joyous, and hospitable. Was there no skeleton in Sir Guy's mental cupboard? Were there no phantoms that _would_ rise up, like Banquo's ghost, to their seat, unbidden, at his board? While he smacked his great lips over those b.u.mpers of dark red Burgundy, had he quite forgotten the days of old--the friends he had pledged and made fools of--the kind hearts he had loved and betrayed? Did he ever think of Damocles and the hanging sword? Could he summon courage to look into the future, or fort.i.tude even to _think_ of the past? Sir Guy's was a strong, healthy, sensuous nature, in which the physical far outweighed the intellectual; and yet I verily believe his conscience sometimes nearly drove him mad.

Then there was my lady, sitting at the top of her table, the very picture of a courteous, affable, well-bred hostess; perhaps, if anything, a little too placid and immovable in her outward demeanour.

Who would have guessed at the wild and stormy pa.s.sions that could rage beneath so calm a surface? Who would suppose that stately, reserved, majestic-looking woman had the recklessness of a brigand and the caprices of a child? A physiognomist might have marked the traces of strong feelings in her deepened eyes and the lines about her mouth--damages done by the hurricane, that years of calm can never repair; but there had been a page or two in Lady Scapegrace's life that, with all his acuteness, would have astonished Lavater himself.