Belles and Ringers
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Hawley Smart >> Belles and Ringers
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Mrs. Wriothesley of course comprehended how matters were, and viewed
the progress of events with entire satisfaction. She saw that
projected scheme of hers rapidly approaching completion, and requiring
but little help from her fostering hand; still it would be just as
well, to use her own expression, "to assist nature;" and, with that
view, she wrote a note to Jim Bloxam, suggesting that an early dinner
and a night at the play were the proper restoratives for an invalid's
nerves. She has seen Jim several times since his fall at Hurlingham,
and knows very well that he got over the effects of that shaking in two
or three days; but she has affected to regard him as a convalescent
ever since, and insists upon it that quiet society is what he requires,
meaning that, whenever he comes to town, the little house in Hans Place
is the haven of rest best suited to him.
"I wish, Rip," said Mrs. Wriothesley, putting her head into her
husband's _sanctum_ one morning, "you would look in at Bubb's this
afternoon, and tell them to send me a box for the Prince of Wales's
next Wednesday. You will of course do as you like, but I am going to
ask Jim Bloxam to dine and go with us to the play."
"What a clever designing little woman it is!" replied her husband
lazily. "I'll order the box; but you must pick up somebody else to do
'gooseberry' with you, as I can't come that night. It's hardly fair
upon Jim; but as I have found matrimony pleasant myself, I don't for
once mind being in the conspiracy. Besides, Sylla is a good sort if
she will only take a fancy to him: she seems rather inclined to avoid
him, it strikes me."
"Oh, you goose!" replied his wife. "Get me the box, and pray that you
may have decent luck at whist for the next few weeks; we shall want all
the sovereigns you can scrape together to buy wedding presents before
the season is out."
Lady Mary Bloxam was really very much to be pitied. Here was the
season slipping by, and the design with which she had opened the
campaign seemed further from accomplishment than ever. Worse than all,
her own daughter was playing into the hands of the enemy. There was no
disguising the fact. It was too palpably evident. There was something
wrong between Blanche and Lionel Beauchamp. The young lady treated him
with marked coldness, which he on his side resented. In vain did Lady
Mary cross-examine her daughter in the most insidious manner. Blanche
would own to no quarrel, nor assign any reason for their gradual
estrangement; but Lady Mary saw with dismay that the two were drifting
wider apart as the weeks wore on. That she should attribute all this
to Sylla and her designing aunt may be easily supposed. It was true
that in society Lionel Beauchamp could most certainly not be accused of
paying pronounced devotion to Miss Chipchase. But Lady Mary had ever a
picture before her mind of Beauchamp in a low chair, in the
drawing-room at Hans Place, making passionate love to Sylla; and her
dislike of that young lady was intensified accordingly. She was at
variance with her daughter just now on the subject of the invitation
they had received from Lionel Beauchamp for a water party down the
river, and about which she and Blanche were by no means of one mind.
Lady Mary was all for its acceptance, while Miss Bloxam persistently
advocated its refusal.
"You are too provoking, Blanche," exclaimed Lady Mary; "sometimes you
are dissatisfied because we have not cards for this, that, and the
other; and now we have an invitation for what promises to be a very
pleasant party, you not only declare you won't go, but won't give any
reason for declining."
"I say 'no' because I don't wish to go," replied Miss Bloxam.
"Fiddle-de-dee!" replied her mother, sharply. "All girls like to go to
what promises to be a pleasant party. It is only right and proper they
should, unless they are unwell. Is there anything the matter with you?"
"No, unless it be that I am getting rather tired of London gaiety. I
shall be very glad, indeed, to get back to Todborough."
"That's a most unnatural remark for a girl to make in her second
season. None of your sisters, thank goodness, ever required it; but I
am afraid I shall have to see what a doctor thinks of you. I must get
hold of Pansey Cottrell and hear what he says about this picnic. I
declare, if he reports favourably, I shall insist upon your going,
Blanche."
"I cannot see, mamma, what Mr. Cottrell has got to do with it. There
can be no possible use in consulting him."
"Every use," rejoined Lady Mary quickly. "Pansey knows everything that
is going on in society. I declare I think sometimes that he must
employ a staff of detectives to collect all such knowledge and gossip
for him. He will know who are going to this party."
"If he knows everything," said Blanche, "he should be able to tell me
what I want to know."
"And what is that?" inquired Lady Mary, with no little curiosity.
"He will know that also if omniscient, as you suppose, mamma."
