CHAPTER XVIII
BUTTERED BREAD
Mrs. Fanning let me cry for a moment or two without interrupting me. Ithink in her way she had plenty of heart; for once when I raised myhead, feeling relieved from the bitter flow of those tears, I foundthat she was looking at me with a quizzical, but by no means unkindlyglance.
"We'll say nothing about this at present," she exclaimed; "you shan'tbe plagued, my dear. I'll talk to Albert, and say that you are not tobe worried; but whether you take him in the long run or not, you wantyour tea now. Come, child, drink up this nice cup of hot tea."
As she spoke she squeezed herself on to the sofa by my side; and gaveme tea according to her taste, and insisted on my drinking it; and Icould not refuse her, although my sobs were still coming heavily.
"Ah, you're a proud young girl," she said, "you're one of those who donot know which side their bread is buttered; but you will some day,the knowledge will come to you, and soon, I'm thinking, soon."
Here she looked intensely mysterious, and nodded her heademphatically.
"And there's not a better fellow in the length and breadth of Englandthan my son, Albert," she continued; "there's no one who would givehis wife a better time. Kind, he would be to her; firm, he would be nodoubt too. He would make her obey him, but he would make her love himtoo. You will know all about it by-and-by, my dear, all about itby-and-by. For the present we'll say nothing more. Albert shan't drivewith us back in the brougham, although I know he meant to do so. Poorfellow! could love go further; his legs cramped up on that little seatat the back, but love feels no pain, dear; no more than pride feelspain. It's a bit of a shock to you, I know. Proposals always are; thatis, to modest girls. I felt terribly flustered when Albert's fatherasked me to marry him. I assure you, my love, I could not bear thesight of him for the next fortnight. I used to say, whenever heentered a room, 'I'm going out, Albert, if you're coming in. Get rightaway now, if you don't want me to hate you for ever,' but, in the end,my dear love, I was head over ears in love with him. There never was abetter husband. He would be masterful as a good man should; but, dear,I worshipped the ground he trod on, and it was he who made thebeginning of that fortune which Albert has turned into so big a thing.Well, my love, you have seen the house, and you have gone over thegrounds, and you have done something else. You have looked into thegreat good heart of my son, Albert; and after a time, I have nodoubt, you will creep into that heart, and take refuge; but mum's theword at present, mum's the word."
The idea of my creeping into Albert's heart as a final cave of refugewas so funny, that I could scarcely keep back my smiles; and I almostbecame hysterical between laughing and crying, so much so, that Mrs.Fanning had to put her arms round me and hug me, and call me her dearlittle girl.
I was very glad she did not say, "dear little thing." By-and-by sheordered the carriage, and we went back to town. She was mostaffectionate to me. She assured me many times that she quiteunderstood; that she had gone through precisely the same phases withregard to Albert Fanning the first but that it had all come right, andthat her passion for the godly man had been very strong by-and-by. Ishould feel just the same with regard to Albert the second. It was theway of girls; that is, nice girls.
"Don't talk to me about that Miss Marion Armstrong," she said. "Theways of that girl turn me sick. It is the contrast you make to MarionArmstrong which has done the business more than anything else, my dearMiss Wickham. But there, dear, there we'll turn the conversation."
"I earnestly wish you would," I said
"Ah," she said, "how history repeats itself. I used to feel as if Iwould like to box any one in the face who talked to me about my dearAlbert long ago. But oh, how I loved him before all was over, how Iloved him!"
She almost shed tears at the recollection. In short, I had a mostunpleasant drive home. At last it was over. I got out of the brougham,with its red body and chocolate wheels, and staggered rather thanwalked into the house. I did not dare to see mother until all tracesof emotion had left my face, but I made straight for Jane's sanctum.
"Jane," I said the moment I found myself there, "the Fannings must goaway; they must, Jane, they must."
"Why so?" asked Jane.
"I will tell you what has just happened. Mother must never know, but Imust tell some one. Mrs. Fanning took me into the country in their newbrougham. We went to Highgate; they have a house there. Mr. Fanningwas there to meet us. He called me a little thing, and he took me overthe house and over the grounds, and told me, on pain of his direstdispleasure, that I was never to give him salad without onions, andthen he asked me to _marry him_. O Jane! what is to be done?"
"But didn't you always know that he was going to ask you?" inquiredJane in a low voice.
"Ask me to marry him! How could I suppose anything so preposterous?" Iexclaimed.
"Well, dear, I know it goes very sore with you, and I hope, with allmy heart and soul, that it may not be necessary."
