Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  It was a great relief in this state of things, when Sir Charles Temple rose up, and drawing a chair towards the shady spot occupied by the heiress, said “When you are recovered from any feelings of surprise and agitation which this intelligence may have occasioned you, Miss Martin, I shall be much obliged if you will favour me with your attention. Besides the pleasure of paying my compliments to your uncle Heathcote and his family, I have real business with you; and, to say truth, it is this which brings me here at the present moment.”

  “Business with me, sir?” returned the young lady in rather a low voice, but without any appearance of embarrassment.

  “Yes, Miss Marlin, — or rather Miss Martin Thorpe, as we must now call you, for it was the will of your late uncle that you should take his name — it is necessary that I should lose no time in telling you that I am appointed one of the executors of your uncle’s will, and trustee and guardian to yourself. Your adopted father Major Heathcote is appointed to act with me in all these capacities; an arrangement which shows the thoughtful kindness of the testator, and which renders the necessity of my speedily returning to Italy of no importance, inasmuch as he is in every way the person best fitted to perform the duties which we nominally divide. Nevertheless, I shall wish, before I leave the kingdom, that you should make us both acquainted with what your inclinations may be for the future, regarding residence and so forth, in order that I may leave everything of the kind so far settled, as to occasion neither you nor him the trouble of future references to me.”

  All this was spoken very rapidly, and as if it were rather necessity, than inclination, which led to its being said at all.

  “I thank you, sir,” said Miss Martin Thorpe, bowing her head; then slowly rising up she added, “But perhaps it may not be necessary for me to decide anything on the subjects you mention, tonight.” And so saying she glided out of the room with her usual noiseless step, without turning her eyes to the right or the left, or exchanging a word or a glance with anybody.

  Sir Charles felt that the sort of rebuff she had given him, was not altogether undeserved. “Miss Martin Thorpe is right,” he said, smiling, “and I am very wrong to have thrust myself and my duties upon her at so early a moment. I hardly know whether it was a sort of instinctive wish to break the awful silence which followed the announcement of her inheritance, or the more selfish feeling still, of desiring to get over the disagreeable business of proclaiming my own office, which led me to be so prematurely verbose. However, awkward as may have been my début, I cannot but rejoice that it is over. I do not much think that I am a favourite with the young lady, and therefore I shall leave the executive to you, my good friend. I really would not have to dictate ways and means to Miss Martin Thorpe, or to counsel her about the right or the wrong, of any measure proposed, for more than I will say. I think she would freeze me into an icicle during the process.”

  This very frank manner of expressing his feelings at this early stage of their official connection almost startled Major Heathcote, who had not, during their residence together at Thorpe-Combe, fallen into so great a degree of familiarity with the young baronet, as the frequent readings and ramblings had led to between Sir Charles and the other members of his family. He felt in nowise displeased by it, however, but rejoiced, on the contrary, at perceiving that whatever the humours of his ward might choose to be, he should have to act with a frank, unaffected, friendly person, who would give him no trouble by the display of any diplomatic stiffness or mystery.

  The laughing tone of Sir Charles Temple’s voice as he had said this, restored to Algernon all those feelings of pleasant confidence and familiar intercourse, which had been interrupted and checked by the period which had elapsed since they parted, and still more, perhaps, by a greater degree of deliberate consideration of Sir Charles’s rank and station, when compared to his own, than the exceeding happiness he had enjoyed at the Combe had ever permitted him to give way to there.

  But now, again, all such ideas of restraint vanished; and placing himself in a chair close behind the young baronet, the happy boy began a whispering conversation with him in which he reminded him, a little boastingly, of the superior sagacity which had led him so confidently to predict what had now taken place.

  “I confess it, Algernon,” returned Sir Charles aloud a You saw, while at the Combe, what I confess to me was not yet in sight, and I honour you as a prophet therefore.”

  “How! Algernon,” exclaimed his father; “had you any notion when we were at your uncle’s of what has now happened to your cousin Sophia?”

