Rachel Ray Part 41

All this made Mrs. Ray's task the more difficult. During the last two or three weeks she had been wishing that she had not gone to Mr. Comfort,--wishing that she had allowed Rachel to answer Rowan's letter in any terms of warmest love that she might have chosen,--wishing, in fact, that she had permitted the engagement to go on. But now she began again to think that she had been right.

If this man were in truth a harum-scarum fellow was it not well that Rachel should be quit of him,--even with any amount of present sorrow? Thinking of this on her way back to Baslehurst she again made up her mind that Rowan was a wolf. But she had not made up her mind as to what she would, or what she would not tell Rachel about the meeting, even when she reached her own door. "I will send her no message," he had said. "As things are at present no message would be of service." What had he meant by this? What purpose on his part did these words indicate? These questions Mrs. Ray had asked herself, but had failed to answer them.

But no resolution on Mrs. Ray's part to keep the meeting secret would have been of avail, even had she made such resolution. The fact would have fallen from her as easily as water falls from a sieve. Rachel would have extracted from her the information, had she been ever so determined not to impart it. As things had turned out she had at once given Rachel to understand that she had met some one in Exeter whom she had not expected to meet.

"But, mamma, whom did you see except Mr. Goodall?" Rachel asked. "I know you saw somebody, and you must tell me."

"That's nonsense, Rachel; you can't know that I saw anybody."

After that there was a pause for some moments, and then Rachel persisted in her inquiry. "But, mamma, I do know that you met somebody."--Then there was another pause.--"Mamma, was it Mr. Rowan?"

Mrs. Ray stood convicted at once. Had she not spoken a word, the form of her countenance when the question was asked would have answered it with sufficient clearness. But she did speak a word. "Well; yes, it was Mr. Rowan. He had come down to Exeter on business."

"And what did he say, mamma?"

"He didn't say anything,--at least, nothing particular. It is he that has bought the cottages, and he had come down from London about that.

He told me that he wanted some ground near Baslehurst, because he couldn't get the brewery."

"And what else did he say, mamma?"

"I tell you that he said nothing else."

"He didn't--didn't mention me then?"

Mrs. Ray had been looking away from Rachel during this conversation,--had been purposely looking away from her. But now there was a tone of agony in her child's voice which forced her to glance round. Ah me! She beheld so piteous an expression of woe in Rachel's face that her whole heart was melted within her, and she began to wish instantly that they might have Rowan back again with all his faults.

"Tell me the truth, mamma; I may as well know it."

"Well, my dear, he didn't mention your name, but he did say a word about you."

"What word, mamma?"

"He said he would send no message because it would be no good."

"He said that, did he?"

"Yes, he said that. And so I suppose he meant it would be no good sending anything till he came himself."

"No, mamma; he didn't mean quite that. I understand what he meant. As it is to be so, he was quite right. No message could be of any use.

It has been my own doing, and I have no right to blame him. Mamma, if you don't mind, I think I'll go to bed."

"My dear, you're wrong. I'm sure you're wrong. He didn't mean that."

"Didn't he, mamma?" And as she spoke a sad, weary, wobegone smile came over her face,--a smile so sad and piteous that it went to her mother's heart more keenly than would have done any sound of sorrow, any sobs, or wail of grief. "But I think he did mean that, mamma.

It's no good doubting or fearing any longer. It's all over now."

"And it has been my fault!"

"No, dearest. It has not been your fault, nor do I think that it has been mine. I think we'd better not talk of faults. Ah dear;--I do wish he had never come here!"

"Perhaps it may be all well yet, Rachel."

"Perhaps it may,--in another world. It will never be well again for me in this. Good-night, mamma. You must never think that I am angry with you."

Then she went up stairs, leaving Mrs. Ray alone with her sorrow.

CHAPTER VII.

DOMESTIC POLITICS AT THE BREWERY.

In the mean time things were not going on very pleasantly at the brewery, and Mr. Tappitt was making himself unpleasant in the bosom of his family. A lawsuit will sometimes make a man extremely pleasant company to his wife and children. Even a losing lawsuit will sometimes do so, if he be well backed up in his pugnacity by his lawyer, and if the matter of the battle be one in which he can take a delight to fight. "Ah," a man will say, "though I spend a thousand pounds over it, I'll stick to him like a burr. He shan't shake me off." And at such times he is almost sure to be in a good humour, and in a generous mood. Then let his wife ask him for money for a dinner-party, and his daughters for new dresses. He has taught himself for the moment to disregard money, and to think that he can sow five-pound notes broadcast without any inward pangs. But such was by no means the case with Mr. Tappitt. His lawyer Honyman was not backing him up; and as cool reflection came upon him he was afraid of trusting his interests to those other men, Sharpit and Longfite. And Mrs. Tappitt, when cool reflection came on her, had begun to dread the ruin which it seemed possible that terrible young man might inflict upon them. She had learned already, though Mrs. Ray had not, how false had been that report which had declared Luke Rowan to be frivolous, idle, and in debt. To her it was very manifest that Honyman was afraid of the young man; and Honyman, though he might not be as keen as some others, was at any rate honest. Honyman also thought that if the brewery were given up to Rowan that thousand a year which had been promised would be paid regularly; and to this solution of the difficulty Mrs. Tappitt was gradually bending herself to submit as the best which an untoward fate offered to them. Honyman himself had declared to her that Mr. Tappitt, if he were well advised, would admit Rowan in as a partner, on equal terms as regarded power and ultimate possession, but with that lion's share of the immediate concern for himself which Rowan offered. But this she knew that Tappitt would not endure; and she knew, also, that if he were brought to endure it for a while, it would ultimately lead to terrible sorrows. "They would be knocking each other about with the pokers, Mr. Honyman," she had said; "and where would the custom be when that got into the newspapers?" "If I were Mr. Tappitt, I would just let him have his own way," Honyman had replied. "That shows that you don't know Tappitt," had been Mrs. Tappitt's rejoinder. No;--the thousand a year and dignified retirement in a villa had recommended itself to Mrs. Tappitt's mind. She would use all her influence to attain that position,--if only she could bring herself to feel a.s.sured that the thousand a year would be forthcoming.

