“And what’s that to be?” he demanded, instinctively putting his hand upon the pocket where his money was deposited.
“Yes, Donny,” said the lady, laughing, “that’s it; at least that’s one part of what I want. I will take care, my dear, that everything shall be in excellent style, and I will only trouble you for two articles — money and officers. I dare say the general plays a good rubber, — all officers do, you know. But at any rate we must have some red-coats to make us look gay.”
Her husband looked up at her as she spoke with a queer sort of expression that she could by no means understand. However, she was not very anxious for an interpretation of it, when he said, “And how much money do you want, my dear?” She made her demand, which was complied with instantly, without an observation; a style of doing business so novel and agreeable, that she immediately left the room in a most enviable state of spirits, to set off on a shopping expedition, without waiting for his answer to her second demand.
It was not, therefore, till the very day of the party had arrived, that she received a bit of information from her husband, which greatly lessened her anticipations of gaiety for the evening.
While enjoying a plate of her favourite prawns for breakfast, Mrs. O’Donagough suddenly exclaimed, “By-the-by, Donny, I am by no means sure that Foxcroft and Dartmore and Willis will be over well pleased with having nothing but ice and cakes to eat after their rubber. I suspect that they’ll miss their lobster salad and porter, and I’m sure I shall. What d’ye say to having a table laid in the corner of the dining-room, with about half a dozen knives and forks, for those that Eke something substantial? And then, you know, if the Huberts go tolerably early, which they’ll be sure to do, on account of that little creaky thing aunt Betsy, you can bring your old friends up stairs again, for another rubber and a glass of toddy.”
“Have you done breakfast, Patty?” demanded Mr. O’Donagough. -
“All but this one prawn,” replied the young lady, taking a solitary straggler that remained in the dish.
“Well, then, go and take a look-out with the glass, and see if the French steamer is in sight.
This errand was of a nature to insure obedience, and Patty was out of the room in a moment.
“I say! Mrs. O’Donagough, I have got a word or two for your private ear, so sit still a minute, if you please,” said the husband.
“Mercy on me! what’s the matter?” replied the wife, somewhat startled both by the words and manner.
“Nothing at all is the matter, unless you make a fool of yourself; and I think you know better than that.”
“I think so too,” rejoined the lady, with rather a heightened colour; “but I wish you’d speak out.”
“Don’t be afraid, I’ll speak out fast enough. Yon told me the other day that I was to get officers for your party to-night, and then you flew off in such a fuss, that I had no time to say anything in answer. But it’s time to tell you now, that you can have no officers to-night, except the high and mighty Lieutenant-General Hubert, Colonel of the * * * regiment of Dragoons.”
“And why not, I should Eke to know? Good gracious, O’Donagough! how very dull it will be!”
“It had better be dull than dangerous, Mrs. O’Donagough.”
“Dangerous!” reiterated his wife. “What on earth do you mean?”
“I mean, my dear, that if I hope to do any good from the singular bit of luck which has brought me into kindred and acquaintance with Lieuteuant-General Hubert, I must not invite Messrs. Foxcroft, Dartmore, and Willis, to meet him.”
“Lord, Donny! Do you suppose he is such a fool as to expect people will never ask anybody but generals to drink tea with him?.
“Not exactly that, Mrs. O’Donagough. But he is a sort of man that one never invites to meet — sporting gentlemen, who live by their wits.”
“I am sure it is a shame, then, that you should invite such people here at all. How do you know that some of ’em may not fall in love with Patty, some day, and a pretty match that would make, wouldn’t it?”
“I must be doing business, Mrs. O’Donagough, let me be where I will; and you ought to know that, I should think, by this time. I’ll take care that none, exactly of that sort, shall marry Patty, let them fall as much in love with her as they will; and remember now, and always, if you please, that your business is not to ask questions about my company. I shall never give lobster salads to anybody that I can’t make pay for them, neither shall I ever spoil a great game by mixing it up with a little one. People starting with less advantage than I do now, have managed to line their own purses, and get a peer for a daughter into the bargain. I see no reason why I may not do the same. But it won’t come by inviting size-ace together to a tea party.”