  “Yes, papa, I was perfectly sure of it.”

  “How came you never to mention it to me?”

  “For excellent good reasons, papa. My knowledge was not derived from noon-day facts, open and visible to all eyes, but to my own secret little watchings of our gentle cousin, and little inferences drawn therefrom, which I knew full well you would call unfair, unjust, uncousinlike, unkind, and a dozen more uns besides, all tending to prove that I was a very unworthy, unamiable, and un-good-for-anything personage, and therefore I took excellent care never to say a word to you on the subject. But I did not treat mamma with equal respect, not fearing her half-and-half looks of anger and fun, nearly so such as your out-and-out gravity of aspect, when quizzing of any kind is going on. That is the reason, papa, why I never said anything to you on the subject.”

  “And did you fancy the same thing, my dear?” said the astonished Major, addressing his wife, adding with great simplicity, “God bless my soul! It is very strange; but no such idea ever entered my head for a single moment.”

  “And I do not believe it ever would have entered the head of anybody excepting that strange Algernon’s,” she replied; “and, for my own part, though to be sure he did point out one or two little things that did seem rather particular, and that I can now see through plainly enough, I cannot say that I ever listened to him with any very serious idea that he was right. He often made me laugh, but I never paid any more attention to his jokes about Sophia, than to all his other droll nonsense about the Misses Wilkyns, and the Masters Spencer.”

  “And you, Florence? Had you any notion of what was going on?” demanded the good Major, evidently a little piqued at the idea of having remained so completely in the dark, while Others could see clearly.

  “No, indeed, papa, I never paid the slightest attention to anything Algernon said about it. Indeed, I don’t remember ever thinking so little about my cousin Sophy as I did while we were at Thorpe-Combe. I believe I was too happy to think of anything.”

  “Well! I am glad somebody was in the basket, as well as myself,” said the Major. “And you too, Sir Charles, as far as I can understand, seem to have known nothing more than this wonderful conjuror of ours pointed out to you?”

  “Not a bit, Major. What first put it into his head, Heaven only knows; I should as soon have suspected my dear old friend of fixing his affections on Mr. Wilkyns. But I confess that before Algernon had concluded his revelations, he fully succeeded in opening my dull eyes to the fact that Miss Martin herself had conceived the idea of awakening her uncle Thorpe’s mind to a sense of her merits. Her perfect success must at least inspire us all with respect for her powers of pleasing, when she wishes to do so.”

  The conversation then rambled on, and now with the most perfect unreserve on all sides, towards the future. The tea-drinking over, Mrs. Heathcote had dismissed the three younger girls to bed, and on their leaving the room Sir Charles ventured frankly to ask the friends with whom circumstances had thrown him into such sudden intimacy, in what manner they thought it would be advisable to arrange Miss Martin Thorpe’s residence during the year which remained of her minority. “That she should continue to reside” with you, seems a matter of course: no other situation could by possibility be so desirable for her; but it strikes me that there may be a doubt as to the comparative advantages of her remaining with you here, or of your removing with your family to Thorpe-Combe. In the first case, there will be some a
ccumulation of the proceeds of the estate made; but in the second, the young possessor of that very charming residence will at once come into the enjoyment of it.... Which course do you think it would be wisest and kindest to pursue, Major?”

  “Perhaps I should say the latter,” replied Major Heathcote, “were it not that the idea of my recommending what would give my family so splendid a home for a time, would be disagreeable tome.”

  “I can understand the feeling perfectly,” replied Sir Charles j “but we must not sufferit, I think, to interfere with the advantage of our ward; must we? What does Mrs. Heathcote say to it?”

  “That I would not for the whole world throw any difficulty in the way of my husband’s doing his duty towards his ward. But I don’t want to exchange my quiet comfortable home for the finest house that ever was built — and — as we all seem agreed to speak our minds freely to one another, I see no reason why I should fear to confess that I should not expect to like the fine house the better, because poor Sophia Martin was the mistress of it.”

