CHAPTER LXXVI
THE GRAND FIELD DAY
The morrow came, and with it came Doleful—Doleful, no longer an indifferent duty visitor on behalf of Sir Archy Depecarde, but Doleful, a very cock-a-hoopish caller on his own account, got up with uncommon care and circumspection. He sported a sixteen-shilling hat, with a flexible silk band instead of a rusty draggling crape, while a black and white watch-ribbon-like tie encircled his stiff roundabout collar, with as much end floating over his machinery-worked shirt-front as could reasonably be expected for two-and-sixpence. A Regent Street registered Pardessus was thrown gaily back, to show as well its rich quilting as his new wide-sleeved coatee with a red silk cuff lining, his twelve-and-sixpenny vest to order, and his black clerical riding-trousers falling becomingly upon his bright Molière shoes. Thus attired, he led himself gaily to the charge, causing no little sensation as he passed through the streets.
Behold him entering Acacia Crescent, and now at the door of his charmer. The house never looked so attractive before. He could almost have kissed the scraper.
Visitors’ bells certainly are a great improvement upon the time when a man had to mark his own claims to consideration by an appeal to the knocker. It was all very well for ladies, with twelve or thirteen yards of powdered impertinence to act as their heralds, and pound at the panels, but for a humble pedestrian to have to indoctrinate the servants into his claim to attention by the number and freedom of his raps, was rather a nervous undertaking for gentlemen unaccustomed to public knocking. And yet, if one didn’t make a noise, they would often let one stand till one starved. So thought Doleful, as he turned the ivory-knobbed handle at the right of Mrs. Brantinghame’s door, and faced the sun as if for a wait. Quick as thought the door opened—opened, not in a doubtful, hesitating sort of way, but flew wide open, as if there wasn’t a doubt upon the subject of the ladies being at home. Lowly bowed the smiling Frederick, who was powdered to perfection, and starched and ironed out down to his very shoe-ties. Partridge, too, was in full feather, and never did the norse-shoe breast of one of the winged tribe look more bright than did his ample chest in a rich blue, green, yellow, red, all the colours of the rainbow reflecting, cut velvet vest, set off with steel buttons. Indeed, he should rather have been called Pheasant. He had also a splendid velvet-collared blue coat, made of far better cloth than Doleful’s, decorated with hieroglyphical buttons B. P. A. entwined (Butler’s Perquisite Association), and superfine drab trousers, with broad brown stripes down the sides. Thus attired, he received our suitor at the hands of Frederick, and as he helped him out of his registered Pardessus, woman-like, Martha, the maid-of-all-work, flitted in the background, arrayed in one of her young missus’s cast-off silks, enacting the character of upper servant. For the wages of one servant and a half, she did the work of three, eating only the victuals of one.
The Captain, being now ready for presentation, Partridge preceded him upstairs, making a mental bet with himself—for he was a bit of a wagerer—on the double events of something winning the Derby, and Miss capturing the Captain. Mrs. Brantinghame, who was arranging matters in the parlour, peeped up at her son-in-law’s legs as they ascended the stairs, and knowing that all was right above, resumed her occupation, like a nice, discreet old mouser as she was.
And now the drawing-room door opens, and in stalks the gallant Captain, bowing and grinning, and capering as usual. Miss receives him most cordially, as well with a shake of the hand as a stick-out-behind curtsey, and the captain at once subsides upon an ottoman full of the usual odds and ends, and non-company things.
Miss is most carefully got up for the important occasion. Martha has had a good hour and a half’s spell at her toilette, between making the beds and preparing the lunch, and, by dint of careful sitting since, not a single hair is displaced. She has on a light blue barège dress, the body and flounces trimmed with plaited blue ribbon, and on her well-turned arms she wears her first-class manacles, the product of many an ardent courtship, for she always made it a rule to confiscate the offerings of her suitors when the matches went off. She begins by apologizing for the absence of Mamma, who had lain down to try to sleep off a sick headache, a statement that Mamma subsequently contradicted by saying she had been poring over her steward’s accounts for the last quarter, which was quite as agreeable a hearing to our Captain, who thought he would like to relieve her of that trouble in future.
Mamma has got on her best bib and tucker, and everything wears a holiday aspect. She is all smiles and serenity. The luncheon, too, was of the elegant order, without any make-weight dishes, or apparent eking-out from any other quarter. Indeed, Partridge took better care of the scraps than that, and already his onslaughts on the cold tongue, and his refusal to share the overplus of the “Dobbs” with Martha, had led to unpleasant bickerings between them. To-day, however they seem to have merged their differences for the common weal, and play into each other’s hands in the most praiseworthy manner. Everything is cold, except the vegetables and game, which latter Mrs. Brantinghame would have insinuated came from her own manor, were she not afraid that the ever-watchful Partridge, who brought it from Sir Archy’s, would contradict her. Miss, however, did the fine by desiring Frederick to tell her maid to bring her a pocket-handkerchief; and Mrs. muttered something about the inconvenience of only having one footman, as Partridge followed Frederick out of the room for a bottle of Allsopp, in which he hoped to get Doleful to give him a reversionary interest by having it opened. In fact, the ladies rather overdid the thing, as pretenders often do when they want to cut it fat. Doleful, however, was too much mixed up with them to see anything of the sort, and munched and eat, and munched and eat, with the greatest apparent satisfaction. At length, after a hearty repast, and a long tête-à-tête with Miss after (the affairs of the estate requiring Mamma’s attention elsewhere), the old grinner took his departure; and as Mamma surveyed the wreck of luncheon, above all, the greatly diminished Malmsey, and thought of the blabbishness of servants, she came to the conclusion that the sooner she got out her landing-net the better.
