Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Sophia was startled, and hardly knew what to make of this most unexpected request, or the very peremptory manner of it. She had not indeed the slightest intention to refuse. On the contrary, it appeared to her that this general gathering of the family looked more like a decided intention of dividing the large fortune he had spoken of among them, or of bestowing it, as his old friend had so wisely done before, upon a selected favourite, than all which had gone before it. This was very hope-inspiring and agreeable. Nevertheless she could not but feel, that in a race where there are many competitors, there must be some risk of being outrun; and most assuredly, could she have had her wish, she would have stood alone before the eyes of the munificent Mr. Jenkins, as the sole relative his friend had left.

  These thoughts, however, did not prevent her immediately answering with every appearance of the most delighted alacrity, that she should obey him with the greatest possible pleasure. And in fact, as she busied herself in bringing forward all the elegant writing apparatus which made part of the furniture of her boudoir, she was not unconscious of the pleasure she should feel at displaying her independence, wealth, and consequence, before the eyes of those who had seen her under circumstances so very different. She remembered that the elegant Mr. Spencer and his accomplished sons had never appeared to be very fully aware, when she was in the room and when she was not; and she remembered also that the three paltry heiresses of five hundred a year each, had required almost as much abject observance to propitiate their favour, as she could now wish for herself. The idea of shining so very brightly before eyes so sure to be envious, was a pleasure calculated to be fully appreciated by such a mind as hers, and she raised her golden ruby-tipped pen with a lightness of spirit which communicated itself to her voice, as she said —

  “Now then, dear sir, what shall I say to them?”

  Without any ceremony Mr. Jenkins dictated the letter which he wished her to send, and which ran thus:

  “DEAR UNCLE WILKYNS, “A gentleman called Jenkins, a man of large fortune, and a bachelor, who says that he was formerly very kindly treated by my uncle and aunt Thorpe, has come to this country from one many thousand miles distant, for the sole purpose, as he says, of seeing the relations of his dear old friends, and of proving to them all, more or less, how tender a recollection he entertains of those he has lost.... He has therefore requested me to invite you and your three daughters to pay me a visit here on the 25th instant, for a week or ten days, that he may have the pleasure of being introduced to you and to them. At present he is staying with the Earl of Broughton, at Broughton Castle, but he desires me to say that if you will do me the favour of accepting this invitation, he will join the family-party at Thorpe-Combe, for the pleasure of giving you the meeting. I believe you know that my uncle and aunt Heathcote and my cousin Florence are here; my cousin Algernon returned from Italy last night with Sir Charles Temple, and I am immediately going to invite the Spencers, so that the whole family will be assembled.

  “In the hope that my request will be granted, I remain, “Dear Uncle Wilkyns, “Your dutiful niece, “SOPHIA MARTIN THORPE.”

  The epistle to Mr. Spencer was very nearly a duplicate, and both were sealed and committed to the coat-pocket of Mr. Jenkins, who took his leave as soon as this business was completed, promising carefully to post the letters, and leaving instructions with Sophia to communicate to him the answers as soon as they should arrive.

  Left once more to her own reflections, Sophia felt absolutely astonished at what she had done, and at the prodigious expense and trouble she had consented to bring upon herself without any certainty, or even promise, of deriving from it any advantage whatever. As these thoughts passed through her mind, she experienced something like a pang of self-reproach, at the facility with which she had been persuaded to commit an act of such imprudence, which her sober reason told her would be but ill-paid for by the gratification of her vanity. But by degrees more pleasant thoughts succeeded; she felt quite aware that neither the Spencer boys, nor the Wilkyns girls were likely to be such dangerous rivals as the hateful Heathcotes, who were already there.... she knew that let Mr. Jenkins be as rich as he would, there was not the least probability that he would make any of them as rich as herself.... she recollected with the most consolatory certainty of not losing it, what she had already gained from the singular stranger by her amiable manners to him, the worth of many thousands; and, finally, it struck her, that in case he should use her so abominably ill as to like any of her cousins better than he liked her, she could, should, and would desire him, as a matter of common justice, to defray the expenses of the party he had obliged her to invite.

  This last consideration did a vast deal towards soothing her spirits, and enabled her to recur with almost unmixed satisfaction to the display of her newly-acquired dignity which she anticipated.

  OF her invitations, however, she determined to say nothing, till they were accepted; but struggling hard to preserve the appearance of good humour which she had assumed, permitted the intervening days to pass away, with no other impediment to the happiness of those assembled than a little stiffness and formality when she was present, but which was as innoxious to the perfect enjoyment which surrounded them when she was absent as the rain of yesterday to the sunshine of to-day.

  One effect, which human wisdom perhaps might have classed as unfortunate, was rapidly taking place during these few halcyon days. The fears of Sir Charles Temple that his little income would be insufficient to support a wife without his submitting to the sacrifice of disposing in some way or other of his beautiful place, vanished entirely as he watched the exquisite enjoyment of his lovely Florence amidst its groves and lawns, with no greater state than the rude furnishing of the rustic banqueting-room afforded, and listened to her genuine laugh as he inquired, almost in trembling, if she thought it possible she could be happy and contented without a carriage, a butler, and a brace of tall footmen, such as he confessed had helped to furnish the huge hall very advantageously during the residence of his lady mother.

