CHAPTER SIX.
TRAPS LAID FOR RHODA.
"La souveraine habilite consiste a bien connoitre le prix des choses."
_La Rochefoucauld_.
There was an earnest, wistful, far-away look in Gatty's eyes, as thoughsome treasure-house had been opened to her, the existence of which shehad never previously suspected; but neither she nor Phoebe said a wordto each other as they crossed the Park, and went up the wide white stepsof the Abbey.
"Where on earth have you been, you gadabouts?" came in Rhoda's voicefrom the interior of the hall. "Oh, but I've such a jolly piece of newsfor you! Molly and me heard it from Madam. Guess what it is."
Rhoda's grammar was more free and easy than correct at all times; andPhoebe could not help thinking that in that respect, as in others, shehad perceptibly deteriorated by contact with Molly.
"I don't care to hear it, thank you," said Gatty, rather hastily,walking straight upstairs.
"Oh, don't you, Mrs Prim?" demanded Rhoda. "Well, it doesn't concernyou much. Now, Phoebe, guess!"
Phoebe felt very little in tune for the sort of amusement usuallypatronised by Rhoda. But she set herself to gratify that ratherexacting young lady.
"I don't guess things well," she said. "Is one of your aunts coming?"
"My aunts!" repeated Rhoda, in supreme scorn. "Not if I know it, thankyou. I said it was jolly. Why, Phoebe! to guess such a thing as that!"
"Well, I should be pleased enough if mine were coming to see me," saidPhoebe, good-temperedly. "I don't know what else to guess. Has someone given you a present?"
"Wish they had!" ejaculated Rhoda. "No, I'm sorry to say nobody's hadso much good sense. But there's somebody--I shall have to tell yousooner or later, you stupid goose, so I may as well do it now--somebody's coming to Number Four. Mrs Eleanor Darcy, a cousin of myLord Polesworth--only think!--and (that's best of all) she's got anephew."
"How is that best of all?" asked Phoebe.
"Mr Marcus Welles--isn't it a pretty name?--and he will come with her,to settle her in her new house. `_Why_?' Oh, what a silly Phoebe youare! He has three thousand a year."
"Then I should think he might take better care of his aunt than let herbe an indigent gentlewoman," said Phoebe, rather warmly.
"As if he would want to be pothered with an old aunt!" cried Rhoda."But I'll tell you what (you are so silly, you want tellingeverything!)--I mean to set my cap at him."
"Won't you have some cleaner lace on it first?" suggested Phoebe, withthe exceedingly quiet, dry fun which was one of her characteristics.
"You stupid, literal thing!" said Rhoda. "I might as well talk to thecat. Oh, here you come, Molly! Now for tea, if 'tis ready, and then--"
Madam was already at the tea-table, and Baxter was just bringing in thekettle.
"I trust you have had a pleasant walk, my dears," said she, kindly, asthe four girls filed in--Molly first, Phoebe last.
"Middling," said Molly, taking the initiative as usual. "Robbedseventeen birds' nests, climbed twenty-four trees, and jumped over adozen five-barred gates."
"Oh, did you!" murmured Phoebe, in a shocked tone, too horrified forsilence.
Rhoda went into convulsions behind her handkerchief.
"Innocent little darling!" exclaimed Molly; "she thinks we did!"
"You said so," answered Phoebe, reproachfully.
"You are so smart, my dear Mrs Molly," said Madam, smilingly. "Did youall walk together?"
"No, I thank you!" responded Molly. "Gatty and the innocent little dearwent to a Quakers' meeting."
Had Madam taken the assertion literally, she would have been alarmed andhorrified indeed; for at that time all Dissenters were considereddangerous characters, and Quakers the worst of all. But, recognising itas one of Molly's flights of intellect, she smiled placidly, and said nomore.
"My dear, I think you will be acquainted with Mrs Eleanor Darcy?" askedMadam, addressing herself to Gatty.
"She has visited my mother, but only once," answered Gatty.
"Oh, the pootsy-bootsy!" broke in Molly. "Isn't she a sweet, charming,handsome creature?--the precious dear!"
"I fear she doth not please you, Mrs Molly?" asked Madam, interpretingMolly's exclamation by the rule of contrary.
"She's the ugliest old baboon that ever grinned!" was Molly'scomplimentary reply.
