Growing Good (14)

[the_comfortable_courtesan]

Seasonal Celebration (4)

Ned Granton looked down at his peacefully slumbering father the Squire. Nurse Pace nodded to him and said, sleeps like a baby, sir – and 'tis entirely quiet here, doubt he will be disturbed.

For Ned had been in great doubts whether they should hold the customary children’s party at Nackerley this year, given the Squire’s state of health, but suggesting that to him had put him into a considerable agitation. That had seemed so deleterious that Ned had called in Abbott.

That competent and sensible practitioner – Lord, Ned would back him against your fine Town physicians any day! – spent a considerable while with the Squire, had a convocation with the nurse, and said, could do no harm, he fancied, did Squire Granton welcome his little guests as was used to do, but then go to bed with a sustaining posset. Should not over-tire himself with company, but extending the hospitality of the house would be entire salutary.

So that was well, and his father had shook hands and made civil, and been conducted discreetly back to bed by Nurse Pace.

Ned went out and closed the door very quietly. It was, 'twas a sad thing to admit, but it was a relief that his father came to such a condition that Ned could no longer in conscience divide his time 'twixt Westminster and Nackerley but must resign his seat and devote himself to the estate. Had never, in truth, entirely wanted to go to Parliament – and in particular, to step into the shoes of the late Sir Josiah Ferraby had been a daunting prospect! – but his mother had been so pleading for him to take up her family tradition – and he had been a candidate that was agreeable to both town and county interests – and in those days his father had very much had his hands on the reins –

Ferraby’s set could not have been kinder – Sir Barton Wallace quite constituting himself Ned’s mentor in the Commons – dinner-parties and soirées in that glittering circle – nothing of the haughtiness his dear wife Alice had fearfully anticipated –

But he had still found himself yearning for his native soil.

Anyway, here was young Robert Wallace, entirely suited – mayhap did not have those local connexions but had the advantage of growing up in that household and those circles – one heard he had perhaps been a little wild in his younger days, but here he was settled with that charming wife – nothing like that Evangelical mope her sire! – was there not some tale of a romantic elopement quite under Fendersham’s nose? – the interests of Firlbrough and its neighbourhood in good hands.

But what was this? A small figure kneeling up in the window-seat, looking out at the snowy vista – and it had come on to snow again, he observed.

Ned went over, and cleared his throat. The girl turned round – it was that Wallace relative – Colonel Wallace’s daughter, that was living with the Harry Ferrabys in Blackheath –

Is there any trouble? he enquired.

O! no, no trouble. She slithered round to sit. Only, she gave a little sigh, I am not used to such a large company – have become used to the company of school-fellows – but –

Indeed he could imagine that this boisterous crowd was a deal different from the young ladies in that genteel establishment in Blackheath! and she was not weeping in some corner as Miss Linnet Whitterby had been wont on like occasions. But, seeing her gaze a little wistfully at the falling snow, and thinking of the long months – well, they had seemed long – that he had passed in Town, dreaming of spring at Nackerley, he wondered whether she might be homesick?

I daresay this snow seems little matter to you, he remarked.

She turned to him with a smile. La, everyone supposes that we must have been deep in snow for the most part of the year. There was less in Nova Scotia than in Upper Canada – we moved from there when I was still quite young, when Papa sold out.

He offered that she might like to see Gillyvore and her puppies? Her face lit up. So he took her to the quiet cupboard where the spaniel was resting with her increasingly lively brood, and she showed entire delighted, and they were expatiating over the qualities of 'em when came up Sir Harry Ferraby, saying had been in a little concern about Una –

 And sure, he exclaimed, this was quite the like of the time that Josh had gone wander off from the party, and being their Josh, had managed to find some animal about the place, that he fancied must have been some forebear of this one?

So there was some discourse of how Josh got on, and dogs, &C, but before long, here was young Neddy came out, saying, 'twas come about tea-time, and he did not see Miss Wallace –

Then saw her making most affectionate to the puppies, and blushed and stammered.

His father clapped him on the shoulder and said, that was a civil thing in him to look out for their guest – and he might take Miss Wallace to wash her hands –

One perceived that Neddy was smitten, in boyish fashion, with this somewhat exotique visitor. Sure he was young – they were both young – years before matters of courtship and marriage were in question – but still, one thought that, though she might not come particularly well-dowered, Una Wallace would bring a valuable political alliance did Neddy’s ambitions incline that way! As well as a Ferraby connexion –

Came out his dear Alice to see where he had got to, and concealing, he could tell, some fret that the Squire had took some turn for the worse.

