CHAPTER VI.
PREPARATIONS FOR MRS. TAPPITT'S PARTY.
I am disposed to think that Mrs. Butler Cornbury did Mrs. Tappitt aninjury when she with so much ready goodnature accepted the invitationfor the party, and that Mrs. Tappitt was aware of this before thenight of the party arrived. She was put on her mettle in a way thatwas disagreeable to her, and forced into an amount of submissivesupplication to Mr. Tappitt for funds, which was vexatious to herspirit. Mrs. Tappitt was a good wife, who never ran her husband intodebt, and kept nothing secret from him in the management of herhousehold,--nothing at least which it behoved him to know. But sheunderstood the privileges of her position, and could it have beenpossible for her to have carried through this party without extrahousehold moneys, or without any violent departure from her usualcustoms of life, she could have snubbed her husband's objectionscomfortably, and have put him into the background for the occasionwithout any inconvenience to herself or power of remonstrance fromhim. But when Mrs. Butler Cornbury had been gracious, and when thefiddles and horn had become a fact to be accomplished, when Mrs.Rowan and Mary began to loom large on her imagination and a regularsupper was projected, then Mrs. Tappitt felt the necessity ofsuperior aid, and found herself called upon to reconcile her lord.
And this work was the more difficult and the more disagreeable toher feelings because she had already pooh-poohed her husband when heasked a question about the party. "Just a few friends got together bythe girls," she had said. "Leave it all to them, my dear. It's notvery often they see anybody at home."
"I believe I see my friends as often as most people in Baslehurst,"Mr. Tappitt had replied indignantly, "and I suppose my friends aretheir friends." So there had been a little soreness which made thelady's submission the more disagreeable to her.
"Butler Cornbury! He's a puppy. I don't want to see him, and what'smore, I won't vote for him."
"You need not tell her so, my dear; and he's not coming. I supposeyou like your girls to hold their heads up in the place; and if theyshow that they've respectable people with them at home, respectablepeople will be glad to notice them."
"Respectable! If our girls are to be made respectable by giving granddances, I'd rather not have them respectable. How much is the wholething to cost?"
"Well, very little, T.; not much more than one of your Christmasdinner-parties. There'll be just the music, and the lights, and abit of something to eat. What people drink at such times comes tonothing,--just a little negus and lemonade. We might possibly have abottle or two of champagne at the supper-table, for the look of thething."
"Champagne!" exclaimed the brewer. He had never yet incurred the costof a bottle of champagne within his own house, though he thoughtnothing of it at public dinners. The idea was too much for him; andMrs. Tappitt, feeling how the ground lay, gave that up,--at any ratefor the present. She gave up the champagne; but in abandoning that,she obtained the marital sanction, a quasi sanction which he was toohonourable as a husband afterwards to repudiate, for the music andthe eatables. Mrs. Tappitt knew that she had done well, and preparedfor his dinner that day a beef-steak pie, made with her own hands.Tappitt was not altogether a dull man, and understood these littlesigns. "Ah," said he, "I wonder how much that pie is to cost me?"
"Oh, T., how can you say such things! As if you didn't havebeef-steak pie as often as it's good for you." The pie, however, hadits effect, as also did the exceeding "boilishness" of the waterwhich was brought in for his gin-toddy that night; and it was knownthroughout the establishment that papa was in a good humour, and thatmamma had been very clever.
"The girls must have had new dresses anyway before the month wasout," Mrs. Tappitt said to her husband the next morning before he hadleft the conjugal chamber.
"Do you mean to say that they're to have gowns made on purpose forthis party?" said the brewer; and it seemed by the tone of his voicethat the hot gin and water had lost its kindly effects.
"My dear, they must be dressed, you know. I'm sure no girls inBaslehurst cost less in the way of finery. In the ordinary way they'dhave had new frocks almost immediately."
"Bother!" Mr. Tappitt was shaving just at this moment, and dashedaside his razor for a moment to utter this one word. He intended tosignify how perfectly well he was aware that a muslin frock preparedfor an evening party would not fill the place of a substantialmorning dress.