"What say you, Mrs Gatty?"
"She is certainly not handsome," answered Gatty, apparently with somereluctance; "but I have heard her well spoken of, as very kind andgood."
"Have you met with Mr Welles, her nephew, my dear?"
Molly had clasped her hands, leaned back, lifted her eyes with anexpression of sentimental rapture, and was executing an effective_tableau vivant_.
"Yes, I have seen him two or three times," said Gatty.
"Is he a young man of an agreeable turn?" inquired Madam.
"He is very handsome," replied Gatty, rather doubtfully, as if shehardly knew what to say.
"Pleasant as a companion?" pursued Madam.
"People generally think so, I believe," answered Gatty, with studiedvagueness.
"You dear old concatenation, you'll get nothing out of my wretch of asister," impetuously cried Molly.
"I'll tell you all about Marcus. He's the brightest eyes that evershone, and the sweetest voice that praised your fine eyes, and the mostdelightful manners! White hands, and a capital leg, and never treads onyour corns. Oh, there's nobody like him. I mean to marry him."
"Molly!" said Gatty. It was the first time she had offered anythinglike a reproof to her sister.
"Now, you hold your tongue, Mrs Prude!" responded Molly. "You're not abit better than I am."
Gatty made no reply.
"Don't you set up to be either a prig or a saint!" continued Molly,angrily. "Betty's enough. She isn't a saint; but she's a prig. Ifever you're either, I'll lead you a life!"
And there could be little doubt of Molly's fulfilling her threat.
The next day, Gatty and Molly Delawarr went home. Betty had quiterecovered, and was gone to stay with a friend near Bristol; the househad been thoroughly disinfected, and was pronounced free from alldanger; and Lady Delawarr thought there was no longer need for the girlsto remain away.
"I wonder what will become of me without you, Molly!" said Rhoda,dolefully.
"Oh, you'll have plenty to do, old Gatepost," observed Molly, apparentlyin allusion to Rhoda's uneventful life. "You've got to fall in lovewith Marcus. I'll cut you into slices if you do, and make butteredtoast of you."
"Good-bye!" said Rhoda laughing.
"_Vale_!" responded Molly.
"Good-bye, dear little Phoebe!" was Gatty's farewell. "I wonder whatwould have become of me if I had not met you and Mrs Dorothy. For Ihave asked Him to be my Friend,--you know,--and I think, I _think_ Hewill."
"I am sure of it. Good-bye."
And so Gatty and Molly passed out of the life at White-Ladies.
On returning to the old order of things, Phoebe found Rhoda, as sheexpected, considerably changed for the worse. What had been a sort ofgood-humoured condescension was altered into absolute snappishness, andPhoebe was sorely tried. But the influence of Molly, bad as it hadbeen, proved temporary. Rhoda sank by degrees--or shall I say rose?--into her old self, and Phoebe presently had no more to bear than beforethe visit from Delawarr Court.
About a fortnight after the departure of Gatty and Molly, as Phoebe wassitting at the parlour window with her work, she perceived Mrs JaneTalbot, hooded, cloaked, and pattened,--for the afternoon was damp,--marching up to the side door. The fact was communicated to Madam, whorose and glanced at herself in the chimney-glass, and ringing her littlehand-bell, desired Baxter to show Mrs Jane into the parlour.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Jane; 'tis a pleasure I did not look for," saidMadam, as she rose.
"Your servant, Madam," returned Mrs Jane, who had divested herself ofcloak and pattens in the hall.
"Pray be seated,
Mrs Jane. And what brings you hither?--for methinkssome matter of import will have called you out on so rainy a day asthis."
"Easy to guess," answered Mrs Jane, taking a seat as requested, anddelivering her communication in short, blunt sentences, like small shot."A whim of Marcella's. Got a fancy for Port O Port. Sent me to beg asup of you, Madam. Fancies it will cure her. Fiftieth time she hasthought so, of something. All nonsense. Can't help it."
"Indeed, my dear Mrs Jane, I am happy to be capable of helping MrsMarcella to her fancy, and trust it may be of the advantage shethinks.--Phoebe! tell Betty to bid Baxter bring hither a bottle of thebest Port O Port--that from the little ark in the further cellar.--Andhow does Mrs Marcella this afternoon?"
"As cross as two sticks," said Mrs Jane.