“It is a monstrous bore,” said Mrs. O’Donagough, “but I suppose you know best.”
“Probably, my dear,” replied her spouse. “Make yourself and your girl, and your room, as fine as you will; and have your Miss Perkinses to help, if you like it. No great harm can come of that. They are not handsome enough to have any danger in them. But for my playfellows, let me keep them in the background when I think fit, and make no remarks upon it. Do as I would have you, and when you get to London you shall be rewarded for it.”
Though Mr. Allen O’Donagough did know best, his lady was not so ignorant as to be very greatly astonished at what she had heard; and being, as all the world allowed, a very sensible woman, she made the best of it — hinting to the Miss Perkinses, with a judicious touch of mystery, that General Hubert was known, by those who were nearly connected and intimate with him, to have a multitude of whims, one of which was, that he had a great dislike to associate with any but field-officers. Patty stormed at hearing this, and declared that she wished all the Huberts, man, woman, and child, were at the bottom of the sea; but the Miss Perkinses knew better than to talk such nonsense, and even Miss Matilda felt capable of valuing the dignity of the association, though she was not insensible to the privations it brought with it.
General Hubert’s family, meanwhile, were not unmindful of the threatened festivity, though not quite so much occupied thereby as the hospitable projectors of it. The general himself was a little chafed at finding that he was manoeuvred into a scrape. But he managed extremely well to keep this feeling hid. His sweet wife suffered herself to be led, satisfied that she could not go very wrong if led by him. And Mrs. Compton quietly enjoyed the conviction that she should soon bring General Hubert to confess there was more wisdom in keeping clear of a Mrs. Barnaby, than in braving her approach, and trusting to dignity and skilful tactics to render her harmless.
That she was in a fair way to achieve this desirable end there was no doubt, and it might have been as well if the venerable plotter had rested satisfied with what she had already done to insure it. But she had no intention of letting the gentleman off so easily. She had not forgotten the many quizzings she had brought upon herself during the last dozen years by warning him, that half the globe did not afford distance sufficient to render intercourse and communion with a Barnaby safe. She remembered his jestings, gentle though they were, upon the circulating library as a source of knowledge respecting the conduct of human life; and the result of all these reminiscences was a determination to push a little further the system she had so ably begun. Some excuse for the old lady’s persevering mystifications may be found, perhaps, in the skill and pertinacity by which he, for whose especial advantage they were set in action, concealed their effect upon him.
“Do all the dear children go with us to-night?” said the old lady, looking round upon the assembled family on the morning of the eventful Wednesday.
“Not any of them, I believe,” replied Agnes, quietly.
“Surely, you do not mean that, my dear? Is the general growing cautious already? Is it he who objects to the young people’s being introduced to their cousin?”
“No, indeed!” said General Hubert, turning over the mighty pages of the “Times” newspaper with a little fracas
. “No, indeed, Mrs. Compton, I have not interfered on the important subject.”
“Emily has not made her appearance at any evening parties as yet,” said Mrs. Hubert, smiling.
“But Elizabeth is just the same age as her cousin,” observed the old lady, with an innocent air of pleading for indulgence.
“I do hope you will let her go; unless, indeed, General Hubert sees any objection to it.”
The general turned over another page of his noisy newspaper, but said nothing.
“Elizabeth may go if she likes it,” replied Agnes.
“I would rather not go, mamma, if you please,” said the young lady, slightly colouring.
“Why not, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Compton, holding out her hand to invite the recusant to her side.
Elizabeth went to her readily, and quite unconscious of the underplot that was going on, said very frankly, —
“Don’t advise mamma to take me, aunt Compton, because I had a great deal rather stay at home with Emily.”
The old lady kissed her cordially, and said, “You will feel a little shy with your cousin at first, my dear, I dare say; perhaps, indeed, it will take some time before you are thoroughly used to her. However, as you will have so many nice opportunities when you are all living together in London, I dare say your mamma and papa will let you remain with your sister this evening. We must have Compton with us, however. I hope he does not intend to forsake the old aunt who eloped with him?”
