Beauchamp; or, The Error.

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER VII.Introduces Miss Slingsby to the Reader.

  The reader may remember that we left a lady and her daughter, whom NedHayward afterwards discovered to be a Mrs. and Miss Clifford, standingat the door of Sir John Slingsby's house, in the heart of what wascalled Tarningham Park. All that Ned Hayward (or the reader either)knew of their history at the moment that he quitted them, after havingassisted them to alight from their carriage, was as follows: that theelder lady had been sent for to see her elder brother in his lastmoments, he having been accused of having gout in the stomach, andthat she and her daughter had been stopped on the king's highway bythree personages, two of whom, at least, had pistols with them, thatthey had been rescued by Captain Hayward himself, and anothergentleman, that on arriving at Tarningham House it did not look at alllike the dwelling of a dying man, and that the answer of the butler toMrs. Clifford's inquiries regarding her brother's health was, "Quitewell, thank you Ma'am," delivered in the most commonplace tone in theworld.

  At the precise point of time when this reply was made, Ned Haywardtook his leave, remounted his horse, and rode back to Tarningham, andafter he was gone Mrs. Clifford remained for at least thirty secondssomewhat bewildered with what seemed to her a very strangeannouncement. When she had done being bewildered, and seemed to havegot a slight glimpse of the real state of the case, she turned ananxious glance to her daughter, to which Miss Clifford, who fullyunderstood what it meant, replied at once, without requiring to haveit put into words, "You had better go in, dear mamma," she said, "itwill grieve poor Isabella if you do not, and besides, it might berisking a great deal to go back at night with nobody to protect us."

  Mrs. Clifford still hesitated a little, but in the meantime someby-play had been going on which decided the question. The butler hadcalled a footman, the footman had taken a portmanteau and some smallerpackages from the boot of the carriage. The name of Mrs. Clifford hadbeen mentioned once or twice, a lady's-maid crossing the hall had seenthe two ladies' faces by the light of a great lamp, and in a momentafter, from a door on the opposite side of the vestibule, came forth afair and graceful figure, looking like Hebe dressed for dinner.

  "Oh, my dear aunt!" she exclaimed, running across to Mrs. Clifford andkissing her, "and you, too, my dear Mary! This is indeed an unexpectedpleasure; but come in, come into the drawing-room; they will bring inall the things--there is no one there," she continued, seeing her aunthesitated a little, "I am quite alone, and shall be for the next twohours, I dare say."

  Mrs. Clifford suffered herself to be led on into a fine largeold-fashioned drawing-room, and then began the explanations.

  "And so, Isabella, you did not expect me to-night," said the elderlady, addressing Hebe. "Either for jest or for mischief some one hasplayed us a trick. Have you got the letter, Mary?"

  It was in Miss Clifford's writing-desk, however, as letters always arein some place where they cannot be found when they are wanted; but thefact was soon explained that Mrs. Clifford that very day about fouro'clock had received a letter purporting to come from the housekeeperat Turningham House, informing her that her brother, Sir JohnSlingsby, had been suddenly seized with gout in the stomach, and wasnot expected to live from hour to hour, that Miss Slingsby was toomuch agitated to write, but that Sir John expressed an eager desire tosee his sister before he died.

  "Good gracious!" exclaimed the fair Isabella, "who could have donesuch a thing as that?" and then she laughed quietly, adding, "Well, atall events I am very much obliged to them; but it was a shamefultrick, notwithstanding."

  "You haven't heard the whole yet, Isabella," replied Mrs. Clifford,"for we have been stopped between this and Tarningham, and should havebeen robbed--perhaps murdered--if two gentlemen had not come up to ourrescue--good Heaven, it makes me feel quite faint to think of it." Andshe sat down in one of the large arm-chairs, and put her hand to herhead, while her check turned somewhat pale.

  "Take a little wine, my dear aunt," cried Isabella, and before Mrs.Clifford could stop her she had darted out of the room.

