Anthony Pennell was a very fresh, pleasant, and good-looking presentment of a young English gentleman, as he entered the room where Margaret was sitting with Doctor Phillips that evening. It had been arranged between them beforehand, that as little as need be should be confided to him of Harriet Brandt’s former history. All that was necessary for him to know, was the danger that threatened to blast the future happiness of Ralph Pullen and Elinor Leyton.
“Well! Mrs. Pullen,” he said, as he shook hands cordially with Margaret and the doctor, “and what important business is it, that you want to consult me upon? I thought, at the very least, that I should meet my cousin Arthur here!”
“If I had had Arthur, perhaps I should not have needed you,” replied Margaret, with a faint smile. “But really, Mr. Pennell, I am in want of advice sorely, and the Doctor agreed with me that you would be the best person to whom I could apply!”
“I am at your service, Madam!” said the young man, gaily, as he seated himself.
Then she told him the story of Harriet Brandt—how Ralph had met her at the Lion d’Or, and devoted his time to her—and how she was persecuting him with letters, and had threatened to follow him to the Camp and interview him there.
“And it must be put a stop to, you know, Mr. Pennell,” she concluded, “not only for Ralph’s sake and Elinor’s, but for the sake of the Walthamstowes and my husband. I am sure that Arthur would be exceedingly annoyed at any scandal of that sort, and especially as Lord Walthamstowe is so old a friend of his family!”
Anthony Pennell had looked very grave during her recital. After a pause he said,
“Are you sure that Ralph has not given this young lady good cause to run after him?”
“I think not—I hope not! There was very little amusement in Heyst, and this girl, and the people with whom she is now staying—a Baron and Baroness Gobelli, they call themselves—were amongst the visitors to the Lion d’Or. Miss Leyton is rather a stickler for the proprieties, and used to refuse to walk out with Ralph alone in the evenings, and I was too much occupied with my poor darling baby to accompany them,” said Margaret, in a faltering voice, “so Ralph took to going to the Baroness’s private rooms instead, and became intimate with Miss Brandt!”
“You acknowledge then, that he was intimate with her!”
“I think he must have been—because it appears that he had agreed to join their party at Brussels, when—when—my great trouble obliged him to return to England with us instead.”
“Did you know this young lady, Mrs. Pullen?”
“I did, and at one time I was rather intimate with her, that is, before the Baroness took her up, when she passed almost all her time with them.”
“She is, I suppose, very attractive in person?”
“O! dear no, not at all!” cried Margaret, with a woman’s dull appreciation of the charms of one of her own sex, “she has fine eyes, and what men would, I suppose, call a good figure, but no complexion and an enormous mouth. Not at all pretty, but nice-looking at times,—that is all!”
“Clever?” said Pennell, interrogatively.
“I do not think so! She had just come out of a Convent school and was utterly unused to society. But she has a very good voice and plays well on the mandoline!”
“Ladies are not always the best judges of their own sex,” remarked Anthony, turning to Doctor Phillips, “what do you say, Doctor? Had you an opportunity of appraising Miss Brandt’s beauties and accomplishments for yourself?”
“I would rather say nothing, Mr. Pennell,” replied the Doctor. “The fact is, I knew her parents in the West Indies, and could never believe in anything good coming from such a stock. Whatever the girl may be, she inherits terrible proclivities, added to black blood. She is in point of fact a quadroon, and not fit to marry into any decent English family!”
“O! dear!” exclaimed Mr. Pennell laconically.
“And how do you expect me to help you?” he enquired, after a pause.
“I want you to see the Baroness, or Miss Brandt, and tell them that this girl must cease all communication with Captain Pullen,” said Margaret, “tell them that he is engaged to marry Miss Leyton—that the marriage is fixed to take place next spring, and that the Walthamstowe family will be excessively annoyed if any scandal of this sort occurs to break it off.”
“Do they not know that such an engagement exists?”
“No! that is the unfortunate part of it! Elinor Leyton is so absurdly scrupulous that she will not have the fact made public, and forbade me to tell Miss Brandt about it! Elinor went to the Red House where Miss Brandt is staying this morning and had a most stormy interview with her. She came here afterwards in a most distressed state of mind. Harriet Brandt had told her that she had secured Ralph Pullen and meant to keep him—that he had told her he loved her—and that Miss Leyton was too cold and prudish a nature for any man to be happy with! Of course Elinor was terribly upset. She seldom shows her feelings, but it was quite impossible for her to disguise them to-day. I begged her to leave the matter in my hands, and she consented to do so. That is why I telegraphed for you.”
