_Chapter VI_
Tom Marjoribanks arrived that night, according to the Doctor'sexpectation. He arrived, with that curious want of adaptation to thecircumstances which characterised the young man, at an hour which putNancy entirely out, and upset the equanimity of the kitchen fortwenty-four hours at least. He came, if any one can conceive of such aninstance of carelessness, by the nine o'clock train, just as they hadfinished putting to rights downstairs. After this, Miss Marjoribanks'sconclusion that the fact of the Carlingford assizes occurring a day ortwo after her arrival, when as yet she was not fully prepared to takeadvantage of them, was _so_ like Tom, may be partially understood. Andof course he was furiously hungry, and could have managed perfectly tobe in time for dinner if he had not missed the train at Didcot Junction,by some wonderful blunder of the railway people, which never could haveoccurred but for his unlucky presence among the passengers. Lucilla tookThomas apart, and sent him downstairs with the most conciliatorymessage. "Tell Nancy not to put herself about, but to send up somethingcold--the cold pie, or anything she can find handy. Tell her I am _so_vexed, but it is just like Mr Tom; and he never knows what he iseating," said Miss Marjoribanks. As for Nancy, this sweetness did notsubdue her in the least. She said, "I'll thank Miss Lucilla to mind herown business. The cold pie is for master's breakfast. I ain't such agoose as not to know what to send upstairs, and that Tummas can tell herif he likes." In the meantime the Doctor was in the drawing-room, muchagainst his will, with the two young people, spinning about the room,and looking at Lucilla's books and knick-knacks on the tables by way ofcovering his impatience. He wanted to carry off Tom, who was rather afavourite, to his own den downstairs, where the young man's supper wasto be served; but, at the same time, Dr Marjoribanks could not deny thatLucilla had a right to the greetings and homage of her cousin. He couldnot help thinking, on the whole, as he looked at the two, what a muchmore sensible arrangement it would have been if he had had the boy,instead of his sister, who had been a widow for ever so long, and nodoubt had spoiled her son, as women always do; and then Lucilla mighthave passed under the sway of Mrs Marjoribanks, who no doubt would haveknown how to manage her. Thus the Doctor mused, with that sense of mildamazement at the blunders of Providence, which so many peopleexperience, and without any idea that Mrs Marjoribanks would have founda task a great deal beyond her powers in the management of Lucilla. Asfor Tom, he was horribly hungry, having found, as was to be expected, nopossible means of lunching at Didcot; but, at the same time, he wasexhilarated by Lucilla's smile, and delighted to think of having a weekat least to spend in her society. "I don't think I ever saw you lookingso well," he was saying; "and you know my opinion generally on thatsubject." To which Lucilla responded in a way to wither all the germs ofsentiment in the bud.
"What subject?" she said; "my looks? I am sure they can't be interestingto you. You are as hungry as ever you can be, and I can see it in youreyes. Papa, he is famishing, and I don't think he can contain himselfany longer. Do take him downstairs, and let him have something to eat.For myself," Lucilla continued, in a lower tone, "it is my duty thatkeeps me up. You know it has always been the object of my life to be acomfort to papa."
"Come along, Tom," said the Doctor. "Don't waste your time philanderingwhen your supper is ready." And Dr Marjoribanks led the way downstairs,leaving Tom, who followed him, in a state of great curiosity to knowwhat secret oppression it might be under which his cousin was supportedby her duty. Naturally his thoughts reverted to a possible rival--someone whom the sensible Doctor would have nothing to say to; and his veryears grew red with excitement at this idea. But, notwithstanding, he atea very satisfactory meal in the library, where he had to answer allsorts of questions. Tom had his tray at the end of the table, and theDoctor, who had, according to his hospitable old-fashioned habit, takena glass of claret to "keep him company," sat in his easy-chair betweenthe fire and the table, and sipped his wine, and admired its colour andpurity in the light, and watched with satisfaction the excellent mealhis nephew was making. He asked him all about his prospects, and what hewas doing, which Tom replied to with the frankest confidence. He was notvery fond of work, nor were his abilities anything out of the common;but at the present moment Tom saw no reason why he should not gain theWoolsack in time; and Dr Marjoribanks gave something like a sigh as helistened, and wondered much what Providence could be thinking of not togive _him_ the boy.
