CHAPTER LIII — A COMEDY OF ERRORS
“Content you, gentlemen,
I'll compound this strife.... He of both
That can assure my nieces greatest dower,
Shall have her love.”
“I must confess your offer is the best,
And let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own.”
—Taming of the Shrew.
POOR pretty little Lucy Markham! what business had tears to come and profane, with their tell-tale traces, that bright, merry face of thine—fitting index to thy warm heart and sunny disposition! And yet, in the quenched light of that dark eye, in the heavy swollen lid, and in the paled roses of thy dimpled cheek, might be read the tokens of a concealed grief, that, like “a worm i' the bud,” had already begun to mar thy sparkling beauty. Heed it not, pretty Lucy—sorrow such as thine is light and transient, and succour, albeit in a disguise thou canst not penetrate, is even now at hand. As the young lady in question entered the luncheon-room, returning Lawless's salutation with a most becoming blush, the thought crossed my mind, that in his position I should be almost tempted to regret I was destined to perform the lover's part “on that occasion only”. Such, however, were not the ideas of my companion, for he whispered to me, “I say, Frank, she looks uncommon friendly, eh?—I don't know what to make of it, I can tell you; this is getting serious”.
“You must endeavour by your manner to neutralise your many fascinations,” replied I, striving to hide a smile, for he was evidently in earnest.
“Neutralise my grandmother!” was the rejoinder; “I can't go and be rude to the young woman. How d'ye do, miss?” he continued gruffly; “how d'ye do? you see, we left Fred—” (here I nudged him, to warn him to avoid that subject)—“that is, we left Heathfield,—I mean started early—Let me help you, Mrs. Coleman;—precious tough customer that chicken seems to be—elderly bird, ma'am, and no mistake—who'll have a wing?”
“Really, Mr. Lawless, you are very rude to my poor chicken; it's out of our own farm-yard, I assure you; and the turkey-cock, his sister, that's Lucy's mother, sent him here; she has thirteen children you know, poor thing, and lives at Dorking; they are famous for all having five toes, you know, and growing so very large, and this must be one of them, I think.”
“They were Dorking fowls mamma sent you, aunt; you don't keep turkeys,” interposed Lucy, as Lawless fairly burst out laughing—an example which it was all I could do to avoid imitating.
“Yes, to be sure, my dear, I said so, didn't I? I remember very well they came in a three-dozen hamper, poor things, and were put in the back kitchen because it was too late to turn them out; and as soon as it was light they began to crow, and to make that noise about laying eggs, you know, so that I never got a wink of sleep after, thinking of your poor mother, and all her troubles—thirteen of them, dear me! till Mr. Coleman got up and turned them out, with a bad cold, in his dressing-gown and slippers.”
“Freddy begged me to tell you that he would write to you tomorrow,” observed I, aside to Lucy; adding the enigmatical message, that “he had some good news to communicate, and that matters were not so bad as you imagined.”
“Ah! but it doesn't—he can't know—Mr. Fairlegh,” she added, looking at me with an earnest, inquiring glance; “you are his most intimate friend; has he told you the cause of his annoyance?”
“Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Fairlegh, on the very excellent match your sister is about to make—the Oaklands family is one of the oldest in the county,” said Mr. Coleman with an air of solemn politeness.
“Oh! yes, we are all so glad to hear of it, your sister is so pretty, and we had been told there was some young scamp or other dangling after her.”
“Um! eh? oh! that's rather too much, though,” said Lawless, turning very red, and fidgeting on his chair; “pray may I ask, Mrs. Coleman, whether it was a man you happened to hear that from? because he must be—ar—funny—fellow—ar—worth knowing—ar—I should like to make his acquaintance.”
“Why, really!—let me see—was it Jones the grocer, or Mrs. Muddles when she brought home the clean linen? I think it was Jones, but I know it came with the clean clothes, and they had heard it from some of the servants,” returned Mrs. Coleman.
“I'll boil Shrimp alive when I get back,” muttered Lawless, “and have him sent up in the fish-sauce.”
