The Semi-detached House/Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
The great event of the christening of Albert Victor took place the day before that fixed for Baroness Sampson's fête, and a large party was assembled at Pleasance. It had been very trying to Blanche to keep the secret of the living at Chesford so long from Mr. Greydon; but then, as she observed to Aunt Sarah, the course of his true love seemed to run all the more rapidly, because it was so far from being smooth. "I should like him to propose on his three hundred a-year, Aunt Sarah, it would be so romantic and touching."
"And so extraordinarily silly, my dear; that if he did, I should not think him fit to hold the living. Are you anxious he should have it, Blanche, because he is a good clergyman, or because you think he is attached to Janet?"
"A little of both, Aunt Sarah; but please do not say because I think he is attached. There can be no doubt of the fact. Don't you see yourself that he is desperately in love?"
"My love, it is more than half a century ago since I had any experience in love making, and all its little signs and follies are not so visible through my spectacles as they are to your young eyes; but I daresay you are right and I hope you are, for Janet is a pleasing good young woman, and will make an excellent wife for a clergyman."
"Oh yes, she will be so useful at Chesford, and such a nice neighbour for me; and then if Rose marries Mr. Harcourt—"
"What! another love story? My dear Blanche, I hope you are not going to turn into a match-maker; of all the dangerous manufactories in the world, that is the worst, and the most unsatisfactory."
"Yes, if I sat down deliberately and said, there is the Reverend Horace Greydon, a friend of Arthur's, an excellent young man, and there is Janet Hopkinson who would exactly suit him, I will try and make up a match between them; that would be wrong, and perhaps a year hence they would hate the sight of me for having thought of it. But when I see that they are mutually attached and longing to be married, then I step in like a benificent fairy, and give them the means of meeting, and the means of living, and my manufactory, Aunt Sarah, only turns out the best finished articles of happiness. I do like to help young people in their love affairs," said Blanche in a reflective staid tone, implying that her long life of eighteen years, and her twelvemonths of marriage had given her the experience and benevolence appropriate to a prosperous old age.
"But to return to Rose and Mr. Harcourt," said Aunt Sarah, smiling.
"I do not take quite such a lively interest in their affairs, there are no difficulties to overcome; and though Mr. Harcourt is a good-natured gentleman-like young man, he is not to be compared to Mr. Greydon, and, moreover, he seems to me to sing out of tune. Rose will pass a life of accompaniments; and she must be very much in love, to change the time and the key of 'Ah, si ben mio,' as she did last night, and yet to thank Mr. Harcourt for the signal failure he made of it at last."
"And what is to become of your friend Mrs. Hopkinson when you have married off both her daughters, and her husband is again gone to sea?"
"Ah, poor old dear! I have been fretting about her very much, and with all my imagination, Aunt Sarah, I have not yet imagined a fate that satisfies me for my darling old Hop. I should like her to be near baby, she understands him so thoroughly; and if she would take care of him, I could take care of her. It is a pity that Chesterton is not semi-detached, that she had part of it. A semi-detached castle would be a novelty."
"Blanche, do you remember the fat mother with black mittens, and the daughters with the pianoforte, and the startling boy, and the horrors of a semi-detached house?"
"Perfectly, Aunt Sarah, and you see I was right as to the facts, except that Charlie does not throw stones, but wrong as to the conclusions I drew from them. However, I could not foresee that I should be housed with such excellent people. What a number of small kindnesses those Hopkinsons have shewn me."
"My dear child!" said Lady Sarah kissing her, "you are likely to meet with many kindnesses, small and great in your journey through life, if you keep up that warm interest in the happiness of others which you feel now. Like will to like, and so my Blanche will find warm friends wherever she goes: and now go and dress for your christening, I hope you have no more matches to make."
"Not at this moment; but it strikes me, Aunt Sarah, that if the Duchess should have another little girl in a year or two, baby will certainly fall in love with her twenty years hence—that will be very interesting."
In the meantime, baby was christened, and immediately after their return home, Blanche drew Mr. Greydon aside, and said to him with tears in her eyes, "You have to-day been the instrument of conferring on my darling boy, the greatest gift God has given to man, pray for him that he may be a Christian indeed—such a Christian as you, Mr. Greydon, are in heart and life. At this moment all earthly gifts seem to me but trifles, but I have one to offer to you."
"Oh, Lady Chester, do not speak of a gift to me. Do you suppose that the ceremony which has been performed to-day, has not been most deeply interesting to me, that it was not a boon to myself to be allowed to bear my part in it? I assure you, I care much for the child of my earliest friend."
"I know you do, Mr. Greydon," said Blanche, holding out her hand to him, "and I was expressing myself foolishly. In fact, it is another boon I am going to ask you to bestow on us; I want you to come and look after us all at Chesford. That living is now vacant, and Lord Chesterton has commissioned me to offer it to you."
"To me!" said Mr. Greydon, "oh, Lady Chester this is your doing. Chesford—where I shall be near you and Arthur, I cannot thank you, and at this moment too, you do not know—"
"Yes, I do," she said smiling, "at least I think I do, thanks to my own observation, not to any confidence that has been placed in me."
"What was there to confide?" he said eagerly, "but the utter hopelessness of an attachment which strengthened every hour, in proportion to that hopelessness. I had no prospect of preferment, no possibility of offering to her a home that was worthy of her; but now—oh, Lady Chester, I cannot tell you how happy you have made me."
