Complete Works of R S Surtees

by R S Surtees

  “Misfortunes will happen in the best regulated families — misfortunes will happen in the best regulated families,” rejoined Mr. Bunting.

  “So they will,” said Mr. Ellenger, “so they will; and we must just make the best of it,” adding adroitly, “there’s nothing like a lady for keeping matters right., I wouldn’t have cared so much if it had been any day but Sunday,” observed Mr. Ellenger; “only when a man loses his Sunday dinner, he has no place to fall back upon.”

  “Oh, yes, I have,” rejoined our hero, “I’ve a goose in the house.”

  “Goose in the house! have you,” exclaimed Mr. Ellenger, brightening up; “goose in the house! well, that’s a good hearing.”

  “At least, there was,” observed Mr. Bunting, “and I’ve not smelt its disappearance. A goose, you know, leaves a strong scent.”

  “So it does,” said Mr. Ellenger, “so it does; and by the way I’ll tell you what,” continued he, as if a bright thought had just struck him, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll just go down stairs and see if it is in existence still, and tell them to put it down, and I will dine with you, and you shall dine with me some other day.”

  “Do,” replied Mr. Bunting, rather chagrined at the proposal.

  “Dine as soon as it is ready, I suppose?” asked Mr. Ellenger.

  “Oh, yes,” said Mr. Bunting, “I shall be ready when it is.”

  “That’s a bargain!” exclaimed our brisk old friend, wheeling about and leaving the room. He then proceeded down stairs, making straight for the street, where sore-eyed Sam stood in charge of the horse. “Sam,” said he, “put up that horse; give him two feeds of corn and hay, and have him ready to put to about nine o’clock; but don’t put him to till I tell you.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Sam, surprised at the magnificence of the order for Archey was generally a pail of water, and “I’ll remember you next time,” man.

  The horse thus disposed of, Mr. Ellenger next made for the bar, to see what he could do for himself. “Ah, Matty!” exclaimed he, going gaily into the little room just as he had done to Mr. Bunting; “ah, Matty! how goes it,” advancing up to the sot as he sat with his glass and his pipe by the fire.

  “Who is it?” asked Mr. Muldoon, not recognising Archey in his dark non-hunting dress.

  “Who is it?” repeated Archey, “why, me to be sure. Mr. Ellenger!”

  “Ellenger — Ellenger,” growled Muldoon, knocking the ashes out of his pipe on the floor. “Ellenger — Ellenger,” repeated he, looking intently at his own toes for an idea, “why, you owe me three and ninepence,” said he, blinking intently at Archey.

  “No, I don’t,” replied Mr. Ellenger.

  “Yes, you do,” asserted Matty, confidently.

  “How do you make it out?” demanded Mr. Ellenger.

  “Make it out,” replied Matty, “make it out — the missis’ makes it out; but I know you do.”

  “Hut, fiddle man; you’re drunk man,” replied Mr. Ellenger, turning carelessly away.—’

  “Drunk!” retorted Matty, “drunk! there’s not a soberer respectabler man in Her Majesty’s domin — minions than (hiccup) I. What do you (hiccup) mean by saying I’m (hiccup)?” demanded he, blinking and shaking his head angrily at our fox-hunter.

  “What’s the matter, now?” asked fat Mrs. Muldoon, bustling in with her keys.

  “Oh, nothing,” replied Archey; “nothing, only your good man’s made a mistake. Tell me,” continued he, drawing Mrs. Muldoon aside, “what can Mr. Bunting and I have for dinner?”

  “Mr. Bunting is going to dine out,” observed Mrs. Muldoon.

  “No, he was going to dine with me,” replied Mr. Ellenger, “but I have had a misfortune in my kitchen — cook taken ill — and so I am going to take a little dinner with him here instead.”

  “Oh, indeed,” replied Mrs. Muldoon, thinking matters over. “Well, sir, what would you like to have?”

  “What have you got?” asked Archey, taking a short cut to the point; adding, “not mutton-chops, beef-steaks — beef-steaks, mutton-chops, mind.”

  “Well, there’s a goose,” said Mrs. Muldoon, complacently.

  “Goose! is there?” exclaimed Archey, adding, “well, that will do. No fish, I suppose?”

  “Fish,” said Mrs. Muldoon, “fish; yes, there are some haddocks.”

