Throckmorton: A Novel

by Molly Elliot Seawell

  CHAPTER III.

  Within a week or two after, one afternoon Mrs. Kitty Sherrard made herappearance at Barn Elms, with a great project in hand. She meant to givea party.

  Party-giving was Mrs. Sherrard's idiosyncrasy. According to the usualsystem in Virginia, during the lifetime of the late Mr. Sherrard, therewas much frolicking, dancing, and hilarity at Turkey Thicket, theSherrard place, and a corresponding narrowness of income and generalbehindhandedness. But since Mr. Sherrard's death Mrs. Sherrard, alongwith the unvarying and sublime confidence in her husband, dead or alive,that characterizes Virginia women, had yet entirely abandoned Mr.Sherrard's methods. The mortgage on Turkey Thicket had been paid off,the whole place farmed on common-sense principles, and the debtsdeclared inevitable by Mr. Sherrard carefully avoided. As a matter offact, the only people in the county who paid their taxes promptly werethe widows, who nevertheless continually lamented that they weredeprived of the great industry, foresight, and business capacity oftheir defunct lords and masters. Mrs. Sherrard gave as many parties inMr. Sherrard's lifetime as she did after his death; but, since thatmelancholy event, the parties were paid for, not charged on account.

  When this startling information about the coming festivity was imparted,Jacqueline, who was sitting in her own low chair by the fire, gave alittle jump.

  "And," said Mrs. Sherrard, who was a courageous person, "I'll tell youwhat I am giving it for. It is to get the county people to meet GeorgeThrockmorton. Not a human being in the county has called on him, exceptEdmund Morford, and I fairly drove him to it. He began some of hislong-winded explanations. 'Aunt Kitty,' he said, 'what am I, even thoughI be a minister of the gospel, that I should set myself up against thespirit of the community, which is against recognizing Throckmorton?''What are you, indeed, my dear boy,' I answered. 'I'm not urging you togo, because it's a matter of the slightest consequence what you do orwhat you don't, but merely for your own sake, because it is illiberaland unchristian of you not to go.' Now, Edmund is a good soul, for allhis nonsense."

  Mrs. Temple was horrified at this way of speaking of the young rector.

  "And I've intimated to him that I'm about to make my will--I haven't theslightest notion of doing it for the next twenty years--but the merehint always brings Edmund to terms, and so he went over to Millenbeck tocall. He came back perfectly delighted. The house is charming,Throckmorton is a prince of hospitality, and I don't suppose poor Edmundever was treated with so much consideration by a man of sense in hislife before." Mrs. Temple groaned, but Mrs. Sherrard kept on, cuttingher eye at Judith, who was the only person at Barn Elms that knew a jokewhen she saw it. Judith bent over her work, laughing. "I metThrockmorton in the road next day. 'So you dragooned the parson intocalling on the Philistine,' he said. Of course I tried to deny it, aftera fashion; but Throckmorton won't be humbugged--can't be, in fact--and Ihad to own up. 'You can't say Edmund's not a gentleman,' said I, 'and heis the most good-natured poor soul; and if he had broken his nose, orgot cross-eyed in early youth, he really would have cut quite arespectable figure in the world.' 'That's true,' answered George,laughing, and looking so like he did long years ago, 'but you'll admit,Mrs. Sherrard, that he is too infernally handsome for his own good.''Decidedly,' said I."

  "Katharine Sherrard," solemnly began Mrs. Temple, who habitually calledMrs. Sherrard Kitty, except at weddings and funerals, and upon occasionslike the present, when her feelings were wrought up, "the way you talkabout Edmund Morford is a grief and a sorrow to me. He is a clergyman ofour church, and it is not becoming for women to deride the men of theirown blood. Men must rule, Katharine Sherrard. It is so ordered by thedivine law."

  "Jane Temple," answered Mrs. Sherrard, "you may add by the human law,too; but some women--"

  "Set both at naught," answered Mrs. Temple, piously and sweetly.

  "They do, indeed," fervently responded Mrs. Sherrard, having in viewGeneral Temple's complete subjugation. "But now about the party. Thegeneral must come, of course. I wish I could persuade you."

