by R S Surtees
And Mrs Blunt, having sworn the colonel to secrecy — at all events, sworn him not to mention the subject to Angelena until she gave him leave, — chimed in with him in discussing all the pros and cons, and expatiating on the magnificence of the prospect, with occasional speculations as to what Mrs Vainfield, Mrs Mouser, and Miss Quiz would think; and wished that she could see the Empress of Morocco’s face when she heard it. Mrs Blunt was dying to be at her cream-laid note-paper, announcing the fact to all old friends and acquaintances.
So things gradually got into a more encouraging matchmaking mood, though when the colonel heard of the projected excursion to the castle with Jug, he put his foot upon it at once, unless Mrs Blunt accompanied them; and, after various ingenious efforts to shake oh the old lady, Angelena was at length obliged to submit to be driven over, habited and garibaldied, in the old jingling mail-phaeton with posters, instead of cantering joyfully there with the comet, who occupied a place in the rumble. And now, having got them so far advanced on their interesting excursion, we will take a peep at Lord Heartycheer’s preparations for their reception.
CHAPTER XLI.
ARRANGING A QUIET BYE-DAY.
“WELL, DICKY,” SAID Lord Heartycheer, in high glee, to his peculiar-dutied huntsman as they jogged homewards together after a capital run with a kill from Honey-ball Hill, in which his well-mounted lordship had distinguished himself as usual—” well, Dicky, d’ye think you can manage us a quiet bye on Wednesday?”
“Rayther quick, I fear, my lord — rayther quick,” replied Dicky, with a half-supplicatory look. “These hounds’ll go into a very small compass to-night,” added he, looking down on the somewhat lagging pack as he spoke.
“Well, but you could manage us something that would pass muster with a lady, at all events,” observed his lordship with a smile.
“Oh, certainly, by all means,” rejoined Dicky, brightening up—” certainly — might take out a mixed pack for that matter, with a few of those we don’t care much about: Lazarus here, for instance, and Lapwig, and Flasher. Benedict, too, might go, and Dangerous, also Royalty and Ferryman, and Baronet and Harbinger; oh yes,” added he, “we’ll soon make up a lady’s pack.”
“I’ll tell you what I want, then,” said his lordship, thinking it better to make a confidant of Dicky at once—” I’ll tell you what I want,” said he, sidling his horse alongside of Dicky’s. “You see, Miss Blunt, the colonel’s daughter, is coming over to have a quiet hunt on the sly, and I want to arrange matters so as to have as much of her society as possible — you understand, eh?”
“Jest so,” replied Dicky, who was an adept at amatory matters—” jest so,” repeated he. “Well, then, I was thinking,” said he, after a pause, “the best plan will be to have it near home — say, at Lovejoy Grove, or Kiss-me-quick Hill — and then she could come in when she tired, you know, poor thing — she could come in, you know, when she’s tired, you know.”
“That’s just my idea,” exclaimed his lordship—” that’s just my idea. Have a little luncheon, show them the pictures and things, and then have things ready to turn out just when we like.”
“By all means,” assented Dicky, with a touch of his cap.
“Keep it snug, you know,” observed his lordship.
“By all means, my lord,” assented Dicky. “Shall we go in mufti or hunting things?” asked he, looking at his own smartly fitting scarlet.
“Oh — why — ha — hem — haw — let me see,” mused his lordship, thinking how it would act. “Perhaps,” said he after a pause—” perhaps the best plan will be to give exercising orders, and then change all of a sudden, so that it mayn’t ooze out that we are going to hunt.”
“By all means,” assented Dicky, with another touch of his cap, adding, “There are people who come out on bye-days who don’t come out on no other, jest, I believe, for the sake of appearin’ knowin’.”
“There are,” replied his lordship—” there are,” adding, “Monstrous bores they are, too. However, we’ll trick them this time. Have all things ready, you know, to suit either order.”
“By all means,” assented Dicky.
“And tell Spurrier to exercise Lady Jane in a sidesaddle, with a rug, you know, like a habit — Miss Blunt will ride her; and tell him to have a steady horse for Captain Jug, say old Solomon, or Brick’s brown—”
“By all means, my lord,” again assented Dicky; and the Cherryfield and Nutworth Chase cross-roads here intervening, his lordship availed himself of the open for mounting his hack and cantering off homewards, leaving the complaisant Dicky to follow with the hounds.