“I will go with you all the world over, aunt Betsy!” replied the youth, gaily. “Besides, I am exceedingly anxious to see my new cousin.”
At about half-past eight o’clock in the evening, General and Mrs. Hubert, their son, and venerable great-aunt drove to the residence of Mr and Mrs. O’Donagough on the East Cliff. The moment in which their carriage stopped at the door was a happy one for the five persons assembled in the drawing-room; for during the last hour, a constantly increasing fever of expectation had been tormenting them all.
“Well, now, I hope you will be contented, mamma?” cried Patty, from her station at the window. “One, two, three, four of ’em. There’s no Miss Elizabeth though, but such a beautiful, tall young man. I do believe it is the Lord William I told you of, Matilda, only he is out of regimentals. It is good-natured of them to bring him, at any rate; and now,” she added, in the whisper which so often marked their mutual affection and confidence, “now I shan’t care three straws about Foxcroft and Willis — shall you?”
Ere the question could be fully answered, the “nice respectable waiter,” threw wide the drawing-room door, and announced the guests.
Mrs. O’Donagough stood within six feet of it, radiant in crimson satin and blonde; and, as usual, ready to envelop her “darling Agnes” in an embrace, overflowing with lappets and love. Behind her, in single file, were stationed — first, her daughter, in a transparent dress of rose colour over shining white calico; her profuse black ringlets dropping from all parts of her head, her large eyes flashing their eager rays through the doorway to fight upon the expected lord, and her bright complexion very unnecessarily heightened in its glowing splendour by a slight touch of her mamma’s rouge. Next appeared Miss Matilda Perkins, a very model for careful dressers. Not a pin but did its duty well; not a plait nor a pucker but fulfilled the wearer’s will, — not a hair that produced not the effect of two. The more retiring elder sister was modestly sheltered behind her, conscious, perhaps, that the bracing energies of hope having failed her, the patience necessary for an effective past forty toilet, had failed her too, and that she was not sufficiently fait à peindre to appear in the foreground. Behind Miss Perkins, senior, stood Mr. Allen O’Donagough, sleek and sober in new broad-cloth, and a well-trimmed wig.
Mrs. Compton and her niece Agnes entered arm-in-arm, an arrangement which seemed to puzzle Mrs. O’Donagough, for she could not conveniently embrace them both together; and being particularly desirous that the Misses Perkins should see the elegant Mrs. General Hubert enfolded in her arms, she stood for half an instant, uncertain how to proceed. But a movement of Mr. O’Donagough favoured her purpose; for feeling himself rather too much thrown into the background by the two file of Perkinses, he made an active movement forward, and bowing profoundly, ventured to protrude a welcoming hand towards the ladies; whereupon, Mrs. Compton withdrew her arm from that of Agnes, and suddenly dropped into a chair, as if too much fatigued to stand longer; being prepared, as it should seem, to go all lengths for the promotion of her project, short of actually touching her Australian relatives.
The moment Mrs. Hubert stood alone, Mrs. O’Donagough pushed aside her husband’s extended hand without ceremony, and with a movement much too sudden to be either foreseen or resisted, once more inclosed her in a fond embrace, which lasted so long, as to make Miss Perkins exclaim in a whisper to Mr. O’Donagough, “Dear me! What a pleasure it is to witness such affection! Your lady perfectly dotes upon her niece, and, I’m sure, no wonder!”
