CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE CAPTAIN’S WIFE
LOTTIE could do nothing but stand bewildered and gaze at this new claimant of her regard. Surprise took all the meaning, all the intelligence out of her face. She stood with her eyes wide open, her lips dropping apart. Her new mamma! She had the indescribable misfortune of not being able to think upon her own mother with any reverence or profound affection. Mrs. Despard was but “poor mamma” to her—no more. Lottie could not shut her eyes to the deficiencies of that poor woman, of whom the best that could be said was that she was dead, and beyond the reach of blame. There was no cherished and vaunted idea, therefore, to be outraged; but perhaps all the more Lottie’s soul rose up in rebellion against the title as applied to anyone else. She had known what was coming, and yet she was as entirely taken by surprise as if this idea had never been suggested to her. With eyes suddenly cleared out of all the dazzling that had clouded them, she looked at the woman thus brought in upon her—this intruder, who, however, had more right to be there than even Lottie had—the Captai n’s wife. If this event had happened a month or two ago, while she retained all her natural vigour, no doubt, foolish as it was, Lottie would have made some show of resistance. She would have protested against the sudden arrival. She would have withdrawn from company so undesirable. She would have tried, however absurd it might have been, to vindicate herself, to hold the new-comer at arm’s length. But this had all become impossible now. At no other moment could she have been so entirely taken by surprise. All the apprehensions about her father which had been communicated to her on former occasions had died out of her mind. She had never said very much about this danger, or been alarmed by it, as Law was. It had not occurred to her to inquire how it would affect herself. And now she was taken altogether by surprise. She stood struck dumb with amazement, and gazed at the woman, instinctively taking in every particular of her appearance, as only a woman could do. Unconsciously to herself, Lottie appraised the other, saw through her, calculating the meaning of her and all her finery. No man could have done it, and she was not herself aware of having done it; but Polly knew very well what that look meant. Notwithstanding her own confidence in her bridal array, even Polly felt it coming to pieces, felt it being set down for what it was worth; and, naturally, the feeling that this was so made her angry and defiant.
“How do you do, miss?” she said, feeling that even her voice sounded more vulgar than it need have done. “I hope as we shall be good friends. Your pa has played you a nice trick, hasn’t he? But men is men, and when they’re like he is there’s allowances to be made for them.” Polly was aware that this speech was in her very worst style. She had not intended to call Lottie Miss; but with that girl standing staring, in a plain cotton frock, looking a lady, every inch of her, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot—a bride, in a fine bonnet covered with orange-blossoms, and a bright silk dress that matched, was not in possession of her faculties. Bold as she was, she could not but be conscious of a tremor which mingled with her very defiance. “Well, I’m sure, what a pretty table!” she resumed. “They might have known we were coming home, Captain. There ain’t much on it, perhaps—not like the nice chicken and sausages you’d have got at mother’s. But mother would never have set it out so pretty, that I’ll allow.” Then Polly looked round upon the dim old walls, faintly lighted by the lamp. “So this is the dining-room,” she said; “this is my new ’ome. To think I never should have been inside the door till now! Let me alone, Harry. I don’t want none of your huggings. I want to make acquaintance with my new ’ome. You know well enough I married just as much for the sake of living in the Lodges as for you—don’t you, now?” she said, with a laugh. Perhaps only fathers and mothers, and not even these long-suffering persons always, can look on at the endearments of newly-married couples with tolerance. Lottie was offended, as if their endearments had been insulting to herself. She looked at them with an annoyed contempt. No sympathetic touch of fellow-feeling moved her. To compare this, as she thought, hideous travesty of love with her own, would have but hardened her the more against them. She turned away, and shut the window, and drew down the blind with an energy uncalled for by such simple duties. When the Captain led his wife upstairs, that she might take off her bonnet, Lottie sat down and tried to think. But she could not think. It had all happened in a moment, and her mind was in an angry confusion, not capable of reason. She could not realise what had happened, or what was going to happen—an indignant sense of being intruded upon, of having to receive and be civil to an unwelcome visitor, and an impatience almost beyond bearing of this strait into which her father had plunged her, filled her mind. Something more, she dimly felt, lay behind—something more important, more serious; but in the meantime she did not feel that her occupation was gone, or her kingdom taken from her. A disagreeable person to entertain—a most unwelcome, uncongenial guest. For the moment she could not realise anything more. But her mind was in the most painful ferment, her heart beating. How was she to behave to this new, strange visitor? What was she to say to her? She must sit down at table with her, she supposed. She was Captain Despard’s—guest. What more? But Lottie knew very well she was something more.
