by R S Surtees
“Fear nothing!” exclaimed the gallant old lord, drawing his chair close up to his fair friend’s, and placing one of her little hands between his, as if going to have a game at hot hand with her—” fear nothing!” repeated he, pressing her hand most affectionately, adding, “I’ll take care of you, my little angel!”
“Well,” mused Angelena, without making any attempt to withdraw her hand, “I should certainly like it uncommonly — the only difficulty would be about a horse,” recollecting that Tom Hall would most likely be claiming Lily of the Valley, which she now thought her papa had made a mistake in selling him.
“Oh, a horse shall be no difficulty — none whatever,” replied his lordship, throwing out his right hand; “our people shall arrange all that — only say the word, and it shall be managed as nice as can be.”
“You’re very kind, my lord — very.”
“Not at all — not at all,” repudiated the now impetuous old peer.
“Indeed, but you are,” replied Angelena, looking most lovingly at him.
“The compliment’s the other way, my darling — the compliment’s the other way,” rejoined the old man, rising, and giving her such a smack of a kiss as sent Mrs Blunt spinning round on the other side of the partition, singing to herself —
“It’s a very fine thing to be mother-in-law To a very magnificent four-balled bashaw.”
“Oh, my lord! — oh, you naughty man! — fie for shame! fie!” ejaculated Angelena. “I must really have my maid in to protect me,” added she, pretending great alarm as she adjusted her pink gauze ribbons.
“It’s given you quite a colour,” observed his lordship, eyeing her now blood-mantling complexion.
“Well it might, I think,” snapped Angelena, with a toss of her head, as she stroked down her bright hair.
“You should thank me instead of being angry, my pretty dear,” replied he, not at all deceived by her pretended tiff.
“Thank you for nothing,” retorted Angelena, rearranging her manacles, and looking down on her chemisette studs, one of which was hanging out.
“Let me put it right for you, my love!” exclaimed the lord, passing his hand inside the chemisette as adroitly as a lady’s-maid. Having adjusted the stud, he resumed his seat by her side.
“Well, now, about the hunt,” continued he, anxious to get matters finally settled. “When shall it be?”
“Hunt, indeed! I’m not sure that I’ll go, after such rudeness,” replied Angelena pettishly.
“Pooh! pooh! it’ll do you a deal of good. Just look in the glass, and see what a fine complexion it’s made you,” retorted the peer.
“Nonsense,” pouted Angelena. “I don’t want complexions made that way. What would my ma say, do you think?”
“That her daughter is a very prudish young lady,” replied the peer, again taking her unreluctant hand.
“But what would my pa say, do you think?” continued she archly.
“Oh, pooh! pas have no business with these matters — only for the ladies,” answered he.
“But they make business sometimes,” replied the young lady.
“Not yours, I should hope,” rejoined the gay old Lothario.
“Don’t know that,” whispered the young lady, with a sly twinkle of her bright eye.
“Let us hope the best,” exclaimed the old peer cheerily, who had every confidence in woman’s wit.
“Well,” sighed Angelena, with downcast eyes, “I suppose we must.”
“Say the word, then; when shall it be?” resumed his lordship, again returning to the charge, for he was all for taking them when they were in the humour.
“Be!” said Angelena—” be!” repeated she, still dwelling on the sweet word.
“Yes, be,” repeated his lordship boldly.
“Whenever your lordship likes,” whispered the lady resignedly.
“That’s right! — that’s a darling! — that’s a love of a girl!” exclaimed he, now encircling her slim waist with his arm. “Well, now,” continued he, looking up at the ceiling, though he still kept squeezing and drawing her towards him; “let me see — Monday, Honeyball Hill — Tuesday, Rakelaw Gate — Thursday, Summerhail Tower — Saturday, Blunderfield — four good places — good as any we have. Rakelaw Gate’s p’r’aps the best for a lady; but then it’s a long way from here. Honeyball Hill there’s always such a crowd at — nasty Beale and Brassey, and head-and-shoulders Brown, and all that set. I’ll tell you what,” continued he, as if the idea had suddenly struck him, though in reality he had been pondering upon it all the way as he came—” I’ll tell you what — how would it do to have a quiet ‘bye’ to ourselves? — meet, say, at home — there’s a litter of foxes that have scarce been disturbed in Roughley Brake, just at the back of the castle; we could then throw off and finish as we liked, without the bother and surveillance of a field.”
