Wives and Daughters Read online

  CHAPTER I.

  THE DAWN OF A GALA DAY.

  [Illustration (untitled)]

  To begin with the old rigmarole of childhood. In a country there wasa shire, and in that shire there was a town, and in that town therewas a house, and in that house there was a room, and in that roomthere was a bed, and in that bed there lay a little girl; wide awakeand longing to get up, but not daring to do so for fear of the unseenpower in the next room--a certain Betty, whose slumbers must notbe disturbed until six o'clock struck, when she wakened of herself"as sure as clockwork," and left the household very little peaceafterwards. It was a June morning, and early as it was, the room wasfull of sunny warmth and light.

  On the drawers opposite to the little white dimity bed in which MollyGibson lay, was a primitive kind of bonnet-stand on which was hung abonnet, carefully covered over from any chance of dust with a largecotton handkerchief, of so heavy and serviceable a texture that ifthe thing underneath it had been a flimsy fabric of gauze and laceand flowers, it would have been altogether "scomfished" (again toquote from Betty's vocabulary). But the bonnet was made of solidstraw, and its only trimming was a plain white ribbon put over thecrown, and forming the strings. Still, there was a neat littlequilling inside, every plait of which Molly knew, for had she notmade it herself the evening before, with infinite pains? and wasthere not a little blue bow in this quilling, the very first bit ofsuch finery Molly had ever had the prospect of wearing?

  Six o'clock now! the pleasant, brisk ringing of the church bells toldthat; calling every one to their daily work, as they had done forhundreds of years. Up jumped Molly, and ran with her bare little feetacross the room, and lifted off the handkerchief and saw once againthe bonnet; the pledge of the gay bright day to come. Then to thewindow, and after some tugging she opened the casement, and let inthe sweet morning air. The dew was already off the flowers in thegarden below, but still rising from the long hay-grass in the meadowsdirectly beyond. At one side lay the little town of Hollingford,into a street of which Mr. Gibson's front door opened; and delicatecolumns, and little puffs of smoke were already beginning to risefrom many a cottage chimney where some housewife was already up, andpreparing breakfast for the bread-winner of the family.

  Molly Gibson saw all this, but all she thought about it was, "Oh! itwill be a fine day! I was afraid it never, never would come; or that,if it ever came, it would be a rainy day!" Five-and-forty years ago,children's pleasures in a country town were very simple, and Mollyhad lived for twelve long years without the occurrence of any eventso great as that which was now impending. Poor child! it is truethat she had lost her mother, which was a jar to the whole tenour ofher life; but that was hardly an event in the sense referred to; andbesides, she had been too young to be conscious of it at the time.The pleasure she was looking forward to to-day was her first share ina kind of annual festival in Hollingford.

  The little straggling town faded away into country on one side closeto the entrance-lodge of a great park, where lived my Lord and LadyCumnor: "the earl" and "the countess," as they were always called bythe inhabitants of the town; where a very pretty amount of feudalfeeling still lingered, and showed itself in a number of simple ways,droll enough to look back upon, but serious matters of importanceat the time. It was before the passing of the Reform Bill, but agood deal of liberal talk took place occasionally between two orthree of the more enlightened freeholders living in Hollingford;and there was a great Tory family in the county who, from time totime, came forward and contested the election with the rival Whigfamily of Cumnor. One would have thought that the above-mentionedliberal-talking inhabitants would have, at least, admitted thepossibility of their voting for the Hely-Harrison, and thus trying tovindicate their independence. But no such thing. "The earl" was lordof the manor, and owner of much of the land on which Hollingford wasbuilt; he and his household were fed, and doctored, and, to a certainmeasure, clothed by the good people of the town; their fathers'grandfathers had always voted for the eldest son of Cumnor Towers,and following in the ancestral track, every man-jack in the placegave his vote to the liege lord, totally irrespective of suchchimeras as political opinion.