“Yes,” replied I to Lucy, as soon as the conversation again became general, “Freddy gave me an outline of the cause of his disquietude; but from a hint Lawless dropped in our way here to-day, Mr. Lowe Brown is likely to have a somewhat powerful rival, is he not?”
“Oh! then you know all, Mr. Fairlegh,” she replied; “what am I to do? I am so unhappy—so bewildered!”
“If you will allow me to advise you,” returned I, “you will not positively refuse Lawless; on the contrary, I should encourage him so far as to ensure the dismissal of Mr. Brown, at all events.”
“But would that be light? besides, I should be forced to marry Mr. Lawless, it I once said Yes.”
“I should not exactly say Yes,” replied I, smiling at the naïve simplicity of her answer; “I would tell my uncle that, as he was aware, I had always disliked the attentions of Mr. Brown, and that I begged he might be definitely informed that it would be useless for him to attempt to prosecute his suit any farther. I would then add, that it was impossible for me to agree to accept at once a man of whom I knew so little as of Lawless, but that I had no objection to his visiting here, with a view to becoming better acquainted with him. By this means you will secure the positive advantage of getting rid of the drysalter, as Freddy calls him, and you must leave the rest to time. Lawless is a good-natured, generous-spirited fellow, and if he were made aware of the true state of the case, I do not think he would wish to interfere with Freddy's happiness, or annoy you by addresses which he must feel were unacceptable to you.”
“But what will Freddy say if I appear to encourage Mr. Lawless? you don't know how particular he is.”
“If you will permit me, I will tell him exactly what has passed between us to-day, and explain to him your reasons for what you are about to do.”
“Will you really be so kind?” she answered, with a grateful smile; “then I shall do exactly as you have told me. How shall I ever thank you for your kindness?”
“By making my friend Freddy a good wife, and being married on the same day that I am.”
“That you are! are you joking?”
“Never was more serious in my life, I can assure you.”
“Are you really going to be married? Oh! I am so glad! Is the lady a nice person? do I know her?”
“The most charming person in the world,” replied I, “and you know her intimately.”
“Why, you can't mean Cla——”
“Hush!” exclaimed I, as a sudden silence rendered our conversation no longer private.
“Lucy, my dear, may I request your company for a few minutes in my study?” said Mr. Coleman, holding the door open with an air of dignified courtesy for his niece to pass out. She had acquired double importance in his eyes, since the eldest son of a real live peer of the realm had declared himself her suitor.
“Allow me, governor—ar—Mr. Coleman, I mean,” said Lawless, springing forward, “it's for us young fellows to hold doors open, you know—not old reprobates like you,” he added in an undertone, making a grimace for my especial benefit at the retreating figure of the aforesaid irreverently apostrophised legal luminary.
“Ah!” said Mrs. Coleman, by whom this by-play had been unobserved, “I wish all young men were like you, Mr. Lawless: we see very little respect to grey hairs nowadays.”
“Very little indeed, ma'am,” returned Lawless, winking furiously at me; “but from a boy I've always been that way inclined: I dare say that you observed that I addressed Mr. Coleman as 'Governor' just now?”
“Oh yes, I think I did,” replied Mrs. Coleman innocently.
“Well, ma'am, that's a habit I've fallen into from unconsciously giving utterance to my feelings of veneration. To govern, is a venerable attribute—governor signifies one who governs—hence my inadvertent application of the term to your revered husband, eh?”
“Ah!” returned poor Mrs. Coleman, thoroughly mystified, “it's very kind of you to say so, I'm sure. I wonder whether I left my knitting upstairs, or whether it went down in the luncheon-tray.”
In order to solve this important problem, the good lady trotted off, leaving Lawless and myself tête-à-tête.
“I say, Frank,” he began, as the door closed after her, “did you put the young woman up to trap at all? I saw you were 'discoursing' her, as Paddy says, while we were at luncheon, eh?”
“No,” replied I, “it was agreed that she was not to be let into the scheme, you know.”