  "I have not been to a party since before the war, and now I shall nevergo to another one."

  "But Judith and Jacqueline will come."

  At this a deep flush rose in Judith's face.

  "I don't go to parties, Mrs. Sherrard."

  "I know; but you must come to this one."

  Mrs. Temple set her lips and said nothing, but Jacqueline, who sometimesasserted herself at unlooked-for times, spoke up:

  "If Judith doesn't go, I--I--sha'n't go."

  "You hear that?" asked Mrs. Sherrard, delighted at Jacqueline's spirit."Stick to it, child; there is no reason why Judith shouldn't come."

  Here General Temple entered and greeted Mrs. Sherrard elaborately. Mrs.Sherrard immediately set to work on the general. She knew perfectly wellthat he could do no more in the case than Simon Peter could, but shepoured her fire into him, thinking a stray shot might hit Mrs. Temple.Judith remained quite silent. She was too sincere of soul to say she didnot want to go; and yet going to parties was quite out of that life oftrue widowhood she had laid down for herself; and life was intolerablydull. She loved gayety and brightness, and her whole life was clothedwith somberness. She was full of ideas, and loved books, and nobody inthe house ever read a line except General Temple, and his reading wasconfined to the science of war, for which he would certainly never haveany use. She was full of quick turns of repartee, that, when sheindulged them, almost frightened Mrs. Temple, who had the averagewoman's incapacity for humor. Mrs. Sherrard and herself were greatfriends--and friends were not too plentiful with Mrs. Sherrard, whosetongue was a two-edged sword. Nevertheless, Mrs. Temple and Mrs.Sherrard had been intimate all their lives, and Mrs. Sherrard was one ofthe few persons who ever took liberties with Mrs. Temple. Mrs. Sherrardwas clear-sighted, and she knew what nobody else did--how starved andblighted was Judith's life by that stern repression to which she had setherself; and she had known Beverley Temple, too, and sometimes said toherself: "Perhaps it is better for Judith as it is, for Beverley, braveand handsome as he was, yet was a dreadfully ordinary fellow. Luckily,she was hustled into marrying him so quickly, and she was so young, shedidn't find it out; but if he had lived--"

  Mrs. Sherrard departed, impressing upon General Temple that she shouldcertainly expect to see him at the party, with Judith and Jacqueline.Simon Peter in the kitchen reported the state of affairs to Delilah, whoremarked:

  "Miss Kitty She'ard, she know Miss Judy cyan go twell ole mistis say so.Ole marse, he got a heap o' flourishes an' he talk mighty big, butmistis she doan' flourish none; she jes' go 'long quiet like, an' hasher way."

  "Dat's so," answered Simon Peter, rubbing his woolly head with an air ofconviction. "Mistis su't'ny is de wheel-hoss in dis heah team."

  "An' ain' de womenfolks allus de wheel-hosses? Ole marse he set up an'he talk 'bout de weather an' de craps, an' he specks de 'lection gwinediscomfuse things, an' he read de paper an' he know more 'n de paper do,an' he read de Bible an' he know more 'n de Bible do, an' all de time heain' got de sperrit uv a chicken."

  "De womenfolks kin mos' in gen'ally git dey way," cautiously answeredSimon Peter.

  "Yes, dey kin; an' dey is gwine ter, 'long as menfolks is so triflin'an' owdacious as dey is."

  Jacqueline developed a strange obstinacy about the party. She declaredshe was dying to go, but she never wavered from her determination not togo without Judith.

  "But your sister does not wish to go, Jacqueline," her mother said tothis.

  "But I want her to go, mamma. You can't imagine how I _long_ to go tothis party. It is so very, very dull at Barn Elms--and I have my newwhite frock."

  "Judith has no frock."

  "Oh, yes she has. She has that long black dress, in which she looks sonice, and she is so clever at sewing she could cut it open at the neckand turn up the sleeves at the elbow."

