Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  “As to the young gentleman as put us here,”... began Arthur, but whatever he was about to say was cut short by his wife, who wishing, as it seemed, to take upon herself the honour of entertaining the heiress, said, “Never you mind about that young gentleman, Arthur Giles. He is dead and gone, and his name can’t signify to nobody. Anything and everything that this young lady will be pleased to say to us, I shall be proud to listen to, and it will be more civil in you, if you don’t interrupt the conversation in any way.” Then drawing her chair, quite as closely opposite to that of the heiress, as was at all necessary, she sat bolt upright, crossed her arms before her, and appeared prepared to listen with the most fixed attention to whatever the lady of the land might choose to utter. Yet, notwithstanding the profound respect thus manifested, there was something in the manner of it which did not altogether please Miss Martin Thorpe. She knit her brows, drew in her lips, and settled her spirit more firmly than ever, to the task of getting the obnoxious old couple off her grounds.

  “I have been looking over the late Mr. Thorpe’s will, my good woman,” said the young lady firmly, “and it is proper that I should inform you that you are very likely to get yourself and your husband into trouble, by acting under false impressions concerning it. Of course you can know nothing of law, I don’t expect you should, nor do I feel in any degree offended by anything you have said through ignorance; but it is proper that I should inform you that the will of your late master Mr. Thorpe, gives the whole property to me, charged indeed with your annuity, but without depriving me of any of my rights over the estate.”

  “That is just what I was told, ma’am,” replied the provoking Mrs. Giles, with a cheerful smile; “there isn’t anybody in the parish, I believe, as don’t know all the particulars of Squire Thorpe’s will.... and there’s a many as could have told without that knowledge that Mr. Thorpe wasn’t a gentleman likely to leave a young lady his estate, and then make it not worth the having, by taking away her rights from her. There is no doubt or question, Miss Martin Thorpe, but what the squire left to you all the rights in the estate that he had got to leave.... provided, as. they tell me, that his poor dear dead son didn’t turn up again.... which was nonsense to be sure, but somehow or other he could never get it out of his thoughts.... And you have at this present time all the rights that he had got to leave, but he cou’dn’t leave this pleasant bit here to nobody whatsomever, as long as we two shall continue alive, for the reason that he hadn’t got it to leave. For he had made it over to us, to pleasure that young gentleman as you was pleased to mention, and that so fast and sure, that he could not have left it away from us if he bad desired it ever so much.”

  “Very well, Mrs. Giles,” replied Sophia, sharply, “you seem to understand the law exceedingly well, on your side, and now I will show you that I understand it quite as well, on mine. The deed by which this house has been so absurdly bestowed upon you, conveys the house, and nothing but the house, and depend upon it, Mistress Giles, that I shall take excellent care that what belongs to me shall not be available to you. The gate which opens from the shrubberies in front of this garden, upon the road, shall be immediately closed, and orders given that no person whatever shall be permitted to pass from your door through any part of my premises; so that, if you persevere in remaining here, it must be without any communication whatever with your fellow creatures.... and if you are starved for want of food, I really cannot help it. The fault will be yours, not mine.”

  “That will be very shocking indeed, ma’am,” replied the old woman, screwing up her features in a very comical style, which was probably intended to express dismay, but Miss Martin Thorpe saw, or fancied she saw, a strong inclination to smile, notwithstanding; and even old Arthur, who seemed well enough inclined to let his dame take the lead in this difficult business, certainly turned his head aside to conceal a laugh. Sophia looked from one to the other, and clearly perceived that the countenances of both expressed rather merriment than alarm.

  “You think,” said she, rising, and speaking in a tone of great anger, “you think that I shall not put this threat into execution. Perhaps you fancy that I shall not have courage and firmness enough to carry my purpose through? You deceive yourself, old woman, and so you will find to your cost.”