  As soon as she was alone with her daughter, the widow lady gazed roundthe chamber in which she sat with a thoughtful and melancholy look.She was in the house where her early days of girlhood had passed--shewas in the very room where she had gone in all the agitation of happylove as a bride to the altar. She peopled the place with forms thatcould no longer be seen, she called up the loved and the dead, theparents who had cherished and instructed her, the fair sister who hadbloomed and withered by her side. How many happy, how many a painfulscene rose to the eye of memory on that stage where they had beenenacted. All the material objects were the same, the pictures, thefurniture, the old oak paneling with its carved wreaths; but wherewere they who moved so lately beside her in that chamber--where wasall that had there been done? The grave and the past--man's tomb, andthe tomb of man's actions had received them, and in the short space oftwenty years all had gone, fading away and dissolving into air like asmoke rising up unto heaven, and spreading out thinner and thinner,till naught remains. Herself and a brother, from whom manycircumstances had detached her, were all that were left of the crowdof happy faces that remembrance called back as she sat there and gazedaround. Some tears rose to her eyes, and Mary who had been standing bygazing at her face, and reading in it with the quick appreciation ofaffection all the emotions which brought such shadows over the lovedmother's brow, knelt down beside her, and taking her hand in hers saidearnestly, "Mamma, dear mamma, I know this is painful, but pray for mysake and Isabella's let the shameful deceit that has been played uponus produce a good and happy result. You are here in my uncle's house;be reconciled to him fully, I beseech you. You know that he isgood-humoured notwithstanding all his faults, and I cannot but thinkthat if those who might have led him to better things had notwithdrawn from him so completely, he might now have been a differentman."

  Mrs. Clifford shook her head mournfully.

  "My dear child," she said, "you know that it is not resentment; it wasyour good father who did not feel it consistent with his character andstation to countenance all that takes place here."

  "But for Isabella's sake," said Miss Clifford, earnestly, and beforeher mother could answer, the young lady of whom she spoke re-enteredthe room with a servant carrying some refreshments.

  "Oh dear aunt," she said, while the wine and water and biscuits wereplaced upon a small table at Mrs. Clifford's elbow, "it makes me soglad to see you, and I have ordered the blue room at the south side tobe got ready for you directly, and then there is the corner one forMary, because it has a window both ways, and when she is in a gay moodshe can look out over the meadows and the stream, and when she is inher high pensiveness she can gaze over the deep woods and hills. Thenshe is next to me too, so that she may have merry nonsense on oneside, and grave sense on the other; for I am sure you will stay a longwhile with us now you are here, and papa will be so glad."

  "I fear it cannot be very long, my love," replied Mrs. Clifford. "Inthe first place I have come it seems uninvited, and in the next placeyou know, Isabella, that I am sometimes out of spirits, and perhapsfastidious, so that all guests do not at all times please me. Who haveyou here now? There seemed a large party in the dining-room."

  "Oh, there are several very foolish men," answered Sir John Slingsby'sdaughter, laughing, "and one wise one. There is Mr. Dabbleworth, whowas trying to prove to me all dinner-time that I am an electricalmachine; and in the end I told him that I could easily believe he wasone, for he certainly gave me a shock, and Sir James Vestage whojoined in and insisted that instead of electrical machines men weremerely improved monkeys. I told him that I perfectly agreed with him,and that I saw fresh proofs of it every day. Then up by papa wassitting old Mr. Harrington, the fox-hunter; what he was saying I donot know, for I never listen to any thing he says, as it is sureeither to be stupid or offensive. Then there was Charles Harrington,who lisped a good deal, and thought himself exceedingly pretty, andMr. Wharton, the lawyer, who thought deeply and drank deeply, and sa
idnothing but once."

  "But who was your wise man, dear Isabella?" asked Mary, very willingto encourage her fair cousin in her light cheerfulness, hoping that itmight win Mrs. Clifford gently from sadder thoughts.

  "Oh, who but good Dr. Miles," answered Miss Slingsby, "who grumbledsadly at every body, and even papa did not escape, I can assure you.But all these people will be gone in an hour or two, and in themeantime I shall have you all alone."

