Kitabı oku: «Lady Maude's Mania», sayfa 10
Chapter Nineteen.
Tom and the Tartar
All the same though, consequent upon thinking so much about his sister, Tom made very little progress with his own love affairs.
Tryphie Wilder’s was not a very pleasant life at Lady Barmouth’s. She felt that she had been adopted out of charity, and in her bitterness she would sometimes call herself her ladyship’s abuse block, for that lady would call her “little wretch” in private with as much vigour as there was sweetness in the “my dear” of public life. Her ladyship had before now gone so far as to strike her. That very day Tryphie had her revenge, for, going into the drawing-room, she found Tom fast asleep on the sofa, and snipped off the ends of his moustache, wax and all. Tom awoke, and caught and kissed her, and she flew at him, boxed his ears, and then ran out of the room and upstairs, to strike her hand against the wall for being so cruel.
The girl’s bright spirits and unvarying tenderness to his father, for whom she was always buying Bath buns or finding snacks, made Tom desperately in love with her, but he had only received chaff as his amatory food in return. Tryphie meantime went on as a sort of upper servant, with the entrée of the drawing-room; and while Justine was the repository of much that was false in Lady Barmouth, she alone was admitted to the secrets of her aunt’s first and second sets of teeth, which she had to clean in her own room with the door locked, it being supposed that it was her ladyship’s diamond suite then undergoing a renovating brush, while poor Tryphie all the time was operating upon what looked like a ghastly grin without any softening smile given by overhanging lips.
“I tell you what it is, Tryphie,” said Tom one day, as he met her on the stairs – “but I say, what’s that?” and he pointed to a little case which she tried to conceal.
“Don’t ask impertinent questions, sir,” was the reply. “Now then, what is it?”
“Well, I was going to say – oh, I say, how pretty you look this morning.”
“You were not going to say anything of the kind, sir.”
“Well then, I was going to say if I am worried much more, I shall hook it.”
“Slang!” cried Tryphie.
“Well, I must slang somebody. I mustn’t swear. I’m half mad, Tryphie.”
“Poor fellow! you have been smoking yourself so.”
“Nonsense!” he said, “a fellow must do something to keep off the blues.”
“Yes; smoke in bed.”
“I shouldn’t if I was married. If I had a wife now – ”
“Married!” said Tryphie, “without any money, sir! What would you do? Keep a billiard table or open a cigar shop? I suppose I might sit behind the counter – ”
“Go it,” said Tom. “How down you are on a fellow.”
“While my little liege lord wore his elegant shawl-pattern smoking trousers, dressing-gown and cap, and showed his prowess to customers at the billiard table.”
“Little, eh?” said Tom. “Well, I am little, but you must have some little fellows in the world, to sort up with. We can’t all be great handsome black chaps like Captain Bellman.”
“Captain Bellman is not always smoking.”
“I don’t care, I’m getting reckless. I own it all: I do go to sleep with a cigar in my mouth. I can smoke as many cigars for my size as any man in London and there are not many men who can beat me at billiards.”
“How is the new cue, Tom?” said Tryphie, mockingly.
“All right,” he said. “I tried it last night at the rooms, and played a game with an uncommonly gentlemanly Frenchman, who made the most delicious little cigarettes. I thought I’d met him before. Who do you think it was?”
“Don’t know, and – ”
“Don’t care, eh? Well, it was Launay the barber.”
“Tom!”
“Well, I don’t care; home’s wretched and I’m miserable. Besides, other people enjoy seeing me so. Maude is always going about the house like a ghost, or listening to that organ man. She’s going mad, I fancy. Then Charley Melton has turned out a fool to cave in as he has done, and Tryphie cuts me – ”
“As you deserve.”
“That’s right, go it. The governor’s miserable, and that mummy Wilters is always here. Nice place to stop in. Perhaps I ought to aim higher than billiards, and keeping one’s cue in a japanned case hanging up in a public room. But look at me; hang it, I hardly get a shilling, if I don’t have some fellow at billiards. What have I to look forward to?”
Tryphie made a movement to continue her way, but Tom spread his hands so as to stop her descent.