“Well,” mused Angelena, considering whether the opportunities of privacy would compensate for the loss of the distinction of having his gay lordship for a cavalier servante before the country.
“I really think that would be the best way,” resumed his energetic lordship—” I really think that would be the best way. You come quietly over, you know, with Mr Horn.”
“Mr Hall, you mean,” observed Angelena.
“Ah, Hall, that’s the name. I was thinking of Homs. Not an unlikely man to wear them, I should say — he, he, he!” giggled his lordship, shrugging his old shoulders, as if half shocked at what he had said.
“Mr Hall’s not at home,” observed Angelena, with a prudish toss of her head.
“Not at home, isn’t he,” repeated his lordship briskly. “Well, never mind; get somebody else. I’ll tell you who,” added he, “in a minute. There’s my young friend Jug — Jonathan Jug — you know him, I dare say; of course you do — he’s in your pa’s regiment, in fact. Well, Jonathan’s the very man for us — nice, prudent, sensible, good-natured little fellow. I promised his pa to call upon him.’Gad! I’ll go and do it directly; and then you and he can arrange to ride over together, and I’ll have horses and luncheon and everything ready, and we’ll have a nice quiet hunt to ourselves, undisturbed by Brown or any of those horrors.”
So saying, his lordship, raising the fair lady up from her seat with himself, gave her a series of most impressive salutes, and, laying down a couple of cards for papa and mamma, backed, courtier-like, out of the little room, and tripping gaily downstairs, mounted his hack, to canter across the barrack-yard to card the proposed cat’s-paw.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
ANGELENA ASTONISHES HER MOTHER.
SCARCE HAD ANGELENA finished waving her adieux through the window to the cantering-away old lord, ere mamma stood behind her in the room.
“And what d’ye think!” exclaimed the quick artful girl, turning short round on her inquisitive parent.
“Nay, I don’t know!” replied Mrs Blunt, reddening up.
“Guess,” said Angelena in a significant tone.
“Nay,” replied mamma, not venturing on the speculation women usually indulge in.
“That I’m to be a lady, then,” said Angelena, spreading out her arms and hands on either side and dropping a very low curtsey.
“What! has he offered?” exclaimed Mrs Blunt, now in full flutter.
“Offered!” replied Angelena with another curtsey.
“Oh, my dear child! oh, my duck! oh, my angel! my beloved!” ejaculated mamma, hugging her daughter to her bosom, and then giving her a volley of kisses.
“But don’t tell pa,” said Miss, with an ominous shake of her head.
“Why not, my beloved?” asked mamma, feeling it would be the death of her to keep it to herself.
“Oh, because, you see, my lord — that’s to say, Lord Heartycheer — and I — I mean, Lord Heartycheer, I think, would like — indeed, I know he would prefer to — to come over to talk to papa about it himself, as soon as he and I have got matters a little further arranged, and he’s—”
“Wel
l, but you’re sure he offered,” interrupted Mrs Blunt, who well knew her daughter’s imaginative powers.
“Sure!” retorted Angelena with a sneer—” sure,” repeated she, “as if there could be any mistake about it.”
“Why, you should know as well as any one,” replied mamma, thinking of the number of offers she had had.
“I think I should, indeed,” simpered Angelena, adding, “It’s only for girls who’ve never had beaux to make mistakes about it.”
“Well, you do ‘stonish me,” continued mamma, now regaining her breath with her confidence, as she thought of what she saw and heard through the crevice. “You do ‘stonish me,” repeated she.
“I saw it was coming,” observed Angelena. “I believe he’d have offered out hunting if it hadn’t been for the servants.”
“What, he was very sweet, was he?” asked mamma.
“Oh, very,” replied Angelena; “quite rapturous, in fact.”
“You didn’t tell me,” observed mamma.
“No,” mused Angelena, adding, “You see — you see, I thought it mightn’t come to anything, and then you would only laugh at me, and p’r’aps feel disappointed, so I thought the best thing was just to wait and see if he took any steps.”