"She is a great sufferer," observed Madam, in her kindest manner.
Mrs Jane made no reply, unless her next remark could properly be calledone.
"Mrs Darcy came last night."
"Last night!" answered Madam, in accents of surprise. "Dear! I quiteunderstood she was not to arrive before this evening. You have seenher, Mrs Jane?"
"Seen her! Oh dear, yes; I've seen her. We were schoolfellows."
"Were you, indeed? That I did not know. 'Twill be a pleasure to you,Mrs Jane, to have an old schoolfellow so near."
"Depends," said Mrs Jane sententiously.
"No doubt," answered Madam. "Were you and Mrs Eleanor friends atschool, Mrs Jane?"
"No, Madam."
"Not? Perhaps you were not near enough of an age."
"Only six months between. No; that wasn't it. I was a sillyscapegrace, and she was a decent, good maid. Too good for me. Ihaven't got any better. And she hasn't got any handsomer."
"Pray forgive me," replied Madam, with a smile, "but I cannot think thatname applies to you now, Mrs Jane. And was her nephew with MrsEleanor; as he engaged?"
"Large as life," said Mrs Jane.
"And how large is that, in his case?" inquired Madam.
"Asking him or me?" retorted Mrs Jane. "_I_ should say, about as bigas a field mouse. He thinks himself big enough to overtop all theelephants in creation. Marcus Welles! Oh, yes, I'll mark him well,--you trust me."
It was tolerably evident that Mr Welles had not succeeded infascinating Mrs Jane, whatever he might do to other people.
"I was told he was extreme handsome?" remarked Madam, in a tone ofinquiry.
Mrs Jane's exclamation in response sounded very like--"Pish!"
"You think not, Mrs Jane?"
"Folks' eyes are so different, Madam," answered Mrs Jane. "Chinamen'sbeauties wouldn't go for much in England, I guess. He's a silly,whimsical, finnicking piece--that's what he is! Pink velvet coat, lacedwith silver. Buff breeches. White silk stockings with silver clocks.No cloak. And raining cats and dogs and pitchforks. Reckon Eleanor gotall the sense that was going in that family. None left for MrMark-me-well. Missed it, anyhow."
From that day forward, behind his back, Mark-me-well was the only namebestowed by Mrs Jane on the young man in question. To his face shegave him none,--an uncivil proceeding in 1714; but Mrs Jane beingallowedly an eccentric character, no one expected her to conform toconventional rules on all occasions.
It would seem that Mr Welles wished to lose no time in paying his courtto Madam; for that very evening, as soon as calling-hours began, he putin an appearance at White-Ladies.
Calling-hours and visiting-days were as common then as now; but thehours were not the same. From five to eight o'clock in the evening wasthe proper time for a visit of ceremony; candles were always lighted,there was a special form of knock, and the guests sat round the room ina prim circle.
Perhaps the "cats, dogs, and pitchforks" alluded to before had spoiledthe pink and buff suit which had roused the scorn of Mrs Jane. Thecolours in which Mr Welles chose to make his _debut_ at White-Ladieswere violet and white. A violet velvet coat, trimmed with silver lace,was fastened with little silver hasps; white satin breeches leddownwards to violet silk stockings with silver clocks, girt below theknee with silver garters. A three-cornered hat, of violet silk andsilver lace, was heavily adorned with white plumes, and buttoned up atone side with a diamond. He wore shoes with silver buckles and veryhigh red heels, white-silver fringed gloves, a small muff of violetvelvet; and carried in his hand a slender amber-headed cane. Being aLondon beau of fashion, he was afflicted with a slight limp, and alsowith intense short-sightedness, which caused him to wear a goldeye-glass, constantly in use--except when alone, on which occasions MrWelles became suddenly restored to the full use of his faculties.
He certainly was very handsome, and his taste was good. His wig wasalways suited to his complexion, and he rarely wore more than twocolours, of which one was frequently black or white. Mr Welles washighly accomplished and highly fashionable; he played ombre and basset,the spinnet and the violin; he sang and danced well, composed anagramsand acrostics, was a good rider, hunted fearlessly and gamed high,interlarded his conversation with puns, and was a thorough adept atsmall talk. He was personally acquainted with every actor on the Londonstage, and by sight with every politician in the Cabinet. His mannerswere of the new school then just rising--which means, that they werevery free and easy, removed from all the minute and often cumbersomeceremonies which had distinguished the old school. He generally roseabout noon, dined at three p.m., spent the evening at the opera ortheatre, and went to bed towards morning. Add to this, that hecollected old china, took much snuff, combed his wig in public, and wasunable to write legibly or spell correctly--and a finished portrait ispresented of Mr Marcus Welles, and through him of a fashionable Londongentleman of his day.