As to Tappitt himself, he was by no means so anxious to prolong the battle as he had been at the time of Rowan's departure. His courage for fighting was not maintained by good backing. Had Honyman clapped him on the shoulder and bade him put ready money in his purse, telling him that all would come out right eventually, and that Rowan would be crushed, he would have gone about Baslehurst boasting loudly, and would have been happy. Then Mrs. T. and the girls would have had a merry time of it; and the Tappitts would have come out of the contest with four or five hundred a year for life instead of the thousand now offered to them, and n.o.body would have blamed anybody for such a result. But Honyman had not spirit for such backing. In his dull, slow, droning way he had shaken his head and said that things were looking badly. Then Tappitt had cursed and had sworn, and had half resolved to go to Sharpit and Longfite. Sharpit and Longfite would have clapped him on the back readily enough, and have bade him put plenty of money in his purse. But we may suppose that Fate did not intend the ruin of Tappitt, seeing that she did not make him mad enough to seek the counsels of Sharpit and Longfite. Fate only made him very cross and unpleasant in the bosom of his family. Looking out himself for some mode of escape from this terrible enemy that had come upon him, he preferred the raising of the sum of money which would be necessary to buy off Rowan altogether. Rowan had demanded ten thousand pounds, but Tappitt still thought that seven, or, at any rate, eight thousand would do it.

"I don't think he'll take less than ten," said Honyman, "because his share is really worth as much as that."

This was very provoking; and who can wonder that Tappitt was not pleasant company in his own house?

On the day after Mrs. Ray's visit to Exeter, Tappitt, as was now his almost daily practice, made his way into Mr. Honyman's little back room, and sat there with his hat on, discussing his affairs.

"I find that Mr. Rowan has bought those cottages of the widow Ray's,"

said Honyman.

"Nonsense!" shouted Tappitt, as though such a purchase on Rowan's part was a new injury done to himself.

"Oh, but he has," said Honyman. "There's not a doubt in life about it. If he does mean to build a new brewery, it wouldn't be a bad place. You see it's out of the thoroughfare of the town, and yet, as one may say, within a stone's throw of the High Street."

I will not repeat Mr. Tappitt's exclamation as he listened to these suggestions of his lawyer, but it was of a nature to show that he had not heard the news with indifference.

"You see he's such a fellow that you don't know where to have him,"

continued Honyman. "It's not only that he don't mind ruining you, but he don't mind ruining himself either."

"I don't believe he's got anything to lose."

"Ah! that's where you're wrong. He has paid ready money for this bit of land to begin with, or Goodall would never have let him have it.

Goodall knows what he's about as well as any man."

"And do you mean to tell me that he's going to put up buildings there at once?" And Tappitt's face as he asked the question would have softened the heart of any ordinary lawyer. But Honyman was one whom nothing could harden and nothing soften.

"I don't know what he's going to put up, Mr. Tappitt, and I don't know when. But I know this well enough; that when a man buys little bits of property about a place it shows that he means to do something there."

"If he had twenty thousand pounds, he'd lose it all."

"That's very likely; but the question is, how would you fare in the mean time? If he hadn't this claim upon you, of course you'd let him build what he liked, and only laugh at him." Then Mr. Tappitt uttered another exclamation, and pulling his hat tighter on to his head, walked out of the lawyer's office and returned to the brewery.

They dined at three o'clock at the brewery, and during dinner on this day the father of the family made himself very disagreeable. He scolded the maid-servant till the poor girl didn't know the spoons from the forks. He abused the cook's performances till that valuable old retainer declared that if "master got so rampageous he might suit hisself, the sooner the better; she didn't care how soon; she'd cooked victuals for his betters and would again." He snarled at his daughters till they perked up their faces and came silently to a mutual agreement that they would not condescend to notice him further while he held on in his present mood. And he replied to his wife's questions,--questions intended to be soothing and kindly conjugal,--in such a tone that she determined to have it out with him before she allowed him to go to bed. "She knew her duty," she said to herself, "and she could stand a good deal. But there were some things she couldn't stand and some things that weren't her duty." After dinner Tappitt took himself out at once to his office in the brewery, and then, for the first time, saw the "Baslehurst Gazette and Totnes Chronicle" for that week. The "Baslehurst Gazette and Totnes Chronicle" was an enterprising weekly newspaper, which had been originally intended to convey on Sunday mornings to the inhabitants of South Devonshire the news of the past week, and the paper still bore the dates of successive Sundays. But it had gradually pushed itself out into the light of its own world before its own date, gaining first a night and then a day, till now, at the period of which I am speaking, it was published on the Friday morning.