  Mrs. Temple said nothing more. Jacqueline went about, eager-eyed, butsilent, and possessed of but one idea--the party. A day or two afterthis she said bitterly
to her mother, when Judith was out of the room:

  "Mamma, I know why you are willing to disappoint me about this party. Itis because you love your dead child better than your living one."

  Mrs. Temple turned a little pale. The thrust went home, as some ofJacqueline's thrusts did.

  "And if I don't go, I will cry and cry--I will cry that night so loudin my room that papa will come in, and you know how it vexes him to haveme cry; and it will break my heart--I know it will."

  Mrs. Temple went about all day with Jacqueline's words ringing in herears. That night, after Jacqueline was in bed, her mother went into theroom. It was a large, old-fashioned room, and Jacqueline's little whitefigure, as she sat up in bed, was almost lost in the huge four-poster,with dimity curtains and valance. The fire still smoldered, and thespindle-shanked dressing-table, with the glass set in its mahoganyframe, cast unearthly shadows on the floor in the half-light. Mrs.Temple sat down by the bed. Something like remorse came into themother's heart. This child was the least loved by both father andmother. Jacqueline began at once, in her sweet, nervous voice:

  "Mamma, I have been thinking about the party."

  "So have I, child."

  "And may we go?"

  Mrs. Temple paused before she spoke.

  "Yes, you and Judith may go," she said presently in a stern voice--ah!the sternness of these gentle women!

  Jacqueline held out her arms fondly to her mother, but Mrs. Temple couldnot be magnanimous in defeat. She went out, softly closing the doorbehind her, without giving Jacqueline her good-night kiss, butJacqueline called after her in a voice tremulous with gratitude anddelight, "Dear, sweet mamma!"

  The moment she heard the "charmber-do'," as the negroes called it, shutdown-stairs, Jacqueline slipped out of bed and flew across the darkpassage into Judith's room to tell the wonderful news. Judith wassitting before the fire, holding her sleeping child in her arms. The boyhad waked and had clung to his mother until she lifted him out of hislittle bed. He had gone to sleep directly, but Judith held him close; hewas so little, so babyish, yet so soft and warm and clinging.

  "We are going to the party, Judith," said Jacqueline, excitedly,kneeling down by her.

  "Are we?" answered Judith. A gleam came into her eyes very likeJacqueline's.

  "And--and--" continued Jacqueline with a sly, half-laughing glance, "wewill meet Major Throckmorton again."

  "Go to bed, Jacqueline," replied Judith in the soft, composed voice thatinvariably crushed Jacqueline.

  Next morning General Temple showed the most unqualified delight at Mrs.Temple's capitulation. He considered it becoming, though, to make someslight protest against going to the party. He thought, perhaps, with histendency to gout, it would scarcely be prudent to expose himself to thenight air, and--er--to Kitty Sherrard's chicken salad; and, besides, hereally was not justified in postponing the drawings of some maps toillustrate the position of Temple's Brigade at the battle ofChancellorsville; for, like all other dilettanti, General Temple's workwas always of present importance and admitted of no delay whatever.

  Mrs. Temple did not smile at this, but treated it with greatseriousness.

  "Quite true, my dear; but now that I have promised Jacqueline, I can notdisappoint her. You must go for her sake."

  "Rather let me say, my dear Jane, that I go for your sake--your wishes,my love, being of paramount importance."

  For a henpecked man, it was impossible to be more imposing or agreeablethan General Temple. So on the night of the party he was promptly onhand, at eight o'clock, in his old-fashioned evening coat, the tailslined with white satin, and wearing a pair of large, white kid gloves.

  Jacqueline and Judith soon appeared. Jacqueline, in her new white frock,looked her prettiest, albeit it showed her youthful thinness and all herhalf-grown angles. Judith's beauty was of a sort that could stand thesimplicity of her black gown that revealed her white neck, and, for thefirst time since her widowhood, she wore no cap over her red-brown hair.Delilah and Simon Peter yah-yahed and ki-yied over both of them.

  "Dem little foots o' Miss Jacky's in de silk stockin's ain' no bigger'n little Beverley's, hardly, and Miss Judy she look like de Queen o'Sheba," delightedly remarked Delilah.

