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That Stick

Автор Charlotte Yonge

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Дата написания1970-01-01

Язык книгиen

Возрастное ограничение0+

Жанры

зарубежная классика зарубежная старинная литература европейская старинная литература литература 19 века

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‘Oh, Herbert, my dear boy,’ and his mother hugged him, ‘your uncle is a lord, and you’ll be one one of these days.’

‘I say, don’t lug a man’s head off. Who has been making a fool of you?’

‘Uncle Frank is Lord Northmoor,’ said Ida impressively.

‘I say, that’s a good one!’ and Herbert threw himself into a chair in fits of laughter.

‘It is quite true, Herbert,’ said his mother. ‘Here is the letter.’

A bell rang sharply.

‘Bless me! I shall not hear much more of that bell, I hope. Run up, Conny, and say Mrs. Leeson’s lunch will be up in a moment, but we were hindered by unexpected news,’ said Mrs. Morton, bustling into the kitchen. ‘Oh dear! one doesn’t know where one is.’

‘Let her ring,’ said Ida. ‘Send her off, bag and baggage! We’ve done with lodgings and milliners and telegraphs, and all that’s low. We shall all be lords and ladies, and ever so rich.’

‘Hold hard!’ said Herbert, who had got possession of the letter. ‘He doesn’t say so.’

‘He’ll be nasty and mean, I daresay,’ said Ida. ‘What does he say? I hadn’t time to see.’

Herbert read from the neat, formal, distinct writing: “I do not yet know what is in my power, nor what means I may be able to command; but I hope to make your position more comfortable and to give my nephew and nieces a really superior education. You had better, however, not take any steps till you hear from me again.” There, Ida, lots of schooling, that’s all.’

‘Nonsense, Bertie; he must—if he is a lord, what are we?’

Hunger postponed this great question for a little while; but dinner had been delayed till the afternoon school hour had passed, and indeed the young people agreed that they were far above going to their present teachers any more.

‘We must acquire a few accomplishments,’ said Ida. ‘Uncle never would afford me lessons on the piano—such a shame; but he can’t refuse me now. Dancing lessons, too, we will have; and then, oh, Conny! we will go to Court, and how they will admire us!’

At which Herbert burst out laughing loudly, and his mother rebuked him. ‘You will be a nobleman, Herbert, and your sisters a nobleman’s sisters. Why should they not go to Court like the best of them?’

‘That’s all my eye!’ said Herbert. ‘The governor has got a young woman of his own, hasn’t he?’

‘That dowdy old teacher!’ said Ida. ‘Of course he won’t marry her now.’

‘She will be artful enough to try to hold him to it, you may depend on it,’ said Mrs. Morton; ‘but I shall take care he knows what a shame and disgrace it would be. Oh no; he will not dare.’

‘She is awfully old,’ said Ida.

‘Not near so old as Miss Pottle, who was married yesterday,’ said Constance, who, at the time of her father’s death, and at other times when the presence of a young child was felt to be inconvenient at home, had stayed with her grandmother at Hurminster, and had grown fond of Miss Marshall.

‘Don’t talk about what you know nothing about, Constance,’ broke in her mother. ‘Your uncle, Lord Northmoor, ain’t going to lower and demean himself by dragging a mere school teacher up into the peerage, to cut out poor Herbert and all his family. There’s that bell again! I shall go and let Mrs. Leeson know how we are situated, and that I shall give her notice one of these days. Clear the table, girls; we don’t know who may be dropping in.’

This done, chiefly by Constance, the sisters put on their hats, and sallied forth with their astounding news to such of their friends as were within reach, and by the time they had finished their expedition they were convinced of their own nobility, and prepared to be called Lady Ida and Lady Constance Northmoor on the spot.

When they came in they found the parlour being prepared for company, and were sent to procure sausages and muffins for tea. Mrs. Morton had, on reflection, decided that it was inexpedient to answer her brother-in-law till she had ascertained, as she said, her just rights, and she had invited to tea Mr. and Mrs. Rollstone and, to Constance’s delight, his little daughter Rose, their neighbours a few doors off; but as Rose was attending classes, it had been useless to go to her before.

Mr. Rollstone was a great authority, for he had spent the best part of his life in what he termed the first families of the highest circles. He had been hall boy to a duke, footman to a viscountess, valet to an earl, butler to a right honourable baronet, M.P., and when he had retired on the death of the baronet and marriage with the housekeeper he had brought away a red volume, by name Burke’s Peerage, by which, as well as by his previous knowledge, he was enabled to serve as an oracle respecting all owners of yachts worthy of consideration. If their names were not recorded in that book, he scorned them as ‘parvenoos,’ however perfect their vessels might be in the eyes of mariners. The edition was indeed a quarter of a century old, but he had kept it up to date, by marking in neatly all the births, deaths, and marriages from the Gazette—his daily study. His daughter, a nice, modest-looking girl of fourteen, Constance’s chief friend, came too.

His wife was detained by her lodgers, but when he rolled in, with the book under his arm, there was a certain resemblance between himself and it, for both were broad and slightly dilapidated—the one from gout, the other from wear, and the red cover had faded into a nondescript whity-brown, or browny-white, not unlike the complexion of a close-shaven face. He was carefully arrayed in evening costume, and was very choice in his language, being, in fact, much grander than all his aristocratic masters rolled into one; so that though Mrs. Morton tried to recollect that she was a great lady and he had been a servant, force of habit made her feel his condescension when he held out his puffy white hand; and, with a gracious bend of his yellow-gray head, said, ‘Allow me to offer my congratulations, Mrs. Morton. I little suspected my proximity to a lady so nearly allied to the aristocracy.’

‘I am sure you are very kind, Mr. Rollstone. I had no notion—Ida can tell you I was quite overcome—though when I came to think of it, my poor, dear Morton always did say he had high connections, but I always thought it was one of his jokes.’

‘Then as I understand, Mrs. Morton, the lamented deceased was junior to the present Lord Northmoor?’

‘Yes, poor dear! Oh, if he had but lived and been eldest, he would have become his honours ever so much better!’

‘And oh, Mr. Rollstone, what are we?’ put in Ida breathlessly, while Rose squeezed Constance’s hand in schoolgirl fashion.

‘Indeed, Miss Ida, I fear I cannot flatter you with any change in your designation. If your respected parent had survived he might have become the Honourable Charles, but only by special grant from Her Majesty. It was so in the case of the Honourable Frances Fordingham, when her brother inherited the title.’

‘Then at least I am an Honourable!’ exclaimed Mrs. Morton.

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