"You are talking downright nonsense! How can any one answer a question
which you won't ask them? But Pansey's knowledge of what goes on in
his own world is marvellous. He sees more than the most lynx-eyed
matron amongst us. I have been to a good many places this year for
your amusement, and unless you are really ill, Blanche, it is only fair
you should go this once for mine."
Miss Bloxam made no reply, but inwardly determined to be extremely
unwell upon the day of that picnic. She was by no means a selfish
girl, and would sacrifice herself to give her mother pleasure at any
time; but she felt that she had valid reasons for declining any
invitation from Lionel Beauchamp as things stood between them. No
accusation of husband-hunting should ever be brought against her. Her
mother was, of course, ignorant of how matters stood, and could
therefore be no guide for her in this affair.
Captain Bloxam, arriving at his quarters to dress for mess after a hard
afternoon's racquets, finds Mrs. Wriothesley's note lying on his table.
"Will I dine on Wednesday, go to the play, and come back to supper
afterwards? Will I not?" ejaculates Jim. "I am on duty on Wednesday,
but somebody else will have to do that; and there is a big field-day on
the Thursday. Never mind: get back by the early train in time for it,
and I can do as much sleep as one wants coming down: so that is
satisfactorily settled."
Jim, by this, was very hard hit indeed; and had he been asked to stay a
month in the little house in Hans Place, would have sold out rather
than have foregone the invitation; and the night in question saw him
duly seated in Mrs. Wriothesley's dining-room in the highest possible
spirits.
"By the way," said Pansey Cottrell, who completed the quartet,
addressing his hostess, "what is our destined place of amusement this
evening? Are we bound for the French plays?"
"No, we are going to the Prince of Wales's Theatre," rejoined Mrs.
Wriothesley. "Are you very much given to the French plays, Mr.
Cottrell?"
"I am not very much given to any theatrical entertainment; but whenever
I feel low about the scarcity of money in the country, I like to go the
French plays. To see so many people who can afford to pay a guinea for
an arm-chair to read in for three hours is a refreshing proof that
there is still money in the country. People go there a great deal more
because it is the fashion than because they enjoy it. It is like the
opera, which, though exquisite enjoyment to many, always commands a
strong contingent who attend solely because it is the fashion. You are
going of course to this water party of Beauchamp & Co.?"
"Yes," replied Mrs. Wriothesley, "I rather like the idea. It is quite
a novelty. They have chartered a large steamer, and I hear the
arrangements are very perfect. You are going, Captain Bloxam?"
"Certainly," replied Jim. "I look forward to having pretty well the
pleasantest day of the season. We are to lunch on board, dine on
board, and, I believe, dance on board. As I told Beauchamp, the only
improvement I could suggest was a stage for charades. We might have as
great a success, Miss Chipchase, as we had that night at Todborough."
"Yes," replied Sylla, slightly colouring at the recollection, and
wondering, in her mischievous resolve to a little shock Lady Mary,
whether she might not really have gone too far.
"I declare, if well done, if they have got a big enough steamer, the
right people, and it is a fine day, it ought to be a great success,"
observed Cottrell.
"Well," rejoined Mrs. Wriothesley, "from what Lionel told me, they have
secured everything but the last; and I do think their arrangements to
meet that are as perfect as possible."
Mr. Cottrell shook his head dubiously.
"In the event of a very unpromising day," continued Mrs. Wriothesley,
"people will find a most excellent lunch spread in the cabins; and they
have made up their minds not to leave their moorings at Westminster
Bridge, so that people can have just as much as they please of the
entertainment."
"That idea positively trenches on genius," exclaimed Mr. Cottrell
approvingly, "and reduces it merely to lunching at any house in London.
Cabs innumerable round there; one, as you say, can get away at any
time."
"And now, Captain Bloxam," said Mrs. Wriothesley, "if you will ring the
bell for coffee, Sylla and I will get our cloaks on while it cools; and
then I think we must be going. Oh, about transport?" she adds, pausing
at the door. "I think, Mr. Cottrell, if you will take me in your
brougham, we will send the young couple in mine. Thanks," she
continued, in reply to Mr. Cottrell's bow of assent. "Come, Sylla."
Mr. Cottrell's thoughts were naturally unspoken, but he could not
refrain from mentally ejaculating, "Poor Lady Mary! what chance can she
have against such an artist as this?"
