Part 31 (1/2)
”His nephew. Had the pleasure of meeting you at Gaunt House,” Mr. Pen said with his very best air--the acquaintance between the gentlemen was made in an instant.
In the afternoon of the next day, the two gentlemen who were staying at Clavering Park were found by Mr. Pen on his return from a fis.h.i.+ng excursion, in which he had no sport, seated in his mother's drawing-room in comfortable conversation with the widow and her ward. Mr. Pynsent, tall and gaunt, with large red whiskers and an imposing tuft to his chin, was striding over a chair in the intimate neighbourhood of Miss Laura. She was amused by his talk, which was simple, straightforward, rather humorous and keen, and interspersed with homely expressions of a style which is sometimes called slang. It was the first specimen of a young London dandy that Laura had seen or heard: for she had been but a chit at the time of Mr. Foker's introduction at Fairoaks, nor indeed was that ingenuous gentleman much more than a boy, and his refinement was only that of a school and college.
Mr. Wagg, as he entered the Fairoaks premises with his companion, eyed and noted everything. ”Old gardener,” he said, seeing Mr. John at the lodge--”old red livery waistcoat--clothes hanging out to dry on the gooseberry-bushes--blue ap.r.o.ns, white ducks--gad, they must be young Pendennis's white ducks--n.o.body else wears 'em in the family. Rather a shy place for a sucking county member, ay, Pynsent?”
”Snug little crib,” said Mr. Pynsent, ”pretty cosy little lawn.”
”Mr. Pendennis at home, old gentleman?” Mr. Wagg said to the old domestic. John answered, ”No, Master Pendennis was agone out.”
”Are the ladies at home?” asked the younger visitor. Mr. John answered, ”Yes, they be;” and as the pair walked over the trim gravel, and by the neat shrubberies, up the steps to the hall-door, which old John opened, Mr. Wagg noted everything that he saw; the barometer and the letter-bag, the umbrellas and the ladies' clogs, Pen's hats and tartan wrapper, and old John opening the drawing-room door, to introduce the new-comers.
Such minutiae attracted Wagg instinctively; he seized them in spite of himself.
”Old fellow does all the work,” he whispered to Pynsent. ”Caleb Balderstone. Shouldn't wonder if he's the housemaid.” The next minute the pair were in the presence of the Fairoaks ladies; in whom Pynsent could not help recognising two perfectly well-bred ladies, and to whom Mr. Wagg made his obeisance, with florid bows, and extra courtesy, accompanied with an occasional knowing leer at his companion. Mr.
Pynsent did not choose to acknowledge these signals, except by extreme haughtiness towards Mr. Wagg, and particular deference to the ladies. If there was one thing laughable in Mr. Wagg's eyes, it was poverty. He had the soul of a butler who had been brought from his pantry to make fun in the drawing-room. His jokes were plenty, and his good-nature thoroughly genuine, but he did not seem to understand that a gentleman could wear an old coat, or that a lady could be respectable unless she had her carriage, or employed a French milliner.
”Charming place, ma'am,” said he, bowing to the widow; ”n.o.ble prospect--delightful to us c.o.c.knies, who seldom see anything but Pall Mall.” The widow said simply, she had never been in London but once in her life--before her son was born.
”Fine village, ma'am, fine village,” said Mr. Wagg, ”and increasing every day. It'll be quite a large town soon. It's not a bad place to live in for those who can't get the country, and will repay a visit when you honour it.”
”My brother, Major Pendennis, has often mentioned your name to us,” the widow said, ”and we have been very much amused by some of your droll books, sir,” Helen continued, who never could be brought to like Mr.
Wagg's books, and detested their tone most thoroughly.
”He is my very good friend,” Mr. Wagg said, with a low bow, ”and one of the best known men about town, and where known, ma'am, appreciated--I a.s.sure you appreciated. He is with our friend Steyne, at Aix-la-Chapelle. Steyne has a touch of the gout and so, between ourselves, has your brother. I am going to Stillbrook for the pheasant-shooting, and afterwards to Bareacres, where Pendennis and I shall probably meet;” and he poured out a flood of fas.h.i.+onable talk, introducing the names of a score of peers, and rattling on with breathless spirits, whilst the simple widow listened in silent wonder.
What a man, she thought; are all the men of fas.h.i.+on in London like this?
I am sure Pen will never like him.