“Will you have the goodness to allow me to pass, Lord Diphoos?” she said, demurely.
“Lord!” he cried, peevishly.
“Very well, then, most spoiled child of the house,” said Tryphie, maliciously, “Master Diphoos.”
“You make my life quite miserable, Tryphie, you do, ’pon my honour. You’re the most ungracious – ”
“There’s pretty language to use to a lady, sir,” cried Tryphie, speaking as if in an angry fit. “Say I’m the most disgraceful at once, sir.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” said Tom; “I meant ungracious and unyielding.”
“Of course, sir. Pretty words to apply to a lady.”
“Bother!” cried Tom. “I never looked upon you as a lady.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, making him a most profound curtsey.
“Well, you know what I mean,” grumbled Tom; “I always think of you as Cousin Tryphie, whom I – there,” he whispered, “I will say it – I love with all my heart.”
“Bosh!” exclaimed Tryphie.
“There’s pretty language to use to a gentleman,” retorted Tom.
“I never look upon you as a gentleman,” said Tryphie in her turn; and she darted a mischievous look at him.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Tom, who was now quite out of heart and temper. “And so you go on snub, snub, peck, peck, till a fellow feels as if he would like to make a hole in the water, he’s so sick of his life.”
“But he only makes a hole in his manners instead,” cried Tryphie.
“I say, Tryphie, you know,” cried Tom, now appealingly. “Don’t be so jolly hard on a fellow who loves you as I do. I can’t bear it when you snub me so. I say, dear,” he continued, taking her hand, “say a kind word to me.”
“Let go my hand, sir, and don’t be stupid,” she cried.
“Tryphie!”
“Well, Tom! Now look here, I’ve got to be so that I can hardly believe in there being such a thing as sincerity in the world, after what I’ve seen in this house: but all the same I do think you mean what you say.”
“Thankye, Tryphie; that’s the kindest thing you’ve said to me for months,” said Tom.
“Stop a bit, sir, and listen. I was going to say – ”
“No, don’t say any more, dear,” cried Tom, imploringly. “You’ve said something kind to me, and I shall go and get fat on that for a month.”
“Listen to me, sir,” cried Tryphie, unable to repress a smile – “I was going to say – Do you think I am going to promise to marry an idle, thoughtless, selfish man, with only two ideas in his head?”
“Two?” said Tom, dolefully. “No, you’re wrong. I’ve only got one.”
“I say two, sir – cigars and billiards. Do you think I want to marry a chimney-pot, or an animated cue?”
“Chimney-pot! Animated cue!” said Tom, with a groan, as he took off his little scarlet smoking-cap, and wrung it in his hands as if it were wet.
“Let me see, sir, that you’ve got some energy in you as well as good sincere feeling, before you speak to me again, if you please.”
“I may speak to you again, then?” cried Tom.
“Of course you may,” said Tryphie, tartly.
“And then?” cried Tom.
“Well, then we shall see,” replied the sarcastic little lady.
“Energy, eh?” said Tom. “Well, I will: so now to begin again. You know I have been energetic about Maude?”
“Ye-es, pretty well,” said Tryphie. “Not half enough.”
“Well, now then, dear – may I say dear?”
“If you please, Lord Diphoos,” said Tryphie. “I can’t help it.”
“Well, I’m going to be energetic now, and see if I can’t do something for Maude.”
“What are you going to do?”
“See Charley Melton and stir him up. Then I shall stir up the gov’nor and Maude, and if none of these things do any good I shall have a go at Wilters.”
“Ah,” said Tryphie, “now I’m beginning to believe in you, and there is some hope that I shall not be forced into a marriage with that odious Captain Bellman.”
“Tryphie,” whispered Tom, as he stared, “just say that again.”
She shook her head.
Tom looked upstairs and then down, saw nobody, and hastily catching the little maiden in his arms, stole a kiss before she fled, when, giving his head a satisfied shake, he went down to the hall, saw that his hat was brushed, and went off to Duke street, in utter ignorance of the fact that his father had been sitting in the curtained recess on the landing, where the flowers dwindled in a kind of conservatory, calmly devouring a piece of Bologna sausage and half a French roll.