"Well, my dear, I'm sure the girls ain't unreasonable; nor am I.Five-and-thirty shillings apiece for them would do it all. And Ishan't want anything myself this year in September." Now Mr. Tappitt,who was a man of sentiment, always gave his wife some costly articleof raiment on the 1st of September, calling her his partridge andhis bird,--for on that day they had been married. Mrs. Tappitt hadfrequently offered to intromit the ceremony when calling upon hisgenerosity for other purposes, but the September gift had always beenforthcoming.
"Will thirty-five shillings a-piece do it?" said he, turning roundwith his face all covered with lather. Then again he went to workwith his razor just under his right ear.
"Well, yes; I think it will. Two pounds each for the three shall doit anyway."
Mr. Tappitt gave a little jump at this increased demand for fifteenshillings, and not being in a good position for jumping, encounteredan unpleasant accident, and uttered a somewhat vehement exclamation."There," said he, "now I've cut myself, and it's your fault. Oh dear;oh dear! When I cut myself there it never stops. It's no good doingthat, Margaret; it only makes it worse. There; now you've got thesoap and blood all down inside my shirt."
Mrs. Tappitt on this occasion was subjected to some trouble, for thewound on Mr. Tappitt's cheek-bone declined to be stanched at once;but she gained her object, and got the dresses for her daughters.It was not taken by them as a drawback on their happiness that theyhad to make the dresses themselves, for they were accustomed to suchwork; but this necessity joined to all other preparations for theparty made them very busy. Till twelve at night on three eveningsthey sat with their smart new things in their laps and their needlesin their hands; but they did not begrudge this, as Mrs. ButlerCornbury was coming to the brewery. They were very anxious to get theheavy part of the work done before the Rowans should arrive, doubtingwhether they would become sufficiently intimate with Mary to tell herall their little domestic secrets, and do their work in the presenceof their new friend during the first day of her sojourn in the house.So they toiled like slaves on the Wednesday and Thursday in orderthat they might walk about like ladies on the Friday and Saturday.
But the list of their guests gave them more trouble than aught else.Whom should they get to meet Mrs. Butler Cornbury? At one time Mrs.Tappitt had proposed to word certain of her invitations with aspecial view to this end. Had her idea been carried out people whomight not otherwise have come were to be tempted by a notificationthat they were especially asked to meet Mrs. Butler Cornbury. ButMartha had said that this she thought would not do for a dance."People do do it, my dear," Mrs. Tappitt had pleaded.
"Not for dancing, mamma," said Martha. "Besides, she would be sure tohear of it, and perhaps she might not like it."
"Well, I don't know," said Mrs. Tappitt. "It would show that weappreciated her kindness." The plan, however, was abandoned.
Of the Baslehurst folk there were so few that were fitted to meetMrs. Butler Cornbury! There was old Miss Harford, the rector'sdaughter. She was fit to meet anybody in the county, and, as she wasgood-natured, might probably come. But she was an old maid, and wasnever very bright in her attire. "Perhaps Captain Gordon's lady wouldcome," Mrs. Tappitt suggested. But at this proposition all the girlsshook their heads. Captain Gordon had lately taken a villa close toBaslehurst, but had shown himself averse to any intercourse with thetownspeople. Mrs. Tappitt had called on his "lady," and the callhad not even been returned, a card having been sent by post in anenvelope.
"It would be no good, mamma," said Martha, "and she would only makeus uncomfortable if she did come."
"She is always awfully stuck up in church
," said Augusta.
"And her nose is red at the end," said Cherry.
Therefore no invitation was sent to Captain Gordon's house.
"If we could only get the Fawcetts," said Augusta. The Fawcetts werea large family living in the centre of Baslehurst, in which therewere four daughters, all noted for dancing, and noted also for beingthe merriest, nicest, and most popular girls in Devonshire. There wasa fat good-natured mother, and a thin good-natured father who hadonce been a banker at Exeter. Everybody desired to know the Fawcetts,and they were the especial favourites of Mrs. Butler Cornbury. Butthen Mrs. Fawcett did not visit Mrs. Tappitt. The girls and themothers had a bowing acquaintance, and were always very graciousto each other. Old Fawcett and old Tappitt saw each other in towndaily, and knew each other as well as they knew the cross in thebutter-market; but none of the two families ever went into eachother's houses. It had been tacitly admitted among them that theFawcetts were above the Tappitts, and so the matter had rested. Butnow, if anything could be done? "Mrs. Butler Cornbury is all verywell, of course," said Augusta, "but it would be so nice for MaryRowan to see the Miss Fawcetts dancing here."
