Kitabı oku: «Lady Maude's Mania», sayfa 5

Chapter Eight.
Family Matters

Charley Melton made up his mind that he would behave honourably, and he called several times more at Portland Place, till it became evident that there was no prospect of his being admitted. He saw the carriage twice in the Park, and bowed, to obtain a cold recognition from her ladyship the first time, the cut direct from her the second time, and an agonised look from Maude.

“That’s the second time this week,” he muttered angrily; “I must end this.” He stopped short, leaning over the rails and watching the carriage as it was pulled up, and a fashionably-dressed gentleman went to the door and stood talking for some considerable time.

“My rival, I suppose. Sir Grantley Wilters, then, is to be the happy man? Here, come along, Joby, it is time to take to stratagem. I wonder what has become of Tom?”

The next day a special message was sent to that medical attendant, Doctor Todd, Lady Barmouth imploring him to come directly, as Maude was so ill that she was growing uneasy.

“Humph!” said the doctor, “poor girl. But she must wait her turn.”

He hurried through his interviews with his regular patients, and reached Portland Place just as lunch was going in; but it was put back while Lady Barmouth took him into the drawing-room, where Maude was seated.

“Ah, my dear!” he exclaimed, in his cheery way. “Why, I say, what’s the matter?”

He sat talking to her for some little time, wrote a prescription, and then rose.

“There, Lady Barmouth,” he said; “that is all I can do. Give her change and peace of mind, and she will soon be well.”

“Indeed, doctor,” cried her ladyship, “she shall have everything she can wish for. As to peace of mind, why what is there to disturb it? It is our peace of mind that suffers. Poor Sir Grantley Wilters is half distracted about her.”

“Is he?” said the doctor, bluntly. “Why, what has it got to do with him?”

“Hush, doctor! Fie!” exclaimed her ladyship, smiling. “There, you are making somebody blush. It is too bad.”

Maude darted an indignant glance at her mother, and with flaming cheeks and eyes full of tears left the room.

“Poor girl, she is so hysterical,” said her ladyship. “Ah, these young girls, these young girls! Of course you will stay lunch, doctor?”

“Yes,” he said shortly, “I intended to. I’m precious hungry, and you’ve put me out of my usual course.”

“I’m so sorry,” said her ladyship; “but it was very good of you to come,” as the door opened and the earl came toddling into the room.

“Ah, doctor,” he said, “doosed glad to see you. Did you hear my leg was threatening again?”

“No,” said the doctor, shaking hands. “We must have a consultation.”

“And forbid so many good things, doctor,” said her ladyship, with asperity.

“But, my dear, I – I – I’m pretty nearly starved; it’s poverty of blood, I’m sure.”

“Well, come and have a good lunch,” said the doctor. “I’ll see that you have nothing to disagree with you.”

“Thank you, doctor, thank you,” said the old gentleman, as the gong began to sound and they went down, Tryphie and Tom coming out of another room – Maude joining them, looking now quite composed.

“I remember when I was a boy,” said Lord Barmouth, suddenly.

“Yes, my love,” said her ladyship, stiffly; “but you’ve told us that before.”

“Have I, my dear?” said his lordship, looking troubled, and then there was a little pause.

“I may have a glass of hock, may I not, doctor?” said the old man, as the luncheon went on.

“Eh? Yes. – I say, what’s your name, bring me the hock, some seltzer and a glass,” said the doctor to Robbins. “Yes, my dear,” he continued to Tryphie, “I would rather any day go to the Tyrol than along the beaten track through the Alps.”

The butler brought the hock and seltzer, and a large tumbler, into which such a liberal portion of wine was poured that Lady Barmouth looked horrified, and the old gentleman chuckled and squeezed Maude’s hand under the table.

“Is not that too much, doctor?” whispered her ladyship.

“Eh? Much? oh no. Do him good,” said the doctor, filling up the glass with seltzer. “There, take that to his lordship.”

“I say, father,” said Tom, giving her ladyship a mocking smile, “I watched the quantities. I’ll mix your hock for you in future.”