  Judith could scarcely meet Mrs. Temple's eyes. She felt inexplicablyguilty. Mrs. Temple examined them critically, though, and the generalwas loftily complimentary.

  "And, Delilah," said Judith, gathering up her gloves nervously, "be sureand look after Beverley. He has never been left alone in his lifebefore."

  "I will look after Beverley, Judith," said Mrs. Temple, and Judithblushed faintly at something in the tone.

  All the way, going along the country road in the moonlight, Judith couldfeel Jacqueline's little feet moving restlessly with excitement. As theydrove up to the house, and caught glimpses through the open hall-door ofthe dancers and heard the sound of music, Jacqueline began to bob up anddown with childish delight.

  Like most Virginia country-houses, Turkey Thicket had an immenseentrance hall, which was not heated and was of no earthly use the bestpart of the year, and for which all the rooms around it wereunnecessarily cramped. Mrs. Sherrard's hall was of more use to her thanmost people's, owing to her party-giving proclivities, and was brightlylighted up for dancing. As Judith came down the broad stairs on GeneralTemple's arm, a kind of thrill of surprise went around among the guests.Nobody expected to see her. Many of them had never seen her except inher widow's veil and cap. Judith, remembering this, could not restrain ablushing consciousness that made her not less handsome; and, besides,her good looks were always full of surprises. One never knew whether shewould be simply pale and pretty, or whether she would blaze out into asudden and captivating beauty.

  They made their way through the dancers, Jacqueline alternately pale andred with excitement, and the general bowing right and left, until theyentered the small, old-fashioned drawing-room. Mrs. Sherrard, in a plainblack silk, but with a diamond comb in her white hair and a general airof superbness, was delighted to see Judith. It was a victory over JaneTemple. She detained her for a moment to whisper: "My dear, I amdreadfully afraid I shall make a failure in trying to get GeorgeThrockmorton accepted here. The girls, who most of them never saw sofine a man before, will hardly have a word to say to him; the men are alittle better, but it isn't a pronounced success by any means. I havebeen longing for you to come. You have so much more sense than any ofthe young people I know, I thought you would be a little less freezingto him."

  At this a warmer color surged into Judith's cheeks. She could notremember ever to have seen a man who impressed her so instantly asThrockmorton. With her clear, feminine instinct, she had seen at thefirst glance what manner of man he was. As Mrs. Sherrard spoke to her,she turned and saw him standing by the fireplace, talking with EdmundMorford. Throckmorton could not have desired a better foil than theyoung clergyman, with his faultless red and white skin, his curling darkhair, his mouth full of perfect teeth, and his character as a clericaldandy written all over him. Throckmorton, whose good looks were purelymasculine and characteristic, looked even more manly and soldierly bycontrast. Both men caught sight of Judith at the same moment. Morfordwas thrown into a perfect flutter. He wondered if Judith had put on thatsquare-necked, short-sleeved black gown to do him a mischief.Throckmorton, obeying a look from Mrs. Sherrard, came forward and wasformally introduced. Judith offered her hand, after the Virginia custom,which Throckmorton bowed over.

  "Mrs. Temple did not present me to you on Sunday," he said, with a smileand a slight flush; "but I guessed very readily who you were."

  Judith, too, colored.

  "Poor mother, you must not take her too hardly. You know how good sheis, but--but she is very determined; she moves slowly."

  "Yes," replied Throckmorton, with his easy, man-of-the-world manner;"but I am afraid there are others as unyielding as Mrs. Temple, and nothalf so kindly--for she is a dear soul! It seemed to me the carrying outof a sort of dream to come back to Millenbeck. My boy Jack--that yo
ungfellow yonder--looks rather old to be my son, don't you think?"

  "Y-e-s," answered Judith, with provoking dubiousness and a wicked littlesmile.

  "Oh, you are really too bad! I am very tired of explaining to peoplethat Jack is nothing like as old as he looks. Well, the boy, althoughbrought up at army posts, rather wanted to be a Virginian, and to ownthe old place; you know that sort of thing always crops out in aVirginian."