Lucilla meantime was very much occupied upstairs. She had the newhousemaid up nominally to give her instructions about Mr Tom's room, butreally to take the covers off the chairs, and see how they looked whenthe room was lighted up; but the progress of decay had gone too far tostand that trial. After all, the chintz, though none of the freshest,was the best. When the gentlemen came upstairs, which Tom, to theDoctor's disgust, insisted on doing, Lucilla was found in the act ofpacing the room--pacing, not in the sentimental sense of making a littlepromenade up and down, but in the homely practical signification, with aview of measuring, that she might form an idea how much carpet wasrequired. Lucilla was tall enough to go through this process without anygreat drawback in point of grace--the long step giving rather atragedy-queen effect to her handsome but substantial person and long,sweeping dress. She stopped short, however, when she saw them, andwithdrew to the sofa, on which she had established her throne; and therewas a little air of conscious pathos on her face as she sat down, whichimpressed her companions. As for Tom, he instinctively felt that it musthave something to do with that mystery under which Lucilla was supportedby her duty; and the irrelevant young man conceived immediately aviolent desire to knock the fellow down; whereas there was no fellow atall in the case, unless it might be Mr Holden, the upholsterer, whosevisits Miss Marjoribanks would have received with greater enthusiasm atthis moment than those of the most eligible eldest son in England. Andthen she gave a little pathetic sigh.
"What were you doing, Lucilla?" said her father,--"rehearsing LadyMacbeth, I suppose. At least you looked exactly like it when we cameinto the room."
"No, papa," said Lucilla sweetly; "I was only measuring to see how muchcarpet we should want; and that, you know, and Tom's coming, made methink of old times. You are so much downstairs in the library that youdon't feel it; but a lady has to spend her life in the drawing-room--andthen I always was so domestic. It does not matter what is outside, Ialways find my pleasure at home. I cannot help if it has a little effecton my spirits now and then," said Miss Marjoribanks, looking down uponher handkerchief, "to be always surrounded with things that have suchassociations----"
"What associations?" said the amazed Doctor. To be sure, he hadforgotten his wife; but it was four years ago, and he had got used toher absence from her favourite sofa; and, on the whole, in thatparticular, had acquiesced in the arrangements of Providence. "Really,Lucilla, I don't know what you mean."
"No, papa," said Miss Marjoribanks, with resignation. "I know you don't,and that is what makes it so sad. But talking of new carpets, you know,I had such an adventure to-day that I must tell you--quite one of _my_adventures--the very luckiest thing. It happened when I was out walking;I heard a voice out of a house in Grove Street, just the _very_ thing togo with my voice. That is not a thing that happens every day," saidLucilla, "for all the masters have always told me that my voice wassomething quite by itself. When I heard it, though it was in GroveStreet, and all the people about, I could have danced for joy."
"It was a man's voice, I suppose," suggested Tom Marjoribanks, in gloomytones; and the Doctor added, in his cynical way:
"It's a wonderful advantage to be so pleased about trifles. What numberwas it? For my part, I have not many patients in Grove Street," said DrMarjoribanks. "I would find a voice to suit you in another quarter, if Iwere you."
"Dear papa, it's such a pity that you don't understand," said Lucillacompassionately. "It turned out to be Barbara Lake; for, of course, Iwent in directly, and found out. I never heard a voice that went so wellwith mine." If Miss Marjoribanks did not go into raptures over
thecontralto on its own merits, it was not from any jealousy, of which,indeed, she was incapable, but simply because its adaptation to her ownseemed to her by far its most interesting quality, and indeed almost thesole claim it had to consideration from the world.
"Barbara Lake?" said the Doctor. "There's something in that. If you cando her any good or get her teaching or anything--I have a regard forpoor Lake, poor little fellow! He's kept up wonderfully since his wifedied; and nobody expected it of him," Dr Marjoribanks continued, with amomentary dreary recollection of the time when the poor woman tookfarewell of her children, which indeed was the next day after that onwhich his own wife, who had nobody in particular to take farewell of,faded out of her useless life.
"Yes," said Lucilla, "I mean her to come here and sing with me; but,then, one needs to organise a little first. I am nineteen--how long isit since you were married, papa?"