Mary came in, bringing tea, which she placed at the head of the table, where Lottie usually sat. Mary’s eyes were dancing in her head with curiosity and excitement. “What is it, miss? oh, what is it, miss? What’s happened?” said Mary. But Lottie made her no reply. She did not herself know what had happened. She waited for the return of “the woman” with a troubled mind. Everything was ready, and Lottie stood by ready to take her seat the moment they should come back. She heard them come downstairs, laughing and talking. The woman’s voice filled all the house. It flowed on in a constant stream, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen, where Mary was listening with all her ears. “Very nice on the whole,” the new-comer was saying; “but of course I shall make a few changes. I’ve always heard that a room should be like its mistress. There’s not half enough pretty things to please me. I do love a pretty room, and plenty of antimacassars and pink ribbons. Oh, I shan’t tell you what I am going to do to it!—not a word. Gentlemen must be taught their place. I am going to make it look very nice, and that should be enough for you. Oh yes, I am quite ready for supper. I have n’t touched a bit of anything since five o’clock, when we had tea. Poor Harry! I can see how you have been put upon.” This was said at the foot of the stairs, where not only Lottie but Mary could hear every word. Mary understood it all, but Lottie did not understand it. She could not receive Polly’s programme into her mind, nor think what was meant by it. While she still stood waiting, the two came in—the bride, with her tower of hair upon her head, and all her cheap ribbons and bangles. She came in, drawing herself away from the Captain’s encircling arm. “Behave!” said Polly, shaking a finger at him; and she swept in and round the table, almost pushing against the surprised spectator who stood looking on, and deposited herself in Lottie’s chair. “It’s best to begin as you mean to end,” said Polly; “I’m not tired to speak of, and I’ll take my own place at once. You can sit here, Miss Lottie, between him and me.”
Still, Lottie did not know what to think or to say. She stood still, bewildered, and then took the place pointed out to her. What did it mean? It was easy enough to see what it meant, if her head had not been so confused. “Yes, dear,” said Polly, “a little bit of cold beef—just a very little bit. I am not fond of cold victuals. That’s not how we’ve been living, is it? and that’s not how I mean you to live. Oh, no, I don’t blame Lottie. Unmarried girls don’t know any better. They don’t study a man like his wife knows how to do. I can see how it’s been; oh, I can see! Too many mouths to feed, and the meat has to be bought according. Who is your butcher, miss? Oh, him! I don’t hold with him. I shall send for Jones to-morrow; he’s the man for my money. Wasn’t that a lovely sweetbread that we had at our wedding breakfast? You didn’t remark? Oh, nonsense, I’m sure you remarked! It was a beauty! Well, that was from Jones’s. I’ll send for him to-morrow. Do you take sugar in your tea, Miss Lottie? Dear! I shouldn’t have thought it; so careful a young lady. ’Enery, darling, what are you drinking? Do you take tea?”
“I don’t mind what I take, my love, so long as you give it me,” said the gallant Captain; “tea or poison, I’d take it from that hand; and I don’t want anything but to look at you at the head of my table. This is how it should be. To think how long I have been denying myself, forgetting what happiness was!”
“You poor dear Harry! all for the sake of your children! Well, I hope you’ll find it repaid. They ought to be grateful. The times and times that you and me has talked it over, and given it up for their sakes! You’re very quiet, miss; you don’t say much,” added Polly; “but I dare say it was a surprise to you, seeing me come home?”
“Why don’t you speak up and make yourself pleasant?” said the Captain, with a kind of growl, under his breath.
Lottie came to herself a little by dint of this pressure. She did not seem to know how it had come about, or what the emergency meant. “I beg your pardon,” she said, her head swimming and everything going round with her, “I am—taken very much by surprise. If I had known what was going to happen I—might have been more prepared.”
“I can understand that,” said Polly. “Hold your tongue, Captain. She is quite right. You ought to have written and told her, as I asked you. But now that you do know I hope you mean to be friendly, miss. Them that treats me well, I treats them well. I don’t wonder that you don’t like it at first,” she added graciously; “a girl no older than yourself! But he would have it, you know, and what could I do? When a man’s in that way, it’s no use talking to him. I resisted as long as I could, but I had to give in at the last.”
