The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax Part 41

"Can Mr. Carnegie help you, Miss Wort? Men manage these things so much more easily than we do," said Mrs. Carnegie kindly.

"Thank you, but I paid the demand as the least trouble and to have done with it."

"Of course; I would pay half I am possessed of rather rather than go before the commissioners," said Miss Buff. "Old Phipps is one of them; and here he is. Come to see you, Bessie; you are having quite a levee. I shall be off now." Miss Buff rose, and Miss Wort with her, but before they went there were some rallying speeches to be exchanged between Miss Buff and the quaint old bachelor. They were the most friendly of antagonists, and their animosity was not skin-deep. "Have you seen Lady Latimer since the last school committee, Mr. Phipps?" asked Miss Buff, in mischievous allusion to their latest difference of opinion.

"No. I always keep as far as possible out of her ladyship's way."

"If you had her spirit of charity you would not avow it."

"You take the name of charity in vain. 'It is the beginning, the excuse, and the pretext for a thousand usurpations.' Poverty has a new terror now-a-days in the officiousness of women with nothing to do but play at charity."

Miss Wort shook her head and shut her eyes, as if to stave off the shock of this profanity. Miss Buff only laughed the more merrily, and declared that Mr. Phipps himself had as much to answer for as anybody in Beechhurst, if charity was a sin.

"I can charge myself with very few acts of charity," said he grimly. "I am not out of bonds to bare justice."

Mr. Phipps was in his sarcastic vein, and shot many a look askance at Cinderella in the sofa corner, with her plumed velvet hat lying on a chair beside her. She had been transformed into a most beautiful princess, there was no denying that. He had heard a confidential whisper respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and had seen that gentleman--a very handsome personage to play the part of prince in the story. Mr. Phipps had curiosity, discernment, and a great shrewdness. Bessie had a happy face, and was enjoying her day in her old home; but she would never be Cinderella in the nursery any more--never the little sunburnt gypsy who delighted to wander in the Forest with the boys, and was nowhere so well pleased as when she might run wild. He told her so; he wanted to prove her temper since her exaltation.

"I shall never be only twelve years old again, and that's true," said Bessie, with a sportive defiance exceedingly like her former self. "But I may travel--who knows how far and wide?--and come home browner than any berry. Grandpapa was a traveller once; so was my uncle Laurence in pursuit of antiquities; and my poor uncle Frederick--you know he was lost in the Baltic? The gypsy wildness is in the blood, but I shall always come back to the Forest to rest."

"She will keep up that delusion in her own mind to the last," said Mr.

Phipps. Then after an instant's pause, as if purposely to mark the sequence of his thoughts, he asked, "Is that gentleman who is staying at Fairfield with you now, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, a Woldshire man or South country?"

"Woldshire," said Bessie curtly; and the color mounted to her face at the boldness of her old friend's insinuation.

Mr. Phipps admired her anger, and went on with great coolness: "He has some reputation--member for Norminster, I think you said? The Fairfaxes used to be great in that part of the county fifty years ago. And I suppose, Miss Fairfax, you can talk French now and play on the piano?"

Bessie felt that he was very impertinent, but she preserved her good-humor, and replied laughing, "Yes, Mr. Phipps, I can do a little of both, like other young ladies." Mr. Carnegie had now come in.

"The old piano is sadly out of tune, but perhaps, Bessie dear, you would give us a song before you go," suggested her mother.

Bessie gracefully complied, but n.o.body thought much of her little French canzonette. "It is but a tiny chirp, Bessie; we have better songs than that at home--eh, mother?" said the doctor, and that was all the compliment she got on her performance. Mr. Phipps was amused by her disconcerted air; already she was beyond the circle where plain speaking is the rule and false politeness the exception. She knew that her father must be right, and registered a silent vow to sing no more unless in private.

Just at this crisis a carriage drove up and stopped at the gate. "It is the Fairfield carriage come to carry you off, Bessie," said her mother.

Lady Latimer looked out and spoke to the footman, who touched his hat and ran to the porch with his message, "Would Miss Fairfax make haste?--her ladyship was in a hurry."

"I must go," said Bessie, and took her hat. Mr. Phipps sighed like an echo, and everybody laughed. "Good-bye, but you will see me very soon again," she cried from the gate, and then she got into the carriage.

"To Admiral Parking's," said Lady Latimer, and they drove off on a round of visits, returning to Fairfield only in time to dress for dinner.