"Two-and-twenty years," said the Doctor abruptly. He did not observe thestrangeness of the question, because he had been thinking for the momentof his wife, and perhaps his face was a trifle graver than usual, thoughneither of his young companions thought of remarking it. To be sure hewas not a young man even when he married; but, on the whole, perhapssomething more than this perfect comfort and respectability, and thosenice little dinners, had seemed to shine on his horizon when he broughthome his incapable bride.
"Two-and-twenty years!" exclaimed Lucilla. "I don't mind talking beforeTom, for he is one of the family. The things are all the same as theywere when mamma came home, though, I am sure, nobody would believe it. Ithink it is going against Providence, for my part. Nothing was everintended to last so long, except the things the Jews, poor souls! worein the desert, perhaps. Papa, if you have no objection, I should like tochoose the colours myself. There is a great deal in choosing coloursthat go well with one's complexion. People think of that for theirdresses, but not for their rooms, which are of so much more importance.I should have liked blue, but blue gets so soon tawdry. I think," saidMiss Marjoribanks, rising and looking at herself seriously in the glass,"that I have enough complexion at present to venture upon a pale springgreen."
This little calculation, which a timid young woman would have taken careto do by herself, Lucilla did publicly, with her usual discrimination.The Doctor, who had looked a little grim at first, could not but laughwhen he saw the sober look of care and thought with which MissMarjoribanks examined her capabilities in the glass. It was not so muchthe action itself that amused her father, as the consummate ability ofthe young revolutionary. Dr Marjoribanks was Scotch, and had a respectfor "talent" in every development, as is natural to his nation. He didnot even give his daughter that credit for sincerity which she deserved,but set it all to the score of her genius, which was complimentary,certainly, in one point of view; but the fact was that Lucilla wasperfectly sincere, and that she did what was natural to her underguidance of her genius, so as always to be in good fortune, just as TomMarjoribanks, under the guidance of his, brought discredit even uponthose eternal ordinances of English government which fixed the time ofthe Carlingford assizes. Lucilla was quite in earnest in thinking thatthe colour of the drawing-room was an important matter, and that a womanof sense had very good reason for suiting it to her complexion--an ideawhich accordingly she proceeded to develop and explain.
"For one can change one's dress," said Miss Marjoribanks, "as often asone likes--at least as often, you know, as one has dresses to change;but the furniture remains the same. I am always a perfect guy, whateverI wear, when I sit against a red curtain. You men say that a womanalways knows when she's good-looking, but I am happy to say _I_ knowwhen I look a guy. What I mean is a delicate pale green, papa. For mypart, I think it wears just as well as any other colour; and all thepainters say it is the very thing for pictures. The carpet, of course,would be a darker shade; and as for the chairs, it is not at allnecessary to keep to one colour. Both red and violet go beautifully withgreen, you know. I am sure Mr Holden and I could settle all about itwithout giving you any trouble."
"Who told you, Lucilla," said the Doctor, "that I meant to refurnish thehouse?" He was even a little angry at her boldness, but at the same timehe was so much amused and pleased in his heart to have so clever adaughter, that all the tones that could produce terror were softened outof his voice. "I never heard that was a sort of thing a man had to dofor his daughter," said Dr Marjoribanks; "and I would like to know whatI should do with all that finery when you get married--as I suppose youwill by and by--and leave me alone in the house?"
"Ah, that is the important question," said Tom. As usual, it was Tom'sluck; but then, when there did happen to be a moment when he ought to besilent, the unfortunate fellow could not help but speak.
"Perhaps I may marry some time," said Miss Marjoribanks, with composure;"it would be foolish, you know, to make any engagements; but that willdepend greatly upon how you behave, and how Carlingford behaves, papa.I give myself ten years here, if you should be very good. By twenty-nineI shall be going off a little, and perhaps it may be tiring, foranything I can tell. Ten years is a long time, and naturally, in themeantime, I want to look as well as possible. Stop a minute; I forgot toput down the number of paces for the length. Tom, please to do it overagain for me; of course, your steps are a great deal longer than mine."
"Tom is tired," said the Doctor; "and there are no new carpets comingout of my pockets. Besides, he's going to bed, and I'm going downstairsto the library. We may as well bid you good-night."
