Miss Mackenzie Part 14

"Oh yes, very well," said Mr Rubb, and then turning to Miss Mackenzie, he went on with his little whispers.

"Mr Rubb," continued Miss Colza, "does anybody put you in mind of Mrs Talbot Green?"

"n.o.body in particular. She was a thin, tall, plain woman, with red hair, wasn't she? Who ought she to put me in mind of?"

"Oh dear! how can you forget so? That wasn't her looks at all. We all agreed that she was quite interesting-looking. Her hair was just fair, and that was all. But I shan't say anything more about it."

"But who do you say is like her?"

"Miss Colza means Aunt Margaret," said Mary Jane.

"Of course I do," said Miss Colza. "But Mrs Talbot Green was not at all the person that Mr Rubb has described; we all thought her very nice-looking. Mr Rubb, do you remember how you would go on talking to her, till Mr Talbot Green did not like it at all?"

"No, I don't."

"Oh, but you did; and you always do."

Then Miss Colza ceased, having finished that effort. But she made others from time to time as long as they remained in the dining-room, and by no means gave up the battle. There are women who can fight such battles when they have not an inch of ground on which to stand.

After the little dishes there came, of course, a saddle of mutton, and, equally of course, a pair of boiled fowls. There was also a tongue; but the a la Russe construction of the dinner was maintained by keeping the tongue on the sideboard, while the mutton and chickens were put down to be carved in the ordinary way. The ladies all partook of the chickens, and the gentlemen all of the mutton. The arrangement was very tedious, as Dr Slumpy was not as clever with the wings of the fowls as he perhaps would have been had he not been defrauded in the matter of the champagne; and then every separate plate was carried away to the sideboard with reference to the tongue.

Currant jelly had been duly provided, and, if Elizabeth had been allowed to dispense it, might have been useful. But Grandairs was too much for the jelly, as he had been for the fish-sauce, and Dr Slumpy in vain looked up, and sighed, and waited. A man in such a condition measures the amount of cold which his meat may possibly endure against the future coming of the potatoes, till he falls utterly to the ground between two stools. So was it now with Dr Slumpy. He gave one last sigh as he saw the gravy congeal upon his plate, but, nevertheless, he had finished the unpalatable food before Grandairs had arrived to his a.s.sistance.

Why tell of the ruin of the maccaroni, of the fine-coloured pyramids of shaking sweet things which n.o.body would eat, and by the non-consumption of which nothing was gained, as they all went back to the pastrycook's,--or of the ice-puddings flavoured with onions? It was all misery, wretchedness, and degradation. Grandairs was king, and Mrs Mackenzie was the lowest of his slaves. And why? Why had she done this thing? Why had she, who, to give her her due, generally held her own in her own house pretty firmly,--why had she lowered her neck and made a wretched thing of herself? She knew that it would be so when she first suggested to herself the attempt. She did it for fashion's sake, you will say. But there was no one there who did not as accurately know as she did herself, how absolutely beyond fashion's way lay her way. She was making no fight to enter some special portal of the world, as a lady may do who takes a house suddenly in Mayfair, having come from G.o.d knows where. Her place in the world was fixed, and she made no contest as to the fixing. She hoped for no great change in the direction of society. Why on earth did she perplex her mind and bruise her spirit, by giving a dinner a la anything? Why did she not have the roast mutton alone, so that all her guests might have eaten and have been merry?

She could not have answered this question herself, and I doubt whether I can do so for her. But this I feel, that unless the question can get itself answered, ordinary Englishmen must cease to go and eat dinners at each other's houses. The ordinary Englishman, of whom we are now speaking, has eight hundred a year; he lives in London; and he has a wife and three or four children. Had he not better give it up and go back to his little bit of fish and his leg of mutton? Let him do that boldly, and he will find that we, his friends, will come to him fast enough; yes, and will make a gala day of it. By Heavens, we have no gala time of it when we go to dine with Mrs Mackenzie a la Russe! Lady Mackenzie, whose husband has ever so many thousands a year, no doubt does it very well. Money, which cannot do everything,--which, if well weighed, cannot in its excess perhaps do much,--can do some things. It will buy diamonds and give grand banquets. But paste diamonds, and banquets which are only would-be grand, are among the poorest imitations to which the world has descended.

"So you really go to Littlebath to-morrow," Mr Rubb said to Miss Mackenzie, when they were again together in the drawing-room.

"Yes, to-morrow morning. Susanna must be at school the next day."

