Elster's Folly, Mrs. Henry Wood [ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt] 📗

I Made

Some Dreadful Mistakes. She Took Me Up Sharply,  And Papa Looked At Me

Sharply--And The Result Is,  I Have To Do A Heap Of Maps. Please Tell Me

If It's Right,  Percival?"

 

She Held Up Her Pencilled Work Of The Morning. He Was Laughing.

 

"What Mistakes Did You Make,  Anne?"

 

"I Am Not Sure But I Said Something About An Indiaman,  Leaving The London

Docks,  Having To Pass Scarborough," She Returned Demurely. "It Was Quite

As Bad."

 

"Do You Remember,  Anne,  Being Punished For Persisting,  In Spite Of The

Slate On The Wall And Your Nursery-Governess,  That The Mediterranean Lay

Between Scotland And Ireland? Miss Jevons Wanted To Give You Bread And

Water For Three Days. How's That Prig Graves?" He Added Rather Abruptly.

 

Anne Ashton Laughed,  Blushing Slightly. "He Is Just As You Left Him; Very

Painstaking And Efficient In The Parish,  And All That,  But,  Oh,  So Stupid

In Some Things! Is The Map Right?"

 

"Yes,  It's Right. I'll Help You With The Rest. If Dr. Ashton--"

 

"Why,  Val! Is It You? I Heard Lord Hartledon Had Come Down."

 

Percival Elster Turned. A Lad Of Seventeen Had Come Bounding In At

The Window. It Was Dr. Ashton's Eldest Living Son,  Arthur. Anne Was

Twenty-One. A Son,  Who Would Have Been Nineteen Now,  Had Died; And

There Was Another,  John,  Two Years Younger Than Arthur.

 

"How Are You,  Arthur,  Boy?" Cried Val. "Edward Hasn't Come. Who Told You

He Had?"

 

"Mother Gum. I Have Just Met Her."

 

"She Told You Wrong. He Will Be Down To-Morrow. Is That Dr. Ashton?"

 

Attracted Perhaps By The Voices,  Dr. And Mrs. Ashton,  Who Were Then Out

On The Lawn,  Came Round To The Window. Percival Elster Grasped A Hand Of

Each,  And After A Minute Or Two's Studied Coldness,  The Doctor Thawed. It

Was Next To Impossible To Resist The Genial Manner,  The Winning

Attractions Of The Young Man To His Face. But Dr. Ashton Could Not

Approve Of His Line Of Conduct; And Had Sore Doubts Whether He Had Done

Right In Allowing Him To Become The Betrothed Of His Dearly-Loved

Daughter.

Chapter 4 (The Countess Dowager)

The Guests Had Arrived,  And Hartledon Was Alive With Bustle And Lights.

The First Link In The Chain,  Whose Fetters Were To Bind More Than One

Victim,  Had Been Forged. Link Upon Link; A Heavy,  Despairing Burden No

Hand Could Lift; A Burden Which Would Have To Be Borne For The Most Part

In Dread Secrecy And Silence.

 

Mirrable Had Exerted Herself To Good Purpose,  And Mirrable Was Capable

Of It When Occasion Needed. Help Had Been Procured From Calne,  And On

The Friday Evening Several Of The Hartledon Servants Arrived From The

Town-House. "None But A Young Man Would Have Put Us To Such A Rout,"

Quoth Mirrable,  In Her Privileged Freedom; "My Lord And Lady Would Have

Sent A Week's Notice At Least." But When Lord Hartledon Arrived On The

Saturday Evening With His Guests,  Mirrable Was Ready For Them.

 

She Stood At The Entrance To Receive Them,  In Her Black-Silk Gown And

Lace Cap,  Its Broad White-Satin Strings Falling On Either Side The Bunch

Of Black Ringlets That Shaded Her Thin Face. Who,  To Look At Her Quick,

Sharp Countenance,  With Its Practical Sense,  Her Active Frame,  Her Ready

Speech,  Her General Capability,  Would Believe Her To Be Sister To That

Silly,  Dreaming Mrs. Gum? But It Was So. Lord Hartledon,  Kind,  Affable,

Unaffected As Ever Was His Brother Percival,  Shook Hands With Her

Heartily In The Eyes Of His Guests Before He Said A Word Of Welcome To

Them; And One Of Those Guests,  A Remarkably Broad Woman,  With A Red Face,

A Wide Snub Nose,  And A Front Of Light Flaxen Hair,  Who Had Stepped Into

The House Leaning On Her Host's Arm--Having,  In Fact,  Taken It Unasked,

And Seemed To Be Assuming A Great Deal Of Authority--Turned Round To

Stare At Mirrable,  And Screwed Her Little Light Eyes Together For A

Better View.

 

"Who Is She,  Hartledon?"

