Roland Cashel, Volume II (of II)

“Mamma wants you to be candid enough to say, if there is anything in the way of particular attention you may have received lately, which should corroborate the impressions we entertain.”

Miss Kennyfeck delivered these words so categorically, that her sister well knew how, in the event of refusal, a searching cross-examination was reserved for her.

Olivia looked down, and a very slight embarrassment might be detected in the quickened heaving of her chest.

“Tell us, my darling,” said Aunt Fanny, “if – if any one has, in a manner so to say – you understand – eh?”

“Keep the blushes, Livy, for another time; they look beautiful with orange flowers in the hair,” said her sister; “but be candid with us.”

“If you mean attentions, mamma – ”

“We mean attentions, ‘and something more,’ as Lord Lyndburst says,” interposed Miss Kennyfeck, who felt that she was the proper person to conduct the inquiry.

“I cannot positively say, mamma, that we are engaged, but I believe that if you and pa made no obstacles – if, in fact, you are satisfied that his rank and fortune are sufficient for your expectations, as I own they are for mine – ”

“What humility!” exclaimed Miss Kennyfeck, holding up her hands.

“Hush, Cary – go on, Livy,” said her mother.

“I have no more to say, mamma. Sir Harvey told me – ”

“Sir Harvey!” cried Mrs. Kennyfeck.

“Sir Harvey Upton!” echoed Miss Kennyfeck.

“The man with the hair all over his face!” exclaimed Aunt Fanny, whose western habits had not accustomed her to mustaches.

Olivia stared from one to the other in mingled fear and astonishment. She suddenly saw that she had been betrayed into a confession to which they did not possess the slightest clew; she also perceived that the tidings, for which she anticipated a most joyous welcome, were received with coldness and almost disdain.

“He is a baronet, mamma, with very great expectations,” said she, proudly; for really, it was a large “bird” to bag, in the beginning of the season, too!

“Very possibly,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, looking to her elder daughter with that silent eloquence which the court occasionally bestows upon the crown counsel, meaning to say: “Have you anything to reply to that?”

“Mamma is aware that Sir Harvey is a baronet, and a captain of Hussars, and Jonas Upton of Somerton is his uncle, who may, or may not, leave him his large estates – a circumstance, most probably, mainly dependent on the alliance he may form in marriage.”

“Yes, indeed! my dear,” broke in Aunt Fanny; “and when the old man finds out that ‘tis only an attorney’s daughter – ”

“Fanny, do you mean to drive me distracted?” screamed Mrs. Kennyfeck; “are my children to be taught to be ashamed of their father?”

“‘T is a lesson they might know by heart, this time of day, my dear,” said the inexorable Fanny, who put up her spectacles, and smoothed down her apron, – unmistakable signs that she was preparing for battle.

“You need n’t ‘beat to quarters,’ aunt, as Captain Luttredge says; there is no one going to fire into you,” said Miss Kennyfeck. “The question at present is, how is Olivia to free herself from an unhappy connection – ”

“An unhappy connection!” exclaimed Livy, in amazement.

“Listen to your sister, and don’t interrupt her,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck.

“I spoke advisedly, Livy,” resumed the elder, “when I called your connection with Sir Harvey Upton unhappy. We have just learned that far higher views are open to you, – that no less a person than Mr. Cashel – ”

“Impossible, mamma! he never notices me in the least. Our acquaintance is scarcely more than a cold act of recognition when we meet.”

“Though love is hot sometimes, soon it grows cold,” muttered Aunt Fanny, who believed she was quoting to the letter.

“There never was love in the case at all, aunt,” said Olivia.

“Attend to me, Livy,” said her sister, who seemed impatient at this digression. “It is sufficient – it ought, at least, to be sufficient – for you, that we know Mr. Roland Cashel’s intentions. It is for you to establish a coolness with Sir Harvey. There is no difficulty in the task. I could not presume to instruct you in any matter of this kind, nor will I.”