Just at that hour Harry Musgrave was coming back from his ramble in the red light of a gorgeous sunset, to be met by his mother with the news that Bessie Fairfax had called at the manor in the course of a ride with the doctor in the morning, and what a pity it was that he was out of the way! for he might have had a ride with them if he had not set off quite so early on his walk. Harry regretted too much what he had missed to have much to say about it; it was very unlucky. Bessie at Fairfield, he clearly discerned, was not at home for him, and Lady Latimer was not his friend. He had not heard any secrets respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, but a suspicion obscured his fancy since last night, and his mother's tidings threw him into a mood of dejection that made him as pale as a fond lover whom his lady has rebuffed.

CHAPTER XLII.

_HOW FRIENDS MAY FALL OUT._.

Mr. and Mrs. Bernard and Mr. Wiley were added to the dinner-party at Fairfield that evening, and Lady Latimer gave Miss Fairfax a quiet reminder that she might have to be on her guard, for the rector was as deficient in tact as ever. And so he proved. He first announced that the fever had broken out again at Littlemire and Marsh-End, after the shortest lull he recollected, thus taking away Mr. Logger's present appet.i.te, and causing him to flee from the Forest the first thing in the morning. Then he condoled with Mrs. Bernard on a mishap to her child that other people avoided speaking of, for the consequences were likely to be very serious, and she had not yet been made fully aware of them.

There was a peculiar, low, lugubrious note in his voice which caused it to be audible through the room, and Bessie, who sat opposite to him, between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Logger, devoted all her conversation to them to avoid that of the rector. But he had taken note of her at the moment of his entrance, and though the opportunity of remark had not been afforded him, he soon made it, beginning with inquiries after her grandfather. Then he reverted to Mr. Fairfax's visit to Beechhurst four years ago, and spoke in a congratulatory, patronizing manner that was peculiarly annoying to Bessie: "There is a difference between now and then--eh, Bessie? Mrs. Wiley and I have often smiled at one nave little speech of yours--about a nest-egg that was saving up for a certain event that young ladies look forward to. It must be considerably grown by now, that nest-egg. You remember, I see."

Anybody might see that Bessie remembered; not her face only, but her neck, her very arms, burned.

"Secrets are not to be told out of the confessional," said Mr. Bernard.

"Miss Fairfax, you blush unseen by me."

There was a general low ripple of laughter, and everybody began to talk at once, to cover the young lady's palpable confusion. Afterward, Lady Latimer, who had been amused, begged to know what that mysterious nest-egg might be. Bessie hesitated. "Tell us, _do_ tell us," urged Dora and Mrs. Bernard; so Bessie told them. She had to mention the schemes for sending her to the Hampton Training School and Madame Michaud's millinery shop by way of making her story clear, and then Lady Latimer rather regretted that curiosity had prevailed, and manifested her regret by saying that Mr. Wiley was one of the most awkward and unsafe guests she ever invited to her table. "I should have asked him to meet Mr.

Harry Musgrave last night, but he would have been certain to make some remark or inquiry that would have hurt the young man's feelings or put him out of countenance."

"Oh no," said Bessie with a beautiful blushing light in her face, "Harry is above that. He has made his own place, and holds it with perfect ease and simplicity. I see no gentleman who is his better."

"You were always his advocate," Lady Latimer said with a sudden accession of coldness. "Oxford has done everything for him. Dora, close that window; Margaret, don't stand in a draught. Mr. Harry Musgrave is a very plain young man."

"Aunt Olympia, no," remonstrated Mrs. Bernard, who had a suspicion of Miss Fairfax's tenderness in that quarter, and for kind sympathy would not have her ruffled.

But Bessie was quite equal to the occasion. "His plainness is lost in what Mr. Logger calls his power of countenance," said she. "And I'm sure he has a fine eye, and the sweetest smile I know."

Lady Latimer's visage was a study of lofty disapproval: "Has he but one eye?--I thought he had two. When young ladies begin to talk of young gentlemen's fine eyes and sweet smiles, we begin to reflect. But they commonly keep such sentiments to themselves."

Dora and Bessie glanced at one another, and had the audacity to laugh.

Then Mrs. Bernard laughed and shook her head. My lady colored; she felt herself in a minority, and, though she did not positively laugh, her lips parted and her air of severity melted away. Bessie had cast off all fear of her with her old belief in her perfection. She loved her, but she knew now that she would never submit to her guidance. Lady Latimer glanced in the girl's brave, bright face, and said meaningly, "The nest-egg will not have been saving up unnecessarily if you condescend to such a folly as _that_." And Bessie felt that my lady had got the last word for the present.

