“They will all find their places fast enough if they are as hungry as I am, sir,” said Mrs. Heathcote, waddling onward, in excellent spirits at the warm comforts that had greeted her arrival, and anticipating more solid consolation still from the ceremony they were now about to engage in. But on entering the dining-room she started. The sumptuous style in which the table was spread, the massive plate, the rich hangings, the fine mirrors, and abundant lights, absolutely dazzled her; and she very unceremoniously exclaimed, “Good gracious, how beautiful!.... and my goodness! what a dinner!”
This burst of genuine applause was not so gratifying to the feelings of the venerable host as those who knew him not, might have expected. Mr. Thorpe, in the state of mind which the defection of his son had caused, had found his best relief in withdrawing himself almost entirely from the world in which he had formerly taken an active and often a distinguished part; yet, while exerting his ingenuity to keep himself out of sight of those who could not sympathise with him, and affecting in his household establishment, and manner of life, an almost rustic simplicity, he had not in reality lost a jot of the refinement which had once distinguished him; and poor Mrs. Heathcote’s unmeasured admiration of his dinner was as little to his taste now, as it would have been when he was accounted the most finished gentleman that England had ever sent as her representative to Madrid.
For a moment something like a harsh feeling of vexed mortification took possession of him, and he inwardly groaned as he contemplated prophetically all he should have to endure during the ensuing fortnight. But hardly had he got rid of the lusty arm which had rested upon his, and, having placed her according to his program in the place next that intended for himself, moved with a hasty step to the other side of the table, than his conscience reproached him, he felt heartily ashamed of his own weakness; and, making his way back again to her side more rapidly than he had quitted it, seated himself with philosophic toleration close to her, determined to atone for his contemptible movement of ill-placed vexation by making the good lady the object of his most especial politeness as long as she stayed.
This accidental getting into disgrace with himself was the most fortunate thing that could have happened to Mr. Thorpe, as it effectually set him upon his good behaviour, and enabled him to endure the heavy work of entertaining a large party of strangers, for not one of whom he entertained the slightest affection, considerably better than he would have done without it The order of arrangement also, as they came in, rather amused him; and this too helped him on in the performance of his task. The Welsh giant Mr. Wilkyns, before whom it seemed that all had given way, was the first that entered, perfectly unconscious that, though handing no lady himself, he was preceding all those who did. A sharp feeling of hunger led him to step out more briskly than usual; and whenever this was the case, all those among whom he passed invariably stood aside. Then followed Sir Charles Temple, and Miss Wilkyns, the lady’s countenance still somewhat expressive of the feeling which rendered the arm of the baronet a doubtful advantage, seeing that it was assigned to her by her ill-mannered uncle solely because she was his eldest niece.... LlanWellyn Lodge and all its acres evidently not entering into his consideration at all. Then came Mr. Spencer and Miss Eldruda Wilkyns; that gentleman being far too well acquainted with the laws of good society to balance between the second Miss Wilkyns, albeit she was not the pretty Miss Wilkyns, and any other young lady of the party. Mr. Bentinck Spencer and Mr. Montagu Spencer thought it proper in this land of strangers to take care of each other, and, without absolutely pushing before the ladies, contrived to slide into the dining-room close together, with their papa. Then came the rather pretty Miss Wilkyns all alone.., then Algernon and Florence, hand-in-hand.... and then the good-natured Major Heathcote, bringing up the rear with Sophia Martin under his arm.
This was certainly far unlike the gallant style in which guests had formerly been marshalled on entering that noble dining-room. Poor Thorpe hardly knew whether to smile or weep at the contrast, till he caught the laughing eye of Sir Charles; that settled the matter at once. The old gentleman smiled gaily on them all, and calling to each by name as they entered, endeavoured to arrange them somewhat better than they seemed able to arrange themselves.
Whether it were on the scriptural principle that she who was last should be first, or because he still fancied that he traced a resemblance between the young lady and his lost son, may be doubtful; but it was the meek-looking Sophia Martin whom he called to the second post of honour next himself.
