Two #4
The Hall, which was situated in a pretty little park, about a mile from the village of Heythram, was a commodious, unpretentious house built of the prevailing gray stone of the district.
Comfort rather than elegance was the predominant note struck by its furniture and decorations, and it bore, in despite of the ministrations of an excellent housekeeper, the indefinable air of a residence that lacked a mistress.
The Squire was more interested in his stables than in his house.
He was generally thought to be a warm man, but careful; and although he was fond of his nephews and nieces, and always good-naturedly mounted Bertram during the hunting-season, it was rarely that his affection led him to do more for them than to give them a guinea apiece every Christmas.
But he was a hospitable man, and always seemed pleased to welcome his brother’s family to his board.
He came bustling out of the house as soon as the Parsonage carriage drew up at his door, and exclaimed in a loud voice: ‘Well, well, if it’s not Sophia, and the girls!
Well, this is a pleasant circumstance! What, only the two of you?
Never mind! Come in, and take a glass of wine!
Bitter cold, ain’t it? Ground’s like iron: don’t know when we shall get out again, damme if I do! ’
Talking all the time, he led the ladies into a square parlour in the front of the house, breaking off his conversation only to shout to someone to bring refreshments into the parlour, and to be quick about it.
He then ran his eye over his nieces, and said that they were prettier than ever, and demanded to be told how many beaux they could boast between them.
They were spared the necessity of answering this jocular question by his instantly turning to Mrs Tallant, and saying: ‘Can’t hold a candle to their mama, though, I swear!
I declare, it’s an age since I’ve clapped eyes on you, Sophia!
Can’t think why you and poor Henry don’t come up more often to eat your mutton with me!
And how is Henry? Still poring over his books, I dare swear!
I never knew such a fellow! But you shouldn’t let him keep young Bertram’s nose glued to ’em, my dear: that’s a good lad – regular devil to go, nothing bookish about him! ’
‘Bertram is reading for Oxford, Sir John. You know he must do so!’
‘Mark my words, he’ll do no good there!’ said the Squire.
‘Better make a soldier of him, as I did with my young rascal. But tell him to come up to the stables here, if he wants to see a rare piece of horseflesh: great rumps and hocks, grand shoulders! Don’t mind the boy’s trying him, if he likes to, but he’s young yet: needs schooling.
Does Bertram mean to come out when this frost breaks?
Tell him the bay has a splint forming, or you may call me a Dutchman, but he may ride Thunderer, if he chooses. ’
‘I think,’ said Mrs Tallant, with a faint sigh, ‘that his papa does not wish him to hunt any more this season. It quite takes his mind off his book, poor boy!’
‘Henry’s an old woman,’ replied the Squire.
‘Ain’t it enough for him to have James as bookish as he is himself?
Where is that lad? Up at Oxford, eh? Ah well, each man to his taste!
Now, that other young rascal of yours – what’s his name?
Harry! I like the cut of his jib, as he’d say himself.
Going to sea, he tells me. How shall you manage it? ’
Mrs Tallant explained that one of her brothers was to use his interest in Harry’s favour.
The Squire seemed satisfied with this, asked jovially after the health of his godson and namesake, and set about pressing cold meat and wine upon his guests.
It was some time before any opportunity offered of breaking to him of the visit, but when the spate of his conversation abated a little, Sophia, who could scarcely contain herself for impatience, said abruptly: ‘Sir, do you know that Arabella is going to London?’
He stared, first at her, and then at Arabella. ‘Eh? What’s that you say? How comes this about?’
Mrs Tallant, frowning reprovingly at Sophia, explained the matter.
He listened very intently, nodding, and pursing up his lips, as his habit was when he was interested; and after turning it over in his mind for several moments, began to perceive what an excellent thing it was, and to congratulate Arabella upon her good fortune.
After he had wished her a great many town-beaux, envied the lucky one who should win her, and prophesied that she would shine down all the London beauties, Mrs Tallant brought his gallantry to an end by suggesting that her daughters would like to go to the housekeeper’s room to visit good Mrs Paignton, who was always so kind to them.