A few weeks ago, and no girl would, perhaps, have laughed more at the
idea of being nervous about driving alone to the theatre with Captain
Bloxam than Sylla Chipchase; but she unmistakably was this evening,
and, only that she was afraid of being ridiculed by her aunt, would
have asked to change escorts. She could not help showing it in her
manner a little when they were fairly started; and the Hussar was far
from discouraged thereby.
His mind was fully made up, and he pleaded his best, not one bit
abashed by her faint responses to his passionate protestations.
"I cannot tell you when I began to love you," he continued; "it was
from the first time I saw you, I believe; and, Sylla, I do hope you
care a little about me. I can hardly expect an answer tonight" (he
did, and meant having it, all the same). It would be hardly fair; but
if you can promise to be my wife before we part, I shall be the
lightest-hearted Hussar that rides up the Long Valley tomorrow."
"I don't know. I didn't think you cared about me. I must have time,"
she murmured.
Oh, these lovers! She did know; she did think he cared about her, and
she wanted no time.
"Sylla, dearest," continued Jim, "you must have known that I loved you;
no woman is ever blind to that. That you should reflect before you
give me an answer, I can understand; but please let me know my fate as
soon as possible. It is cruel to keep me in suspense." And here the
flood of Jim's eloquence was arrested by the brougham pulling up at the
door of the theatre.
Mrs. Wriothesley and her cavalier glanced keenly at the pair as they
entered the box. Mr. Cottrell, indeed, had complimented his hostess on
her little bit of _finesse_ on the road, and she had made no scruple of
admitting that she hoped to bring about a marriage between the two. As
to the Hussar, he was quite equal to the occasion, and from all that
could be gathered from his imperturbable manner, might have been
entertaining his companion with his meteorological views for the last
half-hour. But with poor Sylla it was different. However good an
actress the girl might be theatrically, she was a lamentable failure in
the affairs of real life now that she found herself the leading lady;
and both her quick-eyed aunt and the lynx-eyed Mr. Cottrell felt just
as certain that an _eclaircissement_ had taken place as if they had
assisted at it. More discreet chaperons were impossible, and after the
first glance they took no further notice of the lovers, confining their
conversation to each other, and their attention to the stage. After a
little Mr. Cottrell discovered a friend in the stalls, with whom it was
an absolute necessity he should exchange a few words; and then the
interest Mrs. Wriothesley took in the play proved what an enthusiast
she was about dramatic art.
But the green curtain fell at last--though, with the exception of Mrs.
Wriothesley, it would be almost open to question whether any of them
knew even the name of the piece they had witnessed--and the party
proceeded homewards. Jim made good use of his opportunities on the
drive back to Hans Place; and upon arrival, took advantage of Sylla's
temporary escape upstairs to whisper to Mrs. Wriothesley that he had
told his tale, and been favourably listened to. He felt assured of her
congratulations. He knew he was a favourite of hers, and that she was
much too clever a woman to have allowed him to see so much of Sylla
unless she had approved of his suit. They were a very pleasant but
rather quiet party at supper. Lovers in the spring-tide of their
delirium have rarely conversation except for each other; but then that
suffices amply for their enjoyment. Mrs. Wriothesley, triumphant in
her schemes, chatted gaily with Mr. Cottrell, who was Sybarite enough
to know that the discussion of the fish salad that he was then engaged
upon, accompanied by the prattle of a pretty woman and irreproachable
champagne, was about as near Elysium as a man of his years and prosaic
temperament could expect to arrive at. He had had some conversation
with his hostess on the way home. They had both arrived at the
conclusion, from what they had seen in the theatre, that, even if
everything was not yet settled, it would be before the evening was out.
When she bade him good night, Mrs. Wriothesley added in low tones,
"Of course it is as we guessed; but don't say anything about it for the
next few days."
It was with feelings of great complacency that Mr. Cottrell, having lit
his cigar, stepped into his brougham. He had dined and supped
satisfactorily. He had passed a pleasant evening, and he was in the
early possession of a little piece of intelligence connected with that
comedy which he had seen commenced at Todborough which made its finish
perfectly plain to him. He could not help laughing as he thought of
the complication of feeling that this would produce in the mind of Lady
Mary Bloxam when it reached her, which of course it speedily would.
Would indignation at having to welcome as a daughter-in-law a girl she
disliked so much as she did Sylla Chipchase overcome the gratification
she would feel at finding that she need no longer dread her as an
obstacle to her plans for the settlement of Blanche? Upon the whole,
Mr. Cottrell thought not.
