Challenges (18)

Sympathetic ears

Scilla – wife of Mr Robert Wallace, MP – had been discovered to have a surprizing talent, tthat she fancied she had acquired from observing darling Polly-Granny, for managing the social side of a household with two busy members of the House of Commons; while her mother-in-law remained their invaluable political secretary and advisor, and continued to contribute columns to The Oracle as Aspasia.

So she was at the agreeable task of planning a party – that she fancied should be deferred until Lords Abertyldd and Vinwich, their allies in the Lords, should be done with this turmoil of weddings in the family! – and certain dinners –

And wondering whether she might invite darling Polly-Granny for a visit to Town, before she undertook this daring excursion to Peru, to visit her recently-married son Christie that was in the consular service there. Though – she frowned – there was perhaps a little problem with that –

Chalke the butler came in saying Lord Demington came call, and wondered was she at home?

O, indeed I am at home to him!

Dear Artie! – sure she had had no mind, and neither had he, towards the union their parents had purposed for 'em, but they were quite the dearest of friends.

Artie came in, and Scilla waved him into an easy chair and took one herself and desired Chalke to bring coffee.

Artie placed a brown-paper parcel upon the low table, saying, had brought along the latest reports and pamphlets of the agrarian syndicate – hoped Bobbie and Sir Barton might be able to distribute 'em where they might do some good –

Scilla smiled – what excellent work Artie was doing about improving agriculture! she could not understand the half, but it was much praised everywhere – and asked did he hear from Rachel?

Artie beamed. O, she is entire flourishing! This sojourn in Harrogate has quite brought her round – that was entire agreeable to hear, when one considered how close to death dear Rachel had been just over a year ago – and little Jonathan is in quite boisterous health. But I am like to think 'twould be better to be past the season of wintery fogs afore they return to Town –

Very prudent!

– And besides –

At this moment came in a footman with coffee and some fresh-baked biscuits. After he had departed and Scilla had poured them both out a cup, Artie groaned. I will confess, I also came here in hopes of pouring complaints into a sympathetic female ear –

Scilla grinned at him, raising her eyebrows. La, are you not delighted to have the company of your dear Mama and your little brother? I will admit that I was a little astonished that she did not go stay with Aggie.

Artie sighed. And mayhap have to meet one of the sisterhood that Hughie encourages in the parish? And witness Hughie’s papistical practices? I fancy she and Papa were in hopes that marriage to Aggie would moderate Hughie’s Puseyite notions, but she is entire in accord with 'em, and here is Thea, that uses The Christian Year for her devotional practice and is inclined to joining the sisterhood herself. Oh, the tears and handwringing that I am obliged to endure!

That must be exceeding tiresome, though I must suppose that now Lady Pockinford is in Town, she goes bustle about the philanthropic set as she was wont? Observed her myself at the drawing-room meeting for the Helena Fund at the Grigsons’.

There is at least that, and now Lady Jane goes pick up the reins again, she is determined that Mama shall as well, but then they both go nag at me about Rachel – He sighed, and stared into the dancing flames of the fire – I should not be happy with Mama and Rachel in the same house – o, not for the usual mother- and daughter-in-law brangles, but Rachel has several very pretty practices she had from her mother, that have been long in the family, even do they no longer follow ancestral ways.

Scilla frowned a little in puzzlement.

Lighting candles at sunset on Fridays in particular –

O, indeed, very pretty!

Something the women in her family have done for many ages, a tradition. But I fancy Mama would be fussed about it.

Scilla gave a sympathetic groan and said, one could well imagine. And had supposed that they had ever had reasons for setting up their own residence rather than living at Pockinford House –

Artie echoed her groan. Quite! Do not go to Aggie’s lengths, but sure I fancy one can be a good Christian without Papa’s excesses of piety –

Clearing her throat, Scilla said, do we speak of excesses of piety, I have a similar family problem at present –

Oh Lord, does your father still linger about Town?

Scilla folded her hands and declared that sure she recognized her filial duty, but indeed Papa was rather stretching the bounds of hospitality! Was still devoted to the interests of That Woman – pursuing this bigamy action against the wretch O’Neill –

Artie could not help grinning and saying, there were those of the opinion he was performing a public service and a subscription should be got up!

Reluctantly smiling, Scilla went on, and will even excuse this matter of running off to take a retreat at a convent, where her old friend is now a nun.

Artie shook his head. Wondrous strange!

Polly-Granny writ lately that she wondered that, while 'twas very flattering to a lady to have such a devoted swain, perchance when Lady W came to realize the like of what marriage to Papa would be, she had some qualms?

The Dowager Lady Fendersham was a lady of exceeding shrewd insights! thought Artie, while saying aloud that perchance she had come to some perception that their religious differences might be a problem.