“He, he, he,” chuckled the old gentleman, “that’s how they make love when they’re young. I was – was – was a devil of a fellow among the ladies when I was Tom’s age; but somehow now I never want to meet her ladyship on the stairs and kiss her. I’d – I’d – I’d a doosed deal rather have a nice piece of chicken, or a bit of tongue.”
Chapter Twenty.
Tom Expresses his Opinion
Charley Melton was not at home.
Tom went again. Not at home.
Three weeks passed before he could meet him, and then it was by accident at one of the clubs, and during all this time Tryphie had grown colder, and the wedding-day was approaching. But at last the two young men encountered, and Tom went straight to the point, “Hit out,” as he termed it.
“Charley Melton,” he said, “are you going to let this cursed marriage come off?”
“What can I do?” said Charley, lighting a cigar. “I have tried everything, and am forbidden the house.”
“Why not coax Maudey to come and meet you somewhere?”
“I have tried,” said Melton, quietly, “but it is hopeless now.”
“Why?”
“Her ladyship never lets your sister go out of her sight.”
“Then make a bolt of it, Charley.”
“You proposed that before. Oh, undutiful son.”
“There, don’t talk like a Turk,” said Tom.
“I feel like one, Bismillah! It is Kismet,” said Charley Melton, grimly.
“Fate’s what a man makes himself.”
“Yes, but you can’t make bricks without straw. O! my Diphoos,” said the other, mockingly, “I have so little golden straw that her ladyship refuses to let me make bricks at all, and – There, let the matter slide, old man.”
“By George!” cried Tom, savagely. “And this is my old friend Charley Melton! Where’s your spirit?”
“Ah! where indeed.”
“I’d shoot Wilters if I were in your case.”
“It would be agreeable, but the consequences are so precious unpleasant, Tom. I’ve had one awful drop: I don’t want another.”
“You’re a coward, Charley, big as you are.”
“I am, Tom, if it comes to being hung for shooting a baronet dead. No, Tom, I love Maude very much, but I am not chivalrous enough to risk the rope.”
“Bah!”
“Yes, if you like, I am willing for the matrimonial noose, but that prepared for homicides – no: I would rather remain a bachelor.”
“Then I cut you henceforth,” said Tom, angrily. “I’ve done with you.”
“No, you haven’t, old fellow; some day after Maude is married we shall be quite brothers again.”
“Never.”
“Nonsense. Have a B. and S.”
“With you? No, sir; I have done. Good-day.”
“Good-bye, Tom, for I’m going off shortly.”
“And pray where?”
“Italy, I think,” said Melton, smiling.
“Won’t you stop and see Wilters married?”
“No; I will not. Have a B. and S., old fellow.”
Little Tom looked his friend over from top to toe, and then, with an ejaculation full of contempt, he stalked out of the club, and went straight to Portland Place, where the first person he met was Tryphie alone in the drawing-room.
“Well,” she cried, “have you seen Mr Melton?”
“Yes.”
“And – ”
“And? Bah! he’s a miserable sneak. I haven’t patience with him. Here, Tryphie, don’t go.”
The little maiden made no answer, but sailed out of the room, just as Lord Barmouth came in.
“Ah, Tom, my boy, any news?”
“Yes, governor – the world’s coming to an end.”
“Dear me! Is it, my boy? I was in hopes that it would have lasted my time. But perhaps it’s for the best. Will it stop poor Maudey’s marriage?”
“I hope so, gov’nor. Here, come along with me.”
“Certainly, my boy, certainly; but, by the way, I’m very hungry. Can we get something to eat?”
The old man looked very haggard, for his internal wolf was gnawing.
“Come and see, gov’nor.”
“Yes, my boy, I will. But, by the way, have you noticed anything particular about Maudey?”
“Looks precious miserable.”
“Yes, my boy, she does; but I mean about her standing out in the balcony so much of an evening. You don’t think – ”
“Think what, gov’nor?”
