That Unfortunate Marriage Volume I Part 5

"Granny is my own people," returned May in a low voice.

"Of course; and a most kind and excellent grandmother she is. But I mean--in short, since it is Mrs. Dobbs's own plan, we must suppose she thinks it best for you to go to town; and I must say I agree with her."

"It is obviously necessary," said young Bransby. "Miss Cheffington will have, of course, to be presented."

"Why, you look quite glum, May!" cried Constance laughing. "Oh, you little goose! I only wish I had the chance of going to town to be presented."

Owen Rivers, who had hitherto been silent, now addressed May, and asked her if she disliked her aunt.

"Dislike Aunt Pauline? Oh no; I don't dislike her at all. But I--I don't know her very well."

"I thought," said Bransby, "that you had been in the habit of staying with Mrs. Dormer-Smith during the school vacations?"

"No; before Grandmamma Cheffington died I used to go to Richmond, and I only saw Aunt Pauline now and then. Since that time I haven't seen her at all, for I've spent all my holidays with dear granny."

Constance began to question young Bransby as to who had given him the news about May's departure; what it was that had been said; whether the time of her going away were positively fixed; and so forth. May rose, and, under cover of picking up her ball of worsted, walked away out of earshot.

"Are you that phenomenon, a young lady devoid of curiosity, Miss Cheffington?" asked Owen Rivers, as she pa.s.sed near him.

"Oh, there's nothing to be curious about," returned the girl, flushing a little. "Granny and I shall talk it all over together this evening. I need not trouble myself about what other people may say or guess."

Miss Hadlow had apparently forgotten that it was "bitterly cold:" for she continued to sit on the lawn talking with Theodore after the others had gone into the house. She moved at length from her seat at the summons of the luncheon-bell. Fox the terrier, more consistent, had availed himself of the breaking-up of the little party to hasten indoors and establish himself on the dining-room hearthrug:--a step which nothing but his unconquerable dislike to being alone, had prevented him from taking long ago.

When the two loiterers at length entered the dining-room, Mrs. Hadlow announced that May had gone home. Her grandmother had sent the servant for her a little earlier than usual, and May had refused to remain for luncheon. The young girl's absence gave an opportunity for discussing her and her prospects; and they were discussed accordingly, as the party sat at table.

Mrs. Hadlow expressed great satisfaction at hearing that May was to be received and accepted "as a Cheffington;" Constance inclined to think that May would not duly appreciate her good fortune; and Theodore Bransby observed stiffly, that Miss Cheffington's removal to town had always been inevitable, and that the date of it alone could have been matter for uncertainty to persons who knew anything of the Cheffington family.

"Well," said Rivers, "I suppose Constance is the only one of us here present who possesses that knowledge."

"No; I never knew much of them," answered his cousin. "I saw them occasionally when I was at school. Sometimes the dowager came down to stay at Brighton, and she used, now and then, to call for May in her carriage; but she never entered the doors. And once or twice Mrs.

Dormer-Smith came. I remember we girls used to make game of old Mrs.

Cheffington with her black wig and her airs."

"She was thoroughly _grande dame_, I believe," said Theodore Bransby.

"Very likely. The servants used to say she was dreadfully stingy, and call her an old cat. Mrs. Dormer-Smith had nice manners, and was always beautifully dressed."

"Your information is somewhat sketchy, my dear Constance; but no doubt the outline is correct as far as it goes," observed Rivers.

"Decidedly sketchy!" said Mrs. Hadlow, who was helping her guests to minced mutton.

"Miss Hadlow, however, is _not_ the only one of us who knows anything about the Cheffingtons," said young Bransby, with his grave air.

"Oh, dear me, I had forgotten!" interposed Mrs. Hadlow, after a quick glance at the young man's face. "To be sure, Theodore has visited the family in town. The fact is, Theodore has been a stranger himself so long, that we have had no opportunity of hearing his report. Tell us what the Dormer-Smiths are like, Theodore, since you know them."

"Like? They are like people who move in the best society--like thoroughbred people," returned Theodore, drawing himself up, stiffly.

"Poor little May!" said Mrs. Hadlow, thoughtfully. "She's a sweet little thing. I hope they'll be kind to her."

"Do you know anything of Mrs. Dobbs, Aunt Jane?" asked Rivers. "I mean,"

he added, "of course, you know _of_ her. But do you know her?"

"Oh yes. Once, many years ago, the canon had a tough battle with Mrs.

Dobbs, when he was helping to canvas for the city member. We couldn't get her husband's vote for the right side. But he was a worthy man, and sold very good ironmongery. When Constance first asked leave to invite her schoolfellow here, I had an interview with Mrs. Dobbs. She came to the point at once. She said, 'Mrs. Hadlow, you need not be uneasy. My friends and equals are not yours; but neither are they my grand-daughter's. She belongs by her father's family to a different cla.s.s. As for me, I am too old to make any mistakes about my place in the world, and too proud to wish to change it."

"Too proud!" repeated Bransby, with raised eyebrows.

"I thought it was very well said," answered Mrs. Hadlow. "I only wish all the people of her cla.s.s had the same honest pride. But Mrs. Dobbs is a woman of great good sense, and of the highest integrity. All the same, of course, now that May is grown up, the girl's position in that house is too anomalous. Captain Cheffington no doubt feels that. He probably left his daughter there so long out of tenderness to Mrs. Dobbs's feelings; and perhaps also to help out the old lady's income. But now, naturally, it must come to an end. He can't sacrifice May's future. That is how I explain the state of the case; and it seems to me to be creditable to all concerned."

