A Charming Fellow, Volume II

by Frances Eleanor Trollope

The project of seeing Powell in this way took possession of her mind. She sent a note to Mrs. Thimbleby, by her maid Jane, asking at what hour Mr. Powell was most likely to be in the house; and saying that she should like to come there and say a few words to him about a person in whose welfare he was interested.

The widow saw nothing very singular in this. She knew that Powell had been to see Miss Bodkin before he left Whitford. And it was quite in accordance with the known characters of the Methodist preacher and the rector's daughter that they should meet and combine on the common ground of charity. "For sure Mr. Powell have recommended some poor afflicted person to the young lady, and she have assisted 'em, whosoever they may be!" thought Mrs. Thimbleby. "And she begs me not to mention her coming to anybody. For sure and certain she's not one o' them as boasts of their good deeds. No, no; like our blessed Mr. Powell, she don't let her left hand know what her right hand doeth. I wonder if she's under conviction! Such a good, charitable lady, it seems as if she must belong to the elect. But, there, all our good works are filthy rags, I s'pose, the best on us. But I can't help thinking as Miss Bodkin's works must be more pleasing to the Lord than Brother Jackson's, as lives among the Wesleyans on the fat of the land, and don't do much in return, except condemning all those folks as isn't Wesleyans. Lord forgive me if I'm wrong!"

Mrs. Thimbleby returned a verbal message to Miss Bodkin, as the latter had desired her to do: Mrs. Thimbleby's duty, and the most likely time would be between four and five o'clock in the afternoon; and she would be sure to obey Miss Bodkin's instructions. "And I'm ever so much obliged to her for excusing me writing, my dear," said the widow to Jane; "for my hands is so stiff and rough with hard work, as holding a pen seems to be a great difficulty. I'd far rather mop out my back yard any day than write the receipt for the lodgers' rent. And 'tis but a smudgy business when all's done."

On the following day Dr. Bodkin's sober green carriage, drawn by a stout, sober-paced horse, was seen standing at Mrs. Thimbleby's door. It was a few minutes after four o'clock in the afternoon. The street was very quiet. There was scarcely a passer-by to be seen from one end of it to the other, when Jane and the old man-servant assisted Miss Bodkin to alight from the carriage, and supported her into the clean, flagged room on the ground floor, which served Mrs. Thimbleby for parlour, kitchen, and dining-hall, all in one. The coachman had orders to return and fetch his young mistress at six o'clock. "Will you give me house-room so long, Mrs. Thimbleby?" asked Minnie with a sweet smile, which so captivated the good woman that she stood staring at her visitor in a kind of rapture, unable to reply for a minute or two.

Minnie was placed in Mrs. Thimbleby's own high-backed chair, with the clean patchwork-covered cushions piled behind her. A horsehair footstool, borrowed for the purpose from Mr. Diamond's parlour, was under her feet. And she declared that she found herself as comfortable as in her own lounging-chair at home.

"You see, miss, I couldn't say to the minute when Mr. Powell would be back, but between four and five he generally do come in, and I make him swallow a cup of herb tea, or something. And I will not deny that I sometimes puts a pinch of China tea in. But he don't know. This is but a poor place, miss," added the widow, glancing round, "but so long as you can make yourself content to stay in it, so long you will be welcome as the flowers in May, if 'twas to be for a twelvemonth?"

Then Minnie praised the brilliant cleanliness of the little kitchen, took notice of the cat that rubbed its velvet head confidingly against her hand, and asked Mrs. Thimbleby how she prospered in her lodging-letting.

The widow was loquacious in her mild slow way; and she was pleased at this opportunity for a little harmless gossip. It was a propensity which received frequent checks from those around her. Mr. Diamond was too taciturn, too grave, too much absorbed in his books, to give any heed to his landlady's conversation, beyond listening to the few particulars of his weekly expenses, which she insisted on explaining to him. Mrs. Errington, on the other hand, was not at all taciturn, but she desired to have the talk chiefly to herself. She loved to harangue Mrs. Thimbleby on a variety of subjects, and to place, in vivid colours before her, the inadequacy of all her domestic arrangements to satisfy a lady of Mrs. Errington's quality. As to gossiping with David Powell, Mrs. Thimbleby would as soon have thought of attempting to gossip with the sculptured figure of a saint, which stood in a niche at one side of the portal of St. Chad's! So the good woman, finding Miss Bodkin more compliant and affable than the two first-named of her lodgers, and nearer to the level of common humanity than the last, indulged herself with an outpouring of chat, as the two sat waiting for Powell's return.