The luncheon went on, the doctor chatting merrily, while his lordship became, under the influence of so strong a dose of medicine, quite garrulous.

“I say, doctor,” he said, chuckling, “did – did you hear that deuced good story about Lady Grace Moray?”

“No,” said the doctor; “what was it?”

“Capital story, and quite true – he he, he!” chuckled the old gentleman. “She – she – she – begad, she was disappointed of one fellow, and – and – and, damme if she didn’t run off with the butler.”

“Barmouth!” exclaimed her ladyship, austerely, “I am glad that the servants are not in the room.”

“It’s – it’s – it’s a fact, my dear,” said the old gentleman, wiping his eyes. “Bolted with him, she did, and – and – and, damme, I forget how it all ended. I say, Tom, my boy, how – how – how the doose did that affair end?”

“Got married and made a fool of herself,” said Tom sharply.

“Do people always make fools of themselves who marry, Tom?” said Tryphie in a low voice.

“Always,” he whispered back, “if they marry people chosen for them in place of those they love.”

“I must request, Barmouth, my dear, that you do not tell such stories as that. They are loathsome and repulsive. Lady Grace Moray comes of a very low type of family. Her grandfather married a butterman’s daughter, or something of that kind. They have no breeding.”

“I – I – I think I left my handkerchief in the drawing-room,” said his lordship, rising.

“Why not ring, my love?” said her ladyship.

“No, no, no, I would rather fetch it myself,” said his lordship, who left the room, went up two or three stairs, stopped, listened, and then toddled back to where, on a tray, the remains of a tongue stood in company with an empty vegetable dish or two.

There was a great piece, too, of the point quite six inches long lying detached, for the doctor’s arm was vigorous, and he had cut the tongue quite through. Such a chance was not offered every day, and it would not only make a couple or three pleasant snacks when his lordship was hungry, but it would keep.

He listened: all was still, and, cautiously advancing, he secured the piece of dry firm tongue. Then he started as if electrified. Robbins’ cough was heard on the stairs, and his lordship dabbed the delicacy away in the handiest place, and turned towards the door as the butler appeared in the hall.

“What game’s he up to now?” said Robbins to himself, as, with his memory reminding him of the trouble he had had to sponge and brush the tails of the old gentleman’s dress coats, which used to be found matted with gummy gravies and sauces, so that the pocket linings had had to be several times replaced, he opened the dining-room door.

“I – I – I think I left my handkerchief upstairs Robbins,” said his lordship humbly; and he toddled in again and retook his place.

The luncheon ended, the party rose and stood chatting about the room, while the doctor was in earnest conversation with Maude and her ladyship.

“Nothing at all,” he said firmly, “but low spirits from mental causes, and these are matters for which mothers and fathers must prescribe.”

“It’s – it’s – doosed hard to be so short of money,” said his lordship to himself as he was left alone; and then thinking of the tongue, he tried to get to the door, but a look from her ladyship sent him back. “It’s – it’s – doosed hard. I shall have to go to little Tryphie again. He, he, he! her ladyship don’t know,” he chuckled, “I’ve – I’ve left her five thousand in my will, bless her. I wish she’d buy me some more Bath buns.”

He crossed to where the bright little girl was standing, and she advanced to him directly.

“Can you lend me another five shillings, Tryphie?” he whispered.

“Yes, uncle,” she replied, nodding and smiling. “I’ll get it and put it under the china dog on the right hand cabinet.”

“That’s right, my dear; it’s – it’s – it’s so doosed awkward to be so short, and I don’t like to ask her ladyship.”

“Well, I must go,” said the doctor loudly. “Good-bye all. Good-bye, my dear,” he continued to Maude. Then he pinched Tryphie’s cheek, shook hands with the old man and was gone.

“So clever,” sighed her ladyship, “that we look over his rough, eccentric ways. I believe that I should not have been here now if it had not been for his skill.”

“Then damn the doctor,” said Tom to himself, for he was in a very unfilial mood.