“Dear goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Heathcote, as the young lady with downcast eyes took the place assigned her, “why, Sophy, my dear, only think of you being the one to sit next uncle Thorpe!.... What will the Welsh young ladies say to it, eh, Sophy?”
“I trust, dear aunt, that it will not give them pain!” replied Sophia, in a voice that seemed almost tremulous from timidity, and at the same time half rising from her chair.
“Pain, my dear?.... Why should it?....” said Mr. Thorpe, smiling kindly on her.... “Nobody must take it into their heads to feel pain here, or I shall certainly quarrel with them. Sit down, my dear, sit down. You have got very pretty hair, Sophy.”
While the soup and fish went round, Mr. Thorpe, and Sir Charles Temple also, took advantage of the brilliant light, which now, for the first time, fairly gave to their view the features of the whole party, and deliberately examined them. Notwithstanding the disparity of age, there was generally very excellent sympathy between these two gentlemen, nor did it fail them on the present occasion. Each formed the same, and with one or two exceptions a pretty just estimate of the party around them; the only points on which they differed, being, that Sir Charles thought Sophia Martin the plainest girl in the company, excepting his own Miss Wilkyns; and that Mr. Thorpe thought her decidedly the prettiest.... excepting indeed Florence Heathcote, who, now that her bonnet and cap were removed, would certainly have been thought pretty by most people. But she was quite at the other end of the table, and so much engaged in listening to her brother Algernon, that be could only see her profile. As the dinner went on, and the wine went round, the voices of the guests began by gentle degrees to be heard. That is to say, Mr. Spencer observed to Miss Laura Wilkyns, that the frost appeared very likely to continue; to which she replied, that she hoped he was mistaken, as it perfectly destroyed her. Algernon said to his sister, quite loud enough to be heard across the table, “I wonder if there be any library here?”.... Montagu, addressing Bentinck considerably above a whisper, proposed that they should call for champagne, and Major Heathcote and his lady conversed across the table fearlessly, and with all the affectionate kindliness of their natures congratulated each other on looking so much more comfortable than when they first arrived.
“My dearest Major!” cried the lady, by no means sotto voce, but with a mouth so full as to he intelligible to none but the dear accustomed ear she addressed, “My dearest Major! don’t let that dish pass! you never did, no never, taste anything so good.”
“Thank’ye, Poppsy dear.... I’ll have a taste at it in a minute.... and you mustn’t forget the currie, I promise you.... I ought to know something about currie,” turning to Miss Winifred Wilkyns, who sat beside him, “considering the time I was in India.”
“Will you take wine with me, Mr. Wilkyns?” demanded Mr. Spencer with a courtly smile.
It took some time before the Welsh squire appeared to hear and fully understand this; but when he did, he replied rather solemnly, “I would prefer taking some ale, sir.”
“You will think you are got among the Goths and Vandals,” said Miss Wilkyns to her elegant uncle, “but papa is as proud of his ale as of his pedigree, and despises wine almost as much as the merchant who imports it.”
“Really!” replied Mr. Spencer, holding his champagne glass to be replenished by the butler. “There is something most anciently Britannic in that.... I admire it excessively.”
“What was that you said about my library, my young sir?” inquired Mr
. Thorpe, good-humouredly addressing Algernon.
“I said nothing about your library, sir,” replied the pale youth, blushing a little....— “For I do not know if you have got one.”
“That is cautious, correct, and logical, Algernon,” said his uncle, smiling, “but before this time to-morrow you shall know more about it.... Will you drink a glass of wine with me, Algernon?”
“Oh! for God’s sake, no!” exclaimed Mrs. Heathcote, in genuine terror at the proposal. “He has drunk nothing but milk for the last twelve-month, sir, and it’s untold the good it has done him.”
“His uncle shall not undo the good his careful step-mother has done,” said Mr. Thorpe, looking kindly on his fat neighbour. “Grimstone! send for a jug of milk immediately, and let Mr. Algernon Heathcote have milk ready for him at every meal.”.
The old gentleman, as he said this, chanced to encounter the very prettiest pair of eyes he had ever seen in his life, lit up too by a smile that seemed intended for himself.