The impression made by Mr Welles on the ladies at the Abbey was ofvaried character. Madam commended him, but with that faint praise whichis nearly akin to censure. He was well favoured, she allowed, andseemed to be a man of parts; but in her young days it was consideredcourteous to lead a lady to a chair before a gentleman seated himself;and it was not considered courteous to omit the Madam in addressing her.Rhoda said very little in her grandmother's presence, reserving heropinion for Phoebe's private ear. But as soon as they were alone, thegirls stated their ideas explicitly.
"Isn't he a love of a dear?" cried Rhoda, in ecstasy.
"No, I don't think he is," responded Phoebe, in a tone of unmistakabledisgust.
"Why, Phoebe! Are you not sensible of the merit of such a man as that?"
"No, I am sure I did not see any," said Phoebe, as before.
"Oh, Phoebe! Such taste as he has! And his discourse! I never saw soquick a wit. I am sure he is a man of great reach, and a man of figuretoo. I shall think the time long till I see him again."
"Dear me! I shan't!" exclaimed Phoebe. "Taste? Well, I suppose youmay dress a doll with taste. His clothes are well enough, only they aretoo fine for anything but visiting."
"Well, wasn't he visiting, you silly Phoebe?"
"And he may be a man of figure--I don't know; but as to reach! I wonderwhat you saw in his discourse to admire; it seemed to me all aboutnothing."
"Why, that's just his parts!" said Rhoda. "Any man can talk aboutsomething; but to be able to talk in a clever, sprightly way aboutnothing--that takes a man of reach."
"Well! he may take his reach out of my reach," answered Phoebe, in adisgusted tone. "I shall think the time uncommonly short, I can promiseyou, till I see him again; for I never wish to do it."
"Phoebe, I do believe you haven't one bit of discernment!"
But Phoebe held her peace.
Madam called in due form on her new guest at the Maidens' Lodge, andMrs Darcy returned the visit next day. She proved to be a short,stout, little woman, with a face which, while undeniably and excessivelyplain, was so beaming with good humour that it was difficult to rememberher uncomeliness after the first _coup d'oeil_. Mr Welles accompaniedher on the return visit. What had induced him to take up his quartersat the Bear, at Tewkesbury, was an enigma to t
he inhabitants ofWhite-Ladies. Of course he could not live at the Maidens' Lodge, Madambeing rigidly particular with respect to the intrusion of what Bettycalled "he creeturs" into that enchanted valley, and not tolerating thehabitual presence even of a servant of the obnoxious sex. According tothe representations of Mr Welles himself, he was fascinated by theconverse and character of Madam, and was also completely devoted to hisdear Aunt Eleanor. But Mr Welles had not favoured the Bear with verymuch of his attention before it dawned upon one person at least thatneither Madam nor Mrs Eleanor had much to do with his frequent visitsto Cressingham. Mrs Dorothy Jennings quickly noticed that Mr Welleswas quite clever enough to discover what pleased different persons, andto adapt himself accordingly with surprising facility; and she soonperceived that the attraction was Rhoda, or rather Rhoda's prospects asthe understood heiress of White-Ladies. Mr Welles accommodated himselfskilfully to the prejudices of Madam; his manners assumed a graver andmore courtly air, his conversation a calm and sensible tone; and Madamat length remarked to her grand-daughters, how very much that young manhad improved since his first arrival at Cressingham.
With Rhoda, in the absence of her grandmother, he was an entirelydifferent being. A great deal of apparent interest in herself, anddeference to her opinions; a very little skilful flattery, toodelicately administered for its hollowness to be perceived; a quickapprehension of what pleased and amused her, and a ready adaptation toher mood of the moment--these were Mr Welles' tactics with the heiressfor whom he was angling. As to Phoebe, he simply let her alone. Hesoon saw that she was of no account in Rhoda's eyes, and was not herchosen _confidante_, but simply the person to whom she talked for wantof any other listener. There was not, therefore, in his opinion, anyreason why he should trouble himself to propitiate Phoebe.