  This was no unusual instance of the influence of the greatland-owners over humbler neighbours in those days before railways,and it was well for a place where the powerful family, who thusovershadowed it, were of so respectable a character as the Cumnors.They expected to be submitted to, and obeyed; the simple worship ofthe townspeople was accepted by the earl and countess as a right; andthey would have stood still in amazement, and with a horrid memoryof the French sansculottes who were the bugbears of their youth, hadany inhabitant of Hollingford ventured to set his will or opinionsin opposition to those of the earl. But, yielded all that obeisance,they did a good deal for the town, and were generally condescending,and often thoughtful and kind in their treatment of their vassals.Lord Cumnor was a forbearing landlord; putting his steward a littleon one side sometimes, and taking the reins into his own hands nowand then, much to the annoyance of the agent, who was, in fact, toorich and independent to care greatly for preserving a post where hisdecisions might any day be overturned by my lord's taking a fancyto go "pottering" (as the agent irreverently expressed it in thesanctuary of his own home), which, being interpreted, meant thatoccasionally the earl asked his own questions of his own tenants,and used his own eyes and ears in the management of the smallerdetails of his property. But his tenants liked my lord all the betterfor this habit of his. Lord Cumnor had certainly a little time forgossip, which he contrived to combine with the failing of personalintervention between the old land-steward and the tenantry. But,then, the countess made up by her unapproachable dignity for thisweakness of the earl's. Once a year she was condescending. She andthe ladies, her daughters, had set up a school; not a school afterthe manner of schools now-a-days, where far better intellectualteaching is given to the boys and girls of labourers and work-peoplethan often falls to the lot of their betters in worldly estate; buta school of the kind we should call "industrial," where girls aretaught to sew beautifully, to be capital housemaids, and pretty faircooks, and, above all, to dress neatly in a kind of charity uniformdevised by the ladies of Cumnor Towers;--white caps, white tippets,check aprons, blue gowns, and ready curtseys, and "please, ma'ams,"being _de rigueur_.

  Now, as the countess was absent from the Towers for a considerablepart of the year, she was glad to enlist the sympathy of theHollingford ladies in this school, with a view to obtaining their aidas visitors during the many months that she and her daughters wereaway. And the various unoccupied gentlewomen of the town responded tothe call of their liege lady, and gave her their service as required;and along with it, a great deal of whispered and fussy admiration."How good of the countess! So like the dear countess--always thinkingof others!" and so on while it was always supposed that no strangershad seen Hollingford properly, unless they had been taken to thecountess's school, and been duly impressed by the neat little pupils,and the still neater needlework there to be inspected. In return,there was a day of honour set apart every summer, when with muchgracious and stately hospitality, Lady Cumnor and her daughtersreceived all the school visitors at the Towers, the great familymansion standing in aristocratic seclusion in the centre of the largepark, of which one of the lodges was close to the little town. Theorder of this annual festivity was this. About ten o'clock one of theTowers' carriages rolled through the lodge, and drove to differenthouses, wherein dwelt a woman to be honoured; picking them up by onesor twos, till the loaded carriage drove back again through the readyportals, bowled along the smooth tree-shaded road, and deposited itscovey of smartly-dressed ladies on the great flight of steps leadingto the ponderous doors of Cumnor Towers. Back again to the town;another picking up of womankind in their best clothes, and anotherreturn, and so on till the whole party were assembled either in thehouse or in the really beautiful gardens. After the proper amount ofexhibition on the one part, and admiration on the other, had beendone, there was a collation for
the visitors, and some more displayand admiration of the treasures inside the house. Towards fouro'clock, coffee was brought round; and this was a signal of theapproaching carriage that was to take them back to their own homes;whither they returned with the happy consciousness of a well-spentday, but with some fatigue at the long-continued exertion of behavingtheir best, and talking on stilts for so many hours. Nor wereLady Cumnor and her daughters free from something of the sameself-approbation, and something, too, of the same fatigue; thefatigue that always follows on conscious efforts to behave as willbest please the society you are in.

  For the first time in her life, Molly Gibson was to be included amongthe guests at the Towers. She was much too young to be a visitor atthe school, so it was not on that account that she was to go; but ithad so happened that one day when Lord Cumnor was on a "pottering"expedition, he had met Mr. Gibson, _the_ doctor of the neighbourhood,coming out of the farm-house my lord was entering; and having somesmall question to ask the surgeon (Lord Cumnor seldom passed anyone of his acquaintance without asking a question of some sort--notalways attending to the answer; it was his mode of conversation), heaccompanied Mr. Gibson to the out-building, to a ring in the wall ofwhich the surgeon's horse was fastened. Molly was there too, sittingsquare and quiet on her rough little pony, waiting for her father.Her grave eyes opened large and wide at the close neighbourhood andevident advance of "the earl;" for to her little imagination thegrey-haired, red-faced, somewhat clumsy man, was a cross between anarch-angel and a king.