"And let us hope it will make her happy too. You have not named her, but I always guess right, and I assure you that the idea of having her for my neighbour, makes me doubly happy; and now go and say your say to Lord Chesterton. He has been so kind."
Janet could not help observing Mr. Greydon's look of happiness, during his short colloquy with Lord Chesterton, nor the eagerness with which he afterwards advanced to hand her into luncheon. But she had changed in due proportion to the change in him. The time was gone by when she could talk to Rose of her girlish fancy, of her hopes that were more foolish than her fancy, and her certainties that were more visionary than her hopes. From the time that Mr. Greydon really felt for her the preference which she had imagined when it did not exist, the distrust that always accompanies a true love had seized her. She never mentioned his name to her sister, she shunned rather than sought his attentions; and the more marked they became, the less did she believe they could be intended for her; and yet she had never been so happy. Home was more prized by her than ever; her father and mother had, she thought, never been so dear or so kind, and as for Rose, she could not pet her enough. She almost grew fond of Willis, and once suggested that the vulgarity and overbearingness of the Baroness were not quite so great as they had all supposed; but this spark of that general benevolence, which arises from particular happiness, was instantly extinguished by the rest of the family, who still looked on life through its ordinary medium.
Janet sat down to luncheon in a doubtful state of happiness. She saw that something had occurred that excited Mr. Greydon, and gradually went on thinking the worst, till from the frightful supposition that he thought her bonnet unbecoming, she arrived, by various gradations of misfortune, at thinking that he might have announced to Lady Chester his engagement to Miss Simpson, a remarkably plain, not young woman, who taught in the Sunday school, and was supposed to be an heiress. She was roused from this reverie, by Lord Chester's rising and saying that he must propose one health in addition to that of the baby hero of the day, that of the new Rector of Chesford, the Rev. Horace Greydon,"—which announcement was hailed with the most marked approbation by the assembled company.
"Well, old fellow," said Arthur, "I give you joy with all my heart, and I give myself joy too; it will be rare fun having you for a neighbour. I daresay my father never told you that the Rectory is one of the prettiest houses in the neighbourhood."
"I am sure, Mr. Greydon," said Mrs. Hopkinson, "I never was so pleased in my life, what a thing it will be for Chesford to have such a clergyman. It makes me happy to think of it; but what upon earth is to become of us without you, I have not an idea; we shall all turn heathens," and overcome by these adverse ideas, Mrs. Hopkinson fairly burst out crying.
"Pray accept my congratulations," said Sir William de Vesci, drawing Mr. Greydon aside. "It will give Lady Eleanor and myself great pleasure to continue the acquaintance so happily begun here. I believe the living is a remarkably good one; but I am afraid you will find coals rather dear, I know Lord Chesterton was giving 28s the ton, when we were giving only 26s, and butcher's meat was dearer the last time I was there, than it was with us, but that might have been accidental. In all other respects it is a delightful residence."
Janet had said nothing, she gave a start when Lord Chesterton announced Mr. Greydon's preferment, and turned pale as she thought "he is going away." She did not know that his thought was, "will she go with me?" But the next moment she found that her hand was taken and pressed between his, and though she pretended to believe that she had held it out to him in an attempt to wish him joy—a pleasing persuasion stole over her that her bonnet was not unbecoming, that Miss Simpson was at least five and thirty, and heiress as she was, that Mr. Greydon did not care about her. "At all events," she thought, "he shews that he looks upon me as a friend, or he would not have shaken hands in that way." And she rose from luncheon in a flutter of happiness and shyness.
"And so you are really all going to-morrow to the Marble Hall fête?" said Blanche, as her guests began to disperse. "That Baroness has conquered at last; I can imagine it must be difficult to withstand that very imperious lady."
"Well," said Mrs. Hopkinson, "I am sure it is the last thing I wish, but John fancies it will be amusing! and then that Miss Monteneros, whom my girls will like so much, pressed them to come just to one of their fêtes, and she is so fond of little Charlie, that somehow I can't refuse her—though I did not quite know what she meant by saying it would be 'a tedious brief scene, and very tragical mirth, hot ice and wonderous strange snow.' But Rose says she was only quoting Shakespeare, and, of couse, what Shakespeare says must be right, and besides, I should like to taste hot ice."
"Are you really going to these Simpsons or Sampsons?" said Harcourt to Rose. "I think it would be good fun to go too, suppose we all go! Arthur, will you come?"
"Oh, no, no," said Blanche, "it is quite impossible! besides, Arthur is not asked happily."
"Oh, that is of no consequence," said Harcourt, "of course, the Sampsons will take our going as a compliment, I don't suppose an invitation is necessary; they are just the sort of people to call us 'swells,' and to think it 'stylish' of us to come uninvited."
"The Baroness gave me some cards for gentlemen," said Mrs. Hopkinson, "I believe she meant one of them for Lord Chester."
"Very likely," said Blanche, "but Mr. Harcourt can have it, Arthur is particularly engaged."
"I should like to go, Blanche."
"Oh no, dearest, you would not; you will be thinking next that you would like to take me. You should check these wild fancies, Arthur! I am never imaginative myself, am I, Aunt Sarah? Certainly not to the extent of supposing I should like to make acquaintance with Baroness Sampson; but seriously, if you go to her parties, we must ask her to ours, you would not like that?"
"No, decidedly not; I give it up, and Harcourt is 'swell' enough for two."
"Well then, Mrs. Hopkinson, recollect that I go to-morrow under your auspices. I shall have the pleasure of meeting you," Harcourt added in a low voice to Rose, "so it cannot be very tragical mirth to me."