“It is rather an awkward predicament!” said Anthony Pennell, thoughtfully, “you will forgive me for saying, Mrs. Pullen, that Ralph is so very likely to have done this sort of thing, that I feel one might be treading on very delicate ground—in fact, putting one’s foot in it—by interfering. You know what Ralph is—selfish and indolent and full of vanity. He considers it far too much trouble to make love (as it is called) to a woman, but he will accept any amount of love that is offered him, so long as it gives him no trouble. If this Miss Brandt is all that you and the doctor here say of her, she may possibly have drawn Ralph on, and taken his languid satisfaction as proof that he agreed to all she said and did. But it will make the dénouement just as unpleasant. Besides, how will Ralph himself take my interference in the matter? He may have some designs on this girl—some ideas in the future connected with her—and will ask what business I had to come between them.”
“O! no! Did I not tell you that he had left her letters in his grate!”
“That might be part of his indolent carelessness, or they may have been left there by design, as a means of breaking the ice between himself and Miss Leyton. Is not he, after all, the most proper person to appeal to? Why not wait till your husband returns, and let him speak to his brother?”
“I am so afraid in that case, that Ralph might consider that he had gone too far with Miss Brandt, and honour demanded that he should marry her! And, Mr. Pennell, Doctor Phillips could tell you things, if he chose, to prove to you that Harriet Brandt is not a fit wife for any decent man.”
Anthony Pennell thought again for a few minutes—sitting silent with his hand caressing his smooth chin. Then he said:
“If you are very much bent on my doing what I can in this matter, I see only one way to accomplish it. I must enter the Red House under a flag of truce. Did you know this Baroness Gobelli? Can you tell me what sort of woman she is? I never heard the name before!”
“She is quite a character,” replied Margaret; “I believe her husband is a German Baron, but she was a Mrs. Bates, and is an extraordinary Baroness. A strange mixture also, of vulgarity and refined tastes. She drops all her aspirates, yet talks familiarly of aristocratic and royal titles, she dresses like a cook out on Sundays, and yet has a passion for good paintings and old china.”
At the last words, Anthony Pennell pricked up his ears.
“A passion for old china!” he exclaimed, “then there must be some good in her! Cannot you give me an introduction to the Red House on the plea that I am a connoisseur and am desirous of seeing her collection?”
“Of course I can, but how can you approach these people in amity, with a censure of Miss Brandt’s conduct in your hand? Madame Gobelli is infatuated with Harriet Brandt! I was telling poor Elinor only this afternoon, that I should not be at all surprised if she were at the bottom of all this unpleasantness.”
“She could not be at the bottom of anything unless Ralph had given her cause,” replied Mr. Pennell, who had never had a good opinion of his cousin’s straightforward dealing, “and however it may turn out, I should think he would have a heavy reckoning to settle with Miss Leyton! This is not the first time, remember! You have not forgotten the trouble Arthur had to get him out of that scrape with the laundress’s girl at Aldershot, the year before last!”
“Yes! Arthur told me about it,” replied Margaret. “But you are going to help us, this time, Mr. Pennell, are you not?”
“In so far as procuring an introduction to the Baroness, and taking my opportunity to let her know the true state of affairs with Miss Leyton, yes,” said Mr. Pennell, “but there, my responsibility must cease. Should Ralph have committed himself in writing, or anything of that sort, you must promise to let them fight it out their own way. I daresay there will be no trouble about the matter. I can see how it has occurred at a glance. Ralph has been merely amusing himself with the girl, and she has taken his philandering in earnest. But I wish he would leave that sort of thing off. It will ruin his married life if he does not!”
“Yes! indeed, and Elinor Leyton really loves him, more, I am sure, than he imagines. She declared this afternoon, that if it were not put a complete stop to, she should break off her engagement. And I think she would be right!”
“So do I,” acquiesced Anthony Pennell. “Well! if these people are ordinarily decent, they will, as soon as they hear the truth, prevent their young friend interfering with another woman’s rights. Write me the introduction, Mrs. Pullen, and I will pay the Red House a visit as soon as its owner gives me leave. And now let us talk of something pleasanter. How soon do you expect Arthur to arrive?”
“Any day,” replied Margaret, “and I am longing so for him to come!”
“Of course you are! Will he remain long in England?”
“Only a few weeks! He has taken three months’ leave. Then, I shall return with him to Hosur.”
“And you like the idea of India?”
“O! anything—anything—to find myself with him again,” she answered feverishly.