  “Indeed, and indeed, Miss Martin Thorpe,” replied Mrs. Giles rising also, and standing aside that the angry heiress might have room to pass, “I do truly believe that you have courage and firmness, as you call it, for anything as you was particularly minded to do. Only I couldn’t help laughing a little at hearing you talk about playing us such a trick as that. It would be so unaccountable funny. Wouldn’t it, Arthur?” and here the contumacious old couple laughed aloud, and it even seemed to the irritated ear of Sophia, that they did not laugh alone, but that some unseen mocker in the air joined in the audacious chorus. In a paroxysm of rage she rushed from the room, and left the house, determined to seek workmen before she re-entered her own, who should set to work, within the hour, to put her despised threat in execution.

  The village carpenter lived at no great distance from her gates, and to him she immediately gave very distinct orders for the execution of the work she meditated. The man stared at her. “Run up palings ten feet high in front of old Arthur Giles’!” said he, his respect for the young heiress apparently giving way before his astonishment.

  “Yes, Mr. Gosford, in front of the dwelling of Arthur Giles and his wife,” returned Sophia deliberately. “The work is rendered necessary for the protection of my own rights.... But if you have any objection to doing it, you have only to say so. I will get workmen from Hereford.”

  Worthy George Gosford the carpenter had seven children, and the best custom he could boast was from “the Combe,” so his answer was speedily given, that “in course he had no objection to do anything, and everything she ordered, as in duty bound.” So much in earnest was the heiress in this business, and so desirous that it should be set about forthwith, that before she left his workshop, she desired to see the timber he intended to use, and actually employed some time in ascertaining that the cluster of deal planks which the carpenter pointed out to her for the purpose, were high enough to prevent all exits and entrances. Having fully satisfied herself on this point, she set off on her return home, assuring the man for the first time in her life that she had ever been guilty of such extravagance, that, if the job were well and quickly done, she would make him a present of five shillings, over and above his bill.

  A few minutes after leaving the workshop she perceived a horseman approaching her at full gallop, and became aware the minute afterwards that it was no other than Mr. Jenkins. In an instant her features were drilled into the expression of very meek serenity, and a smile of the most winning description was prepared to greet him. But whether the pace at which he rode prevented his seeing her with sufficient distinctness to recognise her person, or that he was too deeply occupied by his own thoughts to note any one, he galloped on without appearing conscious that she was near him; and presently turning from the road by a little bridle path at no great distance from the point where she stood, was speedily out of sight.

  “What a pace he rides!” thought Sophia. “It is very provoking!.... For I should very much have liked to ask him in, to luncheon with me.”

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  Though constantly reminded that the key of the Thorpe-Combe woods was not permanently lent them, by Sophia’s never omitting to ask them for it, from time to time, the Brandenberry brother and sister were still often accommodated by the use of it; and fortunately having it in their possession on the important day when the great question was to be asked and answered, they set off together by that pleasant path which has been so often mentioned; the faithful Margaret promising to linger beneath its shade till her brother should have performed the deed, and returned to tell her the result.

  It would be difficult to say which was the most agitated at the moment they parted; or whether the brother advancing to the adventure, or the
sister retreating to await the issue of it, would have given the greater portion of a little finger that the next hour were well over.... But however equal in degree might be the interesting agitation of their situations, it is the gentleman we must follow, leaving the palpitating Margaret to walk and to sit, to advance rapidly towards the house and retreat slowly from it, with as much philosophical composure as she could command. The entrance of the Brandenberrys, whether brother or sister, or both, had long ceased to be a matter of ceremony at Thorpe-Combe, and the agitated lover made his way through a garden door, and up to the boudoir of his mistress, without having his nervous tremors increased by the curious eyes of any domestic. On softly entering the elegant apartment in which sat his ladylove, his courage was for an instant somewhat shaken by perceiving that she looked.... in plain homely English, most abominably cross. But her countenance cleared up perceptibly upon discovering who it was that thus dared to invade her solitude; for she was in a humour to Want and wish for a little flattery. More than one circumstance had vexed her within the last twenty-four hours. Arthur Giles and his wife had unquestionably laughed at, and set her threatened vengeance at nought; Mr. Jenkins had rode past her, either from carelessness or rudeness, without speaking; the whole family of the Heathcotes appeared to be in the most perfect good humour and harmony of spirits, notwithstanding that she neglected no possible opportunity of being uncivil to them; and Mrs. Barnes had forgotten, and confessed that she had done so, to order any sweetbreads for her private table from the butcher. But notwithstanding all these accumulated vexations, she gave the usual two fingers to Mr. Brandenberry when he obsequiously held out his hand to receive them.