CHAPTER XLII.
ONE TOO MANY.
“CON — FOUND it! I do believe there’s that nasty old woman coming,” exclaimed his lordship, as, having got himself up in his most killing attire, he raked the distant sweeps of the long-winding approach with a telescope from his sumptuously furnished dressing-room in the western tower. “Coming, by Jove!” repeated he in an agony of despair, after taking a second look, and seeing the now grinning Mrs Blunt, decked out like a cockatoo in all the colours of the rainbow. “Well, con — found it,” continued he, swinging himself furiously into the room, and upsetting a chair as he caught it with his spur—” con — found it, but that’s the stoopidest most asinine thing I ever knew done in the whole course of my life,” and thereupon he slapped his forehead and white cords in an agony of despair.
He knew what it was to have an old woman coupled with a young one. While yet he meditated irresolutely what to do, the deep-sounding notes of the door-bell announced the arrival, and he hurried off almost mechanically to meet them.
“My dear Mrs Blunt! my dear Mrs Blunt! I’m charmed — I’m overjoyed to see you!” he exclaimed, meeting her in the middle of the spacious entrance-hall, which the old lady was surveying in a very ownership sort of way. “This is, indeed, an unexpected, a most gratifying pleasure,” continued he, seizing both her sky-blue, red-back-stitched gloved hands, and shaking them cordially. Then, glancing onwards, he exclaimed, “And the lovely Lady Angelena!” to our fair, sprucely habited, garibaldied friend, who contrived to show his diamond pin in her delicate pink-and-white neckerchief—” and the lovely Lady Angelena,” repeated he, to the delight of both mother and daughter, as he now seized the ungloved hand of the latter. “And Jug, my dear Jug!” continued he, addressing him, too, with the utmost glee, as the queerly put-on cornet stood a little behind the mass of ermine, pea-green hat, and pink-tipped white feathers that enveloped the now joint-stock mother-in-law. Then, turning to Mrs Blunt again, his lordship offered her his red-coated arm, and, preceded by a highly scented, luxuriantly whiskered groom of the chamber and two gigantic, quivering-calved footmen, they entered a sumptuous sky-blue satined drawing-room, radiant with mirrors, gilding, and ornaments from all parts of the globe. “Come to the fire, my dear Mrs Blunt,” continued his lordship, leading her towards the first one, for the room was large enough to require two—” come to the fire, my dear Mrs Blunt, for there’s a coolness in the air, and you must have felt it in your phaeton, though,” glancing ardently at Angelena, “it seems to have agreed with mademoiselle, who really looks quite bewitching,” his lordship wishing he could put the old curiosity up the chimney, or anywhere else, to get rid of her.
“You’ve a beautiful — a splendid place here, certainly, my lord,” simpered Mrs Blunt, staring about her in bewilderment, and thinking what a set-down it was for her daughter.
“Glad you like it, ma’am — glad you like it,” bowed the gallant old cock; “hope you’ll come and stay here very often.”
“I’m sure I shall be most happy,” replied the matter-of-fact mamma-in-law.
“And the colonel, my old friend the colonel,” continued his lordship, getting desperate, thinking as it was over shoes, it might as well be over boots too.
“Oh, the colonel! I’m sure the colonel’ll be happy, too — nothin’ he likes so much as a quiet billet i’ the country.”
His lordshi
p bowed again, thinking he would be very sly if he got one there.
“Never thought to see the place under such (hem) circumstances,” simpered Mrs Blunt, now unfolding one of her daughter’s best kerchiefs.
Angelena, seeing her mamma was approaching tender ground, exclaimed, with a glance out of a deeply mullioned window in an apparently impregnable wall, “What a lovely dye it is!”
“Charming!” exclaimed the old peer—” charming,” adding, “Shall we have a saunter round the terrace — into the garden — or would you prefer seeing the pictures first,” continued he, adding, as he spoke, “I’ll ring for Mrs Mansell — I’ll ring for Mrs Mansell.”
