As Bessie subsequently remarked, “Anybody might have thought the Lord Mayor of London had come out in his state carriage to visit us. I really felt quite subdued by such unnecessary magnificence.”
“And if you only saw Mrs. Raidsford, Heather,” she went on; “if you could only imagine the mass of satin, and velvet, and sable, and pretension and vulgarity, which descended, assisted by two footmen, from that chariot, you would be astonished to think Mr. Raidsford has lived with her so long. I never did behold such a woman. I dare not look at Agnes while she was talking. Do you think I could at first imagine whom she meant by ‘your gentleman,’ or conceive why she wanted to know what sized nursery you had? I consider it was most clever of Agnes to interrupt me when I was going to say I could get a rule from Cuthbert and measure it for her. How came you to guess, Aggy, that was her way of inquiring how many children Heather had? She said she hoped you would not think she had condescended in coming over so soon—”
“What!” exclaimed Heather in astonishment.
“She meant intruded, I believe,” explained Bessie, “for that Mr. Raidsford had never given her a moment’s peace about calling ever since he heard of the collusion your little girl had met with. I may safely say,” proceeded Bessie, “that she did not use a single long word in its right sense. She informed us—talking of ghosts, that she was not supercilious—that if we would come over to Moorlands any day she would be very glad to show us the apiary Mr. R. had built for British birds; that her young ladies were not much of ones for pedestrian exercise, that they preferred walking to riding, only their ‘papar’ thought it was well for them to be learned how to do it. She told us her nerves never would have been strong enough for her to do anything in that way; in fact, it always put her heart in her mouth to see Lord Kemms a leaping of that Black Knight of his over the fossil on the lawn. If she mentioned Lord Kemms once during the time she was here,” went on Bessie, “she did sixty times. That is the worst of a man rising; he has to carry his wife a dead weight, up with him. Well, there must be some of her to be some of all sorts—so let us rest and be thankful.”
Utterly astonished was Arthur at sight of the visitors who came to inquire concerning the health of his eldest born.
“Leonard might have broken every bone in his body before they would have offered any such civility,” he grumbled; but Bessie bade him “hush—sh—sh—”
“It was really your good child Leonard, Arthur, who pushed her in,” she said; “and if we have been wise enough to keep that fact in the background, I pray you not to be ungrateful. It was poor Heather’s sinner who fell into the water, but it was your saint who was the cause of her doing so. And it is natural such a catastrophe should bring wives and mothers to Berrie Down. It brought me, so you ought not to be surprised at anything after that.”
“It was very kind of you, Bessie,” answered Squire Dudley; but, nevertheless, he refused to see their visitors, and it was long before the honours of Berrie Down were done by Heather in person.
Then, indeed, Mrs. Poole Seymour, and the Honourable Augusta Baldwin, Mrs. Plimpton, and Mrs. Carroll, and Mrs. Raidsford, and Mrs. Lynford, and Mrs. Hulst, and a multitude of other morning callers, professed themselves charmed, and wondered how it happened they could have resided for so long a time within visiting distance of Berrie Down without knowing that dear, sweet, gentle Mrs. Dudley.
“Anything prettier than Mrs. Dudley and her little girl,” opined society, “had never been exhibited at the Royal Academy;” and, certainly, in those days, both mother and child were very touching—Heather pathetic, with pale thin face and anxious eyes; Lally so easily tired, so soon wearied, even with fresh toys and strange faces.