  “My dearest Miss Martin Thorpe!” he said, with more than usual tenderness of voice and manner. “How are you?”

  “I am very well, I thank you,” replied Miss Martin Thorpe, readjusting the cushion behind her back, and drawing the footstool a little nearer to her — to both which comforting operations Mr. Brandenberry lent an aidful band.

  “It strikes me that you do not look quite well!” said he, with a sigh that he seemed wishing to stifle in its birth... “Lovely... perhaps lovelier than ever... but... I cannot be deceived... I am sure that you are looking pale, Miss Martin Thorpe!”

  “And no great wonder, if I am,” she replied, her brows knitting themselves into that settled look of licensed crossness, which, since her accession to wealth, and all the privileges of independence, had been becoming every day more habitual to her... “I am sure I suffer enough to make anybody look pale.”

  “Gracious Heaven! And is there no way to prevent this? With hearts near you, who would joyfully shed their vital blood to protect you from sorrow and from every pain, is there no way to prevent your angel nature from being thus harassed and tormented?...” ejaculated the lover, with clasped hands and uplifted eyes.

  “I am sure, if there is any way, I have not wit to find it out,” returned Miss Martin Thorpe: “for I try everything I can, and I think things only get worse. These Heathcote people are the torment of my life, and it may be weeks, ay, and months too, before I can get rid of them, if I am to wait for the authority of Sir Charles.” If the whole conclave of the gods had sat in council together in order to find for him a propitious opening, they could not have contrived a better. “Wait for nothing, adored Sophia!” he cried suddenly throwing himself at her feet. “Wait for nothing to emancipate you from this detested thraldom, but the protecting love of the man who idolises you!... Sophia! turn not those heavenly eyes away... I am in outer darkness when you look not me!... Oh! lovely and beloved! let me protect you!... My life, passed in one long unceasing act of worship to your heavenly charms, shall guard you for ever and forever, from all and everything that can annoy you! Sophia! lovely Sophia! be mine! Be my wife, my bride, the adored possessor of my soul and body!” These eloquent words were accompanied by the most passionate caresses, which, as she endured them with something like the philosophy of a post, or else from a species of experimental curiosity which prevented her from offering any interruption, continued for a very considerable time. At length, however, she seemed to have had enough of it, for by a sudden movement she pushed herself and her sofa (which was furnished with excellent casters) so vigorously backwards, that her lover fell forward on his face, and very literally lay at her feet.

  Mr. Brandenberry felt at that moment as if he could gladly have wrung her head off; but this was an emotion which he did not permit to be visible.... Rallying with rather a better grace than might have been expected from a gentleman who had never visited Paris, for he rose with a movement as nearly resembling a bound as the circumstances of his position permitted, he assumed a countenance almost sublimely audacious, and again approaching the fair one, said, “Sophia! too lovely Sophia!... I await my doom!”

  But if the gentleman was bold the lady was resolute; for without betraying any weakness of any kind, she replied, —

  “Mr. Brandenberry! I am exceedingly obliged to you for your good opinion of me, but at present I have no intention of changing my condition.”

  Now Mr. Brandenberry perfectly well knew that this answer had nothing in it which necessarily doomed him to despair; and he accordingly drew a chair, and set about finishing the work in hand, with a sort of resolute perseverance which did honour to his courage. But he had yet to study the character of the charming Sophia a little more, before he thoroughly understood it. The answer above recorded might certainly, from the generality of young ladies, have given room for hope that a little perseverance would conquer the reluctance so gently expressed. But with Miss Martin Thorpe it was otherwise. Had she been less sure of herself, she would probably have felt it necessary to protest more; but, as it was, she saw not any occasion to resort to wordy vehemence, in order to prevent her valued neighbour from entering upon her property; and she therefore replied again, quite as gently as before, “I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Brandenberry, but it is not my intention to marry at present.