The conversation turned upon more indifferent subjects, and armed with the note of introduction to the Baroness, Anthony Pennell presently took his leave. He did not like the task imposed upon him, and he hardly knew how he should set about it, but on consideration he thought he could do no harm by having a look at the young lady, who had taken the fancy of his fickle-minded cousin Ralph, and leaving his future action to be decided by the interview. He sat down therefore before turning into bed, and wrote a note to the Baroness, enclosing the introduction from Mrs. Pullen, and asking permission to call and inspect her rare collection of china, of which he had heard so much.
His letter reached the Red House on the following morning, at an unfortunate moment, when Madame Gobelli was giving full display to the worst side of her eccentric character.
The Baroness was not a lover of animals, either dogs or horses. She was merciless to the latter and the former she kicked whenever they came in her way. It was considered necessary, however, for the safety of the Red House, that it should be guarded by a watch-dog, and a miserable retriever, which answered to that name, lived in a rotten cask in the stable yard. This unhappy animal, which had neither sufficient food, exercise, nor straw to lie on, was in the habit of keeping up a continuous baying at night, in remonstrance at the cruelty of its treatment, which was a cause of annoyance to the neighbours, who had often written to the Baroness about it in vain.
On the morning in question, a Captain Hill, who lived on one side of the Red House, with his parents, sent in his card to Madame Gobelli and asked for an interview. She admitted him at once. She liked men of all sorts, and particularly if they were young and she could kiss them with impunity, under the pretence that she was old enough to be their mother.
She therefore welcomed Captain Hill quite amiably. She came in from the garden to receive him, attired in a Genoa velvet dress that trailed half a yard on the damp ground behind, and a coarse Zulu hat perched on her large bullet head. She was attended by Harriet Brandt, who had been making a tour of the premises with her, and was always eager to see anybody who might call at the Red House. Miss Wynward also, who was dusting the china with a feather brush as the visitor was announced, continued her occupation, and without apologising for doing so, or asking leave.
Harriet had not yet been able to determine the exact place which this lady held in the Baroness’s household, for she was treated as one of the family, and yet degraded at times to the position of a servant.
The Baroness expected her to cook, or dust rooms, or darn stockings, or do anything required of her, whilst she introduced her to all her friends as if on a perfect equality with themselves. As she entered the drawing-room through one of the French windows, she shook hands familiarly with Captain Hill, and introduced him to both her companions.
“Well!” she went on, “and so you’ve come to see us at last! I thought you were going to live and die in that tumble-down old place of yours, without so much as a shake of the ’and! I ’ope you’re all well at ’ome!”
The stranger did not seem to know how to receive these civilities. He had not seated himself, but stood in the centre of the room with his hat in his hand, as though he found a difficulty in stating his errand at the Red House.
“Take a chair,” said Madame Gobelli in her rough way, “there’s enough and to spare, and my young friend ’ere won’t eat you!”
Still Captain Hill deliberated about accepting her offer.
“Thank you,” he commenced, “but I shall not detain you above a few moments. I came to speak to you about your dog, Madame Gobelli. My parents are both very old, and my mother especially delicate—indeed, I fear that she may never rise from her bed again!”
Here his voice faltered a little, but quickly recovering himself he went on,
“She sleeps very little, and that little has now become impossible to her on account of the incessant barking of your yard dog. I am here to-day by the wish of my mother’s medical attendant, Doctor Parker, to tell you that the noise is seriously affecting her health, and to beg that you will adopt some measures to have the annoyance stopped.”
As the Baroness understood the reason for which her neighbour had called upon her, her countenance palpably changed. The broad smile faded from her face and was replaced by an ominous frown. If there was one thing which she resented above another, it was being called to task for any disturbance in her household. Without taking any notice apparently of Captain Hill’s complaint, she turned to Miss Wynward and said,
“Miss Wynward, come ’ere! Does that dog bark at night?”
“Sometimes, my lady,” replied the governess dubiously.
“I don’t believe it! You’re lying! ’Arriet, does Nelson ever bark so as to disturb anyone?”
“He barks whenever there is a ring at the bell, or a stranger enters the grounds, Madame,” said Harriet, with politic evasion.
“Oh! I assure you he does more than that!” interposed the visitor, “the poor animal howls without ceasing. Either he is ill, or the servants do not give him sufficient food!”
But at this censure cast upon her domestics whom she bullied from morning till night, the Baroness’s uncontrolled temper burst forth.
“’Ow dare you come ’ere,” she exclaimed loudly, “and bring false accusations against my servants? No one in this ’ouse is kept short of food. What do you mean—a rubbishing fellow like you—by coming ’ere, and accusing the Baron of starving ’is animals? There’s more money spent upon our animals, I bet, than goes in your poverty-stricken ’ouse-’old in a year!”
