The Semi-detached House/Chapter 4
CHAPTER IV.
It was on this same day that the mournful event took place of the annual dinner given by Mr. Willis to his mother and sisters-in-law. Janet and Rose sighed and groaned about it considerably before it took place, because they justly observed, that as nothing gave Charles any pleasure, and as it gave them none to see his melancholy face twice in the day instead of once, it was hard to have the trouble of dressing and to lose their comfortable evening at home. "Poor Mary has been dead now for three years, I really think he might ask one or two people to meet us; it is so absurd we four sitting in that gloomy dining-room, with nothing to say to each other. I feel always as if I should lose the use of my limbs before the first course is over, and I get the cramp in my feet, and a very peculiar headache. 'Charles's own headache' I believe it is called in the medical books."
"Yes," said Rose, "and then Mamma always says, 'I wish you would not look so glum when we dine at Columbia Lodge, a little cheerful society is so good for poor Charles.' Now what connection there is between Charles and cheerfulness, except that they both begin with Ch, I do not know."
"Well, we must do our best to-day, I have a great mind to tell him of all those young men landing at Pleasance, and that lovely lilac gown of Lady Chester's, and the old lady in grey, and the grand carriage with the Duke's coronet that came afterwards; but somehow when I have collected a few little topics of a light kind, Charles looks so like a mute at a funeral, that I cannot bring them out. However, one comfort is, that our old grey gowns will do, and we want to wear them out."
But when they arrived at Columbia, the grey gowns proved to have been below the requirements of the day. A very showy coach drove up to the door, from which issued an equally showy lady, in a very bright pink gown, and two important looking gentlemen, father and son, all three with such very high noses, and such jet black hair, and so obviously of Jewish descent, that it seemed impossible that they should not be announced as Baron and Baroness Sampson and Baron Moses Sampson. Consequently they were; and to the surprise of the girls, and much to their satisfaction, Mr. Greydon the curate immediately followed.
"Too much for me," whispered Willis to Mrs. Hopkinson with an agonized look, "but the Sampsons invited themselves, and as you know my respect for the church, I asked Greydon; for, in fact, I wanted an eighth to make up my party."
It was altogether quite a lively affair. Baroness Sampson was full of facetious little affectations, absolutely affable to the Hopkinsons, and she did the honours of Willis' gravity with much pleasantry, and infinite want of tact, once arriving at calling him "you funny man," which threw Rose into an irrepressible fit of the giggles.
It was obvious that Willis and Baron Sampson were leagued in some important speculation, which had brought about a degree of intimacy that might have been friendship, if either of them had been susceptible of that sentiment, and they would have liked to talk shares, and capital, and investments, if they had met with any encouragement. But Baron Moses was by way of being a fast young man about town, and bent on astonishing the Hopkinsons by anecdotes of the clubs, and the opera, and Prince Albert; and the sémillante Baroness shook her black ringlets, and also her ear-rings, and chains, and bracelets to that extent, that they formed quite a musical accompaniment to her assertion that business was not to be attended to. She came for fresh air and fresh conversation.
"Do tell me something about Dulham, Mrs. Hopkinson; I want the Baron to take a villa. I adore flowers and green lawns; London kills me. It is such a stuffy, sad place, and so wicked!" This last moral observation was addressed to Mr. Greydon in compliment to his clerical functions.
"Should I like Dulham, Willis? Is there anybody here one knows?"
"T should think not. But I am a sad recluse, I know nobody!"
"Ah, now, I won't have you talk in that way! If I have a villa here, I shall insist on your knowing everybody. Is there any house that would suit us? I must have it on the banks of the river. That dear river—I really worship your Thames!"
"Pleasance might have suited you, but Lord Chester has just taken it," said Mrs. Hopkinson.
"Lord Chester! Dear me! the man with the pretty wife you mean, They are both quite the rage in our set."
"Do you know them, Baroness?"
"Well, no, not exactly; but still, living in the same set, and seeing them so constantly with my friend, Baroness Rothschild, I somehow feel as if I did." The Sampsons had been asked once to a large party at Gunnersbury. "And so they live here?"
"She does, poor young thing! Ah, it's a sad story!"
"She does not seem very sad," said Mr. Greydon, quietly.
"Why, do you know them, Mr. Greydon?" asked Janet, with some surprise.
"I had a note from Lady Chester this morning, asking me to call upon her. Her sister wished to know if she could be of any use in the school or village, and Lady Chester is anxious to do all she can, in her invalid state, for our little charities,"
"Does Lady Chester look very ill?"