“God bless my soul!” he exclaimed, “I never looked at her before. Why, niece Martin,” he continued, addressing himself to Sophia, “your cousin Heathcote is beautiful! She is upon my word! perfectly beautiful.”
“She is indeed, sir!” replied Sophia, gently, “most beautiful!”
“An extremely pretty girl indeed,” reiterated the old man, still looking at her.... “And what sort of lad is her brother, my dear?” he continued in a half whisper, which was heard by none but Sophia herself.
“It is rather a difficult question, uncle. He is clever but wildly eccentric... but, be he what he may, he will not remain long to give either pain or pleasure to those around him. All the medical men in our neighbourhood say that he is dying,” This was said in a still lower whisper than his own, but with an accent so sad, so gentle, and at the same time so intelligent, that Mr. Thorpe felt comforted by the conviction, that there was at least one of his young relations that he should find conversable, intelligent, and full of feeling. But the subject they had touched on, was not one that could be longer dwelt upon at present, so he gave Sophia’s arm a friendly tap that seemed to promise future good understanding and confidence, saying, “I must have some more talk with you to-morrow, my dear, and you shall tell me a great deal about yourself.”
Sophia, who, though not very handsome, had speaking eyes, looked up in his face as he said this, with so animated an Expression of grateful affection, that the old man was deeply touched by it. “Poor little girl!” thought he.... “Fatherless and motherless! A single word of kindness seems to touch her to the heart.... Poor little girl!”
Meanwhile Sir Charles Temple was exerting himself to the utmost to perform the duties his old friend had so tyrannically put upon him. It is Certain that, poor as he was, he would have given more than he often spent in self-indulgence to have purchased an escape from the festivities of the next fortnight, and this he had full surely guessed before he entered upon them. But having pledged his word that he would dine at the Combe every day till the important meeting was broken up, he determined not to keep his promise to the word and break it to the sense, but resolutely and with good faith to do all within his power to please the invited guests.
Miss Wilkyns having recovered the little touch of vexation which the allusion to her seniority had occasioned, determined to profit to the utmost by the advantage it had obtained for her. Though quite aware that her sister Winifred was the beauty of the family, and that she was not, she saw no reason why Miss Wilkyns of Llanwellyn Lodge, and co-heiress of the Llanwellyn estate, should not become Lady Temple if she liked it. And after having once or twice steadily examined the handsome profile of the baronet, she thought she should like it, and behaved herself accordingly.... so that Sir Charles had little time left him for general civility, hardly finding interval sufficient between the answers required by his conversable neighbour to drink wine with the gentlemen near him. Nevertheless he did contrive to find out that Florence Heathcote was beautiful, and even ventured in reply to an animated inquiry from Miss Wilkyns as to who were the most celebrated beauties in Herefordshire, to say, “I know no lady in our county that can be compared to your fair cousin yonder, her name is Heathcote, is it not?”
“Upon my word,” replied Miss Wilkyns, with a short little laugh, “I hardly know — I presume she is my cousin because I meet her here — et voilà tout.”
“Is she not beautiful?” persevered the baronet very impertinently.
“I dare say she is,” replied the young lady, “if you say so — for you know women are never permitted to be judges of each other — But to my taste I confess that her total want of style and tournure would destroy all the beauty in the world. To be sure she is dressed almost like a peasant girl, and that is against her. To my fancy that other cousin, as I presume her to be, who sits beside my uncle Thorpe, is infinitely better looking. Oh! dear yes,” raising her eyeglass, “no comparison whatever!”
“What! that little olive-coloured girl, with her sharp black eyes?.... Surely you must he jesting?”
“Indeed, Sir Charles, I am not — I think her very well looking indeed. She dresses herself so remarkably well. Not, indeed, that the dress itself is greatly superior in quality to that of the other; but it is so differently made and put on that it has quite a different air — and then her hair curls naturally, which is a great beauty; and besides I am quite certain she is very clever. I shall make acquaintance with her, I like her appearance so very much.”
“And I will try to make acquaintance with the other,” replied Sir Charles, laughing; “and then we will compare notes together in order to ascertain which of our predilections has turned out best.”
The cold silence which for a minute or two punished this sally, enabled Sir Charles to ask the two young Spencers what school they were at.
