Edward was in such a good humour, that when we went to bed, I thought it a capital time to tell him about the picture, and got him to promise that he would not go on about it before mamma; for though he might not care about our noble ancestors, still, as mamma’s family was her weak point, it was very natural that she should cling to the R—msb—tt—ms as fondly as she did. Besides, I told him that he had a nasty way of his own of saying what he thought—and that if he didn’t take care, he’d find he’d get into nice trouble through it some of these fine days; and I was sure that if I went speaking my mind upon every occasion, my conscience would not allow me to rest quiet in my bed.
Mary went on pretty well for a day or two, when we noticed that the creature began to get rather confused in her intellects, and to be quite beside herself, so that she scarcely seemed to know what she was about, and kept breaking everything she put her hands upon. I, in my innocence, began to fear that another fit was coming on, and I should be having the minx laid up insensible on my “At-home” day—and a nice pickle I should be in then, goodness knows. So, with my usual good nature, I asked her if she would take anything, and whether she thought a little brandy would put her straight. On which the hussy really began to see through my mistake, and to understand that I was treating her for fits instead of drunkenness; and said that she was sure I was very good, and that she would try a glass—which the minx had, and pretended that it quite took her breath away to drink it (the deceitful cat!)—and she actually had the face to come to me and beg another one that evening, saying that the first one had done her a world of good. So that there was I, really and truly encouraging the horrid wretch in the worst of vices; and, as I heard afterwards, she went about the neighbourhood, saying that it was no fault of hers, and that I took a delight in making her tipsy; and the worst of it all was, that it was on that very evening the picture came home.
Dear mamma had stepped round to tell us, that now he was fresh varnished, the dear man looked so heavenly in his new gilt frame, that she felt as if she could hug him. She was in tremendous spirits about it, and told Edward that it was an ornament that she knew she did wrong in not presenting to the British Museum, for that a descendant of the very same family had been Mayor of Norwich three times running. But Edward behaved himself like a perfect gentleman, and only said “he should hardly believe it.” A little after eight, the young man from the H—mpst—d R—d came round with the picture and the bill himself, which dear Edward (who, I regret to say, is naturally mean, being penny wise and pound foolish) said he didn’t consider quite so cheap as my mother had made out. However, when he saw the picture, he seemed to think nothing more of it, and told the young man to go and get some green cord, so that he might have our ancestor hung, as soon as possible, in the drawing-room.
When the young man returned, Edward and myself went to the top of the stairs with the candles, while that good-for-nothing creature, Mary, (whom I’m sure we none of us suspected of being in liquor at the time,) helped the young man up with the picture, and mamma went behind, so that she might take care that it wasn’t grazed against the banisters; and kept telling Mary, for goodness’ sake to mind what she was about, for that she would not have anything happen to it for all she was worth. Mary, who was in the advance, and consequently obliged to come upstairs backwards, went on very well at first, (though how she ever could have managed to do so, in the state she must have been in, is a wonder to us all.) They had nearly reached the first landing when one of the stair-rods being out, the carpet was loose, and we were horrified by seeing Mary’s feet slip from under her, while the drunken cat let go her hold of the picture, so that she might save herself from falling. But what with the liquor the toad had taken on the sly, and what with that which I had given her that afternoon, and what with coming upstairs backwards, she had lost all command over herself, so that, after making one or two vain attempts to keep her balance, we saw her, with horror, pitched head first into the middle of our noble ancestor; at the same time knocking backwards the young man from the H—mpst—d R—d; who would, I am sure, have been killed on the spot, had he not luckily broken his fall by tumbling right upon dear mamma,—who was providentially not more than half-a-dozen stairs from the bottom—and taking her legs from under her, they all three fell one a-top of another, right into the hall—amidst the screams of my mother, the crashing of the frame of our noble ancestor, and (I regret to add) the laughter of my husband. I immediately rushed to poor mamma’s assistance, confidently believing that she hadn’t a sound limb in her poor body. And when I tell my courteous readers that I found my dear parent was nearly smothered underneath the young man from the H—mpst—d R—d, (and he must have been eleven stone, if he was an ounce,) and that that slut, Mary, (who was certainly no sylph,) was right a-top of the young man, I am sure they will agree with me, that it was a perfect miracle how dear mother was ever able to bear it all as she did—for I am happy to say, she was only dreadfully bruised, and that, indeed, no one was seriously hurt by the fall but my poor noble ancestor, from whom my mother dated her descent, and who was literally broken to bits—though my poor dear mamma (as she afterwards told me) was black and blue all over for weeks. At the time, she thought little of her own sufferings, for she was chiefly concerned about the injuries her noble ancestor had sustained; and when she saw the head of her family all knocked in, as it was, her grief knew no bounds. My husband, I am ashamed to say, did not seem to be at all affected by mamma’s distresses; and in a nasty, contrary spirit, no longer grumbled about paying the money for the picture, when it was broken; and, I verily believe, looked upon the accident as a good bit of fun; though I should like to know how he would have liked it himself, the brute!
As soon as we were in the parlour, and my poor mamma had got round again, Edward observed—with a sarcastic grin, that I could almost have shaken him for, I could—“What a pity it was that that poor girl, Mary, should be so subject to fits!” On which my mother burst out, saying, “Fits, indeed! she never saw such fits. It was nothing more nor less than downright drunkenness, that it was; and how she could ever have been imposed upon as she had been, she really couldn’t say; but that it had all come upon her like a thunderbolt immediately after she saw the girl staggering up the stairs; and that, indeed, to tell the truth, she had had her suspicions before; and that on the day of our arrival from Brighton, it struck her that there was a strong smell of spirits in the house, but which, at the time, she attributed to the French polish of the new furniture.” And then I mentioned that the way in which Mary had drunk the brandy I had given her that afternoon—just as if it was so much water—struck me as looking very queer at the time; and that I was sure, that if it wasn’t for our “At-home” day being so near at hand, I should bundle the baggage into the streets directly without a moment’s warning—only half a loaf was better than no bread at all—and it would never do to be left in the house without any one to open the door on such an occasion.