  “Poor Sophia Martin! Do, dear mamma, try to find a better adjective for the name of Miss Martin Thorpe,” said, Algernon. “I have taken a great deal of pains, have I not? — to make you call people and things by their proper names, and with their fitting acccompaniments. — But you are incorrigible!.... POOR Sophia Martin!”

  “I called her poor, dear Algernon, because nobody seems to love her. — I really do pity her, poor thing!”

  “Seems to love her,” repeated Algernon. “Nay, mother, if that be what you wish for her, she shall have enough of it. I dare say I shall be able, if I take a little dutiful pains about it, to seem to love her dearly. Had you left out the ‘seems,’ dear mother, I might have been puzzled. But, unlike poor witless Hamlet, I know ‘seems’ perfectly well, having studied diligently under a fair professor, who shall be nameless.”

  “Come, come, Algernon, no more of this. If you run her down thus, shall we not have fair reason to say that you feel a little envy at the success of her seeming?” said the Major.

  “Say what you will, father,” returned the boy, colouring, “provided you do not think so.... Yet, perhaps, I am but a vain boaster, either. Oh, Sir Charles! That library, — that library!... Would you believe me if I said that I should not like to have it all for my own? — as little Lucy says about the baby-house.”

  “No, I certainly should not,” replied the baronet; “and even a twelvemonth’s living within hourly reach of it would be no trifling advantage to you, Algernon.”

  “Ay, but Sir Charles, don’t you think it just possible that poor Miss Martin Thorpe may like to keep her library shut up? You have no idea what a very careful young lady she is. Is she not, Florence?”

  “Yes, she is very careful,” replied Florence, blushing, as she Perceived the eye of Sir Charles fixed upon her as she spoke; “but dare say she would not shut up the library,”

  “To be sure, the children would have a beautiful run at the Combe,” said the Major, thoughtfully, “though it might only he the worse for them, dear little souls, afterwards; because, of course, when Sophy Martin marries, we must all turn out,”

  “But not before, papa?... You think we shall all be sure to live with Miss Martin Thorpe till she marries?”

  “Why, if we are to live with her, at all, my dear boy, I do not see how it can be likely that we shall be turned out before she marries,” replied Major Heathcote.

  “Oh, very well: I dare say you know best, papa,” replied Algernon, in a very gentle voice; and as I don’t think cousin Sophy will be likely to marry in a hurry, I suppose you had better give up Bamboo Lodge altogether.”

  “Now then, Algernon, I think your second sight has failed you, altogether,” said Sir Charles. “I will not pretend to say that I think your cousin Miss Sophia Martin Thorpe particularly attractive — for I do not. But I am not the least in the world of your opinion, that for this reason she is unlikely to marry. There will be adorers enough at the shrine of Thorpe-Combe, you may rely upon it, whether your cousin be admired or not,”

  “Alas! Sir Charles Temple!” returned Algernon, with a sigh, “I am hurt to the very centre of my heart to find how much more worser am I than your thoughts! And you do really believe that my innocence leads me to think no gentleman can be found sufficiently mercenary to marry young ladies for their fortune, whether they happen to fall in love with them or not? Honour compels me to confess, Sir Charles, that you are mistaken in this. On the contrary, I do most devoutly believe that Miss Sophia Martin Thorpe has only to publish, far and near, the amount of her rent-roll, and the value of her books, pictures, plate, linen and china, in order to secure to herself one or two offers of marriage every day of the year. Nevertheless, } still do opine,” continued Algernon, changing his tone, and speaking with the demureness of a quaker, “nevertheless I do opine that cousin Sophy is not likely to marry in a hurry.”

  “So much the better, Algernon,” said Mrs. Heathcote. “Sophia is not a girl that could live happily with everybody, and it is the more necessary, therefore, that she should marry with caution. But, now you two guardians are together, I wish you would try to make up your minds as to the going to Thorpe-Combe, or staying here. I should like, if I could, to know before going to bed, because then, if I lie awake, I shall know how to begin plotting and planning about everything.”