***

What a tiresome set there was at Anclewer! perchance, thought Cretia, she noticed it more how very ennuyant they were – various connexions of the family, and hangers-on of Iffling’s circle – now she got into more agreeable company in Town? That did not think conversation consisted entirely in working out how such-and-such one was related to such-and-such another one, and death, accidents, childbeds and antient scandals.

As far as scandal went, she observed that Blatchett was not of the company this year, though, indeed, there might be other reasons for that. Mayhap Iffling had not found out. Mayhap Rina had yawned and declared Blatchett to be rather a bore. Or perchance Blatchett himself was elsewhere about the pursuit of a bride.

Still, she was glad that she was no longer in the position of having to lie for Rina and assist in her ploys.

The men of the party had gone out shooting: her husband had looked a little satirical at the prospect and Cretia minded on the tales he had told Lucie and Grinnie of hunting in the East – indeed a shoot carefully managed by the keepers with beaters and trained dogs &C must seem a little tame, but got the men out of the house, gave 'em healthful exercise, one could not complain.

And rather than sit in the drawing-room listening to women complaining on their mothers- or daughters-in-law, or expatiating upon assorted medical horrors, &C, Cretia had declared that she was a little tired, and would go rest. All had looked at her and she fancied they already started into counting dates and surmizing whether she was about increasing. In fact she had every intention of going recline on the chaise-longue in her dressing-room with Lady of the Vespers, that was a far more congenial way of passing the time.

However, she had not read very far – had just got to the very thrilling moment when Bianca discovers in a place of concealment the stolen charter that proves Radegunda’s brother’s rights – when came in very abrupt Rina.

Reading? La, you sure become an entire blue-stocking now you go among that set!

Cretia closed the volume, sat up and put it by on a low table. She patted the place next to her. How now, Rina, did you have somewhat to converse of? Do you come sit rather than pacing up and down.

Rina somewhat sulkily came and did so. Lord, what a tedious rabble our guests are – I do not wonder that you make your escape – I come ask after your health as they go speculate.

Cretia sighed and said, she thought not, had none of those preliminary signs that might give one to hope –

Hope, said Rina with a sneer. O, one supposes the thing must be done a time or two out of duty but indeed comes a time when I wish one might call halt. But I do not come here to complain – much! – upon Iffling. She sighed, and went on, one hears that there are worse husbands – does not raise his hand to me, could be more liberal with pin-money but is not undue stingy – does not bother me once I am enceinte, has his mistress for that, she is entirely welcome to him, the surly wretch –

No. She folded her hands in her lap. That scoundrel Blatchett – was holding my letters over me –

O, Rina, you did not write to him!

I was that much of a fool! – put burn this on 'em but of course he kept 'em – but I have managed to get 'em back, and burnt 'em myself, and the most of his to me. But I hear he is making suit to Lady Isabella Beaufoyle, that is in your set?

Cretia blinked. She gives it out that 'tis so, she conceded, without adding that she had heard Bella and Chloe Ollifaunt mocking the defects of the library at Oaks Merriam. He is certainly very attentive – remarks a good deal on her horsewomanship &C.

Rina snorted. Is there any way you might go hoist a warning flag upon him? without my name came into the business, of course, but saying that you had heard of his exploits among married ladies –

Cretia raised her eyebrows.

Mayhap not tell her directly – might have visions of reforming him – she snorted again – but spread the tale about –

Was not, Cretia fancied, concern for Bella that brought Rina to this device, but a desire for vengeance upon Blatchett. But sure, one would not like anyone one considered a friend to marry him! I will consider over it, she said at length. One might, she thought, convey the intelligence to Lady Bexbury.

That despatched, said Rina with an air of relief, might we go look at your jewels?

Hah: and the next thing would doubtless be, o, might I borrow this or that, the family jewels are so tedious old-fashioned. But it was very agreeable to feel herself in the position of the benefactor, the one who could confer favours.

So she said, of course, and mayhap Rina would like Grainger to come dress her hair some time.

Comments

[cesy]

Kudos!

[castiron]

How to tell Cretia fits right in with her new set: "huh, I can't figure out how to deal with this -- lemme call in Lady Bexbury."

I'm now envisioning a giant lamp (designed, of course, by Enoch Dalgish and Ben Wilson) that when lit will project the Bexbury coat of arms onto the sky to let Clorinda know she's needed.

[elainegrey]

so true! and the giant lamp -- *chef's kiss*

[the_comfortable_courtesan]

In the lozenge form appropriate to a widow, of course!