Martha shook her head, but at last she did write a note in themothers name. "My girls are having a little dance, to welcome afriend from London, and they would feel so much obliged if your youngladies would come. Mrs. Butler Cornbury has been kind enough to saythat she would join us, &c., &c., &c." Mrs. Tappitt and Augusta werein a seventh heaven of happiness when Mrs. Fawcett wrote to say thatthree of her girls would be delighted to accept the invitation; andeven the discreet Martha and the less ambitious Cherry were wellpleased.
"I declare I think we've been very fortunate," said Mrs. Tappitt.
"Only the Miss Fawcetts will get all the best partners," said Cherry.
"I'm not so sure of that," said Augusta, holding up her head.
But there had been yet another trouble. It was difficult for them toget people proper to meet Mrs. Butler Cornbury; but what must they doas to those people who must come and who were by no means proper tomeet her? There were the Griggses for instance, who lived out of townin a wonderfully red brick house, the family of a retired Baslehurstgrocer. They had been asked before Mrs. Cornbury's call had beenmade, or, I fear, their chance of coming to the party would havebeen small. There was one young Griggs, a man very terrible in hisvulgarity, loud, rampant, conspicuous with villainous jewellery, andodious with the worst abominations of perfumery. He was loathsomeeven to the Tappitt girls; but then the Griggses and the Tappittshad known each other for half a century, and among their ordinaryacquaintances Adolphus Griggs might have been endured. But whatshould they do when he asked to be introduced to Josceline Fawcett?Of all men he was the most unconscious of his own defects. He hadonce shown some symptoms of admiration for Cherry, by whom he washated with an intensity of dislike that had amounted to a passion.She had begged that he might be omitted from the list; but Mrs.Tappitt had been afraid of angering their father.
The Rules also would be much in the way. Old Joshua Rule was amaltster, living in Cawston, and his wife and daughter had beenasked before the accession of the Butler Cornbury dignity. Old Rulehad supplied the brewery with malt almost ever since it had been abrewery; and no more harmless people than Mrs. Rule and her daughterexisted in the neighbourhood;--but they were close neighbours of theComforts, of Mrs. Cornbury's father and mother, and Mr. Comfort wouldhave as soon asked his sexton to dine with him as the Rules. TheRules never expected such a thing, and therefore lived on very goodterms with the clergyman. "I'm afraid she won't like meeting Mrs.Rule," Augusta had said to her mother; and then the mother had shakenher head.
Early in the week, before Rachel had accepted the invitation, Cherryhad written to her friend. "Of course you'll come," Cherry had said;"and as you may have some difficulty in getting here and home again,I'll ask old Mrs. Rule to call for you. I know she'll have a place inthe fly, and she's very good-natured." In answer to this Rachel hadwritten a separate note to Cherry, telling her friend in the leastboastful words which she could use that provision had been alreadymade for her coming and going. "Mamma was up at Mr. Comfort'syesterday," Rachel wrote, "and he was so kind as to say that Mrs.Butler Cornbury would take me and bring me back. I am very muchobliged to you all the same, and to Mrs. Rule."
"What do you think?" said Cherry, who had received her note in themidst of one of the family conferences; "Augusta said that Mrs.Butler Cornbury would not like to meet Rachel Ray; but she is goingto bring her in her own carriage."
"I never said anything of the kind," said Augusta.
"Oh, but you did, Augusta; or mamma did, or somebody. How nice forRachel to be chaperoned by Mrs. Butler Cornbury!"
"I wonder what she'll wear," said Mrs. Tappitt, who had on thatmorning achieved her victory over the wounded brewer in the matter ofthe three dresses.