“Oh, by the way,” said the gentleman spoken of, as he came hurriedly back, sending the door open so that it banged upon a chair, “Lady Maude, my dear, you are only to take that medicine when you feel low.”

As he spoke he hitched on his light overcoat that he had partly donned in the hall, and then, fishing in one of the pockets for his gloves, he brought out a piece of tongue.

“Oh, bless my soul!” muttered his lordship; and he toddled towards the window.

“What the dickens is this?” cried the doctor, holding out his find, and putting up his double eye-glass. “Tongue, by jingo! Is this one of your tricks, my Lord Tom?”

“No,” roared Tom, as he burst out laughing, and followed his father to the window, where the old gentleman was nervously gazing forth.

“I’m so sorry,” said her ladyship, quivering with indignation. “It must have been one of the servants, or the cat.”

“Well,” said the doctor, solemnly, “I’ll swear I didn’t steal it. I might perhaps have pocketed something good, but I hadn’t got this coat on.”

“Pray say no more, doctor,” said her ladyship. “Robbins, bring a plate and take this away.”

“Yes, my lady,” said the butler, who was waiting in the hall to show the doctor out; and he made matters worse by advancing with a stately march, taking a plate and silver fork from the sideboard, removed the piece of tongue from the doctor’s fingers with the fork; and then deftly thrusting it off with his thumb on to the plate, he marched out with it, the ladies all bursting into busy conversation to cover his retreat.

Then the doctor went, and a general ascent towards the drawing-room was commenced, his lordship hanging back, and Tom stopping to try and avert the storm.

“Such idiotic – such disgraceful proceedings, Barmouth,” exclaimed her ladyship, closing the dining-room door.

“There, that will do, mother,” said Tom, quietly. “Lookers-on see most of the game.”

“What do you mean, sir?” said her ladyship.

“Why this,” said Tom, savagely. “There, don’t faint; because if you do I shan’t stop and attend you.”

“If I only dared to face her like my son Tom,” said his lordship to himself; “damme, he’s as brave as a little lion, my son Tom.”

“Sir, your language is most disgraceful,” said her ladyship, haughtily.

“That’s what all people think when something is said that they don’t like. Now look here, mother; I don’t mean to stand by any more and see the old man bullied.”

“Bless him, I am proud of that boy,” thought his lordship. “Damme, he’s little, but he’s a man.”

“Diphoos!” cried her ladyship.

“I don’t say it was not stupid of the gov’nor to go and take that piece of tongue, and put it in the wrong pocket.”

“But, my dear boy, I – ”

“Hold your tongue, gov’nor,” cried Tom. “It was stupid and idiotic of him perhaps, but not one half so stupid and idiotic as some things I see done here.”

“Tom, I do not know what you mean,” cried her ladyship.

“Well, I mean this. It was idiotic to marry Di to liver-pill Goole, as they call him; and ten times more idiotic to encourage that racing cad, Captain Bellman, here; while it was madness to cut Charley Melton adrift, and try to bring things to an understanding between Maude and that hospital dummy, Wilters.”

“Your language, sir, is frightful,” cried her ladyship, whose voice was rising in spite of herself. “Hospital dummy!”

“So he is; I could drive my fist right through his tottering carcase. He’s only fit to stuff and put in a glass case as a warning to young men.”

“I wish – I wish – I wish I could pat him on the back,” muttered Lord Barmouth. “He’s brave as a lion.”

“Sir Grantley Wilters has my consent to pay his addresses to your sister,” said her ladyship with dignity; “and as for your disgusting remarks about Captain Bellman, he comes here with my consent to see your cousin Tryphie, for whom he will be an excellent parti.”

“Parti– funeral party. An excellent corpse,” cried Tom in a rage, “for, damme, I’ll shoot him on his wedding morning before he shall have her.”

“You will have to leave home, sir, and live in chambers,” said her ladyship. “You grow too low for society.”

“What, and let you have your own way here, mother! No, hang it, that you shan’t. You may stop my allowance, but I stop here; so don’t look blank, dad.”

“Don’t speak angrily to your mamma, my dear boy,” said Lord Barmouth.

