CHAPTER III.
_Containing the Arrival at Ducie of a Distinguished Guest_.
IT WAS about three weeks after Ferdinand Armine had quitted Ducie thatMr. Temple entered the breakfast-room one morning, with an open note inhis hand, and told Henrietta to prepare for visitors, as her old friend,Lady Bellair, had written to apprise him of her intention to rest thenight at Ducie, on her way to the North.
'She brings with her also the most charming woman in the world,' addedMr. Temple, with a smile.
'I have little doubt Lady Bellair deems her companion so at present,'said Miss Temple, 'whoever she may be; but, at any rate, I shall be gladto see her ladyship, who is certainly one of the most amusing women inthe world.'
This announcement of the speedy arrival of Lady Bellair made some bustlein the household of Ducie Bower; for her ladyship was in every respect amemorable character, and the butler who had remembered her visits to Mr.Temple before his residence at Ducie, very much interested thecuriosity of his fellow-servants by his intimations of her ladyship'seccentricities.
'You will have to take care of the parrot, Mary,' said the butler;'and you, Susan, must look after the page. We shall all be wellcross-examined as to the state of the establishment; and so I advise youto be prepared. Her ladyship is a rum one, and that's the truth.'
In due course of time, a handsome travelling chariot, emblazoned with aviscount's coronet, and carrying on the seat behind a portly man-servantand a lady's maid, arrived at Ducie. They immediately descended, andassisted the assembled household of the Bower to disembark the contentsof the chariot; but Mr. Temple and his daughter were too well acquaintedwith Lady Bellair's character to appear at this critical moment.First came forth a stately dame, of ample proportions and exceedinglymagnificent attire, being dressed in the extreme of gorgeous fashion,and who, after being landed on the marble steps, was for some momentsabsorbed in the fluttering arrangement of her plumage; smoothing hermaroon pelisse, shaking the golden riband of her emerald bonnet, andadjusting the glittering pelerine of point device, that shaded the fallof her broad but well-formed shoulders. In one hand the stately damelightly swung a bag that was worthy of holding the Great Seal itself,so rich and so elaborate were its materials and embroidery; and in theother she at length took a glass which was suspended from her neck bya chain-cable of gold, and glanced with a flashing eye, as dark as herebon curls and as brilliant as her well-rouged cheek, at the surroundingscene.
The green parrot, in its sparkling cage, followed next, and then cameforth the prettiest, liveliest, smallest, best-dressed, and, strangerthan all, oldest little lady in the world. Lady Bellair was of childlikestature, and quite erect, though ninety years of age; the tastefulsimplicity of her costume, her little plain white silk bonnet, her greysilk dress, her apron, her grey mittens, and her Cinderella shoes,all admirably contrasted with the vast and flaunting splendour ofher companion, not less than her ladyship's small yet exquisitelyproportioned form, her highly-finished extremities, and her keensarcastic grey eye. The expression of her countenance now, however, wassomewhat serious. An arrival was an important moment that required allher practised circumspection; there was so much to arrange, so much toremember, and so much to observe.
The portly serving-man had advanced, and, taking his little mistress inhis arms, as he would a child, had planted her on the steps. And thenher ladyship's clear, shrill, and now rather fretful voice was heard.
'Here! where's the butler? I don't want you, stupid [addressing herown servant], but the butler of the house, Mister's butler; what is hisname, Mr. Twoshoes' butler? I cannot remember names. Oh! you are there,are you? I don't want you. How is your master? How is your charminglady? Where is the parrot? I don't want it. Where's the lady? Why don'tyou answer? Why do you stare so? Miss Temple! no! not Miss Temple! Thelady, my lady, my charming friend, Mrs. Floyd! To be sure so; why didnot you say so before? But she has got two names. Why don't you sayboth names? My dear,' continued Lady Bellair, addressing her travellingcompanion, 'I don't know your name. Tell all these good people yourname; your two names! I like people with two names. Tell them, my dear,tell them; tell them your name, Mrs. Thingabob, or whatever it is, Mrs.Thingabob Twoshoes.'
Mrs. Montgomery Floyd, though rather annoyed by this appeal, stillcontrived to comply with the request in the most dignified manner; andall the servants bowed to Mrs. Montgomery Floyd.
To the great satisfaction of this stately dame, Lady Bellair, afterscanning everything and everybody with the utmost scrutiny, indicatedsome intention of entering, when suddenly she turned round:
'Man, there's something wanting. I had three things to take charge of.The parrot and my charming friend; that is only two. There is a third.What is it? You don't know! Here, you man, who are you? Mr. Temple'sservant. I knew your master when he was not as high as that cage. Whatdo you think of that?' continued her ladyship, with a triumphant smile.'What do you laugh at, sir? Did you ever see a woman ninety yearsold before? That I would wager you have not. What do I want? I wantsomething. Why do you tease me by not remembering what I want? Now, Iknew a gentleman who made his fortune by once remembering what a verygreat man wanted. But then the great man was a minister of state. I daresay if I were a minister of state, instead of an old woman ninety yearsof age, you would contrive somehow or other to find out what I wanted.Never mind, never mind. Come, my charming friend, let me take yourarm. Now I will introduce you to the prettiest, the dearest, the mostinnocent and charming lady in the world. She is my greatest favourite.She is always my favourite. You are my favourite, too; but you are onlymy favourite for the moment. I always have two favourites: one for themoment, and one that I never change, and that is my sweet HenriettaTemple. You see I can remember her name, though I couldn't yours. Butyou are a good creature, a dear good soul, though you live in a badset, my dear, a very bad set indeed; vulgar people, my dear; they maybe rich, but they have no _ton_. This is a fine place. Stop, stop,' LadyBellair exclaimed, stamping her little foot and shaking her little arm,'Don't drive away; I remember what it was. Gregory! run, Gregory! It isthe page! There was no room for him behind, and I told him to lie underthe seat. Poor dear boy! He must be smothered. I hope he is not dead.Oh! there he is. Has Miss Temple got a page? Does her page wear afeather? My page has not got a feather, but he shall have one, becausehe was not smothered. Here! woman, who are you? The housemaid. I thoughtso. I always know a housemaid. You shall take care of my page. Take himat once, and give him some milk and water; and, page, be very good, andnever leave this good young woman, unless I send for you. And, woman,good young woman, perhaps you may find an old feather of Miss Temple'spage. Give it to this good little boy, because he was not smothered.'