  “Capital!” rejoined Archey; “a couple of haddocks — or say three — egg sauce, you know: and now about sweets — what have you got in the way of sweets?”

  “What would you like?” asked Mrs. Muldoon, in the usual provoking style of inn answers.

  “Oh, like! I should like an omelette au confiture, or some little delicacy of that sort; but what I am likely to get is the thing.”

  “Well, sir, would you like a damson tart, or an apple pudding?”

  “Damson tart, apple pudding?” replied Archey; “well, apple pudding’s very good with goose. Yes, we’ll have an apple pudding. And now about wine — what wine have you?”

  “We have all sorts of wine,” replied Mrs. Muldoon; “port, sherry, Madeira, cowslip, tent, grape, and elder.”

  “Bother your grape and elder!” retorted Archey; “have you any champagne?”

  “Well, yes, we just have one bottle,” replied Mrs. Muldoon; “one bottle that we kept for old Lord Lushborough, who used to sleep here on his way up and down.”

  “Lord Lushborough! Lord Lushborough’s been dead these twenty years!” exclaimed Archey.

  “Well, not so long as that,” rejoined Mrs. Muldoon; “it was shortly after the opening of the railway, which ruined our calling, and we have never been asked for a bottle since.”

  “Ah, well, it will be good for nothing; but, however, you may send it up, and if it’s drinkable we’ll drink it, if not you’ll get it back.” So saying, and after urging Mrs. Muldoon to activity, Mr. Ellenger retired, followed by a heavy growl from Matty about the three and ninepence he owed him. Having reported to Mr. Bunting what he had done, Mr. Ellenger then excused himself for half an hour while he went to visit his good friend Mr. Buckwheat, and see if he could arrange a billet with him for some future occasion. The half-hour was somehow protracted into an hour; and when Archey came blundering down the street in the dark, the smell of the goose would have arrested his progress even if the economical candle had not been flickering an equivocal light in the archway. Mr. Ellenger stopped like a pointer crossing a scent, and, turning short in, regaled his olfactory nerves with the smell as he proceeded leisurely up stairs to Mr. Bunting’s apartment. Here he found our friend making another attempt at the impracticable sonnet, which he whipped away with his rhyming dictionary into his desk. Mr. Ellenger then hung up his hat and proceeded to make himself at home. He was so sorry about the cook — nasty drunken creature — but he would give her up in the morning.

  However, things might have been worse if they could not have got any dinner; and while they were discussing the matter, the increased clatter of plates below was followed by the bump of a tray against the turn of the staircase, and Bonville presently appeared with the fish. The haddocks were good, the goose was good, and though the champagne was dead and ropy, the sherry was passable, and so was the port. Mr. Ellenger did ample justice to all. The leathery cheese being at length removed, the cloth drawn, and some red hard-featured apples and lemon-coloured oranges placed on the table, Monsieur Bonville having arranged the composites, presently withdrew, shutting our friends up for a confab.

  Mr. Ellenger was one of those accommodating gentlemen who will tell people anything they see they want told. Of course he knew all about our friend and Miss Rosa, and after a cursory glance at some of the other beauties — the Springfields, the Beauchamps, the Bedfords — he turned the conversation upon her. Like Mrs. Tom Trattles, he knew, or professed to know, everything — how much there was in the funds, how much in railways, how much in canal shares. Altogether he made out a very encouraging report. He only hoped Miss Rosa would marry some producible person, and not that young cub of a banker. Archey
did not like “sivin and four,” who had hitherto successfully resisted all attempts on his larder. He had never been able to get even as much as a water-biscuit out of him.

  To Mr. Bunting’s inquiry if he really thought there was anything between Miss Rosa and young Goldspink, Mr. Ellenger replied, with a shrug of his shoulders, that he really couldn’t say, he only knew he was frequently there; and when a young man went to a house where there was a young lady, of course there was always the usual inference. And Mr. Bunting, not wishing to appear too inquisitive, did not press the inquiry, but, tapping the now nearly-emptied port-wine decanter with his dessert-knife, asked Mr. Ellenger if he would take a little more of that, or try what the claret was like? but Mr. Ellenger, having a stout British stomach, little addicted to vinegar, declared for the port; whereupon another bottle, or as much of a bottle as the decanter would hold, was produced, the greater part of which Mr. Ellenger succeeded in placing under his waistcoat. And the moon having at length risen, and Mr. Ellenger having had tea, coffee, and chasse, presently ordered his vehicle; and after an affectionate leave-taking, and making Mr. Bunting promise faithfully to dine with him “some day,” he tucked himself carefully in, and, telling sore-eyed Sara he had no silver, went lilting and tilting away back to Kids Hill, extremely well pleased with the result of his ruse. The cook was no more drunk than we are.