Mr. Pynsent was in the meanwhile engaged with Miss Laura. He named some of the houses in the neighbourhood whither he was going, and hoped very much that he should see Miss Bell at some of them. He hoped that her aunt would give her a season in London. He said, that in the next parliament it was probable that he should canva.s.s the county, and he hoped to get Pendennis's interest here. He spoke of Pen's triumph as an orator at Oxbridge, and asked was he coming into parliament too? He talked on very pleasantly, and greatly to Laura's satisfaction, until Pen himself appeared, and, as has been said, found these gentlemen.
Pen behaved very courteously to the pair, now that they have found their way into his quarters; and though he recollected with some twinges a conversation at Oxbridge, when Pynsent was present, and in which after a great debate at the Union, and in the midst of considerable excitement produced by a supper and champagne-cup,--he had announced his intention of coming in for his native county, and had absolutely returned thanks in a fine speech as the future member; yet Mr. Pynsent's manner was so frank and cordial, that Pen hoped Pynsent might have forgotten his little fanfaronnade, and any other braggadocio speeches or actions which he might have made. He suited himself to the tone of the visitors, then, and talked about Plinlimmon and Magnus Charters, and the old set at Oxbridge, with careless familiarity and high-bred ease, as if he lived with marquises every day, and a duke was no more to him than a village curate.
But at this juncture, and it being then six o'clock in the evening, Betsy, the maid, who did not know of the advent of strangers, walked into the room without any preliminary but that of flinging the door wide open before her, and bearing in her arms a tray, containing three tea-cups, a tea-pot, and a plate of thick bread-and-b.u.t.ter. All Pen's splendour and magnificence vanished away at this--and he faltered and became quite abashed. ”What will they think of us?” he thought: and, indeed, Wagg thrust his tongue in his cheek, thought the tea infinitely contemptible, and leered and winked at Pynsent to that effect.
But to Mr. Pynsent the transaction appeared perfectly simple--there was no reason present to his mind why people should not drink tea at six if they were minded, as well as at any other hour; and he asked of Mr.
Wagg, when they went away, ”What the devil he was grinning and winking at, and what amused him?”
”Didn't you see how the cub was ashamed of the thick bread-and-b.u.t.ter?
I dare say they're going to have treacle if they are good. I'll take an opportunity of telling old Pendennis when we get back to town,” Mr. Wagg chuckled out.
”Don't see the fun,” said Mr. Pynsent.
”Never thought you did,” growled Wagg between his teeth; they walked home rather sulkily.
Wagg told the story at dinner very smartly, with wonderful accuracy of observation. He described old John, the clothes that were drying, the clogs in the hall, the drawing-room, and its furniture and pictures;--”Old man with a beak and bald head--feu Pendennis I bet two to one; sticking-plaster full-length of a youth in a cap and gown--the present Marquis of Fairoaks, of course; the widow when young in a miniature, Mrs. Mee; she had the gown on when we came, or a dress made the year after, and the tips cut off the fingers of her gloves which she st.i.tches her son's collars with; and then the sarving maid came in with their teas so we left the Earl and the Countess to their bread-and-b.u.t.ter.”
Blanche, near whom he sate as he told this story, and who adored les hommes desprit, burst out laughing, and called him such an odd, droll creature. But Pynsent, who began to be utterly disgusted with him, broke out in a loud voice, and said, ”I don't know, Mr. Wagg, what sort of ladies you are accustomed to meet in your own family, but by gad, as far as a first acquaintance can show, I never met two better-bred women in my life, and I hope, ma'am, you'll call upon 'em,” he added, addressing Lady Rockminster, who was seated at Sir Francis Clavering's right hand.
Sir Francis turned to the guest on his left, and whispered. ”That's what I call a sticker for Wagg.” And Lady Clavering, giving the young gentleman a delighted tap with her fan, winked her black eyes at him, and said, ”Mr. Pynsent, you're a good feller.”
After the affair with Blanche, a difference ever so slight, a tone of melancholy, perhaps a little bitter, might be perceived in Laura's converse with her cousin. She seemed to weigh him and find him wanting too; the widow saw the girl's clear and honest eyes watching the young man at times, and a look of almost scorn pa.s.s over her face, as he lounged in the room with the women, or lazily sauntered smoking upon the lawn, or lolled under a tree there over a book which he was too listless to read.