Released at last, Mrs. Hubert moved on, shaking hands with Patty, and bowing to her father. But there was still much bustling ceremony to go through; the two Miss Perkinses were to be introduced, and General Hubert respectfully, affectionately, and gracefully welcomed. This was all admirably accomplished by Mrs. O’Donagough; a low courtesy, a smiling pressure of the hand, and a sort of swinging bow, by which, she indicated to him an arm-chair at the upper end of the room as his place, completed the tripartite operation. But when she found herself face to face with the young Compton, she was puzzled. Who, or what he was, she could by no means conjecture; his remarkable height and manly appearance naturally enough prevented her from guessing that he was the son of Agnes; so having smiled upon him very graciously, and then recollecting who brought him there, turned round again and made him a courtesy, she set about insisting upon it that Mrs. Compton should change her place from the chair to the sofa; but the active old lady soon cut short her energetic pleadings by so rapidly making the movement she suggested, as to leave her suspended in the very middle of her “Indeed and indeed—”
It can hardly be denied, I believe, that, when a party of ladies and gentlemen are in a position from any cause embarrassing, the gentlemen are more awkward than the ladies in their manner of enduring it. Mrs. Hubert ceased to feel embarrassée de sa personne as soon as she had released it from the encircling arms of her aunt. Mrs. Compton, from the moment she had seated herself, began to enjoy the whole scene. Patty could be at no loss where or how to look from the moment Compton Hubert entered the room; the Miss Perkinses, each in her own way, were looking just as they ought to do; and Mrs. O’Donagough was much too fully occupied in the expression of her family feelings to be conscious of any awkwardness at all. But General Hubert held his hat in his hand less gracefully, perhaps, than he had ever held it before; and Mr. O’Donagough would willingly have compounded for misdealing three times at his next batch of whist, could he have obtained thereby the power of addressing three sentences to the general with a tolerable appearance of ease.
The first decisive change in this state of things was produced by Mrs. Compton’s saying, in her gay, clear voice, “Pray, Mrs. Hubert, have you remembered to introduce your son Compton to your aunt Barnaby? — I beg pardon, I mean O’Donagough.” The old lady probably expected to produce some picturesque effects by thus throwing a new light upon the circle; but it is probable that the result was even greater than she anticipated. No sooner did Mrs. O’Donagough catch her words than starting from her seat, her hands clasped, her head thrown forward, and her eager eyes advancing farther still, she rushed towards the startled young man, and, laying her hands heavily on his head as if to bestow her blessing, began parting and pushing back his clustering curls in order to enable her, as she said, to examine the features so naturally and so inexpressibly dear to her heart. As she thus held the youth imprisoned, gazing the while into his forcibly up-turned face, she discovered that he was strikingly like every member she had ever known of his mother’s maternal ancestors; and, as
she named them all in succession, she impressed a fervent kiss upon his brow in honour of each individual of the catalogue. The young man became exceedingly red, and when at length released, the manner in which he shook his handsome head and set himself to rights again had something so irresistibly ludicrous in it, that even the vexed general indulged in a smile, and his mother laughed outright.
“Glorious creature!” exclaimed Mrs. O’Donagough, as soon as she had recovered her breath. “Good heaven, what a face! Patty, come to me, my child. This is the first male descendant of my beloved father that I have ever seen. Dear, blessed spirit! how his heart would have rejoiced to look upon him! Give your hand to your young cousin Compton. I rejoice that his name is Compton — my own dear maiden name! Take her hand, Compton, and remember that your great-grandfather and her grandfather were the same.”
Compton Hubert was, perhaps, as saucy a student of fifteen as Sandhurst ever sent forth, a peculiarity of temperament considerably increased by the unlimited indulgence of his aunt Betsy, the principal object of whose life had been, from the hour that he first gave indications of having a will of his own, to indulge that will in every possible way. She was, unluckily, but too able to perform this by the pertinacity with which General Hubert had resisted all her efforts to endow Agnes with her wealth during her own life; after long battling, this point had been settled according to his will, leaving her at liberty to spoil his second son, who, before his birth, was promised to her as her heir to her heart’s content. Some counteracting influence was, of course, found in the good sense of his parents when he was with them; and that he was in truth a fine, frank-hearted, generous fellow, can no more be denied than that he was effronté as a page, when occasion permitted.
It so happened, that exactly at the moment when Mrs. O’Donagough was so pathetically entreating him to take his buxom cousin by the hand, the lad caught his aunt Compton’s keen twinkling black eye fixed upon him. It would not he easy to say what it was he read there which encouraged the perpetration of such audacity, but certain it is, that, instead of taking the young lady’s hand as requested, he suddenly threw his arms round her neck and kissed her vehemently.
Collected Works of Frances Trollope Page 246