Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood

However, Mrs. Ruthven turned out to be a pleasant lively table d’hote acquaintance of six or seven years ago in her maiden days, and her doctor an agreeable Scotsman, who told Mrs. Brownlow that he had been here on several evenings in former days, and did not seem at all hurt that she did not remember him. He seemed disappointed that neither of the young men was at home, and inquired whether they had anything in view. “Not definitely,” she said, and she spoke of some of the various counsels Dr. Medlicott and others had given them.

In the midst she heard that peculiar dash with which the Fordham carriage always announced itself. Little Esther might be ever so much a Viscountess, but could she ever cease to be shy? In spite of her increasing beauty and grace, she was not a success in society, for the ladies said she was slow; she had no conversation, and no dash or rattle to make up for it, and nothing would ever teach her to like strangers. They were only so many disturbances in the way of her enjoyment of her husband and her baby; and when she could not have the former to go out driving with her, she always came and besought for the company of Aunt Caroline and Babie; above all, when she had any shopping to do. She knew it was very foolish, but she could never be happy in encountering shop people, and she wanted strong support and protection to prevent herself from being made a lay figure by urgent dressmakers. Her home only gave her help and company on great occasions, for Eleanor persisted in objecting to fine people, was determined against attracting another guardsman, and privately desired her sister to abstain from inviting her. Essie was aware that this was all for the sake of a certain curate at St. Kenelm’s, and left Ellie to carry out her plan of passive resistance, becoming thus the more dependent on her aunt’s family.

In she came, too graceful and courteous for strangers to detect the shock their presence gave her, but much relieved to see them depart. Her husband was on guard, and she had a whole list of commissions for mamma, which would be much better executed without him. Moreover, baby must have a new pelisse and hat for the country, and might not she have little stockings and shoes, in case she should want to walk before the return to London?

As little Alice was but four months old, and her father’s leave was only for three months, this did not seem a very probable contingency, but Mother Carey was always ready for shopping. She had never quite outgrown the delight of the change from being a penniless school girl, casting wistful fleeting glances at the windows where happier maidens might enter and purchase.

Then there was to be a great review in two days’ time, Cecil would be with his regiment, and Esther wanted the whole family to go with her, lunch with the officers, and have a thorough holiday. Cecil had sent a message that Jock must come to have the cobwebs swept out of his brain, and see his old friends before he got into harness again. It was a well-earned holiday, as Mother Carey felt, accepting it with eager pleasure, for all who could come, though John’s power of so doing must be doubtful, and there was little chance of a day being granted to Allen.

In going out with her niece, Caroline’s eye had fallen on an envelope among the cards on the hall table, ambiguously addressed to “J. Brownlow, Esq., M.B.,” and on her return home she was met at the door by Jock with a letter in his hand.

“So Dr. Ruthven has been here,” he said, drawing her into the consulting-room.

“Yes. I like him rather. He seems to wish to make any amends in his power.”

“Amends! you dear old ridiculous mother! Do you call this amends?” holding up the letter. “He says now this discovery is getting known and he has a name for the sort of case, his practice is outgrowing him, and he wants some one to work with him who may be up to this particular matter, and all he has heard of us convinces him that he cannot do better than propose it to whichever of us has no other designs.”

“Very right and proper of him. It is the only thing he can do. I suppose it would be the making of one of you. Ah!” as she glanced over the letter. “He gives the preference to you.”

“He was bound to do that, but I think he would prefer the Monk. I wonder whether you care very much about my accepting the offer.”

“Would this house be too far off?”

“I don’t know his plans enough to tell. That was not what I was thinking of, but of what it would save her. Essie said she was not looking well; and no doubt waiting is telling on her, just as her mother always feared it would.”

“John has just not had the forbearance you have shown!”

“That is all circumstance. There was the saving her life, and afterwards the being on the spot when she was tormented about the other affair. He has no notion of having cut me out, and I trust he never will.”

“No, I do him that justice.”

“Then he has the advantage of me every way, out and out in looks and University training; and it was to him that Ruthven first took a fancy.”

“You surpassed him in your essay, and in—.

“Oh, yes, yes,” interrupted Jock hastily, “but you see work was my refuge. I had nothing to call me off. Besides, I have my share of your brains, instead of her Serenity’s; but that’s all the more reason, if you would listen to me. Depend upon it, Ruthven, if he knew all, would much prefer the connection John would have, and she would bring means to set up directly.”

“I suppose you will have it so,” replied she, looking up to him affectionately.