  "Then there is no one staying in the house, Isabella?" said Mrs.Clifford. "I heard at Tarningham that your father expected some peoplefrom London."

  "Only one, I believe," answered the fair daughter of the house, "buthe has not arrived yet, and perhaps may not. He is a Captain Hayward,who was ensign in papa's regiment long ago. I never saw him, butpeople say 'he's the best fellow in the world.' You know what thatmeans, Mary: a man that will drink, or hunt, or shoot, or fish withany body, or every body, and when none of these are to be done, willgo to sleep upon the sofa. Pray, pray do stay, dear aunt, till he isgone, for I know not what I should do with him in the house by myself.I positively must get papa to ask somebody else, or get the gooddoctor to come up and flirt with him to my heart's content, just as adiversion from the pleasures of this Captain Hayward's society."

  "A very disagreeable person, I dare say," replied Mary Clifford; "itis very odd how names are perverted, so that 'a good creature' means afool in the world's parlance; 'a very respectable man' is sure to be avery dull one; and 'the best fellow in the world' is invariably--"

  But her moralising fit was suddenly brought to an end by the door ofthe drawing-room being thrown open, and Sir John Slingsby rushing in.

  Stay a moment, reader, and observe him before he advances. Honest JackSlingsby! Roystering Sir John! Jolly old Jack! Glorious Johnny! By allthese names was he known, or had been known by persons in differentdegrees of acquaintanceship with him. That round and portly form, nowextending the white waistcoat and black-silk breeches, had once beenslim and graceful: that face glowing with the grape in all itsdifferent hues, from the _[oe]il de perdrix_ upon the temples andforehead to the deep purple of old port in the nose, had once beensmooth and fair. That nose itself, raising itself now into mightydominion over the rest of the face, and spreading out, Heaven knowswhere, over the map of his countenance, like the kingdom of Russia inthe share of Europe, was once fine and chiselled like Apollo's own.That thin white hair flaring up into a cockatoo on the top of his headto cover the well-confirmed baldness, was once a mass of dark curlsthat would not have disgraced the brow of Jove. You may see theremains of former dandyism in the smart shoe, the tight silk-stocking,the well cut blue-coat; and you may imagine how much activity thoselimbs once possessed by the quick and buoyant step with which thecapacious stomach is carried into the room. There is a jauntiness,too, in the step which would seem to imply that the portion ofyouthful vigour and activity, which is undoubtedly gone, has beenparted from with regret, and that he would fain persuade himself andothers that he still retains it in his full elasticity; but yet thereis nothing affected about it either, and perhaps after all it ismerely an effort of the mind to overcome the approach of corporealinfirmity, and to carry on the war as well as may be. Look at thegood-humoured smile, too, the buoyant, boisterous, overflowingsatisfaction that is radiating from every point of that rosycountenance. Who on earth could be angry with him? One might beprovoked, but angry one couldn't be. It is evidently the faceof one who takes the world lightly--who esteems nothing as veryheavy--retains no impressions very long--enjoys the hour and itspleasures to the very utmost, and has no great consciousness of sin orshame in any thing that he does. He is, in fact, a fat butterfly, who,though he may have some difficulty in fluttering from flower toflower, does his best to sip the sweets of all he finds, and not veryunsuccessfully.

  With that same jaunty light step, with that same good-humoured,well-satisfied smile, Sir John Slingsby advanced straight to hissister, took her in his arms, gave her a hearty kiss, and shook bothher hands, exclaiming in around, full, juicy voice, almost as fat ashimself,

  "Well, my dear Harriet, I'm very happy to see you; this _is_ kind,this is very kind indeed; I could hardly believe my ears when theservants told me you were here, but I left the fellows immediately tofuddle their noses at leisure, and came to assure myself that it was afact. And my dear Mary, too, my little saint, how are you, my deargirl?"

  "We were brought here, John," replied Mrs. Clifford, "by a veryshameful trick." And she proceeded to explain to him the trick whichhad been practised upon her.