Minnie listened to her at first with but a drowsy kind of attention. Her own thoughts were wandering away from the present time and place. And, for a while, the quiet of the room, where the gathering twilight seemed to bring a deeper hush, was only broken by the monotonous murmur of the widow's voice. But by-and-by Mrs. Thimbleby spoke words which effectually aroused Minnie's attention.

There was, she said, a deal of talk in Whitford about young Mr. Errington. He was such a very nice-spoken gentleman, and most people seemed to like him so much! But yet he had enemies in the town. Folks said he was extravagant. And his wife gave herself such airs as there was no bearing with 'em; she not paying ready money, but almost expecting tradespeople to be satisfied with the honour of serving her. Poor lady, she wasn't used to be pinched for money herself, and knew no better, most likely! But many Whitford shopkeepers grumbled as Mr. Errington got goods on credit from them, and yet sent orders to London with ready money for expensive articles, and it didn't seem fair. There was no use saying anything to old Mrs. Errington about the matter, because, though she was, no doubt, a very good-hearted lady, she was rather "high." And if you mentioned to her, as Mr. Gladwish, the shoemaker, said, unpleasant things about her son's bill, why she would tell you that her grandfather drove four horses to his coach, and that Mr. Algernon's wife's uncle was a great nobleman up in London, as paid his butler a bigger salary than all Gladwish could earn in a year. And if such sayings got abroad, they would not be soothing to the feelings of a respectable shoemaker, would they now? Not to say that they wouldn't help to pay Gladwish's bill; nor yet the fly bill at the "Blue Bell;" nor yet the bill for young madam at Ravell and Sarsnet's; nor yet the bill at the fishmonger and poulterer's; as she (Mrs. Thimbleby) was credibly informed that Ivy Lodge consumed the best of everything, and at a great rate. In the beginning, tradespeople believed all that was said about young Mr. and Mrs. Errington's fine friends and fine prospects, and seemed inclined to trust 'em to any amount. But latterly there had growed up a feeling against 'em. And—if Miss Bodkin wouldn't think it a liberty in her to ask her not to mention it again, seeing it was but a guess on her part—she would go so far as to say that she believed an enemy was at work, and that enemy old Jonathan Maxfield. Why or wherefore old Max should be so set against young Mr. Algernon, as he had known him from a little child, she could not say. But there was rumours about that young Errington owed old Max money. And old Max was that near and fond of his pelf, as nothing was so likely to make him mad against any one as losing money by 'em; and old Max was a harsh man and a bitter where he took a dislike. Only see how he had persecuted Mr. Powell! And though he let his daughter go to Ivy Lodge—and they did say young Mrs. Errington had taken quite a fancy to the girl—yet that didn't prevent old Max sneering and snarling, and saying all manner of sharp words against the Erringtons. And old Max was a man of substance, and his words had weight in the town. "And you see, miss," said Mrs. Thimbleby, in conclusion, "young Mr. and Mrs. Errington are gentlefolks, and they don't hear what's said in Whitford, and they may think things are all right when they're all wrong. Of course, I daresay they have great friends and good prospects, miss. And very likely they could settle everything to-morrow if they thought fit. Only the tale here is, that not a tradesman in the place has seen the colour of their money, and they deny theirselves nothing, and the lady so high in her manners, and altogether there is a feeling against 'em, miss. And as I know you're a old friend, and a kind friend, I'm sure, and not one as takes pleasure in the troubles of their neighbours, I thought I would mention it to you, in case you should like to say a word to the young lady and gentleman private-like. A word from you would have a deal of weight. And I do assure you, miss, 'tis of no use trying to speak to old Mrs. Errington, for she'll only go on about her grandfather's coach-and-four; and, between you and me, miss, there is some as takes it amiss."