“By George!” said the Captain, helping the beef. He had some one to stand by him now, who he felt might be a match for Lottie; but he was still a little afraid of Lottie, and consequently eager to crow over her in the strength of his backer. “The trouble I’ve had to bring matters to this point!” he said. “But never mind, my love, it is all right now you are here. At one time I thought it never was going to be accomplished. But perseverance ——”
“Perseverance does a deal; but, bless you, I never had no doubt on the subject,” said the new Mrs. Despard, taking up her teacup in a way that was very offensive to Lottie. The Captain looked at her from the other end of the table with a kind of adoration; but nevertheless the Captain himself, with all his faults, was painfully aware of her double negatives, and thought to himself, even when he looked at her so admiringly, that he must give her a few lessons. He had never paid much attention to Lottie, and yet he could not help getting a glimpse of his new wife through Lottie’s eyes.
“Where is my son?” said Polly. “Harry, darling, where is that dear Law? He won’t be so much surprised, will he? He had a notion how things were going. But I’ve got a great deal to say to him, I can tell you. I don’t approve of his goings on. There’s a many things as I mean to put a stop to. Nobody shall say as I don’t do my duty by your children. I shall tell him——”
“Do you know Law?” said Lottie. This gave her a little chill of horror; though indeed she remembered that Law had spoken of some one—some one about whom Lottie had not cared to inquire.
“Oh, yes, miss, I know Law.” (Polly did not know how it was that she said Miss to Lottie. She did not mean to do it. She did it, not in respect, but in derision; but the word came to her lips, whether she would or not.) “Law and I are old friends. Time was when I didn’t feel sure—not quite sure, you know,” she said, with a laugh of mingled vanity and malice, “if it was to be the father or the son; but, Lord, there’s no comparison,” she added hastily, seeing that even on the Captain’s fine countenance this boast produced a momentary cloud. “Law will never be as fine a man as his father. He hasn’t got the Captain’s carriage, nor he ain’t so handsome. Bless us, are you listening, Harry? I didn’t mean you to hear. I don’t think you handsome a bit, now, do I? I’m sure I’ve told you times and times——”
The two thus exchanging glances and pretty speeches across the table were too much occupied with themselves to think of anything else. And no one heard Law’s approach till he pushed open the door, and with a “Hillo!” of absolute amazement, stood thunderstruck, gazing upon this astonishing spectacle. The sight that Law beheld was not a disagreeable sight in itself: the table, all bright with its bouquet of crimson leaves, which the Captain had pushed to one side in order that he might see his wife—and the three faces round it, two of them beaming with triumph and satisfaction. The young man stood at the door and took it all in, with a stare at first, of dismay. Opposite to him sat Lottie, put out of her place, looking stunned, as if she had fallen from a height and did not know where she was. As he stood there she lifted her eyes to him with a look of wondering and bewildered misery which went to Law’s heart; but the next moment he burst into a loud laugh, in spite of himself. To see the governor casting languishing looks at Polly was more than his gravity could bear. He could think of nothing, after the first shock, but “what a joke” it was. A man in love, especially a man in the first imbecility of matrimonial bliss, is a joke at any time; but when it’s your governor, Law said to himself! He gave a great roar of laughter. “Polly, by Jove!” he said; “so you’ve been and done it!” It had alarmed him much beforehand, and no doubt it might be tragical enough after; but for the moment it was the best joke that Law had encountered for years.
“Yes, we’ve been and done it,” said Polly, rising and holding out her hand to him. “Come here and kiss me, my son. I am delighted to see you. It’s so nice to hear a good laugh, and see a bright face. Lottie, Law, hasn’t found her tongue yet. She hasn’t a word to throw at a dog, much less her new mamma. But you, it’s a pleasure to see you. Ah!” said Polly, with effusion, “the gentlemen for me! Ladies, they’re spiteful, and they’re jealous, and they’re stuck up; but gentlemen does you justice. You mustn’t call me Polly, however, though I forgive you the first time. You must know that I am your mamma.”
Law laughed again, but it was not a pleasant laugh; and he grasped the hand which his father held out to him with a desire to crush it, if he could, which was natural enough. Law thought it a joke, it is true; but he was angry at bottom, though amused on the surface. And he did hurt his father’s somewhat flabby, unworking hand. The Captain, however, would not complain. He was glad even to be met with a semblance of cordiality at such a moment. He helped Law largely to the beef, in the satisfaction of this family union, and this was a sign of anxiety which Law did not despise.
“Oh, and I assure you I mean to be a mother to you,” said Polly. “It shan’t be said now that you haven’t anyone to look after you. I mean to look after you. I am not at all satisfied with some of your goings on. A gentleman shouldn’t make too free with them that are beneath him. Yes, yes, Harry, darling; it’s too early to begin on that point; but he shall know my mind, and I mean to look after him. Now this is what I call comfortable,” said Mrs. Despard, looking round with a beaming smile; “quite a family party, and quite a nice tea; though the beef’s dry to my taste (but I never was one for cold victuals), and everybody satisfied——”
“Lottie,” said the Captain, looking up from his beef with some sternness, “you seem the only exception. Don’t you think, my child, when you see everybody so happy, that you might find a word to say?”