“All right, gov’nor.”

“As to your friend and companion, whom you brought to this house, and who pretended, like an impostor as he is, to have good expectations – ”

“He never did anything of the kind,” said Tom. “He always said he hadn’t a rap.”

“Such a person ought never to have been brought near your sweet, pure-minded sisters,” continued her ladyship; “I found out that he was an impostor, and now I hear that he gambles and is in debt.”

“Who told you that?” roared Tom.

“Never mind.”

“But I insist on knowing.”

“Hush, hush, my boy,” said his lordship, twitching Tom’s coat.

“Be quiet, gov’nor. Who told you that, mamma?” cried Tom.

“I heard it from good authority,” said her ladyship as Lord Barmouth beat a retreat.

“Then good authority is a confounded liar,” cried Tom, as her ladyship sailed out of the room, and after he had cooled down a little and looked round, he found his lordship had gone.

Tom went into the cloak-room, where he came upon his father sitting on a box, busily spreading a biscuit with some mysterious condiment which he dug out of a pot with a paper-knife.

“Poor old Charley,” said Tom, not heeding his father’s occupation, “he’s the soul of honour – a regular trump. Look here, gov’nor,” he cried, turning sharply on the old gentleman and making him jump.

“Don’t you bully me too, my dear boy,” said the old man, trembling. “I can’t bear it!”

“I’m not going to bully you, gov’nor,” cried Tom, laying his hands on the old man’s shoulders affectionately; “but are you going to stand up for your rights or are you not? Look here – that tongue!”

“Yes, my boy, I did take it – I own it. I thought I might be hungry to-morrow, I have such a dreadful appetite, my boy.”

“Then why not ring and order that pompous old fizzle Robbins to bring you up something to eat?”

“I daren’t, my dear boy, I daren’t. Her ladyship has given such strict orders to the servants, and I feel so humiliated when they refuse me.”

“Of course you do, gov’nor. Then why don’t you go down to the club?”

“I can’t Tom, my boy. There’s no credit there, and her ladyship keeps me so horribly short of money.”

“It’s too bad; but come, gov’nor. I’m not afraid of mamma, and I’m not nearly so big as you are.”

“But, my boy,” whimpered the old man? with a piteous look upon his face, “I look bigger than I am, but it isn’t all real: there’s a deal of padding, Tom, and that’s no good. That tailor fellow said I must have a lot of filling out.”

He drew out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe away a weak tear, while Tom looked at him, half sorry, half amused, laughing at length outright as the poor old man smeared something brown and sticky across his face.

“Why, gov’nor!” he cried reproachfully, as something round and brown and flat fell upon the carpet.

“It’s only a veal cutlet, my son,” said the old man, piteously, as he stooped and picked it up before wiping his face. “You see I didn’t know then that I should get the piece of tongue.”

“Oh, gov’nor, gov’nor!” cried Tom.

“Don’t scold me, my dear boy,” pleaded the old man. “I am so padded out. There’s much less of me when my coat’s off. But I’m nothing to what your dear mamma is. Really the way she makes up is a gross imposture. If you only knew what I know, Tom, you’d be astonished.”

“I know quite enough,” growled Tom, “and wouldn’t care if she were not so false inside.”

“Don’t say that, Tom, my boy. She’s a wonderful woman, and means all for the best.”

“But, my dear old gov’nor,” said Tom, “this is all so very weak of you.”

“Well, it is, my boy.”

“You must pluck up, or we shall be ruined,” continued Tom, taking up a napkin and removing a little tomato sauce from his parent’s brow.

“No, my boy – no, my boy, don’t say that; but I can’t bear to ask her ladyship for money. It does make her so cross.”

“It isn’t pleasant,” said Tom; “but there, you go up in the drawing-room, and watch over Maude like a lion; I don’t want to see her made miserable.”

“I will, Tom, my boy, I will.”

“And I say, gov’nor, you will stick up?”

“Yes, Tom, my boy, yes,” said the old man. “There, you shall see. Going out?”

“Yes, gov’nor, I want to hunt out Charley Melton. I haven’t see him for an age. He’s always away somewhere.”