  "Your daughter, eh, Gibson?--nice little girl, how old? Pony wantsgrooming though," patting it as he talked. "What's your name,my dear? He's sadly behindhand with his rent, as I was saying,but if he's really ill, I must see after Sheepshanks, who is ahardish man of business. What's his complaint? You'll come to ourschool-scrimmage on Thursday, little girl--what's-your-name? Mind yousend her, or bring her, Gibson and just give a word to your groom,for I'm sure that pony wasn't singed last year, now, was he? Don'tforget Thursday, little girl--what's-your-name?--it's a promisebetween us, is it not?" And off the earl trotted, attracted by thesight of the farmer's eldest son on the other side of the yard.

  Mr. Gibson mounted, and he and Molly rode off. They did not speakfor some time. Then she said, "May I go, papa?" in rather an anxiouslittle tone of voice.

  "Where, my dear?" said he, wakening up out of his own professionalthoughts.

  "To the Towers--on Thursday, you know. That gentleman" (she was shyof calling him by his title), "asked me."

  "Would you like it, my dear? It has always seemed to me rather atiresome piece of gaiety--rather a tiring day, I mean--beginning soearly--and the heat, and all that."

  "Oh, papa!" said Molly, reproachfully.

  "You'd like to go then, would you?"

  "Yes; if I may!--He asked me, you know. Don't you think I may?--heasked me twice over."

  "Well! we'll see--yes! I think we can manage it, if you wish it somuch, Molly."

  Then they were silent again. By-and-by, Molly said,--

  "Please, papa--I do wish to go,--but I don't care about it."

  "That's rather a puzzling speech. But I suppose you mean you don'tcare to go, if it will be any trouble to get you there. I can easilymanage it, however, so you may consider it settled. You'll want awhite frock, remember; you'd better tell Betty you're going, andshe'll see after making you tidy."

  Now, there were two or three things to be done by Mr. Gibson, beforehe could feel quite comfortable about Molly's going to the festivalat the Towers, and each of them involved a little trouble on hispart. But he was very willing to gratify his little girl; so thenext day he rode over to the Towers, ostensibly to visit some sickhousemaid, but, in reality, to throw himself in my lady's way, andget her to ratify Lord Cumnor's invitation to Molly. He chose histime, with a little natural diplomacy; which, indeed, he had oftento exercise in his intercourse with the great family. He rode intothe stable-yard about twelve o'clock, a little before luncheon-time,and yet after the worry of opening the post-bag and discussing itscontents was over. After he had put up his horse, he went in by theback-way to the house; the "House" on this side, the "Towers" at thefront. He saw his patient, gave his directions to the housekeeper,and then went out, with a rare wild-flower in his hand, to find oneof the ladies Tranmere in the garden, where, according to his hopeand calculation, he came upon Lady Cumnor too,--now talking to herdaughter about the contents of an open letter which she held in herhand, now directing a gardener about certain bedding-out plants.

  "I was calling to see Nanny, and I took the opportunity of bringingLady Agnes the plant I was telling her about as growing on CumnorMoss."

  "Thank you, so much, Mr. Gibson. Mamma, look! this is the _Droserarotundifolia_ I have been wanting so long."

  "Ah! yes; very pretty I daresay, only I am no botanist. Nanny isbetter, I hope? We can't have any one laid up next week, for thehouse will be quite full of people,--and here are the Danbys waitingto offer themselves as well. One comes down for a fortnight of quiet,at Whitsuntide, and leaves half one's establishment in town, and assoon as people know of our being here, we get letters without end,longing for a breath of country air, or saying how lovely the Towersmust look in spring; and I must own, Lord Cumnor is a great deal toblame for it all, for as soon as ever we are down here, he ridesabout to all the neighbours, and invites them to come over and spenda few days."

  "We shall go back to town on Friday the 18th," said Lady Agnes, in aconsolatory tone.

  "Ah, yes! as soon as we have got over the school visitors' affair.But it is a week to that happy day."

  "By the way!" said Mr. Gibson, availing himself of the good openingthus presented, "I met my lord at the Cross-trees Farm yesterday, andhe was kind enough to ask my little daughter, who was with me, to beone of the party here on Thursday; it would give the lassie greatpleasure, I believe." He paused for Lady Cumnor to speak.

