Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  “Well,” said Mr. Jorrocks, “as the gen’leman’s hoff, it’s no use i’ finishin’ my oration; so, ‘stead of the ‘ealth of Old Doleful, I begs to propose, most cordially, that I sit down.”

  Our friend then resumed his seat amidst great applause from the blues, and was considering how he could introduce a limping song he had composed in honour of Doleful, when a sudden rush of green and dark coats, headed by Strider, poured noisily into the room, and elbowed their way back to their places. The malcontents had held a consultation, and, advised by Doleful, were come to put their decision into execution.

  “Gentlemen!” roared Strider, who had now reached his seat, “gentlemen!” repeated he, standing like the monument, and squinting frightfully, amid cries of “Hear, hear — chair, chair — order, order — go it long ‘un!” from adverse parties.— “I rise to propose a resolution,” roared Strider, holding a slip of paper upside down; “I rise to propose a resolution,” now getting the paper the right way for reading, “that I feel assured will be acceptable to the majority of this meeting — I move (reading) that Jorrocks John is the shabbiest fellow and greatest humbug we ever had at Handley Cross!” And Jorrocks, who had been crouching like a tiger for his spring, immediately rose amid immense uproar, and declared that he would move as an amendment, that “Jorrocks was a brick!” and putting the amendment, he declared that “the ‘bricks’ had it,” whereupon a scene of indescribable confusion ensued, the green coats going in at the blues like bulls, and upsetting some half dozen of them before they knew where they were, while Jorrocks, getting hold of Strider, dealt a heavy blow in his ribs, and then split his coat up to the collar, just as a green biscuit dish grazed our master’s head and knocked off his wig.

  Lights were then extinguished, and the company fought their way out of the room as best they could. Jorrocks lost a coat-lap, which now flaunts as a banner-screen in the drawing-room of Mrs. Royston of the Dotfield hunt. And so ended what the veracious Paul Pry called “a most convivial evening”

  CHAPTER XXXI. THE FANCY BALL.

  WE MUST HERE indulge in a little retrospection — Although Mr. Barnington hunted with the hounds, his lady took no notice of the Jorrockses, and dashed past their one-horse chaise with the air of an ill-bred woman drawn by well-bred horses. On foot, she never saw them; and if she admitted a knowledge of their existence, it was in that casual sort of way that one speaks of a horse or a dog.

  Still she could not disguise from herself that they were thorns in her side. Mr. Jorrocks’ popularity, with Belinda’s sweetness and beauty, went far to undermine the throne Mrs. Barnington had set up for herself. Not only were her evening parties less sought after, but she had reason to suspect that even Captain Doleful had declined a dinner invitation in favour of the Jorrockses!

  As yet they had never met, save in the streets; but Captain Doleful’s ball involved a crisis that could not be got over without a collision. This had been changed, by Mrs. Barnington’s desire, into a fancy one, in order that she might triumph in the number and brilliance of her diamonds. The costume she fixed upon was that of Queen Elizabeth — not an ill-chosen one for her height and haughty bearing. The dress was ordered in London, as well for the purpose of having it unexceptionable in style and richness, as to enable her to blaze a splendid and unexpected meteor in the assembled host of Handley Cross. It was also expected to have a beneficial influence on Captain Doleful, should any doubt exist as to who was the fittest person for honour.

  Notwithstanding Mrs. Barnington’s precautions, the secret of her dress transpired. Mrs. Jorrocks’s Batsay having established an intimacy with our friend John Trot, the footman, the fact descended from the exalted region of upper servitude, and was communicated to Mrs. Jorrocks with the slight addition, that the Queen had graciously lent Mrs. Barnington her crown and sceptre.

  “Nay, then!” exclaimed Mrs. Jorrocks, thinking it was all over with her, and fancying she saw Mrs. Barnington sailing into the room with Captain Doleful, her head in the air and her eyes on the ceiling. Long did she muse ere the table of precedence flashed across her mind. No sooner did it occur to her, than off she darted to Mr. Jorrocks’s drawers, where, amid a goodly collection of letters, she succeeded in finding Captain Doleful’s one, stating that “the Lady of the M.F.H. came on after members of the royal family, and before all bishops’ wives and daughters, peeresses, knights’ dames, justices’ wives, and so forth.”

  “Mischievous’ ooman!” exclaimed Mrs. Jorrocks, conning the passage attentively; “nasty, mean, circumwenting hanimal, I sees what she’s after! — wants to steal a march on me as a member of the royal family. Come in as a queen, in fact! I’ll be hupsides with her though!”

  Thereupon Mrs. Jorrocks took a highly ornamented sheet of note-paper out of her envelope case, and concocted the following epistle to Captain Doleful: —

  “Mrs. Jorrocks’ Compts Capn Doleful, and I will feel much obliged if he will have the kindness to lend her your table of Precedence for a few minutes, as she wishes to see how things stand in Handley Cross.

  “Diana Lodge.”