  CHAPTER LXXXVI.

  THE TENDER PROP REPEATED.

  THOUGH THE NEW bonnet was a sore subject with Mrs. Goldspink, it was rather a useful one for Miss Rosa. It made Mrs. Goldspink knag and talk against Mrs. McDermott and her daughter, and as a natural consequence, made our friend Jasper more keen and determined about the young lady. And as Mr. Bunting was equally ardent there was presently very brisk competition, and much ringing at the Privett Grove door bell. Our Mend, the Jug, too dropped in occasionally on his own account; so that altogether there was a very considerable amount of billing and cooing going on at the Grove. This being the fanning up time, people talked very amiably and complacently of the Jug and his property — such an old family — such a nice place; and said he had been quite the saving of Mr. Jessop, who but for his good and virtuous guidance would soon have degenerated into a regular sot. Then as to Admiration Jack and Jasper, the ladies (for it is they alone who dabble in these matters) declared that either was excellent, whichever in fact seemed to be the favourite; so that all seemed to be unanimous, so far as the tongues were concerned. If, however, Mamma and Miss Rosa could have over-heard the mirth and ejaculations that burst forth as their dear Mends got away from the house, they would not have had much opinion of their sincerity — little flirt — old fool — drunken creature, alluding to Boyston, — pity him — pity her — pity them, and so on.

  Our friend Mr. Bunting, as we said before, had had much experience in courtship, and though he had undoubtedly been kept in abeyance a good while, yet he was not altogether unwilling to procrastinate the suit, so long as he felt certain of winning at last. Despite Mr. Archey Ellenger’s information, and also despite meeting our Mend Jasper at the Grove, occasionally, he had no doubt whatever that he himself was to be the happy man, and so treated Jasper with a proper mixture of pity and condescension. The advent of the Jug now, however, rather altered matters, and Mamma thinking Rosa might do well to suit herself with one or other of the gentlemen, gave her the usual opportunities, losing her keys, forgetting her kerchief, or being called away to see new servants, and so on.

  Some ladies pretend to get offers without expecting them, and practise all sorts of elegant little airs and graces on the occasion, start and stare as if wholly unable to comprehend what the gentleman means, or declare that they are really so taken by surprise that they must be allowed a little time for reflection — that they have a high opinion of Captain Trophy, Mr. Green, or whoever the suitor may be, but that he had never crossed the fair one’s mind in any other light than that of an agreeable companion, thus paying an indirect compliment to their own looks at the expense of their veracity. A man must be very simple who believes such a story.

  Though Miss Rosa had not had much experience in the offering way, and that only with our hero, yet her womanly instinct told her to a minute when it was coming, and after flashing a glance at her questioner, she turned aside as if unable to speak her emotion. Mr. Bunting, who had had this style of answer before, and knew how to deal with it, then seized her in his arms, and impressed such a volley of kisses on her coral lips and fair cheeks, as enabled him to present her to Mamma on her return as his own accepted bride. And Mamma equally astonished, was delighted to hear the good news, and after saying all sorts of handsome things on behalf of her daughter, concluded by declaring that she was sure Mr. Bunting would make Rosa an excellent husband, and she wished them all possible joy and prosperity, whereupon she too kissed her daughter extravagantly. All this unwonted energy and exercise naturally drew forth the tears and the kerchief, and John Thomas happening to come in with the cools in the midst of the sunshiny shower, reported to Miss Perker, the maid, what he had seen; whereupon Perker immediately jumped to the conclusion that the hero of the Roseberry Rocks sash, was to be her future master. And in less than five minutes, the news was all over the house, and conveyed to Crop and the groom gardener in the stable. And a great commotion was the consequence — great speculation as to when they would be married, where they would live, what Jasper would say, and whether “Missis” herself was going to change her condition — they thought it looked very like it — but they would soon see.