  "Oh, well! if my lord asked her, I suppose she must come, but I wishhe was not so amazingly hospitable! Not but what the little girl willbe quite welcome; only, you see, he met a younger Miss Browning theother day, of whose existence I had never heard."

  "She visits at the school, mamma," said Lady Agnes.

  "Well, perhaps she does; I never said she did not. I knew there wasone visitor of the name of Browning; I never knew there were two,but, of course, as soon as Lord Cumnor heard there was another, hemust needs ask her; so the carriage will have to go backwards andforwards four times now to fetch them all. So your daughter can comequite easily, Mr. Gibson, and I shall be very glad to see her foryour sake. She can sit bodkin with the Brownings, I suppose? You'llarrange it all with them; and mind you get Nanny well up to her worknext week."

  Just as Mr. Gibson was going away, Lady Cumnor called after him, "Oh!by-the-by, Clare is here; you remember Clare, don't you? She was apatient of yours, long ago."

  "Clare," he repeated, in a bewildered tone.

  "Don't you recollect her? Miss Clare, our old governess," said LadyAgnes. "About twelve or fourteen years ago, before Lady Cuxhaven wasmarried."

  "Oh, yes!" said he. "Miss Clare, who had the scarlet fever here; avery pretty delicate girl. But I thought she was married!"

  "Yes!" said Lady Cumnor. "She was a silly little thing, and didnot know when she was well off; we were all very fond of her, I'msure. She went and married a poor curate, and became a stupid Mrs.Kirkpatrick; but we always kept on calling her 'Clare.' And nowhe's dead, and left her a widow, and she is staying here; and weare racking our brains to find out some way of helping her to alivelihood without parting her from her child. She's somewhere aboutthe grounds, if you like to renew your acquaintance with her."

  "Thank you, my lady. I'm afraid I cannot stop to-day. I have a longround to go; I've stayed here too long as it is, I'm afraid."

  Long as his ride had been that day, he called on the Miss Browningsin the evening, to arrange about Molly's accompanying them to theTowers. They were tall handsome women, past their first youth, andinclined to
be extremely complaisant to the widowed doctor.

  "Eh dear! Mr. Gibson, but we shall be delighted to have her with us.You should never have thought of asking us such a thing," said MissBrowning the elder.

  "I'm sure I'm hardly sleeping at nights for thinking of it," saidMiss Phoebe. "You know I've never been there before. Sister hasmany a time; but somehow, though my name has been down on thevisitors' list these three years, the countess has never named me inher note; and you know I could not push myself into notice, and go tosuch a grand place without being asked; how could I?"

  "I told Phoebe last year," said her sister, "that I was sure it wasonly inadvertence, as one may call it, on the part of the countess,and that her ladyship would be as hurt as any one when she didn'tsee Phoebe among the school visitors; but Phoebe has got a delicatemind, you see, Mr. Gibson, and all I could say she wouldn't go, butstopped here at home; and it spoilt all my pleasure all that day,I do assure you, to think of Phoebe's face, as I saw it over thewindow-blinds, as I rode away; her eyes were full of tears, if you'llbelieve me."

  "I had a good cry after you was gone, Dorothy," said Miss Phoebe;"but for all that, I think I was right in stopping away from whereI was not asked. Don't you, Mr. Gibson?"

  "Certainly," said he. "And you see you are going this year; and lastyear it rained."

  "Yes! I remember! I set myself to tidy my drawers, to string myselfup, as it were; and I was so taken up with what I was about thatI was quite startled when I heard the rain beating against thewindow-panes. 'Goodness me!' said I to myself, 'whatever will becomeof sister's white satin shoes, if she has to walk about on soppygrass after such rain as this?' for, you see, I thought a deal abouther having a pair of smart shoes; and this year she has gone and gotme a white satin pair just as smart as hers, for a surprise."

  "Molly will know she's to put on her best clothes," said MissBrowning. "We could perhaps lend her a few beads, or artificials, ifshe wants them."

  "Molly must go in a clean white frock," said Mr. Gibson, ratherhastily; for he did not admire the Miss Brownings' taste in dress,and was unwilling to have his child decked up according to theirfancy; he esteemed his old servant Betty's as the more correct,because the more simple. Miss Browning had just a shade of annoyancein her tone as she drew herself up, and said, "Oh! very well. It'squite right, I'm sure." But Miss Phoebe said, "Molly will look verynice in whatever she puts on, that's certain."