Captain Hill was now offended, as he well might be.
“I do not know what knowledge you may possess of the exigencies of my parents’ household, Madam,” he replied, “but what I came here to tell you is this—that from whatever cause it may arise, the howling and whining of your dog is a public nuisance and it must be stopped!”
“Must, must!” exclaimed Madame Gobelli, shaking her stick at him, “and pray ’oo’s to make me stop it?”
“I will,” said Captain Hill, “the noise is endangering the life of my mother, and I shall insist upon the animal being destroyed, or taken elsewhere. If you cannot take a friendly hint—if you have so callous a nature that the sufferings of an aged and invalid lady cannot excite your sympathy, the law shall teach you that, whatever you may fail to feel, you cannot annoy your neighbours with impunity!”
“Fine neighbours indeed!” cried the Baroness, her whole face trembling and contorted with passion. “A beggarly lot of half-pay officers and retired parsons! I’ll soon see if you’ll be allowed to come riding the ’igh ’orse over me! Confound your impudence! Do you know ’oo I am?”
“A Billingsgate fishwoman, I should imagine, from your language! Certainly not a gentlewoman!” said Captain Hill, his eyes blazing with his wrath.
“’Ang you! I’ll soon teach you ’ow to insult a lady that’s connected with Royalty!”
At that, the stranger burst into a derisive laugh.
“Down the back stairs!” he muttered to himself, but Madame Gobelli caught the words.
“Get out of my ’ouse,” she cried. “’Ere, Miss Wynward, see this fellow out at the front door, and never you let ’im in again, or I’ll give you a month’s warning! Down the back stairs indeed! Confound you! If you don’t clear out this very minute, I’ll lay my stick across your back! You’ll make me destroy my dog, will you, and just because your trumpery mother don’t like ’is barking! Go ’ome and tell ’er to ’old ’er own row! And you accuse my servants of not giving ’im enough to eat. You’d be glad enough to see ’is dinner on your own table once or twice a week. Out with you, I say—out with you at once, and don’t let me see your ugly mug and your carroty ’ead in ’ere again, or I’ll set the dog you don’t like upon you.”
Captain Hill had turned white as a sheet with anger.
“You’ll hear more of this, Madam, and from my solicitor next time,” he said. “Heartless, unfeeling woman! How can you call yourself a mother, when you have no pity for a son’s grief at his mother’s illness? Pray God you may not have occasion to remember this morning, when you have to part from your own son!”
He rushed from the room as he spoke, and they heard the hall door slam after him. For a minute after he left, there was a dead pause between the three women. His last words seemed to have struck the Baroness as with a two-edged sword. She stood silent, staring into vacancy, and breathing hard, whilst Harriet Brandt and Miss Wynward regarded each other with furtive dismay. The silence was broken by Madame Gobelli bursting into a harsh laugh.
“I don’t fancy ’e will show ’is face in my ’ouse again, in an ’urry,” she exclaimed. “It was as good as a play to watch ’im, trying to brave it out! Confound ’is old mother! Why don’t she die and ’ave done with it! I’ve no patience with old people ’anging on in that way, and worrying the ’ole world with their fads! Well! what is it?” she continued to a maid who brought her a letter.
“By the post, my lady!”
The Baroness broke the seal. There was such a look of scare upon her features, that some people might have thought she was glad to have anything to do that should hide it from her companions. The letter was from Anthony Pennell, whose name was familiar to her, as to all the world.
As she finished its perusal, her manner entirely altered. The broad smile broke out on her countenance—her eyes sparkled—one would have thought she could never be in anything but a beaming good temper.
“’Olloa! ’Arriet!” she exclaimed, “’ere’s news for you! ’Oo do you think this letter’s from?”
“How can I guess?” replied the girl, though her thoughts had flown at once to Ralph Pullen.
“From Mr. Anthony Pennell, the great author, you know, and own cousin to that rapscallion, Captain Pullen! Now we shall ’ear all about the ’andsome Captain! Mr. Pennell says ’e wants to come ’ere and see my china, but I know better! ’E’s bringing you a message from ’is cousin, mark my words! I can see it written up be’ind you!”
Harriet’s delicate face flushed with pleasure at the news.
“But why shouldn’t Captain Pullen have come himself?” she asked, anxiously.