"They don't know it," he argued; "but Sylla Chipchase's father is a
wealthy man, and the young lady, in consequence of her mother's
settlement, a very long way off a penniless maiden. I don't think Lady
Mary has ever yet thought about Jim's marrying at all; but if Beauchamp
and Blanche only make a match of it, I fancy it would reconcile her
ladyship to a good deal. She wouldn't then, at all events, be beaten
at all points of the game by her pet aversion--Mrs. Wriothesley." And
once more Mr. Cottrell chuckled over the situation. "Piccadilly, eh?"
he muttered, looking out of the window. "I don't feel a bit like bed.
Egad, I'll turn in here and have another cigar;" and so saying Mr.
Cottrell stopped his brougham at the door of a well-known club, got
out, and leisurely ascended the steps.
Several men were seated smoking in the hall, and a little knot, of
which Lionel Beauchamp was the principal figure, attracted Mr.
Cottrell's attention.
"Ah, my lords of Greenwich and Gravesend!" he exclaimed gaily, "all the
world is much exercised about you and your doings. Wondrous are the
stories afloat as to the fitting out of your ship, and all the fun that
you have prepared for us. People don't know what to expect. Some say
you are about to revive the old Folly and Ranelagh. Others that you
have rolled the Italian Opera and Willis's Rooms all into one, and put
it on board ship."
"I can't say what they expect in the way of entertainment," exclaimed
Beauchamp, "but they seem to think that we have at all events chartered
the Great Eastern. We are perfectly inundated with applications for
tickets."
"No doubt," replied Cottrell, as he took a chair beside them; "and from
people of whose existence you were in happy ignorance. To extend your
acquaintance, only give a big show of some sort, and let it be known
that a card of invitation is well-nigh an impossibility. But what a
very dandy cigar-case!" and as he spoke Cottrell lifted from the table
by Beauchamp's side a very smart specimen of the article in question,
made of maroon velvet, with a monogram embroidered on one side, and the
motto, "_Loquaces si sapiat vitet_," on the other. "Very pretty
indeed," he continued, looking at the monogram; "but surely you don't
spell Lionel with a T?"
"No," replied Beauchamp, laughing; "I spell it with an 'L,' like other
people; but that cigar-case was neither embroidered nor made for me."
"I see," rejoined Cottrell: "you have been annexing a friend's
property. I regret to see the notorious laxity of principle on the
subject of umbrellas is extending to cigar-cases."
"Wrong again," replied Beauchamp. "I am in perfectly legitimate
possession of the case, although it was not made for me."
Insatiable thirst for gossip is naturally allied with insatiable
curiosity, and Mr. Cottrell was no exception.
"J. B., J. B.?" he said, still fingering the case.
"I have it! I am right, for a dollar! You borrowed it from Jim Bloxam
when we were down at Todborough."
"No," returned Lionel, much amused; "you are wrong again. I had a
commission to get that case made----"
"For Jim Bloxam," interposed Cottrell quickly.
"I didn't say that," returned Lionel; "anyhow, it was not wanted; and
at the risk of being accused of not being able to spell my own name, I
kept it for myself. I was further commanded to adhere strictly to the
motto."
"And 'avoid talkative people.' Curious, very," observed Mr. Cottrell,
as he put down the cigar-case, wondering not a little who gave the
commission, and for whom the case was originally intended; but he of
course refrained from further inquiry.
CHAPTER XI.
THE RINGING OF THE BELLES.
The more Lady Mary heard of this water party, the more determined she
was to attend it. True, her pet design, the establishment of her
daughter, seemed to be running awry, but there was no occasion as yet
for abandoning it. There was evidently something wrong between Blanche
and Lionel Beauchamp, but that could never be put right by persistently
avoiding him. Whatever the cloud between them, it was little likely to
be dispelled if they never met. Then again, why should she facilitate
matters for that odious Mrs. Wriothesley and her saucy chit of a niece?
No; all the sporting blood of the Ditchins boiled in Lady Mary's veins
as she muttered,
"Margaret Wriothesley may stand in my way again, as indeed she has all
her life; but she sha'n't, at all events, be treated to the luxury of a
'walk over.'"
Not encountering Mr. Cottrell in the course of the next two or three
days, she dropped him a line of inquiry as to the composition of this
coming water party, and concluded her note with--
"Blanche is most provoking. She has evidently had some tiff with
Lionel Beauchamp. She is very resolute about not going to this
affair--hints mysteriously she wants to know something, and declines to
say what. I have no patience with such nonsense; and if I hear from
you that the right people will be there, shall insist upon her going.