On the Friday morning Mrs. Rowan came with her daughter, Luke havingmet them at Exeter on the Thursday. Mrs. Rowan was a somewhat statelylady, slow in her movements and careful in her speech, so that thegirls were at first very glad that they had valiantly worked up theirfinery before her coming. But Mary was by no means stately; she wasyounger than them, very willing to be pleased, with pleasant roundeager eyes, and a kindly voice. Before she had been three hours inthe house Cherry had claimed Mary for her own, had told her all aboutthe party, all about the dresses, all about Mrs. Butler Cornbury andthe Miss Fawcetts, and a word or two also about Rachel Ray. "I cantell you somebody that's almost in love with her." "You don't meanLuke?" said Mary. "Yes, but I do," said Cherry; "but of course I'monly in fun." On the Saturday Mary was hard at work herself assistingin the decoration of the drawing-room, and before the all-importantTuesday came even Mrs. Rowan and Mrs. Tappitt were confidential. Mrs.Rowan perceived at once that Mrs. Tappitt was provincial,--as shetold her son, but she was a good motherly woman, and on the whole,Mrs. Rowan condescended to be gracious to her.
At Bragg's End the preparations for the party required almost as muchthought as did those at the brewery, and involved perhaps deepercare. It may be remembered that Mrs. Prime, when her ears were firstastounded by that unexpected revelation, wiped the crumbs from out ofher lap and walked off, wounded in spirit, to her own room. On thatevening Rachel saw no more of her sister. Mrs. Ray went up to herdaughter's bedroom, but stayed there only a minute or two. "What doesshe say?" asked Rachel, almost in a whisper. "She is very unhappy.She says that unless I can be made to think better of this she mustleave the cottage. I told her what Mr. Comfort says, but she onlysneers at Mr. Comfort. I'm sure I'm endeavouring to do the best Ican."
"It wouldn't do, mamma, to say that she should manage everything,otherwise I'm sure I'd give up the party."
"No, my dear; I don't want you to do that,--not after what Mr.Comfort says." Mrs. Ray had in truth gone to the clergyman feelingsure that he would have given his word against the party, and that,so strengthened, she could have taken a course that would have beenoffensive to neither of her daughters. She had expected, too, thatshe would have returned home armed with such clerical thundersagainst the young man as would have quieted Rachel and havesatisfied Dorothea. But in all this she had been,--I may hardlysay disappointed,--but dismayed and bewildered by advice the veryopposite to that which she had expected. It was perplexing, but sheseemed to be aware that she had no alternative now, but to fight thebattle on Rachel's side. She had cut herself off from all anchorageexcept that given by Mr. Comfort, and therefore it behoved her tocling to that with absolute tenacity. Rachel must go to the party,even though Dorothea should carry out her threat. On that nightnothing more was said about Dorothea, and Mrs. Ray allowed herself tobe gradually drawn into a mild discussion about Rachel's dress.
But there was nearly a week left to them of this sort of life. Earlyon the following morning Mrs. Prime left the cottage, saying that sheshould dine with Miss Pucker, and betook herself at once to a smallhouse in a back street of the town, behind the new church, in whichlived Mr. Prong. Have I as yet said t
hat Mr. Prong was a bachelor?Such was the fact; and there were not wanting those in Baslehurst whodeclared that he would amend the fault by marrying Mrs. Prime. Butthis rumour, if it ever reached her, had no effect upon her. Theworld would be nothing to her if she were to be debarred by thewickedness of loose tongues from visiting the clergyman of herchoice. She went, therefore, in her present difficulty to Mr. Prong.