“It’s – it’s – it’s a devil of a way down into the area, Tom; and if she were – ”
“To jump over and kill herself? Pooh! nonsense, old fellow. Here, come up to my room.”
“I’m – I’m glad to hear you speak with so much confidence,” said Lord Barmouth. “Yes, certainly, my boy, certainly. Dear me, I feel very faint.”
Tom took his father’s arm, and led the way to his bedroom, where he placed an easy-chair for the old man, and then stooping down, drew a case from beneath the bed and a glass or two from a cupboard.
“Why, Tom, my boy – wine?”
“Yes, gov’nor, wine. Fizz. Pfungst’s dry fruity.”
“But up here, Tom!”
“Yes, up here, gov’nor. A man must have something to take the taste of this nasty wedding out of his mouth.”
“But how came it to be here, Tom?”
“I ordered the wine merchant to send it in, and here it is.”
“But does her ladyship know?”
“Skeercely, gov’nor, as the Yankee said.”
“But did – did you pay for it yourself, my boy?”
“No; I told ’em to put it down in the bill. Here, tip that off.”
Tom filled a couple of small tumblers, and handed one to his father, who took it with trembling fingers.
“But really, my boy, this is very reprehensible. I – I – I – I – as your father, I feel bound to say – ”
“Nothing at all, gov’nor. Tip it off. Do you good.”
“No, no, Tom, it’s champagne, and I – I – really, I – Now if it had been port.”
“Tip it up, gov’nor.”
“I shall investigate the whole matter, Robbins,” said a strident voice outside, and the door-handle began to turn.
“Hi! Stop! Dressing!” cried Tom, frantically.
“Do not tell untruths, sir,” exclaimed her ladyship, sternly, as she entered without the slightest hesitation. “Ah, as I expected. Wait, till the servants are gone. Robbins, take down that wine.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Not this, you don’t,” said Tom, seizing the gold-foiled bottle by the neck.
“You knew that Lord Diphoos was having cases of wine up in his bedroom, Robbins?”
“No, my lady.”
“You brought it up?”
“No, my lady – Joseph.”
“Then Joseph knew.”
“He said it was cases of modelling clay, my lady.”
“That’s right,” said Tom, “modelling clay. Try a glass, mamma, to moisten yours.”
“Take away that case.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Robbins stooped with difficulty, picked up the case, and slowly bore it out, her ladyship standing in a studied attitude pointing the while.
“Another time,” said her ladyship, turning tragically to her son, and then withering her lord. “I have too much on my mind at present to trouble about this domestic mutiny.”
“Domestic grandmother,” cried Tom. “There, you needn’t make so much fuss about it. It was all your fault, mamma.”
“My fault, sir?”
“Yes, I was driven to drink by trying to obey you, and being civil to Wilters. Hang him, he makes one a regular laughing-stock.”
“Explain yourself, sir.”
“Well, you gammoned me into going to Hurlingham with your pet poodle.”
“My pet poodle!” exclaimed her ladyship.
“Bah! yes, your pet baronet; but never any more. Hang him, he came there dressed up like a theatrical super, in grey velvet, and with a soft hat and a rosette. I felt so mad that I could have punched his head, for all the fellows there were sniggering. But you should have seen him shoot.”
“Sir Grantley told me that he was a very good shot,” said her ladyship.
“Oh, he did, did he?” roared Tom. “Bless his modesty. Well, I’m going to tell Maude that when she’s married she had better look out, and if ever she sees her lovely husband take up a gun she had better bolt – out of town – the seaside – or come home. She won’t be safe if she don’t.”
Lord Barmouth tittered at this, but his lady looked round at him so sharply, that he turned it off, and stared stolidly straight before him.
“It was a regular case of fireworks,” continued Tom. “His attitudes were grand, and he looked as if he were rehearsing something for a circus. You should have seen the fellows laugh.”
“I sincerely hope that you did not laugh,” said her ladyship, sternly.
“Oh, dear, no,” said Tom, “not at all. Didn’t even smile.”
“I’m very glad of it,” said her ladyship.
“Oh, you are? That’s right,” said Tom; “but somehow one of the buttons flew off the front of my coat, and my ribs ached, and I lay back in a chair in a state of convulsion. I nearly had a fit.”