Consequently, as I felt I was in the slut’s power, I thought it would be better to avoid having any words with her, but to go on treating her civilly until such time as I could turn her neck and crop out of the house.
The evening before our “At-home” day, while I was busy in the parlour with a warm flat-iron, taking the creases out of my white satin bridal robe—which had got dreadfully tumbled in the carriage going to church, and which mother had told me I ought to receive my friends in on the morrow—mamma came round to see us, (Edward was going over some of his filthy law papers,) and with her customary good nature—for she is always thinking of something for us—brought with her a darling little pet of a camphine night-lamp that she had picked up that day for a mere nothing; and which she pointed out to dear Edward would be an immense saving to us in the course of the year, as it gave the light of two rushlights, and only cost one farthing for forty-eight hours. And then the dear old soul, who has always had an excellent head for figures, entered into a very nice calculation as to how many rushlights went to the pound, and how many we burnt in the course of the year, and what the expense was; and then putting them against the expense of the camphine, she proved to Edward as clearly as ever I heard anything in all my life, that, with a very little extra, he might be able to buy me another new bonnet every year out of the difference. And then the good old body filled the lamp with some camphine she had brought in her pocket in a phial; and lighted it, just to show us how a child of ten years old might manage the thing, it was so simple; and to let us see how, when turned down, it gave the light of a rushlight, or when turned up, it was nearly equal to that of a mould candle, and certainly superior to that of a long-six. But Edward (just like a lawyer) observing that it smoked when the flame was high, thought such a circumstance might be a slight drawback to its beauty; but dear mamma said that of course no one but a maniac would ever be such an idiot as to go turning it up that height.
As soon as mother had gone, Edward retired to bed, and left me sitting up to finish my dress, and new cover my white satin shoes, which had got dreadfully soiled with the mud in going to and from the carriage on our wedding-day. And besides, I had to clean my white kid gloves, and to let them hang up all night so as to get the filthy smell of the turpentine out of them before the morning. It was long past midnight before I had finished the better part of what I wanted to do; and as I could hear Mary (who had been waiting up to clean the room overnight so that she might have nothing to do in the morning to prevent her being ready dressed long before the visitors came) knocking the things about below in a dreadful ill-humour at being kept up so late; and as it wasn’t worth while having a fresh candle put up just to do the few little odd jobs that remained, I rang the bell for Mary; and lighting mamma’s darling little pet of a camphine lamp, (drat the thing! I wish it had never come into the house,) went up stairs, taking my things with me. When I got to my room, I hung my beautiful bridal robes on the back of a chair, and put out Edward’s nice clean white trousers ready for him in the morning. I could scarcely keep my eyes open while Mary was undoing me, and was so glad to get into bed, that I quite forgot, before doing so, to turn down the camphine lamp. But just as I was dozing off, I remembered it, and told Mary, who was hanging up my things, to be sure and turn it down before she left the room; instead of which, the minx, (who I’m sure was half-fuddled at the time,) went and turned the thing the wrong way, like a stupid; so that there were both dear Edward and myself sleeping in a state of blessed innocence, while the filthy thing was smoking away as hard as it could go all night, just for all the world like the funnel of a steam-boat, and sending out soot enough to have smothered a whole regiment. As I had got all the next day upon my mind, luckily I awoke as soon as it was light in the morning; and when I turned round, and saw my dear Edward’s face an inch thick of black, I really thought at first that I was in bed with a filthy negro. So I gave him a good shaking, and woke him directly; and no sooner had he rubbed his eyes open and looked at me, than the wretch burst out laughing, and declared that I looked just like a chimney-sweep. I gave a scream, and jumped out of bed like lightning—if I might be allowed so strong an expression—and there was the whole place one mass of smuts: and the beautiful clean dimity curtains, that had not been up a week—and the white counterpane—and the toilet-covers—and the window-blinds—and the towels—and my face—and my night-cap—looking just as if they had been all washed in Indian ink; and, what nearly drove me right out of my senses—my beautiful white satin bridal robes were actually the same as if some evil-minded person had been dragging them—just for the pleasure of the thing—up and down the chimney, and positively would have induced one, at first sight, to believe that a body had been led to the altar in bombazeen. I declare the beastly sooty stuff was everywhere,—there was a shovelful, at least, in my white satin shoes—and my white gloves were like black kid both inside and out—and it had even got right up my nostrils—and I do verily believe that a quantity had gone down my throat, for I generally sleep with my mouth open. But what annoyed me so that I could hardly bear myself was, that Edward kept chuckling at all my distress, (just like a man—for of course he knew he wouldn’t have the cleaning of it.) But when I showed him the grubby state that his ducks were in, I was quite glad to see how angry it made him. And then of course it was all his mother-in-law’s fault bringing him her bothering twopenny-halfpenny lamps; and I really thought I should have been obliged to go into hysterics when I heard him say that the next time he caught my dear, respected mamma in his house, he’d pack her off with a flea in her ear!
And a pretty situation I was in, to be sure. I daren’t for the life of me open my mouth, for fear that the hussy should leave me at a moment’s notice, at such a time, when, bad as she was, it was impossible to do without her; and there were my bridal robes spoilt before my very eyes, and I didn’t know how on earth I was ever to receive my friends, as I really hadn’t a single thing to put on.