  "Gout!" exclaimed Sir John, "gout in the stomach! It would be adevilish large gout to take up his abode in my stomach, or else he'dfind the house too big for him;" and he laid his hand upon his largepaunch with an air of pride and satisfaction. "Gout! that does notlook like gout I think," and he stuck out his neat foot, and trimwell-shaped ankle; "never had but one threatening of a fit in my life,and then I cured it in an afternoon--with three bottles of Champagneand a glass of brandy," he added, in a sort of loud aside to Mary, asif she would enter into the joke better than her mother. "And soreally, Harriet, you would not have come if you had not thought medying. Come, come now, forget and forgive; let bygones be bygones; Iknow I am a d--d fool, and do a great many very silly things; but 'ponmy soul I'm very sorry for it, I am indeed; you can't think how Iabominate myself sometimes, and wonder what the devil possesses me.I'll repent and reform, upon my life I will, Harriet, if you'll juststay and help me--it's being left all alone to struggle withtemptation that makes me fail so often, but every ten minutes I'msaying to myself, 'What an old fool you are, Jack Slingsby!' so nowyou'll stay like a dear good girl, as you always were, and help tomake my house a little respectable. Forget and forgive, forget andforgive."

  "My dear John, I have nothing to forgive," answered Mrs. Clifford."You know very well that I would do any thing in the world to promoteyour welfare, and always wished it, but---"

  "Ay, ay, it was your husband," answered Sir John, bringing an instantcloud over his sister's face. "Well, he was a good man--an excellentman--ay, and a kind man too, and he was devilish right after all; Ican't help saying it, though I suffer. In his station what could hedo? An archdeacon and then a dean, it was not to be expected that heshould countenance rioting, and roaring, and drinking, and all that,as we used to do here; but 'pon my life, Harriet, I'll put an end toit. Now you shall see, I won't drink another glass to-night, and I'llsend all those fellows away within half an hour, by Jove! I'll just goback and order coffee in the dining-room, and that'll be a broad hint,you know. Bella will take care of you in the meantime, and I'll beback in half an hour--high time I should reform indeed--even thatmonkey begins to lecture me. I've got a capital fellow coming down tostay with me--the best fellow in the world--as gay as a lark, and asactive as a squirrel; yet somehow or other he always kept himselfright, and never played at cards, the dog, nor got drunk either that Iever saw; yet he must have got drunk too, every man must sometimes,but he kept it devilish snug if he did--by the by, make yourselvescomfortable." And without waiting to hear his sister's furtheradventures on the road, Sir John Slingsby tripped out of the roomagain, and notwithstanding all his good resolutions, finishedtwo-thirds of a bottle of claret while the servants were bringing inthe coffee.

  "Rather a more favourable account of your expected guest, Isabella,than might have been supposed," said Mrs. Clifford, as soon as SirJohn Slingsby was gone. "A young man who did not drink or play in yourfather's regiment, must have been a rare exception; for I am sorry tosay that it had a bad name in those respects long before he got it,and I believe that it did him a great deal of harm."

  "Papa is so good-humoured," replied Miss Slingsby, "that he letspeople do just what they like with him. I am sure he wishes to do allthat is right."

  Mrs. Clifford was silent for a moment or two, and then turned theconversation; but in the house of her brother she was rather like atraveller who, riding through a country, finds himself suddenly andunexpectedly in the midst of what t
hey call in Scotland a shakingmoss; whichever path she took, the ground seemed to be giving wayunder her. She spoke of the old park and the fine trees, and to herdismay, she heard that Sir John had ordered three hundred magnificentoaks to be cut down and sold. She spoke of a sort of model farm whichhad been her father's pride, and after a moment or two of silence,Isabella thought it better, to prevent her coming upon the samesubject with her father, by telling her that Sir John, not being fondof farming, had disposed of it some three months before to Mr.Wharton, the solicitor.

  "He could not find a tenant easily for it," she continued, "and itannoyed him to have it unoccupied, so he was persuaded to sell it,intending to invest the money in land adjoining the rest of theproperty."