  Captain Doleful was sitting on the counter in Miss Jelly’s shop, in deep consultation with her about his fancy dress, when the note arrived. Having to be the great man of the ball, it was incumbent upon him to have something better than the old militia coat, or even the dress-hunt one, revised. Time pressed, or he would have tried what the Jew clothes-shops in London could do for him, but Miss Jelly, having a fertile imagination, and his interest at heart, he summoned her to his councils,to invent something showy without being expensive.

  Many costumes were talked over. Spanish would not do, because the captain would have to show his legs; Swiss entailed a similar objection; and the old English costumes were equally objectionable. Some were too costly, others too complex.

  “I have it!” at length exclaimed Miss Jelly, clapping her hands,— “I have it!” repeated she, her face beaming with exultation. “You shall be the great Mogul!”

  “The Great Mogul!” repeated Captain Doleful, thoughtfully.

  “Yes, the Great Mogul!” rejoined Miss Jelly. “A turban, with a half-moon in front, petticoat trousers, shell-jacket, moustachios, and so forth.”

  “That will do, I think,” replied Doleful, squeezing her hand. “Sound well, and not cost much — will it?”

  “Oh, very little!” replied Miss Jelly. “Let me see! One of your scarlet pocket-handerchiefs will make the crown of the turban, and the folds can be formed of white neckcloths. I have a bird of paradise feather in my Sunday hat, and a string of large blue beads that will ornament the front. You want some summer trousers, so if you buy as much stuff as will make two pair, it will only be the making and altering, and you can get Nick Savoy into the house at three-and-sixpence a-day and his meals, who can cut out the jacket, and I will make and trim it myself.”

  “Excellent!” exclaimed Captain Doleful, rubbing his hands, and putting a whole penny tart into his mouth. Just then Benjamin entered, and after having been refused credit for an ounce of paragoric, he put Mrs. Jorrocks’s note into Captain Doleful’s hand.

  “I’ll bring it immediately,” said the Captain to Benjamin, bolting out of the shop by the side-door, winking at Miss Jelly as he went.

  Presently a stamp over-head announced that the Captain wanted Miss Jelly, who imprudently leaving the shop in charge of Benjamin, our friend filled his pockets with macaroons and his hat crown with sponge-biscuits, while she was getting her message up-stairs.

  “Captain Doleful’s compliments to Mrs. Jorrocks,” said Miss Jelly, returning, “and is very sorry that the table of precedence has not been returned from the Heralds’ College, where it was sent to be enrolled, but immediately it comes Mrs. Jorrocks shall have it.”

  “Yes, marm,” said Benjamin, hurrying off.

  “Please, marm, the Captain’s compliments, and his table is at the joiner’s gettin’ rolled, but as soon as it comes ‘ome you shall have it,” was the answer Benjamin delivered
to his mistress.

  The Captain was shy for a day or two, and Mr. Jorrocks, being more intent upon hunting than etiquette, the poor lady was left to her own devices. Belinda did not appreciate the point, and, moreover, was too busy with her dress to enter upon the question as she should do.

  Mrs. Jorrocks, mistrusted the Captain, and thought he might be inclined to shuffle her off, under pretence of Mrs. Barnington being a queen.

  “I’ll be a queen, too!” at length exclaimed she, after a long gaze at the fire, thinking the thing over; “I’ll be a queen, too!” repeated she, snapping her fingers, as though she were meeting Mrs. Barnington; “I’ll be a queen! — the Queen of ‘Earts;” exclaimed she, looking at herself in the eagle-topped mirror.

  That evening she wrote the following letter to Miss Slummers, or Miss Howard, as she was now called: —

  “Dear Miss, — We are agoing to have a fancy ball here, and I want your assistance in a dress. Was you ever the Queen of ‘Earts? If so, please lend me your robes. If not, pleaze lend me a crown as like the Queen of ‘Earts’ crown as you can get it. You know it’s not exactly a crown, but something like a crown stuck on a cap. The sceptre seems like a wand with a rose at the end. Pleaze let me know how I should be dressed behind, as the cards give one no idea. Should like the full robes, if you have them; but, in course, will be happy to take what I can get. Excuse haste and a werry bad pen. Yours, in haste,

  “Julia Jorrocks.

  “Diana Lodge, Handley Cross Spa.

  “Miss Clarissa Howard,

  “Sadlers’ Wells Theatre, London.”

  Miss Slummers had never been the Queen of Hearts, but had enacted one of the rival Kings of Brentford, in the popular pantomime of that name, and, after a conference with the property-man of the theatre, she thus answered her distinguished friend: —

  “Honoured Madam, — Your commands have been received; and I much regret that, never having appeared in the distinguished part of the Q. of Hearts, I have not the necessary properties to send you. I am not aware that the character has ever appeared upon the stage other than in pantomime, and never at either of the theatres to which I have been attached; but our property-man thinks the accompanying crown, fixed on a Swiss cap, ‘Canton de Berne,’ will come as near the card as we can get it. I also send a sceptre, to which is attached a large rose, that we used for the ‘two Kings of Brentford’ to smell at, which comes as near the spirit of the thing as anything can be. The sceptre is our best, and triple gilt. The robes should be of brocaded satin, and a large reticule of red silk, in the shape of a heart, dangling negligently on your left arm, will at once proclaim your character. The back of your dress is not material, as crowned heads are only looked at in front. Any further assistance I can be of will be extremely gratifying to me; and I beg to subscribe myself, with great respect, your most obedient and very humble servant,

  “C. Howard.

