Clare Avery Part 49

"My dear Rachel!--not one made this year!"

"My satin gown was made six years gone, Orige; and this that I bear seven; and my camlet--well-a-day!--it may be ten."

"They be not fit to sweep the house in."

"Marry come up!--Prithee, Tom, set Orige up in tinsel. But for Clare and Blanche, leave me see to them. Clare hath one gown was made this year--"

"A beggarly say!" [a coa.r.s.e kind of silk, often used for curtains and covering furniture] put in Lady Enville.

"And Blanche hath one a-making."

"A sorry kersey of twenty pence the yard!"

"Orige, prithee talk no liker a fool than thou canst help. Our gowns be right and--decent, according to our degree. We be but common folks, woman! For me, I go not about to prink [make smart and showy] me in cloth of gold,--not though Jack should wed all the countesses in England. If she love not me by reason of my gowns, she may hold me off with the andirons. I can do without her."

And away marched Rachel in high dudgeon. "It is too bad of Rachel!"

moaned Lady Enville, lifting her handkerchief to tearless eyes. "I would have nought but to be decent and fit for our degree, and not to shame us in the eyes of her that hath been in the Court. I was ne'er one to cast money right and left. If I had but a new velvet gown, and a fair kirtle of laced satin, and a good kersey for every day, and an hood, and a partlet or twain of broidered work, and two or three other small matters, I would ask no more. Rachel would fain don us all like scullery-maids!"

Sir Thomas hated to see a woman weep; and above all, his wife--whom he still loved, though he could no longer esteem her.

"Come, Orige,--dry thine eyes," he said pityingly.

He did not know, poor victim! that they required no drying.

"Thou shalt have what thou wouldst. Tell me the sum thou lackest, and I will spare it, though I cut timber therefor."

Which was equivalent, in his eyes, to the very last and worst of all honest resources for raising money.

Lady Enville made a rapid calculation (with her handkerchief still at her eyes), which ran much in this fas.h.i.+on:--

+========================================+======+ Velvet dress - at least 40; say 45 0 0 +----------------------------------------+------+ Satin kirtle - about 20 0 0 +----------------------------------------+------+ Kersey dress 3 10 0 +----------------------------------------+------+ Hood, best 1 6 8 +----------------------------------------+------+ Hood, second-rate 13 4 +----------------------------------------+------+ Frontlet 4 4 +----------------------------------------+------+ Lawn for ruffs (embroidered at home) say 2 6 +----------------------------------------+------+ Gloves, one dozen pairs, best quality 2 6 +----------------------------------------+------+ Ribbon, 40 yards, various colours 13 4 +----------------------------------------+------+ Miscellaneous items, a good margin, say 9 7 4 +----------------------------------------+------+ Which makes a total of 80 0 0 +========================================+======+

Without removing the signal of distress, her Ladys.h.i.+p announced that the small sum of 80 pounds would satisfy her need: a sum equivalent to about 1200 pounds in our day. Sir Thomas held his breath. But he knew that unless he had courage authoritatively to deny the fair pet.i.tioner, argument and entreaty would alike be thrown away upon her. And that courage he was conscious he had not.

"Very well, Orige," he said quietly; "thou shalt have it."

But he ordered four fine oaks to be felled that evening.

"Clare, what lackest thou in the matter of raiment?" he asked when he met her alone.

"If it liked your goodness to bestow on me a crown-piece, Father, I would be very thankful," said Clare, blus.h.i.+ng as if she thought herself extravagant. "I do lack gloves and kerchiefs."

"And what for thee, Blanche?" he asked in similar circ.u.mstances.

Before Blanche's eyes for a moment floated the vision of a new satin dress and velvet hood. The old Blanche would have asked for them without scruple. But the new Blanche glanced at her father's face, and saw that he looked grave and worried.

"I thank you much, Father," she said. "There is nought I do really lack, without it were three yards of blue ribbon for a girdle."

This would cost about a s.h.i.+lling. Sir Thomas smiled, blessed her, and put a crown-piece in her hand; and Blanche danced down-stairs in her delight,--evoked less by the crown-piece than by the little victory over herself. It was to her that for which a despot is recorded to have longed in vain--a new pleasure.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

AFTER ALL.

"For perhaps the dreaded future Has less bitter than I think; The Lord may sweeten the waters Before I stoop to drink; Or if Marah must be Marah, He will stand beside the brink."

All was ready for the reception of the newcomers. The hall at Enville Court was gay with spring flowers, and fresh rushes were strewn over the floor. Sir Thomas and d.i.c.k had gone so far as Kirkham to meet the visitors. Lady Enville, attired in her new kersey, which had cost the extravagant price of five s.h.i.+llings per yard, [Note 1] sat by the hall fire. Rachel, in the objectionable camlet, which had been declared too shabby to sweep the house in, stood near the door; while Clare and Blanche, dressed in their Sunday costume, were moving about the hall, giving little finis.h.i.+ng touches to things as they saw them needed.

"There be the horses!" said Blanche excitedly.

She was very curious to see her new sister.

In about ten minutes Sir Thomas entered, leading a masked lady by the hand. Jack came lounging behind, his hands in his pockets, after his usual fas.h.i.+on.

"Our new daughter,--the Lady Gertrude Enville." [A fict.i.tious person.]

One glance, and Lady Enville almost fainted from pique. Lady Gertrude's travelling costume was grander than her own very best new velvet.

Violet velvet, of the finest quality, slashed in all directions, and the slashes filled with puffings of rich pale buff satin; yards upon yards of the costliest white lace, literally strewn upon the dress: rich embroidery upon the most delicate lawn, edged with deep lace, forming the ruff; a hood of black velvet, decorated with pearls and gold pa.s.s.e.m.e.nterie; white leather shoes, wrought with gold; long worked gloves of thick white kid,--m.u.f.f, fan, mask--all complete. As the bride came up the hall, she removed her mask, and showed a long pale face, with an unpleasant expression. Her apparent age was about thirty.

"Give you good even, Madam!" she said, in a high shrill voice--not one of those which are proverbially "an excellent thing in woman."

"These be your waiting gentlewomen?"

"These are my daughters," said Lady Enville--stiffly, for her; the mistake had decidedly annoyed her.

"Ah!" And the bride kissed them. Then turning to Rachel,--"This, I account, is the lady mistress?"

("That camlet!" said Lady Enville to herself, deeply vexed.)

Sir Thomas introduced her gravely,--"My sister."

Lady Gertrude's bold dark eyes scanned Rachel with an air of contempt.

Rachel, on her part, quite reciprocated the feeling.

"You see, Niece, we keep our velvets for Sundays hereaway," she said in her dry way.

The bride answered by an affected little laugh, a kiss, and a declaration that travelling ruined everything, and that she was not fit to be seen. At a glance from Lady Enville, Clare offered to show Gertrude to her chamber, and they went up-stairs together. Jack strolled out towards the stable.

"Not fit to be seen!" gasped poor Lady Enville. "Sir Thomas, what can we do? In the stead of eighty pound, I should have laid out eight hundred, to match her!"

"Bear it, I reckon, my dear," said he quietly.

"Make thy mind easy, Orige," scornfully answered Rachel. "I will lay my new hood that her father made his fortune in some manner of craft, and hath not been an Earl above these two years. Very ladies should not deal as she doth."

Meanwhile, above their heads, the bride was putting Clare through her catechism.

"One of you maidens is not in very deed Sir John's sister. Which is it?"