These words, however, were addressed to deaf ears. Tom, as was natural,had started immediately to obey Lucilla, as he was in duty bound; andthe old Doctor looked on with a little amazement and a little amusement,recognising, with something of the surprise which that discovery alwaysgives to fathers and mothers, that his visitor cared twenty times morefor what Lucilla said than for anything that his superior wisdom couldsuggest. He would have gone off and left them as a couple of youngfools, if it had not occurred to him all at once that since this sort ofthing had begun, the last person in the world that he would choose tosee dancing attendance on his daughter was Tom Marjoribanks. Oddlyenough, though he had just been finding fault with Providence for notgiving him a son instead of a daughter, he was not at all delighted norgrateful when Providence put before him this simple method of providinghimself with the son he wanted. He took a great deal too much interestin Tom Marjoribanks to let him do anything so foolish; and as forLucilla, the idea that, after all her accomplishments, and her expensiveeducation, and her year on the Continent, she should marry a man who hadnothing, disgusted the Doctor. He kept his seat accordingly, though hewas horribly bored by the drawing-room and its claims, and wanted verymuch to return to the library, and get into his slippers and hisdressing-gown. It was rather a pretty picture, on the whole, which hewas regarding. Lucilla, perhaps, with a view to this discussion, had puton green ribbons on the white dress which she always wore in theevening, and her tawny curls and fresh complexion carried offtriumphantly that difficult colour. Perhaps a critical observer mighthave said that her figure was a little too developed and substantialfor these vestal robes; but then Miss Marjoribanks was young, and couldbear it. She was standing by, not far from the fire, on the other sidefrom the Doctor, looking on anxiously, while Tom measured the room withhis long steps. "I never said you were to stride," said Lucilla; "takemoderate steps, and don't be so silly. I was doing it myself famously ifyou had not come in and interrupted me. It is frightful to belong to afamily where the men are so stupid," said Miss Marjoribanks, with a sighof real distress; for, to be sure, the unlucky Tom immediately bethoughthimself to take small steps like those of a lady, which all but threwhim on his well-formed though meaningless nose. Lucilla shook her headwith an exasperated look, and contracted her lips with disdain, as hepassed her on his ill-omened career. Of course he came right up againstthe little table on which she had with her own hand arranged a bouquetof geraniums and mignonette. "It is what he always does," she said tothe Doctor calmly, as Tom arrived at
that climax of his fate; and thelook with which she accompanied these words, as she rang the bellsmartly and promptly, mollified the Doctor's heart.
"I can tell you the size of the room, if that is all you want," said DrMarjoribanks. "I suppose you mean to give parties, and drive me out ofmy senses with dancing and singing.--No, Lucilla, you must wait till youget married--that will never do for me."
"Dear papa," said Lucilla sweetly, "it is so dreadful to hear you say_parties_. Everybody knows that the only thing I care for in life is tobe a comfort to you; and as for dancing, I saw at once that was out ofthe question. Dancing is all very well," said Miss Marjoribanksthoughtfully; "but it implies quantities of young people--and youngpeople can never make what _I_ call society. It is _Evenings_ I mean tohave, papa. I am sure you want to go downstairs, and I suppose Tom wouldthink it civil to sit with me, though he is tired; so I will show you agood example, and Thomas can pick up the table and the flowers at hisleisure. Good-night, papa," said Lucilla, giving him her round freshcheek to kiss. She went out of the room with a certain triumph, feelingthat she had fully signified her intentions, which is always animportant matter; and shook hands in a condescending way with Tom, whohad broken his shins in a headlong rush to open the door. She looked athim with an expression of mild despair, and shook her head again as sheaccorded him that sign of amity. "If you only would look a little whereyou are going," said Miss Marjoribanks;--perhaps she meant the words toconvey an allegorical as well as a positive meaning, as so many peoplehave been found out to do--and then she pursued her peaceful wayupstairs. As for the Doctor, he went off to his library rubbing hishands, glad to be released, and laughing softly at his nephew's abashedlooks. "She knows how to put _him_ down at least," the Doctor said tohimself, well pleased; and he was so much amused by his daughter'ssuperiority to the vulgar festivity of parties, that he almost gave into the idea of refurnishing the drawing-room to suit Lucilla'scomplexion. He rubbed his hands once more over the fire, and indulged ina little laugh all by himself over that original idea. "So it isEvenings she means to have?" said the Doctor; and, to be sure, nothingcould be more faded than the curtains, and there were bits of the carpetin which the pattern was scarcely discernible. So that, on the whole, upto this point there seemed to be a reasonable prospect that Lucillawould have everything her own way.
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