In Silk Attire: A Novel

"What a pity you should have come to-day!" cried Mrs. John Hubbard, as she came into the hall to receive her visitor. "I would rather you had broken a dozen appointments. I hope you are not wet. I hope you are not cold. Come into the drawing-room at once; there is a nice warm fire to bring the blood to your fingers again."

During this speech Annie Brunel had time to examine her future mistress. She was not obviously mad. Indeed, the coal-black hair, the rosy cheeks, the small and pretty mouth, the neat figure and small hands, were the natural ornaments of a person who seemed mentally far too colourless and contented ever to be troubled by intellectual derangement. Yet the new governess was as much puzzled by her reception as by the letter she had received.

"There now, take this easy-chair – let me draw it in for you – and we shall have a chat over the matter. I have hitherto only had a morning governess, you know; the poor girl took unwell some time ago, and she has not been here for some days now."

At this precise moment, Miss Betham was upstairs, packing her music and preparing for final departure. But to the good-natured and mentally limp Mrs. Hubbard, lying came as easily as telling the truth. She would not have told a lie to secure a particular end; but in the course of conversation she did not seem to recognise the necessity of being exact in her statements. She lied broadly and often; but she lied harmlessly – at least she meant to do no harm by her lying.

"I won't ask you any questions, Miss Brunel – not one. You have your own reasons for leaving the stage; and I'm not going to quarrel with what enables me to have your assistance (if we can make arrangements, that is), which I don't doubt for a moment."

"I am quite inexperienced, as I told you in my letter – "

"Oh, that does not signify," said the other, affably.

Annie Brunel looked up with a glance of astonishment, which any woman not a fool would have noticed.

"And if you think that I know enough to attempt to get into the way of teaching, I shall leave all the other arrangements to you. I am not anxious about the salary you may be inclined to give me; because, after all, it is only a trial. And if you think I am worth to you, in the meantime, so much per week as will keep me in food and pay my lodgings – "

"Your lodgings! I could not think of submitting you to the misery of lodgings so long as I have a comfortable room to offer you."

Mrs. Hubbard did not look like a practical joker; but her reception of the new governess looked uncommonly like a practical joke.

"You are very kind," said Annie, the wide eyes being a little wider than usual; "but I thought it was as a day-governess – "

"To be sure, we have always had a day-governess. But in your case I should prefer a resident governess, especially if you are about to leave your home and take lodgings."

"I meant to take lodgings somewhere near you, if I had the good fortune to please you."

"In this neighbourhood you couldn't get lodgings; and if you go down to Camden Town, or over to Kentish Town – oh, my dear, I couldn't think of it. My husband is very particular about everybody connected with us being treated fairly – like one of ourselves, you understand; and as soon as he heard of your being inclined to answer the advertisement, he said —

"'I hope Miss Brunel will find a comfortable home here.'"

This was another lie – indeed, what little intellect the poor woman had chiefly took the form of invention.

"I am not anxious to go into lodgings," said Annie Brunel, with a smile, "as I had a good deal of experience of them at one time."

"Shall we consider it settled, then?"

"But you do not know whether I am fit for the duties you require."

"What an objection! I know you are."

"Then, as to terms – "

"We shan't quarrel about terms. Come and stay with us as soon as you can, and we'll make everything comfortable and agreeable for you, and we'll settle about terms afterwards. Then, you know, we shall have private theatricals to amuse you."

In certain stories, and in not a few dramas, Annie Brunel had seen a perfect stranger suddenly determine to play the part of a special Providence towards the heroine; but she was lost in astonishment to meet that incomprehensible friend in real life. Here she was, however; and when it is manna that the clouds rain, there is little reason in putting up an umbrella.

Mrs. Hubbard rang the bell, and sent a servant for the children. They came trooping down to the drawing-room, pushing each other, and looking very shy and a trifle sulky.

"This is the lady who will help you with your lessons now, my dears, since Miss Betham has gone."

"Miss Betham hasn't gone – she is upstairs yet," said Master Alexander, "and she has just told Kate to fetch her her sherry."

"Ah, come to look after some music she has left behind, perhaps," said Mrs. Hubbard, with a significant nod to Annie.

"You will find the children very obedient," she continued, "and nothing shall be wanting to add to your comfort. May we conclude the bargain to be settled?"

"Certainly, so far as I am concerned," said the girl.

These were the agreeable tidings which awaited Mr. John Hubbard when he returned home that night.

"She is such a charming person," said his wife; "I don't wonder at your brother being fond of her."

"He is fond of her money," said John Hubbard, gloomily, "and fancies himself sure of it now."

"It would be very wicked to take advantage of the girl's innocence in any way," said Mrs. Hubbard, a proposition to which her husband assented.

"But if we can touch her gratitude, my dear," said he, "there is no saying, as I told you before, what might happen."

CHAPTER XXXV.

ANOTHER BLUNDER

The old year died out; the new one came in – not attended with any very bright auspices for the persons concerned in this story. John Hubbard was, perhaps, the only one of them who was pleased with present events, and hopeful for the future. During many a secret conclave with his good-natured, pretty, limp, and lying little wife, he speculated on what shape his governess's gratitude would ultimately assume.

Mr. Anerley had not succeeded in getting any employment. Several times he was offered certain situations, and was on the point of accepting, when his son peremptorily forbade any such notion.

"If you can get proper employment, and proper remuneration," said Will, "well and good; if not, the pound or two you would get would not compensate for the trouble and ignominy of such a position."

Will's voice in the matter was powerful, for he was supporting the household with such exertions as he was yet permitted to make. The old man did not think of trouble or ignominy. He thought only of Dove, and the numerous little luxuries to which she was accustomed. Nor dared he speak of this, except to his wife; for both saw the perpetual endeavours that Will was making for all of them. Sometimes the old man distrusted the audacious cheerfulness with which Will insisted on his mother and Dove having this or that particular luxury; and once he made a discovery that led him to think retrospectively of many things.

Down in St. Mary-Kirby there was no home entertainment which afforded Dove so much pleasure as having red mullet and champagne for supper; and the disgraceful little epicure picked so daintily her tiny morsel of fish, and sipped so quaintly, with coquettish eyes thrown at her father, her glass of wine, that to the other people the feast was much more æsthetic than sensuous.

"Mother," said Will, one evening, when he came home (but his words were directed to Dove), "we haven't had red mullet for supper for a long time. I've brought home some; and I've brought home a small case of champagne for the especial use of people who behave themselves."

"Oh, Will!" said the mother, "what extravagance!"

"The boy's mad!" said the father.

"Do you hear them, Dove? Now they have misconducted themselves, you and I shall have all the champagne to ourselves."

What a merry little party it was, that evening! The landlord of the house lent them the proper wineglasses; Dove went and put on part of the blue pearl head-dress the Count had given her, to make-believe she had been at the theatre; and when they sate down at the bright white cloth, with everything on the table as brilliant and clean as fingers could make it, it was quite like old times.

"Now, Will," said Mr. Anerley, "let's see what you've brought. Mind you, my taste isn't dulled by want of exercise."

"I didn't consider your taste a bit, sir. I got the wine for Dove, and it is as sweet as – "

"Herself! These young people are too bashful to pay compliments nowadays. Ah, Dove, don't these bits of blue paper hold wonders within them – the treasures of the deep – the only fish worth calling a fish – and every one of them with a diamond ring in its mouth? Here, Will, give me your ring, that I may see how it looks on the nose of this famous fellow which I mean to give to Dove."