“It was love at first sight, then,” observed mamma.
“I should say it was,” replied Angelena—” I should say it was. He was remarkably courteous and respectful as soon as I came up, and stuck to me the whole day, showing me the country, and getting me over the hedges and ditches and awkward places.”
“He’s a fine handsome man,” said Mrs Blunt, thinking what a triumph it was for her daughter.
“Oh, he’s a charming man,” rejoined Angelena, thinking how severely he had kissed her.
“People talk of his age; I don’t believe he’s half as old as they say,” observed Mrs Blunt.
“They wouldn’t think him old if they could get him,” replied Angelena.
“No more they would, my darling,” asserted Mrs Blunt, who was an ardent advocate of the doctrine that men are never too old to marry. “I always say,” continued she, “that a man of fifty is infinitely preferable to a boy of twenty, or five-and-twenty, who falls in love with every pretty face he meets, and whom no woman can be certain of till she’s got him through the church. Then they get tired of their wives, and their sons come treading on their heels before they know where they are. It’s an awkward thing when father and son want top-boots at the same time. That’ll not be your case — and you’ll be a countess, whatever happens. A countess! my w-o-r-r-d, but it will make some people stare,” Mrs Blunt thinking over a select list of friends whom she would astonish with the great intelligence.
“And what will you do with Tom Hall?” she asked after a meditative pause.
“Oh, Tom may offer his fat hand to some one else. Jug says he’s gone after Laura Giddyfowle, or whatever they call that great staring-eyed girl the men are all raving about.”
“Ah, and Jug too,” suggested Mrs Blunt.
“Oh, Jug and I will go on as before; my lord’ll arrange that — boys of his age are never jealous of those they consider their seniors. Jug’s to be cat’s-paw for the present — my lord’s gone to see him about it, and Jug’s to chaperone me over to the castle on Wednesday, after which, I make no doubt, his lordship will see pa, and arrange matters. See, his lordship has left his cards upon you,” continued she, taking them up; “so now,” added Angelena, as she heard the well-known cough outside the back door, admonitory of her father’s approach, “whatever you do, don’t tell pa, if you please, for the present.” So saying, she whisked out of the room, just clearing the landing with her smart dress as the colonel’s great stomach pioneered the way for his body.
CHAPTER XL.
PARENTS IN COUNCIL.
“DON’T BELIEVE IT — don’t believe a word of it, hang me if I do!” exclaimed the colonel, who came in in a very bad humour, having lost three-and-sixpence at skittles, when Mrs Blunt whispered him in the strictest confidence the great event of the day. “Not likely that hoary old rascal’s goin’ to be caught at his time o’ life,” continued he.
“Well, but I assure you it’s the fact,” replied Mrs Blunt, now speaking rather above her breath.
“Hoot, the divil! you women are always fancyin’ these things,” growled he, stamping heavily with his plated high-low.
“Hush, my dear, hush! don’t make such a noise,” rejoined Mrs Blunt soothingly, little doubting that her daughter, as was the fact, was now occupying her recent post of honour, listening.
“Well, well,” growled the colonel, shaking his great cannon-ball-shaped head, “it makes no odds who hears what I say — I tell you, woman, it’s not credible — it’s not credible — wouldn’t believe it if you were to swear to it.”
“Well,” mused Mrs Blunt, “it’ll be difficult to persuade you — it’ll be difficult to persuade you, I dare say.”
“I know it will,” growled the man of war, sousing himself on the old, hired, horse-hair sofa in a way that made it creak again; “d — d difficult,” added he, hoisting his legs up.
“Don’t ‘xactly see why it should, though,” rejoined Mrs Blunt meekly.
“Don’t ye,” growled the colonel—” don’t ye; devilish difficult to make me believe that a disreputable old dotard like that, who ought to be ‘shamed to be seen out of his grave, is a-goin’ to commit matrimony.”
“Well, but Angelena assures me he does,” asserted Mrs Blunt.
“She’s mistaken, I tell ye,” snarled the colonel; “she’s mistaken — doesn’t know her man.”
“He’s offered to her certainly,” replied Mrs Blunt boldly.