The style of the Squire’s pleasantries was not just to her taste; moreover, she wished to have some private talk with him.
He had a great many questions to ask her, and comments to make.
The more he thought about the scheme the better he liked it, for although he was fond of his niece, and considered her a remarkably handsome girl, he did not wish her to become his daughter-in-law.
His understanding was not quick, nor had he much power of perception, but it had lately been borne in upon him that his heir had begun to dangle after his cousin in a marked manner.
He did not suppose that Tom’s affections were deeply engaged, and he was hopeful that if Arabella were removed from the neighbourhood he would soon recover from his mild infatuation, and make some more eligible lady the object of his gallantry.
He had a suitable girl in his eye for Tom, but being a fair-minded man he was obliged to own that Miss Maria was cast very much in the shade by Arabella.
Nothing, therefore, that Mrs Tallant could have told him would have met with more approval from him.
He gave the scheme his warmest approbation, and told her that she was a sensible woman.
‘Ay, you need not tell me! This is your doing, Sophia! Poor Henry never had a particle of sense! A dear, good fellow, of course, but when a man has a quiverful of children he needs to be a little sharper than Henry. But you have all your wits about you, my dear sister! You are doing just as you should: the girl’s uncommon handsome, and should do well for herself.
Ay, ay, you will be setting about the wedding preparations before the cat has time to lick her ear!
Lady Bridlington, eh? One of the London nobs, I daresay: couldn’t be better! But it will cost a great deal!’
‘Indeed, you are right, Sir John,’ said Mrs Tallant. ‘It will cost a very great deal, but when such an opportunity is offered every effort should be made to take advantage of it, I believe.’
‘Ay, ay, you will be laying your money out to good purpose!’ he nodded. ‘But can you trust this fine lady of yours to keep half-pay officers, and such-like, out of the girl’s way? It won’t do to have her running off with some penniless fellow, you know, and all your trouble wasted!’
The fact that the same thought had more than once crossed her mind did not make this piece of plain-speaking any more agreeable to Mrs Tallant. She considered it extremely vulgar, and replied in a repressive tone that she believed she might depend on Arabella’s good sense.
‘You had better drop a word of warning in your friend’s ear,’ said Sir John bluntly. ‘You know, Sophia, if that girl of yours were to catch a man of property – and, damme, I don’t see why she shouldn’t! – it would be a great thing for her sisters!
Ay, the more I think on it the better I like it! It is worth all the expense. When does she go? How do you mean to send her?’
‘As to that, it is not yet decided, Sir John, but if Mrs Caterham holds by her original scheme, and lets Miss Blackburn go next month – you must know that she is the governess, I daresay – she could travel with Arabella. I believe her home is in Surrey, so she must go to London.’
‘But you won’t send little Bella on the stage-coach!’
Mrs Tallant sighed. ‘My dear sir, the cost of posting is too great to be even thought of! I own, I do not like it, but beggars, you know, cannot be choosers!’
The Squire began to look very thoughtful. ‘Well, that won’t do,’ he said presently. ‘No, no, we can’t have that! Driving up to your grand friend’s house in a hackney! We shall have to contrive a little, Sophia. Now, let me see!’
He sat staring into the fire for some minutes, while his sister-in-law pensively gazed out of the window, and tried not to let her mind dwell on what her sensitive husband’s feelings must be, could he but have had the least idea of what she was doing.
‘I’ll tell you what, sister!’ said the Squire suddenly.
‘I’ll send Bella to London in my travelling carriage, that’s what I’ll do!
No sense in wasting money on posting: it don’t matter to the girl if she spends some time on the road.
What’s more, those post-chaises can’t take up all the baggage I’ll be bound Bella will have with her.
Ay, and this governess of yours will have a box as well, I daresay. ’
‘Your travelling carriage!’ exclaimed Mrs Tallant, rather startled.