  "I hope Mr. Wharton gave him a fair price for it?" said Mrs. Clifford.

  "I really don't know," answered her niece; "I dislike that man verymuch."

  "And so do I," said Mary Clifford.

  "And so do I," added her mother, thoughtfully.

  Mr. Wharton had evidently not established himself in the favour of theladies, and as ladies are always right, he must have been a very badman indeed.

  To vary the pleasures of such a conversation, Miss Slingsby soon afterordered tea, trusting that her father would return before it was over.Sir John Slingsby's half hour, however, extended itself to an hour anda half, but then an immense deal of loud laughing and talking, movingfeet, seeking for hats and coats, and ultimately rolling of wheels,and trotting of horses, was heard in the drawing-room, and the baronethimself again appeared, as full of fun and good-humour as ever. Hetried, indeed, somewhat to lower the tone of his gaiety, to suit hissister's more rigid notions; but although he was not in the leasttipsy--and indeed it was a question which might have puzzled Babbage'scalculating machine to resolve what quantity of any given kind of winewould have affected his brain to the point of inebriety--yet thepotations in which he had indulged had certainly spread a genialwarmth through his bosom, which kept his spirits at a pitchconsiderably higher than harmonised very well with Mrs. Clifford'sfeelings.

  After about half an hour's conversation, then, she complained offatigue, and retired to bed, and was followed by her niece and herdaughter, after the former, at her father's desire, had sung him asong to make him sleep comfortably. Sir John then stretched his legsupon a chair to meditate for a minute or two over the unexpected eventof his sister's arrival. But the process of meditation was not onethat he was at all accustomed to, and consequently he did not performit with great ease and dexterity. After he had tried it for aboutthirty seconds, his head nodded, and then looking up, he said, "Ah!"and then attempted it again. Fifteen seconds were enough this time;but his head, finding that it had disturbed itself by its rapiddeclension on the former occasion, now sank gradually on his shoulder,and thence found its way slowly round to his breast. Deep breathingsucceeded for about a quarter of an hour, and then an awful snore,loud enough to rouse the worthy baronet by his own trumpet. Up hestarted, and getting unsteadily upon his legs, rubbed his eyes, andmuttered to himself, "Time to go to bed." Such was the conclusion ofhis meditation, and the logical result of the process in which he hadbeen engaged.

  The next morning, however, at the hour of half-past nine, found SirJohn in the breakfast-room, as fresh, as rosy, and as gay as ever. Ifwine had no effect upon his intellect at night, it had none upon hishealth and comfort in the morning; the blushing banner that he bore inhis countenance was the only indication of the deeds that he achieved;and kissing the ladies all round, he sat down to the breakfast-table,and spent an hour with them in very agreeable chat. He was by no meansill-informed, not without natural taste, a very fair theoreticaljudgment, which was lamentably seldom brought into practice, and hecould discourse of many things, when he liked it, in as gentlemanlikeand reasonable a manner as any man living; while his cheerfulgood-humour shed a sunshine around that, in its sparkling warmth, mademen forget his faults and over-estimate his good qualities. He had aparticular tact, too, of palliating errors that he had committed,sometimes by acknowledging them frankly, and lamenting the infatuationthat produced them, sometimes by finding out excellent good reasonsfor doing things which had a great deal better been left undone. Maryand Isabella had been walking in the park before breakfast, talking ofall those things which young ladies find to converse about when theyhave not met for some time; and Sir John, at once aware that hisniece's eye must have marked the destruction going on among the oldtrees, asked her in the most deliberate tone in the world, if she hadseen the improvements he was making.