 

"Mrs. Mirrable," Answered His Lordship Rather Shortly. "I Think You Must

Have Seen Her Before. She Has Been Hartledon's Mistress Since My Mother

Died," He Rather Pointedly Added,  For He Saw Incipient Defiance In The

Old Lady's Countenance.

 

"Oh,  Hartledon's Head Servant; The Housekeeper,  I Presume," Cried She,

As Majestically As Her Harsh Voice Allowed Her To Speak. "Perhaps You'll

Tell Her Who I Am,  Hartledon; And That I Have Undertaken To Preside Here

For A Little While."

 

"I Believe Mrs. Mirrable Knows You,  Ma'am," Spoke Up Percival Elster,  For

Lord Hartledon Had Turned Away,  And Was Lost Amongst His Guests. "You

Have Seen The Countess-Dowager Of Kirton,  Mirrable?"

 

The Countess-Dowager Faced Round Upon The Speaker Sharply.

 

"Oh,  It's _You_,  Val Elster? Who Asked You To Interfere? I'll See The

Rooms,  Mirrable,  And The Arrangements You Have Made. Maude,  Where Are

You? Come With Me."

 

A Tall,  Stately Girl,  With Handsome Features,  Raven Hair And Eyes,  And

A Brilliant Colour,  Extricated Herself From The Crowd. It Was Lady Maude

Kirton. Mirrable Went First; The Countess-Dowager Followed,  Talking

Volubly; And Maude Brought Up The Rear. Other Servants Came Forward To

See To The Rest Of The Guests.

 

The Most Remarkable Quality Observable In The Countess-Dowager,  Apart

From Her Great Breadth,  Was Her Restlessness. She Seemed Never Still For

An Instant; Her Legs Had A Fidgety,  Nervous Movement In Them,  And In

Moments Of Excitement,  Which Were Not Infrequent,  She Was Given To

Executing A Sort Of War-Dance. Old She Was Not; But Her Peculiar Graces

Of Person,  Her Rotund Form,  Her Badly-Made Front Of Flaxen Curls,  Which

Was Rarely In Its Place,  Made Her Appear So. A Bold,  Scheming,

Unscrupulous,  Vulgar-Minded Woman,  Who Had Never Considered Other

People's Feelings In Her Life,  Whether Equals Or Inferiors. In Her Day

She Must Have Been Rather Tall--Nearly As Tall As That Elegant Maude Who

Followed Her; But Her Astounding Width Caused Her Now To Appear Short.

She Went Looking Into The Different Rooms As Shown To Her By Mirrable,

And Chose The Best For Herself And Her Daughter.

 

"Three En Suite. Yes,  That Will Be The Thing,  Mirrable. Lady Maude Will

Take The Inner One,  I Will Occupy This,  And My Maid The Outer. Very Good.

Now You May Order The Luggage Up."

 

"But My Lady," Objected Mirrable,  "These Are The Best Rooms In The House;

And Each Has A Separate Entrance,  As You Perceive. With So Many Guests To

Provide For,  Your Maid Cannot Have One Of These Rooms."

 

"What?" Cried The Countess-Dowager. "My Maid Not Have One Of These Rooms?

You Insolent Woman! Do You Know That I Am Come Here With My Nephew,  Lord

Hartledon,  To Be Mistress Of This House,  And Of Every One In It? You'd

Better Mind _Your_ Behaviour,  For I Can Tell You That I Shall Look Pretty

Sharply After It."

 

"Then," Said Mirrable,  Who Never Allowed Herself To Be Put Out By Any

Earthly Thing,  And Rarely Argued Against The Stream,  "As Your Ladyship

Has Come Here As Sole Mistress,  Perhaps You Will Yourself Apportion The

Rooms To The Guests."

 

"Let Them Apportion Them For Themselves," Cried The Countess-Dowager.

"These Three Are Mine; Others Manage As They Can. It's Hartledon's Fault.

I Told Him Not To Invite A Heap Of People. You And I Shall Get On

Together Very Well,  I've No Doubt,  Mirrable," She Continued In A False,

Fawning Voice; For She Was Remarkably Alive At All Times To Her Own

Interests. "Am I To Understand That You Are The Housekeeper?"

 

"I Am Acting As Housekeeper At Present," Was Mirrable's Answer. "When My

Lord Went To Town,  After My Lady's Death,  The Housekeeper Went Also,  And

Has Remained There. I Have Taken Her Place. Lord Elster--Lord Hartledon,

I Mean--Has Not Lived Yet At Hartledon,  And We Have Had No

Establishment."

 

"Then Who Are You?"

 

"I Was Maid To Lady Hartledon For Many Years. Her Ladyship Treated Me

More As A Friend At The Last; And The Young Gentlemen Always Did So."