“By Jove! then all those kind looks she threw at me were really in earnest! I tell you what, I don't half like it, I can assure you, sir! I shall put my foot in it here too, if I don't mind what I'm at. Suppose, instead of marrying Freddy, she were to take it into her head she would like to be a peeress some day, what would become of me, eh?”
At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, his face beaming with dignity and self-satisfaction. Approaching Lawless, he motioned him to a chair, and then, seating himself exactly opposite, gave one or two deep hems to clear his throat, and then began:—
“I am empowered by my niece, standing as I may say in loco parentis—(for though her parents are not positively defunct, still they have so completely delegated to me all control and authority over their daughter, that they may morally be considered dead)—I am empowered, then, by my niece to inform you, in answer to your very flattering proposal of marriage, that although she has not had sufficient opportunity of becoming acquainted with your character and general disposition, to justify her in at once ratifying the contract, she agrees to sanction your visits here in the character of her suitor.” (Lawless's face on receiving this announcement was as good as a play to behold.) “In fact, my dear sir,” continued Mr. Coleman, warming with the subject, “as my niece at the same time has signified to me her express desire that I should definitely and finally reject the suit of a highly amiable young man of fortune, who has for some time past paid his addresses to her, I think that we may consider ourselves fully justified in attributing the slightly equivocal nature of her answer to a pardonable girlish modesty and coyness, and that I shall not be premature in offering you my hearty congratulations on the successful issue of your suit—a-hem I—” And so saying, Mr. Coleman rose from his seat, and taking Lawless's unwilling hand in his own, shook it with the greatest empressement.
“Thank ye, gov—that is, Mr. Coleman—uncle, I suppose I shall soon have to call you,” said Lawless, with a wretched attempt at hilarity; “it's very flattering, you know, and of course I feel excessively, eh 1 uncommon, don't you see?—Get me away, can't you?” he added in an angry whisper, turning to me, “I shall go mad, or be ill, or something in a minute.”
“I think the tandem has been here some time,” interposed I, coming to his assistance; “the horses will get chilled standing.”
“Eh! yes! very true, we must be cutting away; make ourselves scarce, don't you see?” rejoined Lawless, brightening up at the prospect of escape.
“Let me ring for the ladies,” said Mr. Coleman, moving towards the bell.
“Eh! not for the world, my dear sir, not for the world,” exclaimed Lawless, interposing to prevent him—“Really, my feelings—your feelings, in fact, all our feelings, have been sufficiently excited—steam got up—high pressure, eh?—some other day—pleasure. Good-morning. Don't come out, pray.”
And so saying, he fairly bolted out of the room, an example which I was about to follow, when Mr. Coleman, seizing me by the button began:—
“I can see, Mr. Fairlegh, that Mr. Lawless is naturally uneasy and annoyed at Mr. Brown's attentions: but he need not be—pray assure him of this—Mr. Brown is a highly estimable young man, but his family are very much beneath ours in point of rank. I shall write to him this afternoon, and inform him that, on mature deliberation, I find it impossible to allow my niece to contract a matrimonial alliance with any one in trade—that will set the matter definitely at rest. Perhaps you will kindly mention this to your friend?”
“I shall be most happy to do so,” replied I, “nor have I the slightest doubt that my friend will consider the information perfectly satisfactory.” And with many assurances of mutual consideration and esteem we parted.
Oh! the masks and dominoes of the mind! what mountebank ever wore so many disguises as the heart of man? If some potent spirit of evil had suddenly converted Elm Lodge into the palace of Truth, the light of its master's countenance would have grown dark as he read the thoughts that were passing in my breast; and instead of bestowing upon me the attentions due to the chosen friend of the wealthy suitor to his portionless niece, he would have done his best to kick me down the steps as an impostor plotting to marry his son to a beggar. When will men learn to value money at its real worth, and find out that warm loving hearts and true affections are priceless gems that wealth cannot purchase!
We drove for some time in silence, which was at length broken by Lawless, who in a tone of the deepest dejection began:—
“The first tolerably deep gravel pit we come to, I must trouble you to get out, if you please”.
“Get out at a gravel pit! for goodness' sake, why?” inquired I.