Ever since the visit of the Delawarrs, Rhoda had seemed disinclined foranother call on Mrs Dorothy Jennings. Now and then she went to seeMrs Clarissa, when the conversation usually turned on the fashions andcognate topics; sometimes she drank tea with Lady Betty, whose discoursewas of rather a more sensible character. Rarely, she looked in on MrsMarcella. Mrs Jane had thoroughly estranged her by persisting in hersarcastic nickname for Rhoda's chosen hero, and letting off littleshafts against him, more smart than nattering. On Mrs Darcy she calledperpetually, perhaps with a view to meet him at her house; but all MrWelles' alleged devotion to his dear Aunt Eleanor scarcely ever seemedto result in his going to see her at the Maidens' Lodge. When Rhoda methim, which she very often did, it was either by his calling at theAbbey, or by an accidental _rencontre_--if accidental it were--in somesecluded glade of the Park.
At length, one day, without any warning, a horse cantered up to the sidedoor, and Molly Delawarr's voice in its loudest tones (and very loudthey were) demanded where all those stupid creatures were who ought tobe there to take her horse. Then Miss Molly, having been helped off,came marching in, and greeted her friends with a recitative--
"Lucy Locket lost her pocket; `Kitty Fisher found it!'"
"My dear Mrs Molly, I am quite rejoiced to see you!"
"No! you aren't, are you?" facetiously responded Molly. "Rhoda--I vow,child, you're uglier than ever!--mother wants you for a while. There'sthat jade Betty going to come of age, and she means to make the biggestfuss over it ever was heard. She said she would send Wilson over, but Ijumped on my tit, and came to tell you myself. You'll come, won't you,old hag?"
Rhoda looked at her grandmother.
"My dear, of course you will go!" responded Madam, "since my LadyDelawarr is so good. 'Tis so kind in Mrs Molly to take thus muchtrouble on herself."
"Fiddle-de-dee!" ejaculated Molly. "I'm no more kind than she's good.She wants a fuss, and a lot of folks to make it; and I wanted a ride,and some fun with Rhoda. Where's the goodness, eh?"
"Shall I take Phoebe?" asked Rhoda, doubtfully.
"You'd better," returned Molly, before Madam could speak. "You'll wantsomebody to curl your love-locks and stitch your fal-lals; and I'm notgoing to do it--don't you fancy so. Oh, I say, Rhoda! you may haveMarcus Welles, if you want him. There's another fellow turned up, witha thousand a year more, that will suit me better."
"Indeed! I thank you!" said Rhoda, with a little toss of her head.
"My dear Mrs Molly, you are so diverting," smiled Madam.
"You don't say so!" rejoined that fascinating young person. "You'll puton your Sunday bombazine, Rhoda. We're all going to be as fine asfiddlers. As for you"--and Molly's bold eyes surveyed Phoebe, seemingto take in the whole at a glance--"it won't matter. You aren't anheiress, so you can come in rags."
Phoebe said nothing.
"I don't think," went on Molly, in a reflective tone, "that you can makea catch; but you can try. There is the chaplain--horrid old centipede!And there's old Walford"--Molly never favoured any man with a Mr to hisname--"an ugly, spiteful old bear that nobody'll have: he's rich enough;and he might look your way if you play your cards well. Any way, you'llnot have much chance else; so you'd better keep your eyes pretty wellopen. Now, Rhoda, come along, and we'll have some fun."
And away went Molly and Rhoda, with a smiling assent from Madam.
What a very repulsive, vulgar disagreeable girl this Molly Delawarr is!True, my gentle reader. And yet--does she do much more than say, inplain language, what a great number of Mollys are not ashamed to think?
Phoebe's sensations, in view of the coming visit to the Court, were farremoved from pleasure. Must she go? She braced up her courage, andventured to ask.
"If you please, Madam--"
"Well, child?" was the answer, in a sufficiently gracious tone toencourage Phoebe to proceed.
"Must I go with Mrs Rhoda to Delawarr Court, if you please, Madam?"
"Why, of course, child." Madam's tone expressed surprise, though notdispleasure.