“Give my kind regards, Tom. He’s a fine fellow – Damme, I like Charley. But I’m afraid he thinks me very weak.”

“Nonsense, dad,” cried Tom; “but, I say, what’s that in your pocket?”

“Oh, nothing, my son, nothing,” said the old man, in a confused way, as Tom pounced upon his pocket and dragged out something in a handkerchief. “Why bless my soul,” he cried, in a surprised tone of voice, as he raised his glasses to his eyes, “if it isn’t a patty.”

“Yes, gov’nor, and you’ve been sitting on it. Now, I say, old fellow, that is weak. Pah! why it smells of eau-de-Cologne from your handkerchief. You couldn’t eat that.”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t, my dear boy,” said the old gentleman, wrinkling up his forehead.

“Gov’nor, you’re incorrigible,” cried Tom. “Only this morning Joseph told me in confidence that you had borrowed five shillings of him, and I had to give it him back, leaving myself without a shilling. Hang me, if you do such things as this again, if I don’t tell the old lady.”

“No, no, my boy, pray don’t,” said the old gentleman, anxiously, “and I’ll never do so any more.”

“Till the very next time,” said Tom, sharply. “Gov’nor, you’re afraid of the servants, and you are always stealing something.”

“I – I – I am a little afraid of Robbins,” faltered the old man gently; “and that big footman Joseph rather looks at me; but, Tom, my boy, it ought not to be stealing for me to take my own things.”

“Well, I suppose not, gov’nor; but it really is absurd to see you send a chicken bone flying across a drawing-room when you take out your handkerchief and your coat-tails stiff with gravy.”

“It is, my son,” said the old man, hastily; “but about Charley Melton. I like him, Tom.”

“And so do I, father. – He’s my friend, and I’ll stick to him too.”

He said the latter words in the hall, as he put on his hat and took his cane, paused to light a very strong cigar of the kind her ladyship detested to smell in the house, and then, with his hat cocked defiantly on one side, sallied out, looking so small in Great Portland Place that he seemed lost.

As the door closed upon him, Lord Barmouth came out of the lavatory, and met Robbins the butler and a footman coming to clear away the lunch things.

Lord Barmouth looked up and down, and then took the pompous butler by the button.

“Robbins,” he said, “if her ladyship does not object, I shall not wear my second dress suit any more.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said the butler with solemn dignity.

“And, Robbins,” added his lordship, in a hurried whisper, “what did you do with that piece of tongue?”

“Took it down into the kitchen, my lord.”

“Ask Mrs Downes to give it back to you, Robbins – for me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Wrap it up in paper, Robbins.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And by the way, Robbins,” continued the old gentleman, after a sharp look round, like a sparrow in fear of cats, “could you oblige me with five pounds?”

“Well really, my lord – you see you owe me – ”

“Sixty-five, Robbins.”

“And interest, my lord.”

“Of course, Robbins, of course; and you shall have it all back; but you see, Robbins, it is not always easy to lay one’s hands on a few pounds to give to my son. You know it is quite safe.”

“Oh, of course, my lord.”

“I don’t like to be so situated that I cannot oblige him with a sovereign now and then.”

“Of course not, my lord. Will your lordship be good enough to write me an I.O.U.?”

“Certainly, Robbins, certainly. There – there – that’s it. I.O.U. five pounds – Barmouth. Thank you, Robbins; you are a most valuable servant.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I’ve put you down for something handsome in my will, Robbins, so that if I should die some day, as I probably shall, you’ll burn these I.O.U.s, Robbins, and pay yourself out of what I’ve left.”

“Certainly, my lord; but suppose – ”

“The will is disputed? Oh no, Robbins, I can do what I like with my money then, and I shall not be ungrateful.”

The old man took the five pounds and went off, chuckling with delight at being able to supply Tom with a little hard cash next time that gentleman was short, which would be next day; while the butler said something to himself which sounded like —

“Poor old magpie. Well, he ain’t a bad sort, and that’s more than you can say of the dragon.”