That Stick. Charlotte M. Yonge
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.
‘I am afraid not, Mrs. Morton. I know of no precedent for such honours being bestowed on a relict; but as I understand that Lord Northmoor is no longer in his first youth, your son might succeed to the title, and, in that case, his sisters might be’—he paused for a word—‘ennobled.’
‘Then does not it really make any difference to us?’ exclaimed Mrs. Morton.
‘That would rest in the bosom of his lordship,’ said Mr. Rollstone solemnly.
‘I declare it is an awful shame,’ burst out Ida, while Constance cooed ‘Dear uncle!’
‘Hush, hush, Ida!’ said her mother. ‘Your uncle has always treated us handsomely, and we have every reason to expect that he will continue to do so.’
‘He ought to have us to live with him in his house in London, and take us to Court,’ said Ida. ‘Oh, Mr. Rollstone, is he not bound to do that?’
And Constance breathed, ‘How delicious!’
Mr. Rollstone perhaps had his doubts of the figures Mrs. and Miss Morton would cut in society, but he contented himself with saying, ‘It may be well to moderate your expectations, Miss Ida, and to remember that Lord Northmoor is not compulsorily bound to consult any interests but his own.’
‘If he does not, it is perfectly abominable,’ cried Mrs. Morton, ‘towards his poor, only brother’s children, with Herbert his next heir-apparent.’
‘Heir-presumptuous,’ solemnly corrected Mr. Rollstone, at which Ida looked at Constance, but Constance respected Rosie’s feelings, and would not return her sister’s glance, only blushed, and sniggered.
‘Heir-apparent is only the eldest son, who cannot be displaced by any contingency.’
‘And there’s a horrid, little, artful school teacher, who drew him in years ago—before I was married even,’ said Mrs. Morton. ‘No doubt she will try to keep him now. Most likely she always knew what was going to happen. Cannot he be set free from the entanglement?’
‘Oh!’ gasped Constance.
‘That is serious,’ observed Mr. Rollstone gravely. ‘It would be an unfortunate commencement to have an action for breach of promise of marriage.’
‘She would never dare,’ said Mrs. Morton. ‘She is as poor as a rat, and could not do it!’
‘Well, Mrs. Morton,’ said Mr. Rollstone, ‘if I may be allowed to tender my poor advice, it would be that you should be very cautious and careful not to give any offence to his lordship, or to utter what might be reported to him in a sinister manner.’
‘Oh, I know every one has enemies!’ said Mrs. Morton, tossing her head.
After this disappointment there was rather less interest displayed when Mr. Rollstone proceeded to track out and explain the whole Northmoor pedigree, from the great lawyer, Sir Michael Morton, who had gained the peerage, down to the failure of the direct line, tracing the son from whom Francis and Charles Morton were descended. Certainly Miss Marshall must have been wonderfully foresighted if she had engaged herself with a view to the succession, for at the time it began, the last Lord Northmoor had two sons and a brother living! There was also a daughter, the Honourable Bertha Augusta.
‘Is she married?’ demanded Mrs. Morton.
‘It is not marked here, and if it had been mentioned in the papers, I should not have failed to record it.’
‘And how old is she?’
‘The author of this peerage would never be guilty of the solecism of recording a lady’s age,’ said Mr. Rollstone gravely; ‘but as the Honourable Arthur was born in 1848, and the Honourable Michael in 1850, we may infer that the young lady is no longer in her first youth.’
‘And not married? Nearly Fr—Lord Northmoor’s age. She must be an old cat who will set her mind on marrying him,’ sighed Mrs. Morton, ‘and will make him cut all his own relations.’
‘Then Mary Marshall might be the better lookout,’ said Ida.
‘She