The lady so designated was the housekeeper, now somewhat advanced in life, but still retaining symptoms of the beauty that recommended her to his lordship, and raised her from the dairy to the head of the establishment.
Considering the questionable nature of her services, and the sort of people with whom she had to deal, Mrs Mansell was a very respectable-looking person; and it was only under the scrutinising search of male eyes that the wince of deviation was apparent.
But though she was most decorous and respectful to all the guests before his lordship’s face, treating them as if she thought they were what the servants call “quite quality,” she took her change out of them behind his back, and let them see what she really thought of them.
“Well, I s’pose you’ll be wantin’ to see all the ins and outs of our place?” observed she, as, having received mamma and miss from his lordship, she led the way across the spacious entrance-hall — I s’pose you’ll be wantin’ to see all the ins and outs of our place?” adding, “Women generally like to poke their noses into all the holes and corners they can.”
“We want to see the castle, certainly,” replied Mrs Blunt, bridling up, thinking the lady had better mind her p’s and q’s if she meant to stay there.
“Ah, well,” rejoined Mrs Mansell, now ringing a concealed bell in the wall, which immediately produced an amazingly smart, handsomely dressed housemaid — for the old lord would have none but handsome women about him — of whom she said, addressing Mrs Blunt, “this young oman will show you through the state apartments, and by the time you’ve done with them, you’ll find me in the picter gallery.”
So saying, Mrs Mansell made a sort of half-mock, half-respectful curtsey to the “no-better-than-they-should-be’s,” as she thought them, and looking at the maid as much as to say “you’ll not get much out of them,” withdrew the way she came.
The housemaid, taking her cue from her predecessor, just as the old post-boys used to take their threepenny hints from those who brought up the chaise, proceeded to open first one bedroom door and then another, announcing, as she flourished her hand at the beds, this as the room that Queen Caroline slept in, that as the one the Duke of Somebody died in, another the room Lord Heartycheer was born in — information which was a good deal lost upon Mrs Blunt, busy thinking what room she would choose for her daughter. Beautiful as they all were, each succeeding one eclipsed its predecessor in splendour; so the more Mrs Blunt saw, the more she was bewildered. And now, while the ladies are thus genially employed, let us take a glance at the gentlemen below.
CHAPTER XLIII.
USEFUL JUG.
“WHAT THE DEUCE did you bring that nasty old baggage here for?” asked his lordship, sotto voce, of Jug, as soon as the folding-doors shut out the back views of the retreating ladies—” what the deuce did you bring that nasty old baggage here for?” repeated he, quite beside himself with vexation.
“Why, she would come! she would come!” exclaimed the half-frightened Jug. “I did all I could to prevent her.”
“Ord rot her!” continued his lordship, stamping furiously; “she’ll spoil all our sport — she’ll spoil all our sport. I didn’t want her — I didn’t want her. I thought you and the girl would ride over together, and we’d have a nice quiet day to ourselves. I made it expressly for you, my dear fellow — I made it expressly for you. Old Pitcher said to me the last time I saw him in Brooks’s, ‘Heartycheer, my boy, I wish you’d notice my grandson, who’s quartered beside you’; and I said to him, ‘My dear Pitcher, you’re the oldest friend I have in the world, the very oldest, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to serve you. I’ll not only call on your grandson, but I’ll call on the colonel, and so interest him in his behalf’; and seeing the young lady, I thought it would be the very thing to get you over together, for they all like a sprig of nobility; but I never wanted that old woman for a moment — never wanted that old woman for a moment.”
“Well, I told her that! I told her that!” vociferated little pig-eyes, “but she said the colonel insisted on her coming — wouldn’t hear of his daughter going without her — indeed she did,” asserted Jug, now spluttering with vehemence.
“Well,” mused his lordship, biting his lips and buttonholing little Jug, “it’s a bad job, a deuced bad job; but I’ll tell you what you must do — you must ease me of the old body as much as you can, you know — ease me of the old body as much as you can, you know — you understand, eh?”
“Oh yes,” replied Jug. “I’ll do anything in that way; only tell me what to do.”
“Why,” said his lordship, “I can manage her here, you know; the difficulty will be about hunting, you know; and I shouldn’t like to disappoint Miss Angelena, who’s come in her habit, and all so smart.”