"Happy Susanna! I wish I were going to school at Littlebath. Then I shan't see you again before you go."

"No; I suppose not."

"I am so sorry, because I particularly wished to speak to you,--most particularly. I suppose I could not see you in the morning? But, no; it would not do. I could not get you alone without making such a fuss of the thing."

"Couldn't you say it now?" asked Miss Mackenzie.

"I will, if you'll let me; only I suppose it isn't quite the thing to talk about business at an evening party; and your sister-in-law, if she knew it, would never forgive me."

"Then she shan't know it, Mr Rubb."

"Since you are so good, I think I will make bold. Carpe diem, as we used to say at school, which means that one day is as good as another, and, if so why not any time in the day? Look here, Miss Mackenzie--about that money, you know."

And Mr Rubb got nearer to her on the sofa as he whispered the word money into her ear. It immediately struck her that her own brother Tom had said not a word to her about the money, although they had been together for the best part of an hour before they had gone up to dress.

"I suppose Mr Slow will settle all that," said Miss Mackenzie.

"Of course;--that is to say, he has nothing further to settle just as yet. He has our bond for the money, and you may be sure it's all right. The property is purchased, and is ours,--our own at this moment, thanks to you. But landed property is so hard to convey.

Perhaps you don't understand much about that! and I'm sure I don't.

The fact is, the t.i.tle deeds at present are in other hands, a mere matter of form; and I want you to understand that the mortgage is not completed for that reason."

"I suppose it will be done soon?"

"It may, or it may not; but that won't affect your interest, you know."

"I was thinking of the security."

"Well, the security is not as perfect as it should be. I tell you that honestly; and if we were dealing with strangers we should expect to be called on to refund. And we should refund instantly, but at a great sacrifice, a ruinous sacrifice. Now, I want you to put so much trust in us,--in me, if I may be allowed to ask you to do so,--as to believe that your money is substantially safe. I cannot explain it all now; but the benefit which you have done us is immense."

"I suppose it will all come right, Mr Rubb."

"It will all come right, Miss Mackenzie."

Then there was extracted from her something which he was able to take as a promise that she would not stir in the matter for a while, but would take her interest without asking for any security as to her princ.i.p.al.

The conversation was interrupted by Miss Colza, who came and stood opposite to them.

"Well, I'm sure," she said; "you two are very confidential."

"And why shouldn't we be confidential, Miss Colza?" asked Mr Rubb.

"Oh, dear! no reason in life, if you both like it."

Miss Mackenzie was not sure that she did like it. But again she was not sure that she did not, when Mr Rubb pressed her hand at parting, and told her that her great kindness had been of the most material service to the firm. "He felt it," he said, "if n.o.body else did."

That also might be a sacrificial duty and therefore gratifying.

The next morning she and Susanna left Gower Street at eight, spent an interesting period of nearly an hour at the railway station, and reached Littlebath in safety at one.

CHAPTER IX

Miss Mackenzie's Philosophy

Miss Mackenzie remained quiet in her room for two days after her return before she went out to see anybody. These last Christmas weeks had certainly been the most eventful period of her life, and there was very much of which it was necessary that she should think. She had, she thought, made up her mind to refuse her cousin's offer; but the deed was not yet done. She had to think of the mode in which she must do it; and she could not but remember, also, that she might still change her mind in that matter if she pleased. The anger produced in her by Lady Ball's claim, as it were, to her fortune, had almost evaporated; but the memory of her cousin's story of his troubles was still fresh. "I have a hard time of it sometimes, I can tell you." Those words and others of the same kind were the arguments which had moved her, and made her try to think that she could love him. Then she remembered his bald head and the weary, careworn look about his eyes, and his little intermittent talk, addressed chiefly to his mother, about the money-market,--little speeches made as he would sit with the newspaper in his hand:

"The Confederate loan isn't so bad, after all. I wish I'd taken a few."

"You know you'd never have slept if you had," Lady Ball would answer.

All this Miss Mackenzie now turned in her mind, and asked herself whether she could be happy in hearing such speeches for the remainder of her life.

"It is not as if you two were young people, and wanted to be billing and cooing," Lady Ball had said to her the same evening.

Miss Mackenzie, as she thought of this, was not so sure that Lady Ball was right. Why should she not want billing and cooing as well as another? It was natural that a woman should want some of it in her life, and she had had none of it yet. She had had a lover, certainly, but there had been no billing and cooing with him. Nothing of that kind had been possible in her brother Walter's house.