"Very delicate, I should say; but she seems to have high spirits. I enjoyed my visit, the two sisters were so unaffected and amiable, and extremely pretty."
Janet coloured. All the young ladies of Dulham, and many of the old ones, were more or less in love with Mr. Greydon, Janet rather more than less. None of them had well grounded hopes of any return to their attachment. Mr. Greydon was an excellent young curate, a thorough gentleman, and lived on very good terms with his parishioners; but any idea of marrying on £300 a year, (the amount of his income), had never crossed his mind, and it was impossible for any one of his victims to boast of a word or a look of preference. Still Janet, in moments of extreme confidence, used to impart to Rose that if anybody gave Mr. Greydon a good living, or say, a bishopric, (he would make such a bishop!) or if a large fortune were suddenly left him, she somehow felt sure that he would marry, and that it would appear he had distinguished her all the time.
Though Rose was, of course, very much attached to him herself, yet, as she could conceive the possibility of being happy with somebody else, and as Janet was the eldest, and ought to have the first choice, Rose gave in to these flattering hopes, and always read what the papers said of the illness of a bishop, or the death of a dean with great interest on Janet's account.
Admiration of Lady Chester, Janet could have borne, but she did not quite approve of his thinking both sisters so pretty.
"There was such a grand carriage down our lane to-day, Willis; Charlie clapped his hands and was quite in glee, poor little man! four horses, and postillions, and outriders, quite a pretty sight, and such a grand looking lady in it."
"The Duchess of St. Maur," said Mr. Greydon, "she came in while I was there."
"Dear me, one of the Queen's Ladies. She went out of waiting last week, didn't she, girls?"
Mrs. Hopkinson always read the Court Circular and the Police Reports. The rest of the paper was beyond her powers.
"Ah, the Duchess of St. Maur. Quite one of your tip-tops," said the Baroness, "the sort of fine lady I carefully avoid, I suppose you were glad to get away, Mr. Greydon." She rather grudged to a curate the chance of becoming acquainted with a Duchess.
"I was going away just as she arrived, but Lady Chester made me stay. The Duchess takes a great interest in our Convalescent Hospital; and I was not sorry to have an opportunity of interesting one of the Ladies Committee in our improvements."
"And did she talk of the Queen and the Princess Royal," asked Mrs. Hopkinson, who lived in a state of enthusiastic and loyal curiosity about the Court.
"No," he said, with a smile; "we did not soar beyond Susan Hopkins' asthma, and Keziah Brown's rheumatism. The Duchess seemed well acquainted with all the old ladies."
"Well, I suppose the aristocracy are not so bad as we are told," said Mrs. Hopkinson beaming with benevolence, "they seem to do a kind thing now and then."
"Now and then you may well say," murmured Willis. "What can they know of suffering? ah! let them once feel what real grief is, and there would be an end of their balls and réunions and postillions and outriders," he added, after an emphatic pause.
"But, I suppose," suggested Mrs. Hopkinson, doubtingly, "they do lose their friends and children like other people, and perhaps care about them."
Willis shook his head, and Mrs. Hopkinson again reverted to her favourite topic. "And did you hear nothing at all about the Queen, Mr. Greydon?"
"Nothing. Oh, yes! there was some arrangement made about a concert at the Palace. The Duchess was to take Miss Grenville, as Lady Chester was not going."
"Ah! not asked, so like our good Queen. She would not invite anybody in Lady Chester's position, and yet is kind to her sister. There never was such a sovereign. Are you going to this concert, Baroness?"
"No, it seems odd, but we are not asked this time," said the Baroness with an air of modest pride. "I suspect we are out of favour at Court, but a Drawing-Room is my aversion, and I have been sadly remiss this year; absolutely neglected the birthday, which was very naughty of me, and so I am left out of this party."
As that had been invariably her fate with regard to all parties at the Palace, the resignation she evinced had probably become a matter of habit; but she hinted an intention of bringing the Queen to her senses, by staying away from the next Drawing-Room too. She, however, enlivened the evening to the Hopkinsons, by accounts of various splendid festivities at which she said she had assisted; and when the party dispersed, leaving Willis leaning against the chimney-piece with his head in his hands, the Hopkinsons walked home declaring the Baroness was very entertaining, and that the dinner had been really pleasant.
"And I am rather glad we wore our grey gowns," said Rose. "Do you know that when Janet was sitting by the Baroness, I thought she looked much the nicest of the two, more like a lady without all those flowers and trinkets."
"I wonder Mr. Greydon did not offer to see us safe home," said Janet. "I suppose that Miss Grenville is very pretty."