“Offered to her!” exclaimed the colonel, startled at the information; “offered to her!” repeated he—” how, when, where?”
“Well, he’s just been here,” observed Mrs Blunt, handing the colonel a card.
“Humph!” grunted the monster, taking and eyeing it. “Humph! what did he say?”
“Oh, why (hem) — I wasn’t (hem) present to (cough) hear ‘xactly, that’s to say — but (cough, hem, cough) — I know he’s offered.”
“Don’t believe it,” fumed the colonel again—” don’t believe a word of it, curse me if I do.”
“Well, you may,” replied Mrs Blunt significantly.
“May believe a vast of things, if I’m fool enough,” retorted the gallant officer; “believe black’s white, if I like, but I won’t. I’ll tell ye how it’ll be,” continued he—” I’ll tell ye how it’ll be,” repeated he, raising his stentorian voice;” you’ll make a mess of it atween ye as sure as you’re born — it’ll be a reg’lar case of two stools — she’ll never get him, and she’ll lose Tom Hall to a certainty, and then I shall have to hand over the cheque for the mare, and there’ll be no end of bother with the Christmas bills, and I don’t know what,” continued he, throwing out his right fin in a fury at the thought.
“Well, but you surely wouldn’t have her throw away the chance?” observed Mrs Blunt.
“Don’t believe she has a chance. Don’t believe the man has the slightest intention of anything of the sort,” replied the colonel. “He’s a reg’lar bad old goat — always has been — always will be. He’s as wicked an old man as ever walked — don’t know a worse.”
“Well, but he may mend,” rephed Mrs Blunt, who never despaired of the men, provided they had plenty of money.
“Mend! Damn him; he’s too bad to mend — too bad for anything, ‘cept a halter. Pretty thing it would be to lose Hall, with all his nice comfortable independence— ‘specially after the old usurer and I have talked matters over — for the chance of gettin’ such an arrant old deceiver as that — a man whose very name is a by-word in society.”
“Well, but Hall could be easily manished,” replied Mrs Blunt; “there’s nothin’ bindin’ there, you know.”
“Nothin’ bindin’!” ejaculated the colonel, flaring up—” nothin’ bindin’! Is the honour of an Engli
sh officer’s daughter nothin’?”
“Well, but Tom may change his mind, you know,” observed Mrs Blunt; “indeed, they do say he’s gone to Carol Hill Green, and you may rely upon it he’s not asked there for nothin’.”
“Carol Hill Green, is he?” replied the colonel, staring, and dry-shaving his great chin—” Carol Hill Green, is he?” repeated he, considering how that would cut with regard to the cheque. Laura was the toast of the mess, and Tom Hall was under age, and altogether the colonel began to be uneasy, and to see things differently. If the Guineafowles caught Hall, Angelena was regularly thrown over; for Jug would never be worth looking after for any one — at least, not unless a whole row of other Jugs were disposed of. The colonel was inclined to pause. Perhaps the Heartycheer spec might be worth consideration after all.
“Well, but what makes you think he’s offered?” asked the colonel in a more pacific tone.
“Think!” replied Mrs Blunt—” think!” repeated she. “Why, because, in the first place, Angelena says he did; and in the second place (cough, hem, cough), I overheard as much as makes me think so too.”
“You did, did you?” replied the colonel, his bloodshot eyes staring wide—” you did, did you?” repeated he, adding, “That alters the case.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Blunt, “I was in our room, you see, lookin’ over the washin’, and I heard kissin’ goin’ on, so I stopped and listen’d, and distinctly heard the words, ‘When shall it be, then? — when shall it be?’ repeated several times, and then there was kissin’ again; indeed, I saw it through the crack in the wainscot.”
“Humph!” mused the colonel, pondering. The man was old — old certainly; but then there is no fool like an old fool, and more improbable things had happened. Might mean to reform — fresh man, though he was old, and age, after all, went more by constitution than by years; just as a horse, after a certain time of life, was to be judged more by his legs than his teeth. Fine thing it would be if Angelena did get him. What a dashing countess she would make! And he himself would have a room at the castle, and luxuriate on fat slices of venison, peaches, and wall-fruit without end. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t leave the army, and go and live there altogether.