Phoebe swallowed her regret with a sigh, and tried to comfort herselfwith the thought of meeting Gatty, which was the only bright spot in thedarkness. But would Gatty be there?
Rhoda and Molly came in to tea arm-in-arm.
"And how has my Lady Delawarr her health, Mrs Molly?" inquired Madam,as she poured out the refreshing fluid.
Molly had allowed no time for inquiries on her first appearance.
"Oh, _she's_ well enough," said Molly, carelessly.
"And Mrs Betty is now fully recovered of her distemper?"
"She's come out of the small-pox, and tumbled into the vapours," saidMolly.
"The vapours" was a most convenient term of that day. It coveredeverything which had no other name, from a pain in the toe to a pain inthe temper, and was very frequently descriptive of the latter ailment.Betty's condition, therefore, as subject to this malady, excited littleregret.
"And how goes it with Mrs Gatty? Is she now my Lady Polesworth?"
"My Lady Fiddlestrings!" responded Molly. "Not she--never will. OldPolesworth wanted a pretty face, and after Gatty's small-pox, why, youcouldn't--"
"Small-pox!" cried Madam and Rhoda in concert.
"What, didn't you know?" answered Molly. "To be sure--took it theminute she got home. But that wasn't all, neither. Old Polesworth toldMum"--which meant Lady Delawarr--"that he might have stood small-pox,but he couldn't saintship; so Saint Gatty lost her chance, and muchshe'll ever see of such another. Dad and Mum were as mad as hornets.Dad said he'd have horsewhipped her if she'd been out of bed. Couldn't,_in_ bed, you see--wouldn't have looked well."
"But, my dear, she could not help taking the small-pox?"
"Maybe not, but she might have helped taking the saint-pox," said Molly."I believe she caught it from you," nodding at Phoebe. "But what vexedMum most was that the grey goose actually made believe to be pleasedwhen she lost her chance of the tinsel. Trust me, but Mum blew her up--a little! All leather and prunella, you know, of course. Pleased to bean old maid!--just think, what nonsense. She will be an old maid now,sure as eggs are eggs, unless she marries some conventicle preacher.That would be the best end o
f her, I should think."
Phoebe sat wondering why Molly paid so poor a compliment to her owndenomination as to suppose that the natural gravitation of piety wastowards Dissent. But Molly's volatile nature passed to a differentsubject the next moment.
"I say, old Roadside, bring a white gown. The Queen's coming to theBath, and a lot of folks are trying to make her come on to Berkeley; andif she do, a whole parcel of young gentlewomen are to be there tocourtesy to her, and give her a posy, and all that sort of flummery.And Mum says she'll send us down, if they do it."
"Who's to give the posy?" eagerly asked Rhoda.
"Don't know. Not you. You won't have a chance, old Fid-fad. No moreshan't I. It'll be some thing of quality. I'll tread on her tail,though,--see if I don't."
"Whose?" whispered Rhoda; for Molly's last remark had been confidential."You don't mean the Queen?"
"Of course I do,--who better? Her grandmother was a baronet's daughter;what else am I? I'll have a snip of her gown, if I can."
"O Molly!" exclaimed Rhoda in unfeigned horror.
"Why not? I've scissors in my pocket."
"Molly, you never could!"
"Don't you lay much on those odds, my red currant bush. I can do prettynear anything I've a mind--when I _have_ a mind."
Rhoda was not pleased by Molly's last vocative, which she took as anuncomplimentary allusion to the faint shade of red in her hair,--asubject on which she was peculiarly sensitive. This bit of confidencehad been exchanged out of the hearing of Madam, who had gone to acabinet at the other end of the long room, but within that of Phoebe,who grew more uncomfortable every moment.
"Well, 'tis getting time to say ta-ta," said Molly, rising shortly aftertea was over. "Where's that tit of mine?"
"My dear, I will send to fetch your horse round," said Madam, "Pray,make my compliments to my Lady Delawarr, and tell her that I cannot butbe very sensible of her kindness in offering Rhoda so considerable apleasure."
Madam was about to add more, but Molly broke in.
"Come now! Can't carry all that flummery. My horse would fall lameunder the weight. I'll say you did the pretty thing. Ta-ta! See youon Monday, old gentlewoman." She turned to Rhoda; threw a nod, withoutwords, to Phoebe, and five minutes afterwards was trotting across thePark on her way home to Delawarr Court.