  “Theatre Royal, Sadlers’ Wells.

  “Mrs. Jorrocks,

  “Diana Lodge, Handley Cross Spa.”

  So far, so good. The crown did admirably. It was studded with false brilliants, and looked splendid by candle-light. The sceptre, too, was imposing; and, regardless of expense, Mrs. Jorrocks had the richest brocade cut into the requisite shapes, to wear over a red satin gown she had by her. Nor was the heart-reticule forgotten; and, altogether, Mrs. Jorrocks succeeded in making herself a very fair representative of her Majesty of Hearts. Belinda’s pretty blue and white petticoat, with the scarlet body of a Valencian peasant, was changed for a plain white satin dress, with a court plume, for her to attend as maid of honour on her majesty. Charley was converted into a blue-bodied, white-legged page, with a Spanish hat and feathers.

  The Great Mogul’s dress progressed favourably, too. His wide sleeves and great trousers were done, and Miss Jelly had got a bargain of tarnished lace for braiding his red jacket. A splendid beard, whiskers, moustache, and all, were hired for the night, and a pair of five-and-six-penny red leather slippers were bought, to act the part of shoes at the ball, and supersede a pair of worn-out pumps afterwards.

  Mrs. Barnington having set the fashion of mystery about her dress, it was followed by the élite of the place, and each tried to mislead his neighbour. Swiss peasants said they were coming as Turks, Turks as Chinese, Charles the Seconds as Napoleons, and Huntsmen as Hermits. Still secrets will transpire, and Mrs. Barnington and Mrs. Jorrocks knew all about each other’s dresses as well as if they were together every day. The former talked at Captain Doleful instead of to him, sometimes pretending to doubt whether the Jorrocks’ would go, fearing they would not, for vulgar people seldom liked getting so completely out of their element. For her part, she hoped they would, for she had a taste for natural curiosities — heard, too, their daughter was pretty, and should like to see her; and she closed her last interview by presenting Captain Doleful with ten pounds for her tickets.

  Mrs. Jorrocks was less mealy-mouthed, and finding the table of precedence was not likely to come, she called at Miss Jelly’s on the morning of the ball, and asked the Captain what time she should be there to go into the room with him. This was a poser, that even the skilful Captain found difficult to parry; but, while bustling his turban and trousers under the sofa, and fussing a greasy-covered arm-chair towards Mrs. Jorrocks, the dinner occurred to him, and, after looking vastly wise, he declared that that was the only thing he had any difficulty about. “You see,” said he, “I am vice-president — then, Mr. Jorrocks is rather a sitter — not that I mean to say he gets drunk, but you know he is fond of society, gay and careless about time, and there are so many toasts to propose and so many speeches to make, that I fear it is utterly impossible to say what time we may get away, and I — —”

  “Well, but,” interrupted Mrs. Jorrocks, “the dinner has nothin’ to do with the dance; if Jun chooses to lower ‘imself by gettin’ drunk, that’s no reason why you should, and one wice can always appoint another wice, and wicey wersey, I suppose.”

  “True,” replied Captain Doleful, assenting to the position; “but, then, if all the dancing men are at the dinner, what use will a master of the ceremonies be of to the ladies?”

  “Fiddle the ladies!” exclaimed Mrs. Jorrocks; “it’s not dancin’ men wot ‘ill go to the dinner — not your ‘air-curlin’, arm-squarin’, caperin’ swells, but old-season’d casks, wot ‘ll never think o’ the dance.”

  “I hope not,” replied Captain Doleful; “why, there will be Mr. Stobbs, for one.”

  “He’ll not go to the dinner,” rejoined Mrs. Jorrocks— “stays at ‘ome with me.”

  Just then, Miss Jelly, judging her lodger was in a dilemma, adroitly resealed three or four old notes, and bringing them up on a tart-plate, apologised for intruding, but said the servants were all urgent for answers; and Captain Doleful, availing himself of the excuse, set to work most assiduously, and what with apologising, scribbling, and mistaking, Mrs. Jorrocks found she might as well go away.

  Thus matters stood on the eventful evening whose progress we have so far described. Mrs. Jorrocks was right as to the formation of the dinner-party, few dancing men, and scarcely any fancy dressers, being there. Most of the young gentlemen were corking their eyebrows, fixing on moustache, or drawing on dresses that made them look as unlike themselves as possible. Rear-admirals, who had never had a shave; colonels, who didn’t know how to fasten on their swords; grandees, who didn’t know how to get on their breeches; and fox-hunters, who did not know how to put on their spurs, — stood admiring themselves before their sisters’ mirrors, thinking the ball hour would never arrive. Young ladies laced themselves extra tight, and a little more tournure was allowed for setting off the gay bodices and swelling drapery of their dresses. Neat ankles availed themselves of the license for wearing fancy dresses requiring short petticoats, while sweeping trains concealed others that were less fortunate in their make. Old dresses were metamorphosed into new, and new fancy ones were made for re-conversion into plain ones another time.
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