“Eton,” answered both in a breath.
“Are you cricketers?” was the next question.
“In the first eleven,” was the reply, again uttered by both so sharply in unison, that though two bodies he began to think they had but one soul and one voice.
“Can you row?”.... But here the union ceased, for one said no, and the other yes.
“What a noble institution Eton must be!” said Miss Wilkyns, joining in the conversation; “the lads are all so remarkably gentlemanlike.”
“First-rate,” said Bentinck, winking his eye at Montagu.
“I know nothing that makes so decided a difference as a good school and a vulgar one,” resumed Miss Wilkyns; “don’t you think so, Sir Charles?”
“I have little doubt that I should exactly agree with you did I know what you meant he replied; “but you must explain to me what a vulgar school is.”
“I hate explanations, Sir Charles Temple. Women have nothing to do With explaining; we should always leave that to Our lords and toasters, in my opinion. But without any explanation, of course vulgar schools are.... vulgar, that is, I suppose, Cheap schools. I am sure you must know what I mean.”
“Oh! yes to be sure,” cried Bentinck; “Winchester, Westminster, Harrow, Shrewsbury, Rugby, and all the rest of ’em.”
“I do understand,” replied Sir Charles, smiling. “It means every school in the world except your own. That is it, is it not?” Before the boy could reply, and his heightened colour showed that he meant to do so saucily enough, his father bent gracefully forward to say, “You are doing my lads great honour, Sir Charles Temple.... May I have the honour of taking Champagne with you?.... When do you think of being in Florence again?”
And thus the hour of dinner wore away. The interval which succeeded served to make the parties better acquainted with each Other; for the ladies, at a signal given by Mrs. Heathcote, but originating with her husband, collected themselves together in the drawing-room; while the gentlemen, closing their ranks Ground the blazing fire, seemed, for the most part, well inclined to yield themselves up to the soothing influences of warmth and Wine, and something very tolerably like conversation was susta
ined between Sir Charles Temple, Mr. Spencer, Major Heathcote, and their host. Mr. Wilkyns drank and dozed, and dozed find drank, without disturbing anybody; and the three boys, after a silent examination of the two Etonians by Algernon, and of Algernon by the two Etonians, parted by tacit but mutual consent The young Heathcote then stole out of the room, and after a tour of curious research round the old hall, and up the huge oak staircase, found his way very noiselessly to a sofa in the drawing-room; while the young Spencers placed themselves, where, by the circling of the seniors round the fire, the whole dessert was at their mercy, with the additional advantage of being able, from some decanter or other, if not from the circulating claret jug, to get exactly as much wine as they liked to drink.
The ladies, meanwhile, had their own indulgences in the drawing-room, now brilliantly lighted up, not by oil, but by wax, to accordance to Mr. Thorpe’s peculiar predilections and antipathies on that particular branch of drawing-room decoration. His opinion being, that the use of lamp-oil should be confined to Calmucks, Tartars, and kitchen-maids; while wax lights should be multiplied in exact proportion to the desire felt of making all things animate and inanimate, appear to advantage. Three well-cushioned sofas, beside and in front of the fire glorious in its bright union of coal and wood, invited irresistibly to a sociable division of their proffered comfort; and the six ladies nestled themselves accordingly, each into a corner, each with a pillow and a cushion for her own especial use, and each, thanks to the attentive refinement of Mrs. Barnes, with a footstool for her happy feet.
It would not have been very extraordinary if, under such circumstances, and induced thereto by the freezing adventures of the morning, the six fair creatures had all fallen asleep; and, truth to say, Mrs. Heathcote, and her step-daughter Florence, together with the middling Miss Wilkyns, were very near sinking under the soft seduction. But coffee and curiosity saved them from such indecorum; the first being poured forth by the stately hand of Mr. Grimstone from an enormous machine of silver gilt, and embossed in so magnificent a style, as must have raised the lids of the most sleepy woman, if she had eyes beneath them capable of seeing; and the second being roused by the titillating questionings and answerings, which began to pass between the two wide-awake Misses Wilkyns and the gentle Sophia Martin.
Collected Works of Frances Trollope Page 281