Mr. Samuel Prong was a little man, over thirty, with scanty,light-brown hair, with a small, rather upturned nose, with eyes by nomeans deficient in light and expression, but with a mean mouth. Hisforehead was good, and had it not been for his mouth his face wouldhave been expressive of intellect and of some firmness. But therewas about his lips an assumption of character and dignity whichhis countenance and body generally failed to maintain; and therewas a something in the carriage of his head and in the occasionalprojection of his chin, which was intended to add to his dignity, butwhich did, I think, only make the failure more palpable. He was adevout, good man; not self-indulgent; perhaps not more self-ambitiousthan it becomes a man to be; sincere, hard-working, sufficientlyintelligent, true in most things to the instincts of hiscalling,--but deficient in one vital qualification for a clergyman ofthe Church of England; he was not a gentleman. May I not call it anecessary qualification for a clergyman of any church? He was not agentleman. I do not mean to say that he was a thief or a liar; nordo I mean hereby to complain that he picked his teeth with his forkand misplaced his "h's." I am by no means prepared to define whatI do mean,--thinking, however, that most men and most women willunderstand me. Nor do I speak of this deficiency in his clericalaptitudes as being injurious to him simply,--or even chiefly,--amongfolk who are themselves gentle; but that his efficiency for clericalpurposes was marred altogether, among high and low, by his misfortunein this respect. It is not the owner of a good coat that seesand admires its beauty. It is not even they who have good coatsthemselves who recognize the article on the back of another. They whohave not good coats themselves have the keenest eyes for the coatsof their better-clad neighbours. As it is with coats, so it is withthat which we call gentility. It is caught at a word, it is seen at aglance, it is appreciated unconsciously at a touch by those who havenone of it themselves. It is the greatest of all aids to the doctor,the lawyer, the member of Parliament,--though in that position a manmay perhaps prosper without it,--and to the statesman; but to theclergyman it is a vital necessity. Now Mr. Prong was not a gentleman.
Mrs. Prime told her tale to Mr. Prong, as Mrs. Ray had told hers toMr. Comfort. It need not be told again here. I fear that she madethe most of her sister's imprudence, but she did not do so withintentional injustice. She declared her conviction that Rachel mightstill be made to go in a straight course, if only she could be guidedby a hand sufficiently strict and armed with absolute power. Then shewent on to tell Mr. Prong how Mrs. Ray had gone off to Mr. Comfort,as she herself had now come to him. It was hard,--was it not?--forpoor Rachel that the story of her few minutes' whispering underthe elm tree should thus be bruited about among the ecclesiasticalcouncillors of the locality. Mr. Prong sat with patient face and withmild demeanour while the simple story of Rachel's conduct was beingtold; but when to this was added the iniquity of Mr. Comfort'sadvice, the mouth assumed the would-be grandeur, the chin came out,and to any one less infatuated than Mrs. Prime it would have beenapparent that the purse was not made of silk, but that a coarsermaterial had come to hand in the manufacture.
"What shall the sheep do," said Mr. Prong, "when the shepherdslumbers in the folds?" Then he shook his head and puckered up hismouth.
"Ah!" said Mrs. Prime; "it is well for the sheep that there are stillleft a few who do not run from their work, even in the heat of thenoonday sun."
Mr. Prong closed his eyes and bowed his head, and then reassumed thatpeculiarly disagreeable look about his mouth by which he thoughtto assert his dignity, intending thereby to signify that he wouldwillingly reject the compliment as unnecessary, were he not forced toaccept it as being true. He knew himself to be a shepherd who did notfear the noonday heat; but he was wrong in this,--that he suspectedall other shepherds of stinting their work. It appeared to him thatno sheep could nibble his grass in wholesome content, unless someshepherd were at work at him constantly with his crook. It was forthe shepherd, as he thought, to know what tufts of grass were rank,and in what spots the herbage might be bitten down to the bareground. A shepherd who would allow his flock to feed at large underhis eye, merely watching his fences and folding his ewes and lambsat night, was a truant who feared the noonday sun. Such a one had Mr.Comfort become, and therefore Mr. Prong despised him in his heart.All sheep will not endure such ardent shepherding as that practisedby Mr. Prong, and therefore he was driven to seek out for himself apeculiar flock. These to him were the elect of Baslehurst, and of hiselect, Mrs. Prime was the most elect. Now this fault is not uncommonamong young ardent clergymen.