“I can’t tell you that! Perhaps ’e is coming, be’ind the other, and this is only a feeler! There’s wheels within wheels in these big families, sometimes, you know, and the Pullens are connected with a lot of big-wigs! But we’ll ’ave some news, anyway! You just sit down, my dear, and write Mr. Pennell a pretty note in my name—you write a prettier ’and than I do—and say we shall be very pleased to see ’im to-morrow afternoon, if convenient, and I ’ope ’e will stay to dinner afterwards and be introduced to the Baron—will you?”
“O! yes, of course, Madame, if you wish it!” replied the girl, smiles dimpling her face at the thought of her triumph over Elinor Leyton.
“Now, Miss Wynward, we must ’ave a first-rate dinner to-morrow for Mr. Pennell, and you and Bobby ’ad better dine at one o’clock, or you’ll spoil the table. Let me see! We’ll ’ave——”
But turning to enforce her orders, the Baroness discovered that Miss Wynward had quitted the room.
“Why! where ’as the woman gone? Did you see ’er leave the room, ’Arriet?”
“I did not! I was too much occupied listening to you,” replied the girl from the table, where she was inditing the answer to Anthony Pennell’s note.
“’Ere, Miss Wynward! Miss Wynward!” screamed the Baroness from the open door, but no reply came to her call.
“I must go and see after ’er!” she said, as she stumped from the room, as intent upon procuring a good dinner for one young man, as she had been in insulting the other, and turning him from her doors.
Meanwhile Captain Hill, hot and angry, was striding away in the direction of his own home, when he heard a soft voice calling his name in the rear. He turned to encounter the spare, humiliated form of Miss Wynward.
“Captain Hill,” she ejaculated, “I beg your pardon, but may I speak to you for a moment?”
Recognising her as having been in the room, when the Baroness had so grossly insulted him, he waited rather coldly for her to come up with him.
“Don’t think me impertinent or interfering,” faltered Miss Wynward, “but I was so shocked—so distressed—I could not let you go without saying how grieved and sorry I am!”
“I do not quite understand you,” replied Captain Hill.
“O! yes, surely, did you not see me in the room just now! I felt as if I should die of shame! But if you knew what it is to be dependent—to be unable to speak or to expostulate—you would guess perhaps——”
“Yes! Yes! I think I can understand. But pray don’t distress yourself about it! It was my own fault! I should have addressed her first through my solicitor. But I thought she was a gentlewoman!”
“It is her temper that gets the better of her,” said Miss Wynward in an apologetic tone, “she is not always so bad as she was this morning!”
“That is fortunate for the world at large,” replied Captain Hill, gravely. “I could have forgiven her vulgarity, but not her heartlessness. I can only think that she is a most terrible woman.”
“That is what everybody says,” answered his companion, “but she will admit of no remonstrance. She will have her own way, and the Baron is as powerless to refrain her, as you, or I. But that she should so insult a gentleman like yourself, even descending to oaths and personalities—O! I cannot tell you how much I felt it—how ashamed I was, and how anxious that you should not confound me with anything the Baroness said, or did!”
“Indeed,” said Captain Hill, holding out his hand, “you need have no fear on that score. I hope I know a gentlewoman when I see her! But tell me, since your eyes are open to all this, how is it that a lady like yourself can stay under the roof of so terrible a person? There are plenty of other situations to be had! Why do you not leave her, and go elsewhere?”
He was struck by the look of mingled anxiety and fear with which she regarded him.
“O! Captain Hill, there are reasons that are difficult to explain—that I could not tell to anyone on so short an acquaintance. But the Baroness possesses great power—she could ruin me, I believe she could kill if she chose!”
“She threatens you then!”
“Yes!” came from Miss Wynward’s lips, but in almost a whisper.
“Well! this is hardly the time and place to discuss such a question,” said Captain Hill, “but I should much like to see more of you, Miss Wynward! If you have any time at your disposal, will you come over and see my old mother? She is quite confined to her room, but I know it would please her to have a quiet talk with you!”
A light glistened in Miss Wynward’s washed-out eyes, and a smile stole over her countenance.
“Do you really mean it, Captain Hill?”
“I never say anything that I do not mean,” he answered, “I am sure both my parents would be glad to give you their advice, and my dear father, who is a clergyman, though past an active ministry, may be able to be of use to you in a more practical way. At anyrate, you will come and see us. That is a bargain!” and he held out his hand to her again in farewell.
“O! I will—I will, indeed,” exclaimed Miss Wynward, gratefully, “and thank you so very much for the permission. You have put a little hope into my life!”
She seized the hand he proffered her, and kissed it, as an inferior might have done, and then hurried back to the Red House, before he had had time to remonstrate with her on the proceeding.