"Necessary!" I said, "what do you mean? O Jane! don't talk in thatway, you'll drive me mad. I cannot stay in the house with the Fanningsany more."
"Let me think for a moment," answered Jane. She looked very carewornand distressed, her face had grown thin and haggard. She looked yearsolder than before we had started the boarding-house. I was quite sorryto see the change in her face.
"Our life does not suit you," I said.
"Oh, it suits me well enough," she replied, "and I never leave asinking ship."
"But why should this ship be sinking? I thought we were doing so well,the house is almost always full."
"It is just this," said Jane: "we charged too little when we started.If the house was choke-full, all the attics and the three differentfloors let, we could not make the thing pay, that's the awful fact,and you ought to know it, Westenra. We should have begun by chargingmore."
"Then why didn't we?" I said. "I left all those matters to you, Jane.I was very ignorant, and you came and----"
"I am not blaming you, my dear Westenra," said Jane; "only it is very,very hard to go on toiling, toiling all day and almost all night, andto feel at the same time that the thing cannot pay, that it can neverpay."
"But why didn't we begin by charging more, and why can't we chargemore now?"
"Because people who live in Bloomsbury never pay more," answered MissMullins, "that is it, dear. If we meant this thing to succeed weshould have started our boarding-house in Mayfair, and then perhaps wemight have had a chance of managing. Perhaps with a connection likeyours we could have made it pay."
"Never," I said, "none of our friends would come to us, they wouldhave been scandalised. It would never have done, Jane."
"Well, well, we have got ourselves into a trap, and we must get outthe best way we can," was Jane's lugubrious answer.
"Oh, never mind about our being in money difficulties now," I cried,"do think of me, Jane, just for a moment, do make things possible forme. Remember that I am very young, and I was never accustomed topeople of the Fanning type. Do, I beseech of you, ask them to go. Mr.Fanning's action to-day will make your request possible. Jane, if Iwent on my knees and stayed there all my life, I could not marry him,and the sooner he knows it the better."
"I will think things over," said Jane. I never saw anything like thelook of despair which was creeping over her face.
"Things are coming to a crisis," she continued, "and I must confidein you fully, but not just now, we must get dinner over first. Yourmother was ill while you were away, she won't come to dinnerto-night."
"Mother ill! Anything serious?" I cried in alarm.
"Only a little faintness. I have got her comfortably to bed."
"Well, of course, I shan't dine to-night, I shall stay with mother."
"But you must, my love, it is absolutely necessary that you shouldappear at dinner, and you must be quite cheerful too in her room. Sheis quite herself now, and is looking over a new book, and when you goto her you will see that she has had a nice dinner, nourishing andsuitable. Now go and change
your dress, and make yourself look smart.Now that Mr. Randolph is gone, and your mother is too ill to be oftenin the drawing-room and dining-room, the affairs of the household restupon you. You must make yourself smart; you must make yourselfattractive. It must be done, Westenra, it must, and for your mother'ssake."
Jane spoke with such determination that she stimulated my courage, andI went away to my own room determined to act on her advice.
At the other side of the wall I heard Mrs. Fanning's heavy steps asshe walked about. She did not seem to be at all depressed at myrefusal of her son Albert. On the contrary, she was in very goodspirits. She had been in excellent spirits all the way back, and hadkept on assuring me that I was only going on the usual tack of themodest maiden, the maiden who was worthy of such a man as her godlyson Albert. Had not she herself hated Albert's father for a wholefortnight after his proposal, and had she not been glad, very glad, inthe end to creep into his great heart for shelter? Did she supposethat I also would be glad to creep into Albert the second's greatheart for shelter? Oh, it was all unbearable. But, nevertheless, therewas a spirit of defiance in me. I had tried my ugly dresses in vain, Ihad tried being grave and distant in vain. I had tried everything, butnothing had availed; Mr. Fanning was determined to have me for hiswife. I wondered if the man cared for me, perhaps he did after hisfashion, but as no self-denials on my part had the effect of repulsinghim, I would give way to my fancy and dress properly for dinner. I puton a very pretty pink dress which I had not yet worn, and randownstairs.
At dinner I sat opposite Mr. Fanning. Mother's place was empty, andMrs. Fanning called across the table to know what was the matter withher.
I said that she was tired and had gone to bed, whereupon Mrs.Armstrong immediately remarked, that it was a very good thing we hadsuch an excellent housekeeper as Miss Mullins to look after things inmy mother's serious state of health, otherwise the house would go towreck and ruin, she said.