I will not repeat the conversation that took place between the two,because they used holy words and spoke on holy subjects. In doing sothey were both sincere, and not, as regarded their language, fairlysubject to ridicule. In their judgment I think they were defective.He sustained Mrs. Prime in her resolution to quit the cottage unlessshe could induce her mother to put a stop to that great iniquity ofthe brewery. "The Tappitts," he said, "were worldly people,--veryworldly people; utterly unfit to be the associates of the sister ofhis friend. As to the 'young man,' he thought that nothing furthershould be said at present, but that Rachel should be closelywatched,--very closely watched." Mrs. Prime asked him to call uponher mother and explain his views, but he declined to do this. "Hewould have been most willing,--so willing! but he could not forcehimself where he would be unwelcome!" Mrs. Prime was, if necessary,to quit the cottage and take up her temporary residence with MissPucker; but Mr. Prong was inclined to think, knowing something ofMrs. Ray's customary softness of character, that if Mrs. Prime werefirm, things would not be driven to such a pass as that. Mrs. Primesaid that she would be firm, and she looked as though she intended tokeep her word.
Mr. Prong's manner as he bade adieu to his favourite sheep wascertainly of a nature to justify that rumour to which allusion hasbeen made. He pressed Mrs. Prime's hand very closely, and invoked ablessing on her head in a warm whisper. But such signs among suchpeople do not bear the meaning which they have in the outer world.These people are demonstrative and unctuous,--whereas the outer worldis reticent and dry. They are perhaps too free with their love, butthe fault is better than that other fault of no love at all. Mr.Prong was a little free with his love, but Mrs. Prime took it all ingood part, and answered him with an equal fervour. "If I can helpyou, dear friend,"--and he still held her hand in his,--"come to mealways. You never can come too often."
"You can help me, and I will come, always," she said, returninghis pressure with mutual warmth. But there was no touch of earthlyaffection in her pressure; and if there was any in his at its close,there had, at any rate, been none at its commencement.
While Mrs. Prime was thus employed, Rachel and her mother becamewarm upon the subject of the dress, and when the younger widowreturned home to the cottage, the elder widow was actually engagedin Baslehurst on the purchase of trappings and vanities. Her littlehoard was opened, and some pretty piece of muslin was purchased byaid of which, with the needful ribbons, Rachel might be made, notfit, indeed, for Mrs. Butler Cornbury's carriage,--no such augustfitness was at all contemplated by herself,--but nice and tidy, sothat her presence need not be a disgrace. And it was pretty to seehow Mrs. Ray revelled in these little gauds for her daughter now thatthe barrier of her religious awe was broken down, and that the watersof the world had made their way in upon her. She still had a feelingthat she was being drowned, but she confessed that such drowning wasvery pleasant. She almost felt that such drowning was good for her.At any rate it had been ordered by Mr. Comfort, and if things wentastray Mr. Comfort must bear the blame. When the bright muslin waslaid out on the counter before her, she looked at it with a pl
easedeye and touched it with a willing hand. She held the ribbon againstthe muslin, leaning her head on one side, and enjoyed herself. Nowand again she would turn her face upon Rachel's figure, and she wouldalmost indulge a wish that this young man might like her child in thenew dress. Ah!--that was surely wicked. But if so, how wicked aremost mothers in this Christian land!
The morning had gone very comfortably with them during Dorothea'sabsence. Mrs. Prime had hardly taken her departure before a note camefrom Mrs. Butler Cornbury, confirming Mr. Comfort's offer as to thecarriage. "Oh, papa, what have you done?"--she had said when herfather first told her. "Now I must stay there all the night, for ofcourse she'll want to go on to the last dance!" But, like her father,she was good-natured, and therefore, though she would hardly havechosen the task, she resolved, when her first groans were over, todo it well. She wrote a kind note, saying how happy she should be,naming her hour,--and saying that Rachel should name the hour for herreturn.
"It will be very nice," said Rachel, rejoicing more than she shouldhave done in thinking of the comfortable grandeur of Mrs. ButlerCornbury's carriage.
"And are you determined?" Mrs. Prime asked her mother that evening.
"It is too late to go back now, Dorothea," said Mrs. Ray, almostcrying.
"Then I cannot remain in the house," said Dorothea. "I shall go toMiss Pucker's,--but not till that morning; so that if you thinkbetter of it, all may be prevented yet."
But Mrs. Ray would not think better of it, and it was thus that thepreparations were made for Mrs. Tappitt's--ball. The word "party" hadnow been dropped by common consent throughout Baslehurst.