She looked guilty yet indignant at this open reference to what was no more than an unspoken vision. She had a thousand shy silent thoughts in her heart, but it was not for any one to drag them into the light. Lady Latimer understood that she had said too much, but she would not retract, and in this way their contention began. They were henceforward visibly in opposition. Mr. Harry Musgrave called the next morning at Fairfield and asked for Miss Fairfax. He was not admitted; he was told that she was not at home.

"But I was at home. Perhaps he is going back to London. I should have liked to see him," said Bessie when she heard.

"He came at eleven o'clock: who comes at eleven o'clock? Of course Roberts said 'Not at home,'" replied my lady.

Bessie knew that Roberts would not have said "Not at home" unless he had received orders to that effect. And, in fact, his orders were to say "Not at home" to Mr. Harry Musgrave at any and every hour. Lady Latimer had pledged herself to secure the success of Mr. Cecil Burleigh. She felt that Bessie was strong in her frank defiance, but if my lady could do no more for the discouraged suitor, she could at least keep his favored rival at a distance. And this she did without a twinge of remorse. Bessie had a beautiful temper when she was pleased, but her whole soul rebelled against persecution, and she considered it acute persecution to be taken out for formal drives and calls in custody of my lady and Mr. Cecil Burleigh, when her mother was probably mending the boys' socks, and longing for an hour or two of her company at Beechhurst, and Harry Musgrave was looking in every afternoon at the doctor's to see if, by good luck, she had gone over. Bessie was made aware of this last circ.u.mstance, and she reckoned it up with a daily acc.u.mulating sense of injury against my lady and her client. Mr. Cecil Burleigh found out before long that he was losing rather than gaining in her esteem. Miss Fairfax became not only stiff and cold, but perverse, and Lady Latimer began to feel that it was foolishly done to bring her to Fairfield. She had been put in the way of the very danger that was to be averted. Mr. Harry Musgrave showed to no disadvantage in any company; Miss Fairfax had not the cla.s.sic taste; Lady Angleby's tactics were a signal failure; her nephew it was who suffered diminution in the ordeal she had prescribed for his rival; and the sooner, therefore, that Miss Fairfax, "a most determined young lady," was sent back to Woldshire, the better for the family plans.

"I shall not invite Elizabeth Fairfax to prolong her visit," Lady Latimer said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who in his own mind was sorry she had made it. "I am afraid that her temper is masterful." My lady was resolved to think that Bessie was behaving very ill, not reflecting that a young lady pursued by a lover whom she does not love is allowed to behave worse than under ordinary circ.u.mstances.

Bessie would have liked to be asked to stay at Fairfield longer (which was rather poor-spirited of her), for, though she did not go so much to her old home or to Brook as she desired and had expected, it was something to know that they were within reach. Her sense of happiness was not very far from perfect--the slight bitterness infused into her joy gave it a piquancy--and Lady Latimer presently had brought to her notice symptoms so ominous that she began to wish for the day that would relieve her from her charge.

One morning Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing the garden without his hat, his head bent down, and his arms clasped behind him as his custom was, when Bessie, after regarding him with pensive abstraction for several minutes, remarked to Dora in a quaint, melancholy voice: "Mr. Cecil Burleigh's hyacinthine locks grow thin--he is almost bald." My lady jumped up hastily to look, and declared it nonsense--it was only the sun shining on his head. Dora added that he was growing round-shouldered too.

"Why not say humpbacked at once?" exclaimed Lady Latimer angrily. Both the girls laughed: it was very naughty.

"But he is not humpbacked, Aunt Olympia," said the literal Dora.

My lady walked about in a fume, moved and removed books and papers, and tried to restrain a violent impulse of displeasure. She took up the review that contained Harry Musgrave's paper, and said with impatience, "Dora, how often must I beg of you to put away the books that are done with? Surely this is done with."

"I have not finished reading Harry's article yet: please let me take it," said Bessie, coming forward.

"'Harry's article'? What do you mean?" demanded Lady Latimer with austerity: "'Mr. Harry Musgrave' would sound more becoming."

"I forgot to tell you: the paper you and Mr. Logger were discussing the first evening I was here was written by Mr. Harry Musgrave," said Bessie demurely, but not without pride.