“Diphoos!” ejaculated her ladyship.
“And when dear Grantley came up he gnashed his teeth at me. He did, ’pon my word, till I roared again. I say, gov’nor, it’s the funniest thing out to see him in a passion.”
“It seems to me,” exclaimed her ladyship, hysterically, “as if the whole of my family were leagued against me, and determined to try and break off this match. From what I can gather, it seems to me, Tom, that you have grossly insulted Sir Grantley.”
“Bosh!” said Tom. “He made such an ass of himself that I roared with laughter, and served him right.”
“Fresh insults,” cried her ladyship; “but I can wait. At present, as I before observed, I shall take no steps to check this domestic mutiny on the part of my husband and my son.”
“Mutiny?”
“Yes, sir, I said mutiny; but after Maude is married – then!”
The door closed behind her, and Lord Barmouth looked piteously up at his little son.
“You have got me into a devil of a scrape, Tom, my boy,” he faltered.
“Never mind, gov’nor. Tip that up. The old girl left us this.”
“But – but it is champagne, Tom.”
“All the better, gov’nor. Here’s to you.”
Lord Barmouth hesitated for a few moments, and then raised his glass.
“Your health, my dear boy,” he said. – “Yes, that’s a very nice glass of wine. I haven’t tasted champagne for a couple of months.”
“Then you shall taste it again,” said Tom. “Now, I mean to go it. Gov’nor, you should come and dine with me to-night, and we’d try and forget all about old Maude, only I have no money.”
“But I have, my boy – ten pounds.”
“You have, gov’nor? – Yes so you have.”
“Take – take it, my boy.”
“But where did you get it, gov’nor?”
“Well – er – never mind that, Tom. I – er – I borrowed it; but I shall pay it again some day.”
“But, gov’nor – ”
“Take the money, Tom, my boy. You need not mind, and if I can get away to-night I should like to dine with you.”
“Then you shall, old fellow; I’ll manage that.”
“But her ladyship?”
“Leave it to me, gov’nor.”
“And about Charley Melton, Tom, my boy – is there any hope?”
“Not a bit, gov’nor. He’s a poor thing, and not worthy of her.”
“Oh, dear, dear, dear,” sighed Lord Barmouth. “But I’m afraid I couldn’t get away.”
“You leave it to me, and we’ll dine at nine, gov’nor. Don’t take anything at ours.”
“No, Tom, no.”
“Now go down.”
The old man finished his champagne, thinking of her ladyship’s word —then.
After that he went downstairs, and that night, as good as his word, Tom shuffled him out as soon as the ladies had left the dining-room.
It was easily done, and the door was just being quietly closed as they stood under the portico, when from just outside and beyond the pillar there came the sudden burst of music from an organ, as the man who had been playing changed the tune, and as the pair hurried away they brushed against the player, who stood by the area railings in his slouched hat and ragged attire.
“What the – ”
“Devil” his lordship was going to say, for something struck him on the top of his gibus hat.
“Copper,” said Tom, as the object fell with a pat on the pavement. “Come along.”
“Yes, halfpence,” whispered his lordship, nervously, as he tottered on; “but I do wish Maudey wouldn’t be so free with her money to those vagabonds. That scoundrel makes quite an income out of our house.”
“Never mind, gov’nor, it won’t last long. Poor girl, the game’s nearly up. Now for what the Yankees call a good square meal.”
“With a drop of port, Tom, my boy.”
“Yes; you shall have a whole bottle. Barker’s, Jermyn Street,” he cried to the cabman, who drew up; and then as the cab drove off – “There, gov’nor, we’ll forget home troubles for one night.”
“Yes, my boy, we will,” said the old man, eagerly.
“I do wish Tryphie wouldn’t be so hard again,” sighed Tom, “and just too when she was growing so soft. Sympathy for Maudey, I suppose.”
“What say, Tom, my boy?”
“Thinking aloud, gov’nor.”
“What about, Tom?”
“Charley Melton, gov’nor. He’s a regular flat.”