Mrs. Armstrong looked daggers at me for wearing my pink dress. She hadnever seen anything so stylish as that soft, graceful robe before, andbetween her jealousy at seeing me so attired, and her earnest wish tocopy it for Marion, she scarcely knew what to do with herself. Shedarted angry glances at my face, and then tried to measure with hereye the amount of ribbon on the bodice, and the quantity of chiffonround the neck. But Mr. Fanning, to my great relief and delight, didnot appear to take the slightest interest in me. I do not think heonce glanced at my pretty evening frock. He absorbed himselfaltogether with Marion Armstrong. He talked to her all during dinner,and invited her in a loud voice to come and see him at his office onthe following day.
"I told you, Miss Armstrong," he said, "that as a rule I am brutal tothe people who come to me trying to sell their wares. Those sillyfolks who bring their useless manuscripts and their poor littleamateur drawings to my office find that I make short work with them.
"'If you like to leave your manuscript or your drawings,' I say tothem, 'you can do so, but as to the chance of their being accepted,well, look for yourselves. Do you see that pile? all that pile ofmanuscripts has to be read before yours. If you leave yourmanuscripts they go under the pile at the bottom; there will be nearlya ton of stuff on top of them. You take your chance. You had best goaway at once with what you have brought, for I am not likely torequire it.' They mostly do go away, Miss Armstrong, for I am brutalin my words and brutal in my tone. There is no use in buoying peopleup with false hopes." Here he gave a loud guffaw, which reached myears at the further end of the table.
Captain Furlong bent across at that moment to say something to me, andI saw that he was much displeased at Mr. Fanning's loud, aggressivewords. But Mr. Fanning, after all, was nothing to Mrs. Fanning. It wasquite pleasant to me to see that he should turn his attentions to MissMarion Armstrong, but Mrs. Fanning's winks were more than I couldendure. They were just as much as to say, "Listen to him now; he isonly doing that to draw you on." So plainly did her speaking eyesannounce this fact, that I dreaded each moment her saying the awfulwords aloud, but fortunately she did not go quite so far as that.
When dinner was over Mrs. Armstrong came and sat near me.
"Have you seen any of Marion's drawings lately?" she asked.
"No," I replied; "is she getting on well?"
"Is she getting on well!" retorted Mrs. Armstrong. "The girl is agenius. I told you before that her whole soul was devoted to h'Art.Well, I may as well say now that she has sold a little set of drawingsto Mr. Fanning. He means to bring them out in his Christmas number ofthe _Lady's Handbag_. Have you ever seen the _Lady's Handbag_, MissWickham?"
"No," I answered; "I cannot say that I have."
"I am surprised to hear it. The _Lady's Handbag_ is one of the moststriking and widely read periodicals of the day. It containsinformation on every single thing that a lady ought to know, and thereis nothing in it for those low-down common sort of people who wantwild excitement and sickening adventures. But you shall see it foryourself. Marion! Come here, dear Marion."
Marion, behind whose chair Mr. Fanning was standing, rose reluctantlyand crossed the room with a frown between her brows.
"You will scarcely believe it, Marion, but Miss Wickham has not seenthe _Lady's Handbag_. I was just telling her that you are toillustrate an article for the Christmas number. Perhaps you couldoblige me by bringing a number here. I know Miss Wickham would like tosee any of Mr. Fanning's publications."
Miss Armstrong left the room and returned with a copy of the _Lady'sHandbag_. It was handed to me and I turned the pages. It was exactlythe sort of fifth-rate production which I should expect a man of Mr.Fanning's calibre to initiate.
I gave it back to Mrs. Armstrong.
"I am so glad that Miss Armstrong is having her first success," I saidthen, and I thought what a suitable and admirable wife she would makefor Mr. Fanning, and hoped that he might by-and-by think so himself.
As I was entering my own room that night, Mrs. Fanning popped her headout of her own door near by.
"One word, Miss Wickham," she said. She looked very funny. She haddivested herself of her gay dress and was wearing a night-cap. Hernight-cap had large frills which partly encircled her wide face.
"I know you're fretted by the way Albert has gone on this evening,"she said, "but he's only doing it on purpose. I am sorry for that poorgirl, though. You had better be quick and make up your mind, or MarionArmstrong will fall over head and ears in love with him, but if youimagine for a single moment that he thinks sincerely of her you aregreatly mistaken. It's you he wants, and you he'll have. Go to bednow, dear, and dream of him, but I understand your ways perfectly. Ifelt just the same about Albert the first."