  “The wish is a very natural one, my dear Mrs. Heathcote,” replied Sir Charles. “Any uncertainty upon a matter of so much domestic importance must necessarily make you anxious. But I am afraid such uncertainty must be endured for some hours longer, as it appears to me that we should be wrong to decide, without going into some sort of calculation, as to the difference it would make in the amount of the monies for which we shall have to account to our ward, upon her coming of age.”

  “I suppose so,” said Mrs. Heathcote, endeavouring to look resigned.

  “Tell me dear mother,” said Algernon, “do you wish very much to know how it will be settled?”

  “Yes I do, Algernon,” she replied; “I will not deny it.”

  “Then I will tell you,” he gravely rejoined, “and he will not be a wise man who shall say I tell you wrong, mother. Miss Sophia Martin Thorpe will reside exactly where she herself likes best to do both during her minority and after it.”

  “Nonsense, Algernon!” said Sir Charles. “You must know, as well as we do, that, as long as a ward is under age, she must live where her guardians appoint.”

  “There is a pithy proverb, Sir Charles Temple, that I think cousin Sophy would do well to inscribe it over the door of her mansion, for it contains the law by which she rules her life,

  ‘WHERE THERE IS A WILL, THERE IS A WAY.”

  The two guardians smiled, but shook their heads as much as to say, “That may be all very well, but it won’t do with us;” and then the conversation rambled away on many points, relating directly or indirectly to the matter under discussion, till something was said which induced Sir Charles to ask Florence, whether she should prefer going to reside with her cousin at Combe, or remaining at Bamboo Cottage.

  She paused for a moment, before she replied, as if repeating the question, “Whether I should like to live in a house belonging to my cousin Sophy?”.... Another pause followed, and then she added, speaking very quickly, “Oh, yes! I was so very, very happy at Thorpe-Combe, that I should like to go there again, in any way.”

  CHAPTER XIII.

  The appearance of the young heiress at the family breakfast-table the next morning was looked for with some interest by the whole party, for she was the last who took her place there. The “good mornings, Sophy,” and the “How do you, my dears?” with which she was greeted, were received with the most immovable fixedness of countenance by her. Lavater himself could hardly have read emotion of any kind upon her features; but, when Sir Charles Temple raised his eyes from a volume which Algernon had put into his bonds, and said, “Good morning, Miss Martin Thorpe,” a slight, very slight twitching about the mouth
was perceptible. It was not a smile; certainly it was nothing like it; but, nevertheless it was the result of a sensation of pleasure, too new, and too delicious to be altogether smuggled under the sombre tranquillity in which she deemed it proper to veil her features. It was in vain, however, that Sir Charles, the Major, Mrs. Heathcote and Florence, all endeavoured to converse in an easy natural tone, as if nothing very particular had happened; an involuntary restraint and stiffness seemed to surround them all, which they found it impossible to shake off. Algernon, too, who, when in the talking vein, was the greatest chatter-box of the family, now remained profoundly silent, but his eye furtively, and from time to time, was permitted to ramble upon a visit of inquiry to all the faces round him, evidently bringing back the most amusement from the strictly-regulated looks of the silent heiress.

  As soon as the breakfast was removed, Sir Charles Temple, who certainly was not inclined to give the young lady credit for having a heart so overflowing with powerful emotion as to prevent her transacting business, resumed the conversation which she had so abruptly cut short the preceding evening, by saying, “I shall be sorry to press you into the discussion of these affairs, Major Heathcote, sooner than may be agreeable to yourself and Miss Martin Thorpe, but I really am obliged to get through whatever is to be done before I leave England, as rapidly as may be; and this must be my excuse for pressing upon you both the necessity of settling, as soon as possible, the situation in which our ward is to be placed during her minority. Will it suit you, Miss Martin Thorpe, to enter upon the subject now?”