  Mary Clifford replied "No," and looked at her cousin as if forexplanation, and then Sir John exclaimed,

  "God bless my soul, did you not see the alley I am cutting? It willmake the most beautiful vista in the world. First you will go roundfrom the house by the back of the wood, slowly mounting the hill, bywhat we call the Broad Walk, and then when you have reached the top,you will have a clear view down through a sort of glade, with the oldtrees on your right and left hand, over the clumps of young firs inthe bottom, catching the stream here and there, and having thepark-wall quite concealed, till the eye passing over the meadows, justrests upon Tarningham church, and then running on, gets a view of yourown place Steenham, looking like a white speck on the side of thehill, and the prospect is closed by the high grounds beyond. My dearMary, it is the greatest improvement that ever was made--we will goand see it."

  Now the real truth was, that Sir John Slingsby, some four or fivemonths before, had very much wanted three thousand pounds, and he haddetermined to convert a certain number of his trees into bank-notes;but being a man of very good taste, as I have said, he had arrangedthe cutting so as to damage his park scenery as little as possible.Nevertheless, in all he said to Mary Clifford, strange as theassertion may seem, he was perfectly sincere; for he was one of thosemen who always begin by deceiving themselves, and having done that,can hardly be said to deceive others. It is a sort of infectiousdisease they have, that is all, and they communicate it, after havinggot it themselves. Before he had cut a single tree, he had perfectlypersuaded himself that to do so would effect the greatest improvementin the world, and he was quite proud of having beautified his park,and at the same time obtained three thousand pounds of ready money.

  Doubtless, had the conversation turned that way, he would have foundas good an excuse, as valid a reason, as legitimate a motive, forselling the model farm; but that not being the case, they went ontalking of different subjects, till suddenly the door opened, thebutler, who was nearly as fat as his master, advanced three steps in asolemn manner, and announced, "Captain Hayward."

  Sir John instantly started up, and the three ladies raised their eyessimultaneously, partly with that peculiar sort of curiosity whichpeople feel when they look into the den of some rare wild beast, andpartly with that degree of interest which we all take in the outwardform and configuration of one of our own species, upon whom depends acertain portion of the pleasure or pain, amusement or dulness, of thenext few hours. The next moment our friend Ned Hayward was in theroom. He was well-dressed and well-looking, as I have alreadydescribed him in his riding costume. Gentleman was in every line andevery movement, and his frank, pleasant smile, his clear, opencountenance were very engaging even at the first sight. Sir John shookhim warmly by the hand, and although the baronet's countenance had soburgeoned and blossomed since he last saw him, that the younggentleman had some difficulty in recognising him, his former colonel,yet Ned Hayward returned his grasp with equal cordiality, and thenlooked round, as his host led him up towards Miss Slingsby, andintroduced them to each other. Great was the surprise of both thebaronet and his daughter, to see Mrs. Clifford rise, and with a warmsmile extend her hand to their new guest, and even Mary Cliffordfollow her mother's example, and welcome, as if he were an old friend,the very person with whose name they had seemed unacquainted the nightbefore.

  "Ah ha, Ned!" cried Sir John; "how is this, boy? Have you beenpoaching upon my preserves without my knowing it? 'Pon my life,Harriet
, you have kept your acquaintance with my little ensign quitesnug and secret."

  "It is an acquaintance of a very short date, John," replied Mrs.Clifford; "but one which has been of inestimable service to mealready."

  And she proceeded in a very few words to explain to her brother thedebt of gratitude she owed to Captain Hayward for his interference thenight before, and for the courtesy he had shown in escorting andprotecting her to the doors of that very house.

  Sir John immediately seized his guest by the two lapels of the coat,exclaiming,

  "And why the devil didn't you come in, you dog? What, Ned Hayward atmy gates, an expected guest, and not come in! I can tell you we shouldhave given you a warm reception, fined you a couple of bottles forbeing late at dinner, and sent you to bed roaring drunk."

  Ned Hayward gave a gay glance round at the ladies, as if inquiringwhether they thought these were great inducements; he answered,however,

  "Strange to say, I did not know it was your house, Sir John."

  And now having placed our friend Ned Hayward comfortably between twoexcessively pretty girls of very different styles of beauty, and verydifferent kinds of mind, I shall leave Fate to settle his destiny, andturn to another scene which had preceded his arrival at TarninghamHouse.