“Because I intend to back the tandem into it, and break my neck,” was the unexpected answer.
“Break your neck! nonsense, man. Why, what's the matter now? Hasn't your mad scheme succeeded beyond all expectation?”
“Ah! you may well say that!” was the rejoinder. “Beyond all expectation, indeed! yes, I should think so, rather. If I'd expected anything of the kind, it's thirty miles off I'd have been at the very least by this time—more, if the horses would have done it, which I think they would with steady driving, good luck, and a feed of beans.”
“Why, what is it you fancy you've done, then?”
“Fancy I've done, eh? Well, if that isn't enough to make a fellow punch his own father's head with vexation. What have I done, indeed! why I'll tell you what I've done, Mr. Frank Fairlegh, since you are so obtuse as not to have found it out by your own powers of observation. I've won the heart of an innocent and unsuspecting young female,—I've destroyed the dearest hopes of my particular friend,—and I've saddled myself with a superfluous wife, when my affections are reposing in the cold—ar—what do you call it, tomb, eh? of the future Lady Oaklands—If that isn't a pretty fair morning's work, it's a pity, eh?”
“My dear Lawless,” replied I, with difficulty repressing a laugh, “you don't really suppose Lucy Markham means to accept you?”
“Eh! why not? Of course I do, didn't Governor Coleman tell me so? an old reptile!”
“Set your mind at ease,” replied I; and I then detailed to him my conversation with Lucy Markham, and convinced him that her partial acceptance of his proposal, which had been made the most of by Mr. Coleman, was merely done at my suggestion, to ensure the dismissal of Mr. Lowe Brown. As I concluded, he broke forth:—
“Ah! I see, sold again! It's an easy thing to make a fool of me where women are concerned; they're a kind of cattle I never shall understand, if I were to live as long as Saint Methuselah, and take Old Parr's life pills twice a day into the bargain. Anything about a horse, now—”
“Then you'll postpone the gravel-pit performance ad infinitum?” interrupted I.
“Eh? yes! it would be a pity to go and sacrifice the new tandem, if it is not absolutely necessary to one's peace of mind, so I shall think better of it this time,” was the rejoinder.
“By the way,” resumed Lawless, as we drove through Heathfield Park, “I must not forget that I've got to immolate Shrimp on the altar of my aspersed reputation—call his master a 'scamp,' the amphibious little reprobate? a brat that's neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, nor good red-herring—that spent his pitiful existence in making mud pies in a gutter, till I was kind enough to—”
“Run over him, and break his arm,” added I.
“Exactly,” continued Lawless, “and a famous thing it was for him too. Just see the advantages to which it has led; look at the education I have given him; he can ride to hounds better than many grooms twice his age, and bring you a second horse, in a long run, just at the nick of time when you want it, as fresh, with that featherweight on its back, as if it had only just come out of the stable; he can drive any animal that don't pull too strong for him, as well as I can myself; he can brew milk-punch better than a College Don, and drink it like an undergraduate; he can use his fists as handily as—Ben Caunt, or the Master of T——y, and polish off a boy a head taller than himself in ten minutes, so that his nearest relations would not recognise him; and he won five pounds last year in a Derby sweepstakes, besides taking the long odds with a pork-butcher, and walking into the piggycide to the tune of thirty shillings. No,” continued Lawless, who had quite worked himself into a state of excitement, “whatever follies I may have been guilty of, nobody can accuse me of having neglected my duty in regard to that brat's education; and now, after all my solicitude, the young viper goes and spreads reports that a 'scamp,' meaning me, is about to marry your sister! I'll flay him alive, and put him in salt afterwards!”
“But, my dear Lawless, out of the host of servants at Heathfield, how do you know it was Shrimp who did it?”
“Oh, there's no mischief going on that he's not at the bottom of; besides, a boy is never the worse for a flogging, for if he has not done anything wrong beforehand, he's sure to make up for it afterwards; so it comes right in the end, you see.”
Thus saying, he roused the leader by a scientific application of the thong, dashed round the gravel-sweep, and brought his horses up to the hall-door in a neat and artistlike manner.