"At all events, it is creditable to Mrs. Dobbs, Aunt Jane," said Rivers.

"And why not, pray, to Captain Cheffington too?" asked Constance. "But Captain Cheffington has the misfortune to be born a gentleman, so, of course, Owen disapproves of him."

"Not at all, 'of course.' But I agree with you as to the misfortune--for the other gentlemen, at all events!"

"I think you're a little mistaken about Captain Cheffington, Rivers,"

said Theodore. "He's a friend of mine."

"In that case I'm very sorry," answered Owen drily.

Mrs. Hadlow here interposed, rising from the table with a show of cheerful bustle. "Come," said she, "you children must not loiter here all day. The canon comes home from Wendhurst by the three-forty train, and I am going to meet him; Constance has an engagement with the Burtons; and as for you two boys, I shall turn you out without ceremony."

The kind lady's intention had been to break off the discourse between the two young men, which threatened to become disagreeable. But as Bransby and Rivers walked away side by side through the fretted cloister of College Quad, the former, with a certain quiet doggedness which belonged to him, returned to the subject.

"You must understand," he said, "that I am not very intimate with Captain Cheffington; but I know him, and am his debtor for some courteous attentions. And I think you are a little--rash, if you don't mind my saying so, in condemning him."

"I don't at all mind your saying so."

"You see, there are a great many circ.u.mstances to be taken into account, in judging of Captain Cheffington's career. In the first place, there was his unfortunate marriage."

CHAPTER V.

When Augustus Cheffington had paid that sudden visit to his mother-in-law which resulted in leaving May on her hands, Theodore Bransby happened to be at home during a University vacation, and was flattered by Captain Cheffington's notice. The fact was that Augustus found himself greatly bored and out of his element in Oldchester, and was glad to accept a dinner or two from Mr. Bransby, the solicitor to the Dean and Chapter; for Mr. Bransby's port wine was unimpeachable. He had also condescended to play several games of billiards with Theodore upon a somewhat mangy old table in the Green Dragon Hotel; and to smoke that young gentleman's cigars without stint; and to hold forth about himself in the handsomest terms, pleased to be accepted, apparently, pretty much at his own valuation. Theodore Bransby was no fool. But he was young, and he had his illusions. These were not of a high-flown, ideal cast. He would have shrugged his shoulders at any one who should set up for philanthropy, or poetry, or socialism, or chivalry. But he was subdued by a display of nonchalant disdain for all the things and persons which he had been accustomed to look up to, from childhood. Mr.

Bragg, the great tin-tack manufacturer, his father's wealthiest client, was dismissed by Augustus Cheffington in two words: "d.a.m.ned sn.o.b!" and even the bishop he p.r.o.nounced to be a "prosin' old prig," and spoke of the bishop's wife as "that vulgar fat woman." These indications of superiority, together with many references to the n.o.ble and honourable Castlecombes and Cheffingtons who composed Augustus's kith and kin, had greatly fascinated Theodore. And Augustus had completed his conquest over the young man by giving him a letter of introduction to his sister, Mrs. Dormer-Smith, which letter was delivered when young Bransby went to London to read for the Bar.

Although the brother and sister had parted not on the best terms with each other, yet Augustus had not hesitated to give the introduction. He believed that his sister would be willing to honour his recommendation by showing civilities which cost her nothing; and, moreover, he was quite indifferent (being then on the point of saying a long farewell to Oldchester) as to whether the Dormer-Smiths snubbed young Bransby or not. They did not snub him. Mrs. Dormer-Smith rather approved of his manners; and it was quite clear that he wanted neither for means nor friends. She was therefore inclined to receive him with something more than politeness. And, in justice to Pauline, it must be said that she was really glad of the opportunity to please her brother. She was not without fraternal sentiments; and she strongly felt that an introduction from a Cheffington to a Cheffington was not a doc.u.ment to be lightly dishonoured. As for Mr. Dormer-Smith, although his feelings towards his brother-in-law--never very cordial--had been exacerbated by having to pay the bill for the dowager's funeral expenses, yet his resentment had been to some degree soothed by Augustus's abrupt departure, and by his withdrawal of May from her aunt's house. For many years past the attachment of Augustus's relations for him had increased in direct proportion to the distance which divided him from them. In Belgium he was tolerated and pitied; had he gone to the Antipodes he would doubtless have been warmly sympathized with; and it might safely be prophesied that, when he should finally emigrate from this planet altogether, the surviving members of the family would be penetrated by a glow of affection.

"I think he's rather nice, Frederick," said Mrs. Dormer-Smith, with a little sigh of relief after young Bransby's first visit.

"We may be thankful," returned her husband, "that Augustus has sent us a possible person. One never can reckon on what he may choose to do."

"Mr. Bransby is quite possible. Indeed, I think he is nice. He shall have a card for my Thursdays."

In this way Theodore had been received by Mrs. Dormer-Smith, and had established himself in her good opinion on further acquaintance. "He was," she said, "so quiet and so safe." At this time May Cheffington was still at school, being maintained there, as has been recorded, by her grandmother Dobbs; and Pauline would occasionally speak of her niece to young Bransby. She always spoke kindly, though plaintively, of the girl, over whom there hung the shadow of the unfortunate marriage.