Chapter Two.
Dinner at Mr Deane’s in Nottingham—Jack Deane announces the Profession he has chosen.
As the hour of dinner approached, the expected guests began to arrive at the hall-door of Mr Deane’s substantial mansion in the market-place. With the exception of Mr Harwood and one or two others, they were relations of the family, or connected in some way or other. Mrs Deane received them in a cordial and hearty manner, showing, however, that she entertained a becoming sense of her own importance. The Squire and Alethea were evidently, from the style of their reception, amongst the most honoured. The lady of the mansion wore a tower of fine Flemish lace on her head, to which that on her gown, of handsome paduasoy, exactly corresponded; and her general appearance was matronly and dignified. Behind her, courtesying and smiling to the guests as they approached, stood two well-grown unmistakably English girls, their dresses ornamented with cherry-coloured ribbons, just then in fashion: the eldest, Catherine, or Kate, as she was called, a brunette, tall and slight, with a somewhat grave and retiring manner, and far more refined than her rosy-cheeked, merry-looking younger sister Polly, who gave promise of some day growing into the goodly proportions of her mother. Mr Deane, with full wig, lace coat, and sword by his side, stood in the old oak hall, accompanied by his son Jasper, ready to hand the ladies from their sedan-chairs as they were brought into the hall. The last to arrive, who was received with all due honour, was a Dr Nathaniel Deane, a cousin of Mr Deane’s, the only physician, and one of the greatest men, in Nottingham. Jack was the last to enter the house, and had but little time to slip into his room, and put on his grey dress suit, before dinner was announced. For a few minutes he was seen standing behind the door, unwilling to enter and go through the ordeal of paying his respects to the assembled guests, little more of him being observable besides a broad shoulder and a well-turned leg, with a red clock to his grey stocking. Cousin Nat—for so Mr Nathaniel Deane was called by his relatives—soon however spied him out, and though at that moment tapping his jewelled snuff-box preparatory to offering it to Mrs Bethia Harcourt, Mrs Deane’s maiden aunt, he contrived directly afterwards to find himself close to Jack, and to shake hands cordially with the young man, for whom he evidently had an especial regard.
“Well, Jack, what scrape have you last got into, or out of rather, I should say?” said Cousin Nat, “for I am told it is seldom you have not something of the sort on hand. However, you do not look the worse for that or for your studies either, boy, though I should be glad to hear that you had determined to follow some steady pursuit, instead of running your head into other people’s quarrels, without any benefit to yourself.”
“That is the very thing I have been thinking of,” answered Jack, as he returned his respected cousin’s greeting, “but I have no fancy for sitting at a desk, nor for any other indoor work. Jasper is more suited for that than I am.”
He glanced as he spoke towards the slight figure of his brother, who presented a considerable contrast to himself. The elder had handsome features, with a somewhat sickly hue in his countenance, such as is often produced by study and thought. His manner was refined, and the expression of his countenance denoted an amiable and gentle disposition.
“We will not attempt to make an M.D. of you, at all events,” answered Cousin Nat. “Perhaps you would rather take to breaking men’s bones than attempting to cure them of their ailments, as I try to do, and as your brother Jasper hopes to do also.”
“Not especially,” answered Jack: “I should like to see the world, but I have not a fancy for knocking men on the head, and could never understand the amusement some people find in it; but I have no objection to stand up and defend my own if I am attacked, or to draw my sword in the defence of a friend or a right cause.”