Her thirst for knowledge applies, I suspect, to some proceedings of Mr.
Beauchamp's. If she would only confide what it is to me, I have little
doubt I could put her mind at rest in eight and forty hours.
"Yours sincerely,
"MARY BLOXAM."
Mr. Cottrell received this note the morning after he had dined and
supped in Hans Place. Putting one thing and the other together, he
began to have a tolerable inkling of how matters stood. He was looking
forward to spending rather a pleasant day at this party of Beauchamp's,
and he now saw the possibility of adding still greater zest to his
enjoyment by pulling the strings of one of those small social dramas so
constantly occurring in our midst, which was a thing Pansey Cottrell
dearly loved. He felt that he should be the good fairy on board that
steamer,--that two or three of the human puppets thereon would dance in
accordance with his fingering of the wires; and mischievously as he
would interfere at times in such matters, felt upon this occasion that
the puppets would jig as much to their own gratification as to his.
"Dear Lady Mary," he replied, "it is to be quite one of the pleasantest
things of the season. All your own set will be there--pre-eminently
the right people all round. I saw Beauchamp and his _confreres_ last
night. They say they are overwhelmed with applications for tickets,
but have adhered rigidly to the number originally determined on. They
may naturally expect to find themselves quite out of society next
season. Those that were asked will have forgotten all about it, while
those that were not won't. Kind regards to Miss Blanche. Tell her
that there is a great deal of information to be picked up at water
parties, and that I will guarantee her making one or two discoveries
which I think will surprise and please her.
"Yours sincerely,
"PANSEY COTTRELL."
On receipt of that note Miss Bloxam's determination not to attend the
Beauchamp party vanished. It would be hard to say now whether mother
or daughter were more impatient for that afternoon, or more curious as
to what it might bring forth. Lady Mary's speculations were vague in
the extreme. Mr. Cottrell's shadowy announcement she regarded as
liable to mean as much or as little as "hear of something to one's
advantage" might in an advertisement in the second column of the
_Times_. But with Blanche the case was different. Miss Bloxam's ideas
took definite shape, and, with very slight grounds to go upon, she
jumped instinctively to the conclusion--as women will in such
cases--that whether Lionel Beauchamp was to be all to her or nothing
would be effectually settled that afternoon. The promoters of the
picnic themselves could not have prayed more fervently for fine weather
than did Lady Mary and her daughter.
"Happy is the bride that the sun shines on," saith the proverb; but if
it is vouchsafed one to command a fine day at will in the course of
existence, it would be better to reserve that privilege not for one's
wedding, but for our first important picnic. Lionel Beauchamp and his
_confreres_ were especially favoured. The day for their picnic was
like unto that described by De Quincey, when "midsummer with all its
banners was marching through the sky." A more gorgeous afternoon to
loiter away upon the water it was hard to imagine. Moored along the
side of the Westminster Pier was, if not the _Great Eastern_, at all
events as large a steamer as it was practicable to bring there.
Awnings were stretched both fore and aft above decks, the snowy
whiteness of which would have done no discredit to a man-of-war. In
the bows of the boat a band was pouring forth all sorts of popular
melody, inciting the fashionable crowd to "Haste to the Wedding," "Down
among the Coals," "When Johnny comes marching Home," &c. At the head
of the gangway the hosts received their guests, and the numbers in
which they trooped on board gave some warrant to Lionel Beauchamp's
laughing assertion that giving a party in London is something like the
making of a snowball: it increases with undreamt-of rapidity.
"Twenty-five guests apiece, Mrs. Wriothesley, was, I give you my word,
the first faint-hearted conception of myself and three companions,"
said Beauchamp, laughing, as he welcomed that lady and Miss Chipchase;
"but you see people have been kind to us, and that we are more popular
in society than we dared venture to hope."
"Ah, Lionel, yes," rejoined Mrs. Wriothesley, as she shook hands, "and
with so nice a ship, such glorious weather, and so many pleasant
_compagnons de voyage_ as I see around me, you will find us all willing
to dance to your pipe, even if it led us all the way to New York."
"We are too discreet to attempt the impossible," replied Lionel. "If
we can only please and amuse our guests to Gravesend and back, we shall
sleep contented." And then he turned away to welcome fresh arrivals,
leaving Sylla and Mrs. Wriothesley to greet their friends and inspect
the arrangements made for their entertainment.
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