“Take a friend’s advice, Livy dear, and don’t throw out dirty water till you’re sure of clean.”

“What, aunt?” asked Olivia, who really was puzzled by the figurative eloquence of her relative.

“Pshaw!” said Miss Kennyfeck, equally angry at the counsel and the vulgarity of the expression it was couched in. “Livy, attend to me,” said she again. “Mr. Cashel has sent for papa this morning to make a formal – Hush! here is pa himself.” And Mr. Kennyfeck’s heavy tread was heard approaching the door.

Mr. Kennyfeck’s sudden entrance not only closed the discussion, but left the debaters in the difficulty of having no concerted line of conduct respecting the new arrival; and although Mrs. Kennyfeck’s eyebrows were worked with a telegraphic activity, and Miss Kennyfeck’s pantomimic replies as promptly returned, it was clear that neither comprehended the other. Kaunitz lays it down as an axiom that “when two wings of an army are in presence of an enemy, and without means of rapid and certain communication, it is always better to act on the defensive than to attack, without some evident weak point of the adversary encourages a forward movement.” It is more than probable that neither Mrs. Kennyfeck nor her fair daughter had studied the authority in question, yet, with a tact quite instinctive, they proceeded to act upon it.

“You are back early, Mr. Kennyfeck,” said his wife, with a tone of half indifference.

Mr. Kennyfeck looked at his watch, and said it wanted twenty minutes to twelve.

“Has Mr. Linton returned, pa?” asked Miss Kennyfeck.

“I believe not. I have not heard that he has.”

“It would be little loss if he never did!” said Aunt Fanny, as she bit the end of an obstinate thread that would not enter the eye of her needle.

“Oh, Aunt Fanny!” exclaimed Olivia, in a deprecating tone.

“‘Pon my word, my dear, them ‘s my sentiments – whatever yours is.”

“Mr. Cashel certainly thinks differently,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, glad to introduce the name uppermost in all their thoughts.

“I think of late there has been something like a coldness between them – You see them very rarely together. Did Mr. Cashel mention his name to you this morning, Mr. Kennyfeck?” said his wife; and by this sudden question revealing that they knew, at least, where he had been.

“Mere passingly, incidentally,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, evidently amazed that his small mystery had been penetrated; then, after a slight pause, he added, very probably with a sly malice to pique curiosity, “Mr. Cashel is desirous of Mr. Linton’s counsel on a step he meditates taking.”

“Indeed, sir; and has he much confidence in Mr. Linton’s judgment?”

“In this instance, it is likely he will follow the dictates of his own, Mrs. Kennyfeck,” said the attorney, solemnly.

This fencing was too much for Mrs. Kennyfeck, in whom the Job-like element was always at zero. It was an insult, too, to her understanding, that Mr. Kennyfeck should skirmish in this fashion with her; and so, drawing herself proudly up, she said, —

“Mr. Kennyfeck, I would wish to ask you, if you have, even upon one single occasion, discovered that my knowledge of the world, my tact, or my intelligence, were inferior to your own?”

“Never, madam; I’m sure I never disputed the – ”

“No, sir, you never dared to contest the fact, though you may have endeavored to escape from its application. I believe, sir, the only instance of deficient judgment I can be accused of, you, at least, ought not to reproach me with. ‘My family’” – this was a word Mrs. Kennyfeck used to enunciate with an emphasis that always impressed her husband very little provocation might possibly have made her say, “our house” – “my family, indeed, may refuse to forgive me” – she stopped, wiped her eyes, and then, with what seemed an heroic victory over her feelings, went on – “but the welfare of my children, sir, may well be conceived dear to one, who would not league to them the unhappy descent she has herself suffered.”

Mrs. Kennyfeck paused again. It appeared as though, do what she would, there was no escaping from the theme of her mésalliance when once she had touched it. It was very birdlime in its adhesiveness.