Did Sir Barnabas have any religion at all none saw him ever practise it! But dear Artie, do we talk of living with those of excessive pious practices, your brother Simon must be a trial?

Artie stood up to pace a little. 'Tis quite remarkable, he said slowly. Is no longer the interfering preaching prig he was – has give up that society pursuing vice – spends his time studying Spanish and the geography of Peru – going to lectures &C upon pertinent scientific matters – takes healthful exercize to prepare for the various travails of the expedition – quite the transformation.

That must be agreeable?

***

Artie was about to say that Simon was still of the tiresome opinion that each day should commence very early with extensive morning prayers and that meals should be preceded by a lengthy grace, even did he not delve into the state of his family members’ souls, when came looking around the door Barty Wallace, with the air of a young man that had but lately risen and breakfasted.

Demington! They said you had come call! Scilla, might you spare him for a while to give his opinion on these cigarillos Sallington has persuaded me to try?

Scilla lifted her eyebrows and lowered her eyelashes. Barty, do you wish to convoke with Artie over some manly matter unsuited to my ladylike ears, you need only say so! Be off with you both to the smoking-room!

Barty chuckled, and smoothed his mustachios. Fie, one cannot get past the ladies in this family! Come along, Artie.

He took Artie along to the smoking-room, a snug chamber redolent of tobacco-smoke, decorated with framed satirical prints of Sir Barton and his lady. That deemed it quite the best thing to take these in high humour – point out the caricaturists’ skill – descant on certain errors – in some instances explain the now quite forgotten episode to which they alluded –

Would that his own papa would take such things so light-heartedly rather than having an attack of the megrim.

Barty took out a case of cigarillos and offered them to Artie. Sallington is definitely trying to make these the fashion – picked up the habit from the di Serrantes – wondered did he purpose a suit to the fair Bianca –

As Artie recalled, Barty himself had been very attentive to that lovely Boston Quakeress!

So, he said, Barty, what’s ado?

Barty stroked his mustachios and said, had wished to open this matter to some sensible prudent chap, the pater and Bobbie being so preoccupied with Parliamentary matters since the election – Gerry Merrett comes about a deal less light-witted, but, Merretts –

So, I wondered had you heard aught of these on-dits about Lady Isabella at the Hackwold party.

Artie shrugged. Some gossip that her mare bolted during a hacking party in the park – made her way safe to Jupp’s farm – shaken up and has taken to her bed with a chill, one is not astonished.

Barty sat down and puffed a while. Only, last night at Dumaine’s, there was Mortimer Chellow, suddenly very flush with ready rhino, not only must have paid off his outstanding debts just before he was banned, but standing drinks, playing high –

I do not have much acquaintance with him – have the impression that he is somewhat of a detrimental – something of an embarrassment to Sir Antony and Lady Mary –

I think you have his character quite just! A hanger-on of Blatchett and Trelfer and their set though he is somewhat older. But at this party at Hackwold, the Chellows had been called away on some family matter, and he was the host, with some elderly maiden aunt, a Miss Octavia, as chaperone. Though, Barty said thoughtfully, perchance the plot would have gone forth anyway.

Plot? cried Artie, nearly dropping his cigarillo.

Here are the Ladies Leah and Inez very keen observers, and considered that Mr Chellow was at the very least crowding Lady Isabella’s skittish mare rather improper – and that Blatchett took off after her so extreme expeditious that 'twas as if he was in anticipation of some such event –

Artie whistled. Intending to make some daring rescue and win her undying gratitude?

Barty pulled a face. Mayhap. Lady Inez wondered whether 'twas some plan to act the Young Lochinvar and whisk her over the Border –

One could not help laughing at that. From Buckinghamshire?

Barty snorted himself. Fanciful! – but yet, there was clearly some plot in hand, because there was a matter of her fetching up at Blatchett’s hunting-box in the vicinity, and – borrowing – the stable cob, and Blatchett returning to Hackwold in very foul mood.

So, he continued, the story that goes about is not much to his credit – intended to rescue a fainting girl that turned out a desperate fine horsewoman that knew where to seek refuge– but the true tale of his intentions is a deal worse, I surmize.

Artie was quite smitten into silence at the enormity of it all. So, he said at length, Mortimer was confederate, and has received his wages, I make it out. A pair of sad rogues.

Barty got up to pace around. I fear this is not all done with and there is trouble to come.

Artie stood, went over and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Tis a pity MacDonald is not in Town, he said, but one should, I apprehend, take the matter to Lady Bexbury’s counsel.

It occurred to him that Barty - but the second son of a baronet, however prosperous and well-thought of an MP his father was - nurtured a secret fondness for dashing Bella? Could it be?