“Oh, don’t hurry her,” said Polly; “we’ve took her by surprise. I told you not to, but you would. We’ll have a nice long talk to-morrow, when she gives me over the housekeeping; and when she sees as I mean to act like a mother, why things will come right between her and me.”
The Despards were not highly educated people, but yet a shiver ran through them when Polly, unconscious, said, “We’ve took her by surprise.” The Captain even shrank a little, and took a great deal too much mustard, and made himself cough; while Law, in spite of himself, laughed, looking across the table to the place where Lottie sat. Lottie noticed it the least of all. She heard every word they all said, and remembered every word, the most trifling; but at the moment she scarcely distinguished the meaning of them. She said, “I think, papa, if you don’t mind, I will go to my room. I am rather tired; and perhaps I had better give some orders to Mary.”
“Oh, never mind; never mind about Mary, if i t’s on my account. I shall look after her myself,” said Polly. “What’s good enough for the Captain is good enough for me; at least, till I settle it my own way, you know. I don’t want to give any trouble at all, till I can settle things my own way.”
“It is not I that have to be consulted,” said Captain Despard; “but if you are going to sit sulky and not say a word, I don’t see—what do you think, my pet?—that it matters whether you go or stay——”
“Oh, don’t mind me, Miss,” said Polly. She could not look Miss Despard in the face and call her Lottie, knowing, however she might consent to waive her own rights, that Miss Despard was still Miss Despard, whatever Polly might do. Not a thing on her that was worth five shillings, not a brooch even; nothing like a bracelet; a bit of a cotton frock, no more; but she was still Miss Despard, and unapproachable. Polly, with her bracelets on each wrist, rings twinkling on her hands as she took her supper, in a blue silk, and knowing herself to be an officer’s lady—Mrs. Captain Despard—with all this, could not speak to her husband’s daughter except as Miss. She could not understand it, but still it was so.
The little crooked hall was full of boxes when Lottie came out; and Mary stood among them, wondering how she was to get them upstairs. Perhaps she had been listening a little at the door, for Mary’s consternation was as great as Lottie’s. “Do you think, Miss, it’s real and true? Do you think as she’s married, sure? Mother wouldn’t let me stay a day if there was anything wrong, and I don’t know as I’ll stay anyhow,” Mary said.
“Wrong? what could be wrong?” said Lottie. She was less educated in knowledge of this kind than the little maid-of-all-work. It troubled her to see the boxes littering the hall, but she could not carry them upstairs. For a moment the impulse to do it, or, at least, to help Mary in doing it, came into her mind; but, on second thoughts, she refrained. What had she to do with this new-comer into the house, who was not even a visitor, who had come to remain? Lottie went upstairs without saying any more. She went first into the little faded drawing-room, where there was no light except that which came from the window and the lamp in the Dean’s Walk. It was not beautiful. She had never had any money to decorate it, to make it what it might have been, nor pretty furniture to put into it. But she sat down on her favourite little chair, in the dark, and felt as if she had gone to sit by somebody that was dead, who had been a dear friend. How friendly and quiet the little room had been! giving her a centre for her life, a refuge for her thoughts. But all that was over. She had never known before that she had liked it or thought of it much; but now, all at once, what a gentle and pleasant shelter it had been! As Lottie thought of everything, the tears came silently and bitterly into her eyes. She herself had been ungrateful, unkind to the little old house, the venerable old place, the kind people. They had all been kind to her. She had visited her own disappointment upon them, scorning the neighbours because they were less stately than she expected them to be; visiting upon them her own discontent with her position, her own disappointment in being less important than she expected. Lottie was hard upon herself, for she had not been unkind to anyone, but was, on the contrary, a favourite with her neighbours—the only girl in the place, and allowed by the old people to have a right to whims and fancies. Now, in the face of this strange, incomprehensible misfortune, she felt the difference. Her quiet old room! where kind voices had spoken to her, where he had come, saying such words as made her heart beat; where she had sung to him, and received those tender applauses which had been like treasure to Lottie. She seemed to see a series of past scenes like pictures rising before her. Not often had Rollo been there—yet two or three times; and Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, with her mellow brogue, and Mr. Ashford, and even the stately person of the Dean himself. She had been at home here, to receive them, whoever came. The room had never been invaded by anything that was unfriendly or unpleasing. Now—what was it that woman said of changes—making it look nice? Lottie had not understood the words when they were said, but they came back upon her now.