“Just so,” assented Jug, who had natural horror of hunting, though, like many jolly subs., he occasionally punished himself by partaking of the chase. “Well,” continued he, “as far as hunting’s concerned, I’m really quite indifferent about it to-day. Any other day would suit me quite as well — better, indeed, for I’ve got a pair of boots on that are anything but comfortable; and if one’s boots don’t fit, one’s breeches seldom do either; and when one’s garments am’t right,” continued Jug, hitching and pulling away at a pair of his father’s old leathers, that didn’t seem to have the slightest idea of doing what they ought, “there’s very little pleasure or enjoyment.”
“Quite true,” assented his lordship—” quite true. I know nothing so nasty as ill-fitting clothes, unless, indeed, it is a nasty old bundle of dirty finery such as that you’ve brought here. However,” continued he, calming down, “we’ll say no more about that — we’ll say no more about that; you’ll manage the old jade — you’ll manage the old jade. And now, if you’ll excuse me for half a minute,” added his lordship, drawing the ivory-knobbed bell-handle, “I’ll send for Dicky Thorndyke, and give him his cue.”
CHAPTER XLIV.
SOOTHING SYRUP.
“OH, DICKY!” SAID his lordship in an undertone, as that hunting-equipped worthy emerged from the steward’s room, where he was having a little refreshment, and approached his lordship respectfully in the grand entrance hall—” oh, Dicky,” repeated he in a tone of despair, “here’s a pretty kettle of fish; Mrs Blunt’s come with her daughter, and whatever I’m to do I don’t know.”
“S-o-o-o,” mouthed Dicky, drawing a long face.
“It’s the most unfortunate thing that ever occurred,” continued his lordship.
“It is so,” said Dicky, conning the matter over.
“Mr Jug says he’ll be good enough to keep her engaged while we slip off with the daughter, so you must have all things quick and ready for a start.”
“By all means, my lord,” assented Dicky, with a touch of his forelock.
“The difficulty will be keeping her quiet after we’ve gone,” observed his lordship.
“Oh, I think that might be manished,” replied Dicky—” I think that might be manished. Lock up their post-boy, and don’t let him have any ‘orses.”
“Well,” considered his lordship, “that might do.”
“Or,” continued Dicky briskly, “give her a little somethin’ soothin’.”
“That was what I was thinking,” whispered his lord-ship—” that was what I was thinking. If you could see Doiley and tell hi
m to mix her some — not over-strong, you know, but just a moderate dose — we might reckon upon having her quiet for a few hours at least.”
“And Mr Jug?” asked Dicky.
“Oh — why — ha — hem — Mr Jug must just take his chance, you know. It won’t do for Doiley to tell him; and if he has a mind to drink it, why — ha — hem — he’ll just go to sleep too, that’ll be all.”
“Just so, my lord,” assented Dicky—” just so,” adding, “Then what would your lordship think of drawing first?”
“First,” mused his lordship—” first,” repeated he, adding, “Don’t know, I’m sure — this confounded interruption’s put me so out — what would you think?”
“There’s the Grove, and Kiss-me-quick Hill, both sure finds,” observed Dicky; “but we might rouse young Mr Kyleycalfe, and if he was once to come to us we should never get rid on him, for he’s no more sense nor delicacy nor a pig.”
“No more he has,” assented his lordship, who recollected how Kyleycalfe persecuted him one day when he had the beautiful Empress of Morocco out on the sly. “Dash it all! what shall we do?” continued his lordship, stamping furiously on the soft rug.
Dicky for once was mute.
“Couldn’t you send to Kyleycalfe’s, think you,” asked his lordship, “with your compliments, and say you’re going to draw Roughshaw Brake; that would draw him off the other way?”
“Well,” said Dicky, “only it might stir up Harry Shoveller, or Mr Whickenrake, or some of the Fatacres people, for they’re all of a litter like.”
“They are so,” assented his lordship, now more bothered than ever.
“How would it do,” asked Dicky after a pause, “to run a drag, say, from Choplaw Wood over Broomfield Common, through Steventon Chase and Lingfield down to Mrs Easylove’s?”