  But when he found that neither his beloved, herself, nor father, mother, nor brother (for Algernon was now let into the secret), objected to the humble household which alone he had it in his power to offer, he boldly proposed that they should be married immediately; and no farther delay was insisted upon by any of them, beyond what was necessary for Sir Charles to announce the matter to Lady Temple at Florence, and to implore her, by all the love she felt for him, not to oppose his making himself happy in his own way.

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  The letters of invitation sent by Miss Martin Thorpe to her uncle in the Treasury, and her uncle at Llanwellyn Lodge, were both of them productive of much speculation. In the first case, this was confined to the individual breast of the elegant official to whom it was addressed, but the second was referred almost entirely to the wit and will of the gigantic Welshman’s three daughters.

  A mighty queer sort of adventure this!” muttered Mr. Spencer, over his morning coffee. “A gentleman called Jenkins wanting to prove tender recollections to everybody belonging to old Thorpe. I’ll see the whole race and generation hanged, drawn, and quartered — excepting my own fine boys — before I ever again permit a carriage wheel of mine to make half a turn round its axle towards them. A pretty audacious creature that Martin girl must be, after having let us see her cajole the old dotard to cheat us, before our very eyes, to dare sit down and pen such an epistle as this to me!” Then crushing it with an angry grasp, he threw it into the basket which stood ready to receive all such offerings, and pleased himself with the reflection that her receiving no answer at all would be the greatest mortification he could bestow upon her, while at the same time it cost him neither a globule of official ink nor a second of official time.

  At Llanwellyn Lodge the effect of the invitation was different. The Squire, as it was addressed to him, went through the ceremony of breaking the seal, and seemed from the direction of his heavy eye lids to be occupied for about half a minute in
perusing its contents, after which he pushed it an inch or so towards his eldest daughter, drowsily pronouncing the words usual on all such occasions, “Just look at that, Elfreda.”

  The young lady stretched forth her accustomed arm the whole distance between herself and her somniferous parent, and skilfully reaching the letter, speedily made herself mistress of the contents.

  There was something in the expression of her features as she read it, which seemed to her two sisters to be caused neither by a request concerning leave to cut a tree to mend fences, nor by a notice of a county meeting, nor by a petition for a subscription for an infirmary; so they both exclaimed at the same moment, “What is that, Elfreda?”

  “It is the strangest letter I ever read in my life,” she replied. “It is an invitation from Sophia Martin to go to Thorpe-Combe, to meet some travelling gentleman who used to know the old Thorpes, and now wants to make acquaintance with all their relations.

  “Do let me see it!” said Eldruda.

  “Let me look at it when you have done,” said Winifred.

  After both the younger sisters had satisfied their curiosity, and one had exclaimed, “How oddly she writes!” and the other, “How I should like to go!” they brought their three heads together in consultation, and with well-founded confidence in their colossal papa’s absorption of intellect, discussed the question of to go or not to go, and decided upon it before they gave him any further trouble about the matter.

  “It does seem almost too ridiculous, to set off again for Thorpe-

  Combe in search of what we can get,” said Elfreda; doesn’t it? — particularly for us, who really have rather more right to be independent than most people.”

  “But it is so very dull always staying at home,” observed the pretty Winifred; “that without caring a straw about this bachelor gentleman’s possible intentions, I do think it would be very foolish to refuse the invitation.”

  “I am decidedly of Winifred’s opinion on that point,” said Eldruda, in a tone of decision that it was evident could not be easily shaken. “In the first place, I should above all things like the fun of seeing that stupid, ugly, Sophia Martin stuck up by way of a great lady, receiving company. There would be some amusement too, perhaps, in seeing the bachelor gentleman himself — Who knows! — And you see, Elfreda, that Sir Charles Temple is to be there.”

  “As to Sir Charles Temple, Druda, I made up my mind, long before I left Thorpe-Combe last winter, that if he were the only man left in the world, I would not have him — However, if you both of you wish to go, I shall not make any objection. Go and tell Jones, Eldruda, that she must not mind about looking up the household linen for the great wash to-day, for we shall want her to alter some dresses — and I will make papa understand about it, if I can.”

  The task which Miss Wilkyns thus allotted to herself was not an easy one, but, on the other hand, she did not deem it necessary that it should be performed to the letter. All that was absolutely essential, she did; and the Squire, at the end of half an hour, was left with a dreamy sort of conviction on his mind that his daughters wished him to eat some more of those very good breakfasts, luncheons, and dinners, which, from making a change, had been so very beneficial to his health, as Elfreda said. And, on the whole, the vision was not at all disagreeable to him. Beyond the Jupiter sort of nod which the charming Elfreda pretty well knew how to obtain, when she wished it, nothing was ever expected from Squire Wilkyns in the way of preparation for any expedition, either distant or near; except, indeed, the signing his name to the cheque which Elfreda drew for him, and read to him. This done all things went on without any trouble on his part till the hour of setting out; and then he found a newer set of clothes than those deemed good enough for daily wear set ready for him, which having assumed, he was roused into raising himself into his carriage, and then slept as it rolled quietly onwards till he had reached the point to which he was destined to go.

