CHAPTER X
HUGO BLAGDON was a well-known habitué of Monte Carlo, and he fled thither early in February to avoid an English spring, and escape from a personality that threatened to lure him into the noose of matrimony! His grandfather had been overseer in a coal mine, and his father, Laban, a clever man of ceaseless energy and enterprise, had, by his own efforts, risen to vast wealth. He was a typical Yorkshire tyke; hard-headed, hard-bitten, and plain of speech, standing squarely on his feet and his principles. When over fifty, he had disposed of his collieries to a syndicate, and looked about him for a country estate, and a suitable consort. At this time Sharsley, the ancient seat of the Scropes, happened to be in the market; the family had fallen on evil days, and the last representative was a thin, dignified old gentleman, with an empty purse and many spinster daughters. During tedious negotiations, the would-be purchaser made acquaintance with the Squire’s family, and when he took over the property, he also received the taper hand of the stateliest and slenderest of the Scrope sisters. Ill-natured gossips declared that in consequence of this arrangement, the canny Yorkshire-man had obtained an abatement of ten thousand pounds on the price of the property—but envious people will say anything! Mrs. Blagdon’s aristocratic relations agreed that dearest Carrie, who was ‘getting on,’ had done remarkably well for herself; the bride was perfectly satisfied with her honest, stolid husband, and he for his part felt proud of his Carrie; she matched Sharsley, and naturally was far more at home there than himself. Mrs. Blagdon fulfilled her duties to admiration; an elegant, dignified figure, she sat at the head of his table, glorious and dazzling in the new Blagdon diamonds, entertaining her neighbours with gracious distinction. Moreover, she was most kind and thoughtful to her husband’s family, especially to his old aunt, Fanny Jane, who spoke broad Yorkshire, had not marched with the times, and preferred to dine at one o’clock—and in her bonnet.
Having figuratively emerged from coal to the surface, Laban Blagdon entered into country life with enthusiasm; he farmed, he supported the hounds and the Yeomanry, and sat on the Bench with commendable punctuality. His first-born was a girl. Four years later her brother arrived on this planet, amidst great rejoicings. Blagdon of Sharsley was immensely proud of his children; he had none of his father’s ideas of stern discipline, and was an extravagantly indulgent parent. In his opinion, nothing was too good for Connie and Hugo—the pair could do no wrong.
Possibly his partiality was due to the fact that they were true Blagdons; large-boned, and loud of voice, exhibiting no traces whatever of their mother’s ancestry. This poor lady did her utmost to influence them, exerting herself surprisingly for a Scrope, but somehow she never became familiar with her boy and girl, who emancipated themselves as soon as they had quitted the nursery. And their mother found it difficult to believe, that this rough, boisterous, undisciplined couple, were actually her own offspring. Had they been those of other people, she would have lifted her delicate hands, and declared them to be young savages!
Hugo was sent to a preparatory school, and then to Eton; he rode well, knew the points of a horse, was thoroughly at home in the stables, had a hearty laugh, a huge appetite, and his father thought him an uncommonly fine lad! As for Connie, she was the apple of Laban Blagdon’s eye; a bit of a hoyden, and no great beauty, but a girl who could stick on a horse, sing a good song, hold her own in talk, and what more did you want?
The year that Connie was presented to her sovereign her father died suddenly of apoplexy, and was widely and sincerely regretted; sound to the core, a just landlord and employer, a good friend, and a generous foe. His heir was at sixteen a well-grown youth, with a thick-set figure, a strong will, rather surly manners, and an exaggerated sense of his own importance. From Eton, he went (with great reluctance) to Oxford, and there his idleness and scrapes gained him a certain amount of notoriety.
As for his sister, she was launched in London Society, with considerable éclat by her mother’s aristocratic connections; Connie had no taste for balls or the usual round of gaiety, but developed an unexpected passion for racing! At Newmarket she encountered her affinity; a good-looking, graceless baronet, who had run through his patrimony on the turf, and did not bear an enviable reputation. However, in spite of all that her mother, relations, and trustees, could urge or threaten, Connie Blagdon insisted on marrying Teddy Rashleigh. She was, as her father had often declared, “a fine, strapping girl, who knew her own mind, with a handsome fortune pinned on to her skirts”; and Sir Teddy was not indifferent to this agreeable fact.
At first, the happy pair travelled about from one race meeting to another, enjoying an atmosphere of continual and stimulating excitement. In winter, they went abroad, returning in time for the first Spring Meeting. After a few years of a gay and rambling existence, came much harassing anxiety, rumours of serious troubles about racing and gambling debts; these rumours were followed by the sudden death of Sir Teddy Rashleigh. An overdose of sulphonal, taken by mistake (his creditors had their own opinions as to the ‘mistake’), and his widow found herself at the age of twenty-eight, with the miserable remains of a large fortune, and alienated from all her friends. During her married life, she had acquired extravagant and reckless tastes, gambled, betted, and plunged—and oh, how she hated poverty!
Fortunately, she and her brother had always been chums, and he now came so generously to her assistance, that most of her world believed Lady Rashleigh to be not only a gay, but wealthy widow. She was loud, good-natured, and plain; a big woman, with high, square shoulders, quantities of coarse brown hair (dyed red), a broad, shrewd face, redeemed by a set of flashing white teeth. Men called her “a rare good sort, and as clever as they make them,” meaning that Lady Rashleigh, knew her world thoroughly, and contrived, whilst keeping on bowing terms with Mrs. Grundy, to enjoy a remarkably festive time.
Meanwhile Hugo, his own master for many years, had been engaged in sowing wild oats, and seeing life. His mother had taken her departure from Sharsley; this severance had been a heart-breaking business, but Hugo’s manners and customs, and Hugo’s associates, were altogether too much for that delicate, decorous, and mid-Victorian matron. Instead of family prayers, and breakfast at nine o’clock, Hugo’s lady guests appeared at midday. They smoked, talked slang, discussed the latest odds, the latest scandals, and more or less ignored their old-fashioned hostess; the men were even worse: a gambling, hard-drinking, horsy crew; so Mrs. Blagdon went away to Cannes, and established herself in a splendid villa, far aloof from her unsatisfactory and unfilial children.