By-and-by she heard some one coming upstairs, and, starting, rose to steal away to her own room, afraid to meet the stranger again; but no light made its appearance, and Law put in his head at the door, then seeing something moving against the window, came to her, and threw himself down on the window-seat. “They’re going on so downstairs, that I couldn’t stand it,” said Law; “it’s enough to make a fellow sick”—and then, after a pause, “Well! I told you what was coming, but you wouldn’t believe me; what do you think of it now?”
“Oh, Law, what does it mean?—Are we not dreaming? Can it be true?”
“True! of course it is true. I told you what was going to happen.” Then his tone softened. “Poor Lottie, it’s you I’m sorry for. If you could only see yourself beside her! And where were his eyes, that he couldn’t see?” Here Law paused abruptly, wondering all at once whether the difference would be as marked between his sister and the girls whom he too liked to spend his evenings with. He was sure that Emma was not like that woman; but still the thought subdued his indignation. “I say,” he added hastily, “I want to give you a bit of advice. Just you give in to her, Lottie. Fighting is no good: she has got a tongue that you couldn’t stand, and the things she would say you wouldn’t understand. I understand her well enough; but you wouldn’t know what she meant, and it would make you angry and hurt you. Give in, Lottie. Since the governor’s been so silly, she has a right. And don’t you make any stand as if you could do it—for you can’t. It is a great deal better not to resist——”
“What do you mean by resist? How can I resist? The house is papa’s, I suppose?” said Lottie. “The thing is, I don’t understand it. I can’t understand it: that somebody should be coming to stay here, to be one of us, to be mixed up in everything—whom we don’t know——”
“To be mistress,” said Law, “that’s the worst—not to be mixed up with us, but to be over us. To take everything out of your hands——”
“Do you think I care for that? I do not mind who is mistress,” said Lottie, all unaware of her own characteristics. Law was wiser than she was in this respect. He shook his head.
“That’s the worst,” he said; “she’ll be mistress—she’ll change everything. Oh, I know Polly well; though I suppose, for decency, I mustn’t say Polly now.”
“How is it you know her so well? And how did papa know her?” said Lottie. “I should have thought you never could have met such women. Ah! you told me once about—others. Law! you can’t like company like that; surely, you can’t like company like that! how did you get to know her?” Law was very much discomfited by this sudden question. In the midst of his sympathy and compassion for his sister, it was hard all at once to be brought to book, when he had forgotten the possibility of such a danger.
“Well, you know,” he said, “fellows do; I don’t know how it is—you come across some one, and then she speaks to you, and then you’re forced to speak back; or perhaps it’s you that speaks first—it isn’t easy to tell. This was as simple as anything,” Law went on, relieved by the naturalness of his own explanation. “They all work in the same house where Langton lives, my old coach, you know, before I went to old Ashford. I don’t know how the governor got there. Perhaps it was the same way. Going in and out, you know, day after day, why, how could you help it? And when a woman speaks to you, what can you do, but say something? That’s exactly how it was. ”
“But, Law,” she said, grasping his arm—all this conversation was so much easier in the dark—“Law, you will take care? she said she was not quite sure whether it was to be the father or the son. Ah! a woman who could say that, Law——”
“It’s a lie,” said Law, fiercely, “and she knows it. I never thought anything of her—never. It’s a lie, if she were to swear it! Polly! why, she’s thirty, she’s—— I give my word of honour, it’s a lie.”
“But, Law! oh, Law dear——”
“I know what you’re going to say. I’ll take care of myself; no fear of me getting entangled,” said Law briskly. Then he stopped, and, still favoured by the dark, took her hands in his. “Lottie, it’s my turn now. I know you won’t stand questioning, nor being talked to. But, look here—don’t shilly-shally if you can care for anybody, and he’ll marry you and give you a place of your own—You needn’t jump up as if I had shot you. If you talk about such things to me, I may surely talk to you. And mind what I say. I don’t expect you’ll be able to put up with your life here——”
“I hear them stirring downstairs,” said Lottie, drawing her hands out of his hold. “Don’t keep me, don’t hold me, Law. I cannot see her again to-night.”
“You won’t give me any answer,” said the lad regretfully. There was real feeling in his voice—“But, Lottie, mind what I say. I don’t believe you’ll be able to put up with it, and if there’s anyone you care for and he’ll marry you——”
Lottie freed herself from him violently, and fled. Even in the dark there were things that Law could not be permitted to say, or she to hear.