  "Yes," smiled Judith; "I see how it crops out in _you_. You areimmensely proud of being a Throckmorton, and you would rather ownMillenbeck, if it were tumbling down about your ears, than the finestplace in the world anywhere else."

  "Now, Mrs. Beverley," said Throckmorton, determinedly, "I can't have myweaknesses picked out in this prompt and savage manner. I own I am afool about Millenbeck, but I'd have sworn that nobody but myself knewit. I've got a year's leave, and I've come down here with Sweeney, anold ex-sergeant of mine, who has owned me for several years, and my oldhorse Tartar, that is turned out to grass; and if I like it as well as Iexpect, I may resign"--Throckmorton was always talking about resigning,as Mrs. Sherrard was about making her will, without the slightest ideaof doing it--"and turn myself out to grass like Tartar. But my receptionhasn't been--a--exactly--cordial--or--"

  "I am sorry you have been disappointed," said Judith, gently; "but itseems to me that we are all in a dreadful sort of transition state now.We are holding on desperately to our old moorings, although they areslipping away; but I suppose we shall have to face a new existence sometime."

  "I think I understand the feeling here--even that dead wall of prejudicethat meets me. One look around Severn church, last Sunday, would havetold me that those people had gone through with some frightful crisis. Ithought, perhaps being one of their own county people originally mightsoften them toward me, but I believe that makes me blacker than ever."

  Judith could not deny it.

  Throckmorton, who was worldly wise, read Judith at a glance, besideshaving learned her history since first seeing her. He saw that she wasunder a fixed restraint, and that a word would frighten her into thedeepest reserve. He treated her, therefore, as if she had been a Sisterof Charity. Judith, who made up for her lack of knowledge of the worldby rapid perceptions and natural talents, had seen more quickly thanThrockmorton. Here was a man the like of whom she had not often met.Throckmorton knew perfectly well the solitary lives these country womenled, and he had often wondered at the singular fortitude they showed. Heset himself to work to find out what chiefly interested this youngwoman, who showed such remarkable constancy to her dead husband, but whogave indications to his practiced eye of secretly loving life and itsconcerns very much. He had heard about her pretty boy. At this Judithcolored with pleasure and became positively talkative. Her boy was thesweetest boy--she would like never to have him out of her sight. MajorThrockmorton, with a sardonic grin, confided to Judith that he wouldfrequently be highly gratified at having _his_ son out of his sight,because Jack made the women think he, the major, was a Methuselah, andcovertly made much game of him, for which he would like to kick Jack,but couldn't.

  Judith laughed merrily at this--a laugh so clear and rippling, and yetso rare, that the sound of it startled her. Was Mrs. Beverley fond ofreading? Mrs. Beverley was very fond of reading, but there was nothingnewer in the array of books at Barn Elms than 1840. Major Throckmortonwould be only too happy to supply her with books. He had had a few boxesfull sent down to Millenbeck. At this Judith blushed, but accepted,without reflecting how Major Throckmorton was to send books to a housewhere he was not permitted to visit.

  She also protested that she had read nothing at all scarcely; butThrockmorton came to find out that, for want of the every-day modernliterature, she was perfectly at home in the English classics, and knewher Scott and Thackeray like a lesson well learned. He began to findthis gentle intelligence and cordiality amazingly pleasant after thecold shyness of the girls and the unmistakable keep-your-distance air ofthe older women. They sat together so long that Mr. Morford began toscowl, and think that Mrs. Beverley, after all, was rather a frivolousperson, and with every moment Judith became brighter, gayer, more hernatural charming self.

  Meanwhile Jack Throckmorton had carried Jacqueline off for a quadrille,and was getting on famously. First they remarked on the similarity oftheir names, which seemed a fateful coincidence, and Jacquelinecomplained that the servants and some other people, too, often shortenedher liquid three syllables with "Jacky," but she hated it. Jack, who hada sweet, gay voice, and was an inveterate joker, which Jacqueline wasnot, amused both her and himself extremely.

  "Will you look at the major?" he whispered. "Gone on the pretty widow--Ibeg your pardon," he added, turning very red.