 

"_Very_ Good," Cried The Untrue Voice. "And,  Now,  Mirrable,  You Can Go

Down And Send Up Some Tea For Myself And Lady Maude. What Time Do We

Dine?"

 

"Mr. Elster Ordered It For Eight O'clock."

 

"And What Business Had _He_ To Take Orders Upon Himself?" And The Pale

Little Eyes Flashed With Anger. "Who's Val Elster,  That He Should

Interfere? I Sent Word By The Servants That We Wouldn't Dine Till Nine."

 

"Mr. Elster Is In His Own House,  Madam; And--"

 

"In His Own House!" Raved Lady Kirton. "It's No House Of His; It's His

Brother's. And I Wish I Was His Brother For A Day Only; I'd Let Mr. Val

Know What Presumption Comes To. Can't Dinner Be Delayed?"

 

"I'm Afraid Not,  My Lady."

 

"Ugh!" Snapped The Countess-Dowager. "Send Up Tea At Once; And Let

It Be Strong,  With A Great Deal Of Green In It. And Some Rolled

Bread-And-Butter,  And A Little Well-Buttered Toast."

 

Mirrable Departed With The Commands,  More Inclined To Laugh At The

Selfish Old Woman Than To Be Angry. She Remembered The Countess-Dowager

Arriving On An Unexpected Visit Some Three Or Four Years Before,  And

Finding The Old Lord Hartledon Away And His Wife Ill In Bed. She Remained

Three Days,  Completely Upsetting The House; So Completely Upsetting The

Invalid Lady Hartledon,  That The Latter Was Glad To Lend Her A Sum Of

Money To Get Rid Of Her.

 

Truth To Say,  Lady Kirton Had Never Been A Welcome Guest At Hartledon;

Had Been Shunned,  In Fact,  And Kept Away By All Sorts Of _Ruses_. The

Only Other Visit She Had Paid The Family,  In Mirrable's Remembrance,  Was

To The Town-House,  When The Children Were Young. Poor Little Val Had Been

Taught By His Nurse To Look Upon Her As A "Bogey;" Went About In Terror

Of Her; And Her Ladyship Detecting The Feeling,  Administered Sly Pinches

Whenever They Met. Perhaps Neither Of Them Had Completely Overcome The

Antagonism From That Time To This.

 

A Scrambling Sort Of Life Had Been Lady Kirton's. The Wife Of A Very Poor

And Improvident Irish Peer,  Who Had Died Early,  Leaving Her Badly

Provided For,  Her Days Had Been One Long Scramble To Make Both Ends Meet

And Avoid Creditors. Now In Ireland,  Now On The Continent,  Now Coming Out

For A Few Brief Weeks Of Fashionable Life,  And Now On The Wing To Some

Place Of Safety,  Had She Dodged About,  And Become Utterly Unscrupulous.

 

There Was A Whole Troop Of Children,  Who Had Been Allowed To Go To

The Good Or The Bad Very Much In Their Own Way,  With Little Help Or

Hindrance From Their Mother. All The Daughters Were Married Now,

Excepting Maude,  Mostly To German Barons And French Counts. One Had

Espoused A Marquis--Native Country Not Clearly Indicated; One An Italian

Duke: But The Marquis Lived Somewhere Over In Algeria In A Small Lodging,

And The Duke Condescended To Sing An Occasional Song On The Italian

Stage.

 

It Was All One To Lady Kirton. They Had Taken Their Own Way,  And She

Washed Her Hands Of Them As Easily As Though They Had Never Belonged To

Her. Had They Been Able To Supply Her With An Occasional Bank-Note,  Or

Welcome Her On A Protracted Visit,  They Had Been Her Well-Beloved And

Most Estimable Daughters.

 

Of The Younger Sons,  All Were Dispersed; The Dowager Neither Knew Nor

Cared Where. Now And Again A Piteous Begging-Letter Would Come From One

Or The Other,  Which She Railed At And Scolded Over,  And Bade Maude

Answer. Her Eldest Son,  Lord Kirton,  Had Married Some Four Or Five Years

Ago,  And Since Then The Countess-Dowager's Lines Had Been Harder Than

Ever. Before That Event She Could Go To The Place In Ireland Whenever She

Liked (Circumstances Permitting),  And Stay As Long As She Liked; But That

Was Over Now. For The Young Lady Kirton,  Who On Her Own Score Spent All

The Money Her Husband Could Scrape Together,  And More,  Had Taken An

Inveterate Dislike To Her Mother-In-Law,  And Would Not Tolerate Her.

 

Never,  Since She Was Thus Thrown Upon Her Own Resources,  Had The

Countess-Dowager's Lucky Star Been In The Ascendant As It Had Been This

Season,  For She Contrived To Fasten Herself Upon The Young Lord

Hartledon,  And Secure A Firm Footing In His Town-House. She Called Him

Her Nephew--"My