“I should like it,” he said. “It is the one thing for them, and waiting might do her infinite harm; the dear old Monk deserves it every way. Remember how it all turned on his desperate race. If your comfort depended on my taking it, that would come first.”

“Oh, no.”

“But there is sure to turn up plenty of other work without leaving you,” he continued. “I don’t fancy getting involved in West-end practice among swells, and not being independent. I had rather see whether I can’t work out this principle further, devoting myself to reading up for it, and getting more hospital experience to go upon.”

“I dare say that is quite right. I know it is like your father, and indeed I shall be quite content however you decide. Only might it not be well to see how it strikes John, before you absolutely make it over to him?”

“You are trying to be prudent against the grain, Mother Carey.”

“Trying to see it like your uncle. Yes, exactly as if I were trying to forestall his calling me his good little sister.”

“I don’t know what he would call me,” said Jock, “for at the bottom is a feeling that, after reading my father’s words, I had rather not, if I can help it, begin immediately to make all that material advantage out of ‘Magnum Bonum’ as you call it.”

“Well, my dear, do as you think right; I trust it all to you. It is sure to turn out the right sort of ‘Magnum Bonum’ to you—”

The Monk’s characteristic ring at the bell was heard, and the letter was, without loss of time, committed to him, while both mother and son watched him as he gathered up the sense.

“Well, this is jolly!” was his first observation. “Downright handsome of Ruthven!” and then as the colour rose a little in his face, “Just the thing for you, Jock, home work, which is exactly what you, want.”

“I’m not sure about that,” said Jock; “I don’t want to get into that kind of practice just yet. It is fitter for a family man.”

“And who is a family man if you are not?” said John. “Wasn’t it the very cause of your taking this line?”

“There’s a popular prejudice in favour of wives, rather than mothers,” said Jock. “I should have said you were more likely to fulfil the conditions.”

“Oh!” and there was a sound in that exclamation that belied the sequel, “that’s just nonsense! The offer is to you primarily, and it is your duty to take it.”

“I had much rather you did, and so had Dr. Ruthven. I want more time for study and experience, and have set my heart on some scientific appointment—”

“Come now, my good fellow—why, what are you laughing at?”

“Because you are such a good imitation of your father, my dear Johnny,” said his aunt.

“It is just what my father would say,” returned John, taking this as a high compliment; “it would be very foolish of Lucas to give up a certainty for this just because of his Skipjack element, which doesn’t want to get into routine harness. Now, don’t you think so, Mother Carey?”

“If I thought it was the Skipjack element,” she said, smiling.

“If it is not,” he said, the colour now spreading all over his face, “I am all the more bound not to let him give up all his prospects in life.”

“All my prospects! My dear Monk, do you think they don’t go beyond a brougham, and unlimited staircases?”

“I only know,” cried John, nettled into being a little off his guard, “that what you despise would be all the world to me!”

The admission was hailed triumphantly, but the Kencroft nature was too resolute, and the individual conscience too generous, to be brought round to accept the sacrifice, which John estimated at the value of the importance it was to himself, viewing what was real in Lucas’s distaste, as mere erratic folly, which ought to be argued down. Finally, when the argument had gone round into at least its fiftieth circle, Mother Carey declared that she would have no more of it. Lucas should write a note to Dr. Ruthven, accepting his proposal for one or other of them, and promising that he should know which, in the course of a few days; so that John, if he chose, could write to his father or anyone else. Meantime there was to be no allusion to “the raid of Ruthven” till the day of the review was over. It was to be put entirely off the tongue, if not out of the head!

And the two young doctors were weary enough of the subject to rejoice in obedience to her.

The day was perfect except that poor Allen was pinned fast by his tyrant, all the others gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the moment. They understood the sham fight, and recognised all the corps, with Jock as their cicerone, they had a good place at the marching past, and Esther had the crowning delight of an excellent view of Captain Viscount Fordham with his company, and at the luncheon. Jock received an absolutely affectionate welcome from his old friends, who made as much of his mother and sister for his sake, as they did of the lovely Lady Fordham for her husband’s, finding them, moreover, much more easy to get on with.

CHAPTER XXXIX. – THE TRUANT

The bird was sitting in his cage
And heard what he did say;
He jumped upon the window sill,
“‘Tis time I was away.”

                                     Ballad.

“There is a young lady in the drawing-room, ma’am,” said the maid, looking rather puzzled and uncertain, on the return of the party from the review.