  "You needn't apologize," calmly remarked Jacqueline. "Judith _is_ apretty widow, and the best and kindest sister in the world, besides. Itis all mamma. Mamma loved my brother better than anything, and wants usall to think about him as much as she does."

  Jack, rather embarrassed by these family confidences, parried them withsome confidences of his own.

  "I shall have to go over soon and break the major up. You see, thereisn't but twenty-two years' difference between us, and the major is agreat toast among the girls still, which is repugnant to my filialfeelings."

  Jacqueline listened gravely and in good faith.

  "So, when I see him pleased with a girl, I generally sneak up on theother side, and manage to get my share of the girl's attention, and callthe major 'father' every two minutes. A man hates to be interfered withthat way, particularly by his own son, which doesn't often happen. Themajor has got a cast in one eye, and, whenever he is in a rage, he getsdownright cross-eyed. Sometimes I work him up so, his eyes don't getstraight for a fortnight."

  "But doesn't he get very mad with you?" asked Jacqueline in a shockedvoice.

  "Of course he does," chuckled Jack; "and that's where the fun comes in.But, you see, he can't say anything; it is beneath his dignity; but histemper blazes up, although he doesn't say a word. Sometimes, when I'verun him off two or three times close together, he hardly speaks to mefor a week--not that he cares about the girl particularly, but he hatesto be balked."

  "What a nice sort of a son you must be!"

  Jack laughed his frank, boyish laugh.

  "Why, the major and I are the greatest chums in the world. I would doanything for him. And if he ever presents me with a step-mother, I'll dothe handsome thing--go to the wedding, and all that. And he's afascinating old fellow, too--just takes the girls off their feet."

  When the dance was over, Jack brought Jacqueline back to Judith, whostill sat with Throckmorton. Jacqueline's eyes were shining withchildish delight, and she arched her thin white neck restlessly fromside to side.

  "I have had such a nice dance!" she cried, breathlessly.

  Judith, smiling, said, "Major Throckmorton, this is my little sisterJacqueline."

  Throckmorton, having once fixed his eyes on Jacqueline, seemed unableto take them off, as on that Sunday he had first seen her in Severnchurch. Delilah, who noticed in her primitive way the wonderful power ofattraction that Jacqueline had, used to say, "Miss Jacky she alluscotches de beaux." She certainly "cotched" Throckmorton's attention fromthe first. Something in this slim, unformed, provincial girl wassuddenly captivating to him. His genuine but sane admiration for Judithseemed tame beside it. Jacqueline, however, only saw a rather strikingman, well on toward old age, in her infantile eyes, and wished herselfback with Jack, when Major Throckmorton took her for a little promenade.Morford then made up to Judith, but found her singularly cold andunresponsive, and her eyes and smile were quite far away, over Morford'shead, as it were. The truth is, the Rev. Edmund Morford was aconsiderable let-down from George Throckmorton; and, in Judith's starvedand pinched existence, it was something to meet a man of Throckmorton'scaliber. So in place of the charming sweetness Morford had learned toexpect from Judith, he received a cold douche of listlessness andindifference. All the rest of the evening people noticed
that Judith,who had a good deal of smoldering vivacity under her quietness, wasremarkably cold and silent and rather bored, and they supposed it wasbecause of her aversion to anything like gayety. In truth, Judith hadrealized rather more startlingly than usual the bareness andcolorlessness of her life.

  Mrs. Sherrard's effort was a strong one, but, as she said, it wasscarcely a success. General Temple ostentatiously sought outThrockmorton, and tasted the delights of a discussion regarding thetrans-Alpine campaigns of Hannibal, in which Throckmorton was a modestlistener, and the general a most fiery, earnest, and learnedexpounder--a past grand-master of military science. But, on shakingThrockmorton's hand at saying good-night, with solemn but genuineeffusiveness, he said not one word about calling at Millenbeck.Throckmorton went home feeling rather bitter toward all his countypeople, except his stanch friend Mrs. Sherrard; Judith, so gentle,clever, and well-read; and that fascinating child, Jacqueline.