The Manoeuvring Mother (Vol. 1-3). Lady Charlotte Campbell Bury
"By Jove, gentlemen, I don't consider myself dull!" at last Tom Pynsent burst forth. "I know many ladies who would like to live at Hatton, though they care little enough about its master; but I deny your present statement. Who is the lady you allude to?"
"Go and ask Miss Wetheral to dance, Pynsent, and she will assist you in solving our riddle," said Mr. Wycherly, laughing.
"Good heavens! if a woman looked in my eyes, as I saw a lady consulting yours just now, Pynsent, I should feel myself called upon to fall desperately in love," observed his friend Vyvyan.
"God bless my soul! do you mean that Miss Wetheral likes me?"
Tom Pynsent uttered the question with an agitated and hurried tone of voice, which caused a general laugh among his auditors, but Mr. Wycherly spoke seriously and looked in earnest.
"You were in love with her sister, Pynsent, and had no time to observe other women. Every one else could read in the expression of Miss Wetheral's manner and countenance her decided liking for you."
"God bless my soul!" again ejaculated Tom Pynsent, "I never saw her look me in the face in my life!"
"My dear fellow, you are as green as a girl in her sixteenth year. Do you fancy a woman stares at you by way of shewing her true love? Her downcast looks and melancholy appearance betray her. She only brightens up when you address her, and to all other men she is cold as an iceberg. Such are Miss Wetheral's symptoms, and such are all delicate-minded women's manners, when they are not hunting down a fortune. I know the sex, Pynsent."
"Such a woman is worth a thousand scornful dames," remarked old Mr. Tyndal.
"Pynsent looks petrified!" exclaimed young Spottiswoode.
"Pynsent at fault, by the Lord Harry!" laughed his friend Vyvyan.
"Cold scent, Pynsent, after your late run," cried Spottiswoode, entertained beyond measure at poor Tom's égaré looks.
The group of gentlemen rallied unmercifully their bewildered companion upon his dull reception of a piece of intelligence which would have raised any other man from the dead. Tom Pynsent's temper stood all jibes with unwearied patience, and when his mind had somewhat recovered the standard of its usual tone, he rebutted their attacks in his own loud tone of voice.
"I don't mind any of your jokes; if a woman likes me seriously, I shall be sure to return it, and be very much obliged to her. I like Miss Wetheral very much, but I did not suppose she cared for me; how could I?"
"Why, you flirted with her abominably, once," remarked young Spottiswoode.
"Yes, perhaps I did so, but I had no idea she minded my nonsense."
"Young girls are easily caught, Pynsent, at first coming out. You certainly trifled with poor Miss Wetheral," said Mr. Tyndal.
"Did I? then I'll be hanged if I don't marry her!"
A roar of laughter followed this announcement, but Tom Pynsent was nothing daunted; he coolly withdrew from his companions, and sought Anna Maria, who received him with placid manners, and suppressed pleasure.
Tom Pynsent was now enlightened on one material point; and his vanity was touched, by the knowledge that the beautiful Miss Wetheral, so remarkable for her loveliness and extraordinary coldness of manner, did indeed love him in silence, above all his companions, and independently of Hatton! She had loved him in spite of his proposal to her sister! She had borne the knowledge of her sister's rivalship in patient gentleness! She was at that moment receiving him with kind and conciliating manners, though she knew he had asked another to be his wife! Tom Pynsent's heart did justice to her suffering and affection; and he mentally vowed he would secure a prize so long unvalued, because so totally misunderstood. From that moment he attached himself exclusively to Miss Wetheral.
How did the hours glide by that eventful evening, in the imagination of the two happy sisters! How triumphant did Lady Wetheral appear as she glanced at both daughters!
There was Lord Ennismore publicly displaying his engagement with Julia, and Tom Pynsent was stationed at the side of Anna Maria, in deep, and, apparently, agreeable discourse. Her triumph was commented upon, by the Mesdames Tyndal and Pynsent.
"Oh, be hanged to her!" cried the latter lady, "she has got one daughter hooked on Ennismore, and now she's driving at Tom: only watch her manœuvres. I knew what she was at, Mrs. Tyndal, when she made her visit to Court Herbert some years ago. Miss Wetheral was a child, but I smoked the meaning of it. She was vapouring then, after Tom."
"Lady Wetheral has been very fortunate with her daughters," replied Mrs. Tyndal. "Mr. Boscawen was an eligible match, and Lord Ennismore of course, in the eye of the world, is of still higher consideration."
"I think, if I had ten portionless daughters, I would not give one of them to that poor decayed fellow, and as I always told my son, Tom; 'If you bring me home a Wetheral, I'll be hanged if I receive her, and my word is as good as your own.'"
Mrs. Tyndal was accustomed to her companion's manly style of expression; so indeed was every family in the county. Mrs. Pynsent was tolerated in her youth on account of her large fortune; she was tolerated in middle-life as the mistress of Hatton; she was sought in her old age, as the mother of her son Tom. Thus Mrs. Pynsent passed through society without a single accomplishment, or even the attributes of a female, supported by the powerful shield of wealth, and feared for the determination of her sentiments and the coarseness of her remarks, by all her acquaintance.
Separated from her masculine propensities, Mrs. Pynsent was a warm-hearted, well-meaning person, and many young people could bear witness, that if Mrs. Pynsent often offended their ears, or dealt a merciless blow at their vanity, she had also befriended them in their need, and in sorrow or sickness, there was none kinder, or more patient. Why Mrs. Pynsent spoke so bitterly against a "Wetheral" never could be divined; probably some early prejudice influenced her in deprecating the name.
Mrs. Tyndal expressed surprise at Mrs. Pynsent's observation to her son.
"Really, Mrs. Pynsent, I cannot agree with you in such very determined dislike to the Miss Wetherals. I think my sons might make a far worse choice than either lady present."
"By Jove!" replied Mrs. Pynsent, shrugging her shoulders, "I hope Tom will never choose an empty doll from Wetheral: my brother Wycherly hinted to me the other day Tom had been disappointed of one of them, but I gave him my thoughts upon the matter: 'Bill,' I said, 'if any man could prove to me my son Tom had made an offer to a Wetheral, I'd kick him down stairs for his pains, and out of the Hatton grounds.' My brother Bill never renewed that subject!"
Mrs. Tyndal glanced towards Anna Maria, who was still engaged in conversation with Tom Pynsent, and a smile passed over her face. Mrs. Pynsent caught the smile and look.
"Oh, you need not think about Tom in that quarter!" she observed. "Tom knows I hate the name."
At that moment Miss Wetheral and her companion joined the dancers.
"Your son distinguishes Miss Wetheral to-night," said her friend, with rather more espièglerie than their friendship warranted.
"Not a bit of it; I don't believe a word of it." At that instant her eye caught Tom dancing with all his might, and she beheld his vis-à-vis exchanging smiles with him: her colour rose.
"By Jove! he's dancing with her a second time, and there's that superannuated father of his, looking on! Wouldn't any one think Mr. Pynsent was staring at a puppet-show? I'll take the old gentleman home."
Mrs. Pynsent rose for the purpose of joining her husband, who was enjoying the apparent gaiety of his son. Lady Wetheral joined her at that most inopportune moment, and began a subject most offensive to her feelings.
"I am delighted to see your son in such excellent spirits to-night, my dear Mrs. Pynsent: it is an infectious disorder which I already feel stealing upon me. Such joyous spirits generally take effect upon those around."
"What ails Tom that he should not be gay?" growled Mrs. Pynsent. "Mothers court him and daughters flirt with