  I am very well as I am.”

  Once again, more encouraged than disheartened by so mild a rejection, the determined lover renewed his suit; and it may be fairly doubted if any word in the English language, expressive of admiration and love, was forgotten by him in the course of his next speech. But it was like pouring milk upon a granite rock; the operation was productive of no great effect of any kind; assuredly the granite was not melted, but it looked perhaps rather the smoother, and more glossy, for the libation.

  “Pray, Mr. Brandenberry, don’t say any more about it,” said Sophia. “I have a great regard for both you and your sister, and I should be very sorry, I assure you, if anything were to prevent our going on in the same pleasant manner as before... Pray don’t talk any more upon the subject, because it is of no use.... I don’t wish to be married at present to anybody.”

  Here again was an answer in which no particle of despair was to be found; but Mr. Brandenberry was excessively tired, and he therefore, yielding to his longing desire to get away, rose up, slapped his forehead with his open hand.... ( he perceived not that he was in a predicament to make his fist necessary).... and said, “Most adored Miss Martin Thorpe! I obey you!.... Life has now little left for me, to make it worth preserving.... but I swear in the face of Heaven that this rash hand shall never release me from the load, so long as you permit me to cheer my aching senses by beholding you.”

  Sophia had, on the whole, been exceedingly well entertained by the interview; but she, too, was beginning to grow a little tired, and it was therefore with a contented smile that she replied,.... “Good-b’ye, Mr. Brandenberry. I am sure I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you very often. Pray remember me very kindly to your sister, and tell her that I have got the worsteds from Hereford, and am going to begin the pattern she gave me, directly.”

  Mr. Brandenberry on this seized her hand, and impressed upon it a most impassioned kiss. Then giving her a parting look of mixed tenderness and woe, he left the room, walked down the stairs, and met his s
ister Margaret loitering behind a holly-bush at not more than a hundred yards’ distance from the house.”

  “How, Richard, hast thou sped?” would have been her first words, bad the gods made her poetical, but as they had not, she only pronounced the monosyllable, “Well?”

  “Well!” echoed her brother, drawing a deep sigh, from sheer fatigue; “the devil take her!.... I shall have the same thing to do again and again, before I get her acres; and when I do get them, the first thing I should like to do, would be to bury her under them.”

  “Thank God!” exclaimed Margaret. “She has not refused you, then?”

  “Oh yes, she has, my dear, half a dozen times over.... but not in such a way as to make me hang or drown myself. I have very little doubt that she has already made up her mind to marry me; and even, if she has not, I have certainly no great reason to despair of bringing her to it, before long. But the worst of it is, that it is plain she likes the preliminary part of the business a devilish deal better than I do. Margaret.... I shall be worn to a thread paper if I go on making love to her at the rate I did today, for a month.”

  “A month?.... Oh! Richard, Richard! How is it possible you can talk so lightly on such a subject? What is one month, or two months, or ten months, or twenty months either, compared to having the Thorpe-Combe estate, without a debt or a mortgage upon it, of any kind whatever?” returned Miss Brandenberry with great indignation. “You are the last man in the world, Richard, that I should ever have expected to hear talk such conceited nonsense. It is quite unworthy of you. But I suppose you are only jesting.”

  “No, upon my soul, I am not. If I could get through the business at once, and have the reward in my pocket, you might not perhaps even hear me complain about it.... but it is plain to me that she likes being made love to; and as I hate making love to her worse than poison, you can’t be very much surprised, Margaret, if I do grumble a little. However, don’t let us quarrel about it. You must go on, my dear, just the same as before, coaxing and flattering her up, till you have made her fancy that it is quite impossible to live without you.”