  On deciding to accept the invitation, a letter was of course despatched by the executive portion of the Wilkyns administration to announce the same to Miss Martin Thorpe; and then it was that she called Mrs. Barnes to council, and informed her of the important crisis for which it was her business to prepare. The silence of Mr. Spencer was interpreted with very acute correctness by the heiress; and her orders, therefore, were given for the careful preparation of the same rooms for the Wilkyns family, which they had occupied at Christmas.... and the best in the house for Mr. Jenkins.

  The first part of this command had nothing very surprising in it, except indeed that it demonstrated a greater degree of hospitality than the housekeeper had given her new mistress credit for. But the second clause puzzled her exceedingly. Neither being, nor wishing to be, on confidential terms with her heartily-detested lady, from whom she most faithfully intended to separate herself as soon as her stipulated year of service was over, Mrs. Barnes never penetrated to the boudoir where Mr. Jenkins was received, when not expressly summoned.... and as that somewhat whimsical gentleman had changed his mind as to desiring to go over the old house with her, she had never yet caught a sight of him. But the description which had reached the servants’ hall, of his appearance, dress, and manner, rendered this command for the best room in the house a matter of very considerable surprise. The expression of this Ceding was, however, of course reserved for her niece Nancy, or any other of the household not excluded by their station from a place in that “Lower Chamber,” which, like other administrative assemblies, was in the habit of freely discussing all the affairs of the establishment.

  “I tell you he is the queerest chap to look at,” said the butler, “that ever I handed wine to; and if it wasn’t for his coming with Lord Broughton, and his staying such a time as he did at the Castle, I should say that he was ten times more like an actor man upon the stage than a gentleman.”

  “And I should say,” said the sagacious William, “that if you happen to know what a horse is, and had seen the little Arabian as I found tied up one morning among the shrubs.... in the very queerest place, to he sure, that ever any visiting gentleman hit upon to leave his horse in.... if you had chanced to see this little beast, ladies and gentlemen, and happen, as I say, to know what a horse is, you’d have been sure in no time that the owner of him must be a man as didn’t mind his money, or else a fancy horse-dealer.”

  “A horse-dealer!” exclaimed Mrs. Roberts, with extreme indignation; “I really wonder, young man, how you can use such language concerning a gentleman who visits the lady you serve.”

  “I didn’t mean to say anything uncivil, nor I didn’t say he was a horse-dealer,” returned William, a little alarmed.... “and I hope, Mrs. Roberts, as you won’t be after making mischief of what I said.”

  “I’ll bet a shilling with anybody,” said Nancy, who had learned to care vastly little for her promised place, “that our mississ has fallen in love with the gentleman, and is going to be married to him...... and that’s the reason why she has invited ever so many of her nearest relations to come and stay here with him; and I’ll defy any one of you to explain the whole thing any other way.”

  “I believe she loves her own self, and her own money, a deal too dearly to marry anybody,” said Mrs. Barnes.... “For what is marrying to a woman, but just giving up her money, if she has got any? No, Nancy, she won’t be in no hurry to do that. But let it be how it will, the whole set are to be feasted, and the plate had out too; so you will have rubbing enough to do, you men folks, I can tell you.... for the 25th is the day they come, and bustle enough there will be to get ready.”

  But the bustle was effective, and everything was ready on the appointed day. A foreign servant, who spoke no word of English, preceded the arrival of Mr. Jenkins; and being shown to his master’s room, appeared, to those who answered his summons when ringing for means to light the Ore, (which he gave unmistakable signals must be done, notwithstanding that the midsummer sun had shone during the whole morning upon the apartment) to be preparing a very elaborate toilet for him.
In fact, when Mr. Jenkins at length made his appearance in the drawing-room, Where all the company were assembled before he entered, his appearance was very unlike what his young hostess had ever seen him assume before.

  He now looked as much like an English gentleman as the tailor and barber could make him; for the thin curling mustache was removed from his upper lip, his clothes fitted him very nearly as well as other people’s, and he wore no skull-cap upon his head.

  Sophia was by no means displeased at the metamorphosis, as she still stood in some awe of the highly educated Welsh heiresses, and had not been altogether without alarm, lest they should consider her introducing a person of so remarkable a tournure as Mr. Jenkins had hitherto displayed, as rather derogatory to the dignity she was so anxious to exhibit to their admiration.

  As it was, however, everything went off extremely well. As soon as he made his appearance, Sophia deliberately walked up to him, and, placing her hand in his, led him round in the most solemn manner imaginable, and presented him successively to each member of the Wilkyns family, and then to Sir Charles Temple.

  The Welsh Squire mechanically got up, but of course only made an inarticulate sort of civil grunt in reply to the introduction, and then sat down again, hoping that this was the last of the party, and that dinner would come next.

  Miss Wilkyns received him with the last imported inclination of the body, Winifred with her most beautifying smile, and Eldruda, with her most discriminating stare.