  Save for the triumph and perhaps the sake of appearances among friends, there is very little use in announcing a match — people all know it so well long beforehand. Ladies, however, have always great pleasure in proclaiming them, and Mr. Bunting’s offer was speedily trumpeted throughout the county. The news was variously received by the young and the old. The young were always sure that Mr. Bunting would be the man, while the old shook their heads, and said, they’d believe it when they saw it. It wasn’t likely a worldly-minded woman, like Mrs. McDermott, was going to let such an undoubted prize as young Goldspink slip through her fingers. — Who was Mr. Bunting?

  Mrs. McDermott was now rather puzzled how to act with regard to her dear friend Mr. Goldspink, whether to let him hear of the engagement from some one else, or to call and inform the banker’s lady herself. On thinking it over, she saw no reason why she should not call herself. There had never anything really serious passed between the Mammas, save a mutual confidence and readiness to leave the young people together. If Jasper did not choose to be on the alert, Rosa was not to miss a chance by waiting for him. Certainly not. Ho might never have come forward. Dared say Mrs. Goldspink thought whey would consider Jasper a catch, but this offer would show that they were not dependent upon him.

  So she determined to go herself; and the brougham, and the invidious bonnet were speedily back at sivin-and-four’s door. Mrs. McDermott arrived at a critical time, for Jasper had just heard of Miss Rosa’s engagement from his turf friend, Mr. Tailings, and had been upbraiding his mother most roundly for the part she had taken in the matter, declaring he would throw himself off the church steeple, or go to Yan Diemen’s Land forthwith, if he didn’t get Rosa. Mrs. Goldspink was frightened, for Jasper was accustomed to have his own way, and could ill put up with any opposition. Instead therefore of following Jasper’s furious example, she tried the soothing system, commencing of course by kissing Mrs. McDermott, and then after a sort of half-congratulation proceeded in a round-about way to insinuate (simper) that there was a (cough) time when she might have (hem) hoped to have had the (sneeze) pleasure of calling dear Rosa her (cough) daughter; but — and then she paused, apparently taken up with something that had got entwined in the silk fringe of her cloak. Mrs. McDermott bobbed and simpered too; she was sure she had always felt and expressed the greatest regard for dear Jasper as well on account of his own intrinsic worth, as on that of his excellent parents; and nothing would have given her greater (hem) pleasure than cementing the
ir long (cough) intimacy with a match, but — and here too she was brought up short, and began feeling for her kerchief. Each then sat sighing for a while, until perhaps emboldened by the success of her approaches, and thinking of Jasper’s proposed descent from the steeple, Mrs. Goldspink proceeded to make more inquiries, asked all about Mr. Bunting and his means, whether his Papa was alive, if he had a place of his own, where it was, and finding that there was a good deal yet to ascertain, she said that of course Mrs. McDermott would see that Rosa was properly secured, and she then began to talk of her husband’s old sivin-and-four’s great wealth, Jasper’s fine expectations, and the beautiful villa they were building, of which she produced the plans, showing the kitchens, cellars, and shoe house, larder, dairy, and everything. Then, after a prolonged sit, dear Mrs. McDermott returned dear Mrs. Goldspink’s kiss, and saw her to her carriage, feeling considerably relieved by the result of her visit. And Mrs. Goldspink made such a representation to her son as induced him to postpone as well his aerial flight, as his journey to Yan Diemen’s Land.

  CHAPTER LXXXVII.

  MAMMA INSTEAD OF KISS.

  THE SAME WANT that we named before — that of some instrument at invention whereby people may be enabled to ascertain the hidden thoughts and feelings of others, again beset our friend Mr. Bunting in his pursuit of the fair and beautiful Miss Rosa. “Dear Mamma,” as he had now begun to call Mrs. McDermott, who had thereto been all smiles and confidence,’ suddenly changed, and became so pressingly urgent to know all about him and his affairs, that he could not imagine what had happened. The morning after her visit to Mrs. Goldspink, at Mayfield, instead of descending as he expected upon Miss Rosa alone in the drawing-room, he was shown up a step into the parlour, where sat Mamma, hemming a stout Baden Baden towel, who at once twofingered him into a very uneasy high-backed low chair, saying with a keen eye and a somewhat compressed mouth, that she wished to have a few minutes’ conversation with him before he saw Miss Rosa; laying a slight emphasis on the word Miss.