CHAPTER VIII

CAPTAIN DOLEFUL’S DIFFICULTIES

What a fuss there was preparing for Mr. Jorrocks’s reception!—Captain Doleful was perfectly beside himself, and ran about the town as though he expected her Majesty. First he went to the proprietary school, and begged a half holiday for all the little boys and girls; next he visited Mr. Whackem’s mathematical seminary, and did the like by his; Miss Prim and Miss Prosy both promised to “suspend the duties of their respective establishments” for the afternoon; and three infant schools were released from lessons all the day. “Jorrocks for ever,” was chalked upon the walls, doors and shutters; and little children sung out his name in lisping acclamations. Publicans looked cheerful, and livery stable keepers, ostlers, and helpers talked about the price of ’ay and corn. Sebastian Mello called a meeting of the Religious Freedom Society, who voted eight-and-twenty shillings for placarding the town with the following comfortable assurance—“Fox-hunters will all go to ——.”

The banner with the fox upon it, and the “Floreat Scientia” scroll painted for the celebrated ball and supper, was released from the darkness of Mr. Fleeceall’s garret, where it had been deposited after the entertainment, and mounted on poles to lead the way in the procession; while the milliners, mantuamakers, and tailors were severally called upon to contribute silk, calico, and bunting for flags, decorations, and ribbons. Whatever Doleful demanded was necessarily ceded, so absolute was his sway over the tradespeople at the Spa. He was indeed a very great man. Did a new cheese-monger, or a new hatter, or a new milk-woman, wish to settle in the place, the good-will of the M.C. was invariably to be obtained, else it was to little use their troubling themselves to come; and the perquisites and advantages derived from these sources made a comfortable addition to his yearly income, arising from the subscription book at the library. The musicians at the wells were also under his control, and of course they received intimations to be at the Datton station before the hour that Mr. Jorrocks had privately announced his intention to arrive.

The morning sun broke cheerfully through the clouds in a good, downrightly, determined fine day, and as Doleful threw open the latticed casement of his window, and his eye roved to the “sun-bright summit” of the distant hills, he poured forth an inward ejaculation for the success of the great enterprise of the day, and for his own especial honour and emolument. In the midst of his reverie, Jemima, the maid of all work and shopgirl of the house, tapped gently at his door, and handed in a three-cornered note written on pink satin highly musked paper. Doleful started as though he had seen an apparition, for in the hand he immediately recognized the writing of his great patroness, Mrs. Barnington, and the recollection of Mrs. Jorrocks, the table of precedence among women, whereby the latter was to supplant Mrs. Barnington, the baits and lures he had held out for the purpose of securing the Jorrocks’s, together with the honour he was then instigating the inhabitants to do Mr. J., all rushed upon his mind with terrible velocity. Nor did the contents of the note assuage the anguish of his mind. It was simply this: “Mrs. Barnington will thank Capt. Doleful to wait upon her at twenty-three minutes before eleven.”

“Twenty-three minutes before eleven!” exclaimed the Captain, throwing up his hands, looking like a condemned criminal—“How like her that is! always peremptory with others and never punctual herself; well, there’s no help for it. Jemima,” exclaimed he, down the narrow staircase, to the girl who had returned to the shop, “my compliments to Mrs. Barnington, and say I will make a point of being with her at the time she names. I wonder,” continued he to himself, pacing up and down his little bedroom in his dressing-gown and slippers, “what she can want—it must be about the Jorrocks’s—and yet I could not do otherwise than I have. If she storms, I’ll rebel, and trounce her for all her airs; by Jove, I will!” saying which, he clenched his fist, and, looking in the glass, brushed up the few straggling hairs that marked the place for whiskers, and felt quite valiant. His courage, however, rather oozed out of his finger ends, as the appointed hour approached, and at twenty-one minutes before eleven by his watch, and twenty-two and a half by the church clock, he arrived at the door of his arbitrary and capricious patroness.

“Mistress is in her boudoir,” said the consequential butler on receiving the Captain at the hands of the footman, “but I’ll send up your name. Please step into the parlour;” and thereupon he turned the Captain into the fireless dining-room, and closed the door upon him.

Towards twelve o’clock, just as the Captain’s courage was nearly up again, and he had thrice applied his hand to the ivory knob of the bell-spring to see which way it turned against he wanted to ring, in strutted the butler again, with “Missis’s compliments, sir, and is sorry she is indisposed at present, and hopes it will not be inconvenient to you to return at ten minutes before three.”—“Ten minutes before three,” exclaimed the Captain, as a tinge of colour rose to his pallid cheeks, “impossible,” said he, “impossible!” Then, recollecting himself, he desired the butler to return with his respects to Mrs. Barnington, and say that at any hour next day he would have great pleasure in waiting upon her, but that his time was completely bespoke for the whole afternoon. The butler forthwith departed, and in about three-quarters of an hour, during which time Mrs. Barnington had finished a nap on the sofa, and arranged an elegant negligée toilette wherein to appear, the butler returned, and with a bow and wave of his hand announced that “Missis would see the Captain,” whom he preceded up-stairs and handed over to Bandoline, the little French maid, stationed at the door who ushered the Captain into the presence of Mrs. Barnington in the back drawing-room. She was lying in state, on a costly many-cushioned crimson and gold ottoman, dressed in a fawn-coloured robe de chambre, with a rich white Cachmere shawl thrown carelessly about her legs, below which her elegantly-formed feet in pink swan’s-down-lined slippers protruded. Her morning cap of costly workmanship was ornamented and tied with broad satin cherry-coloured ribbons, which, with the colour of the ottoman and cushions, imparted a gentle hue to her clear but delicate complexion, and her bright silky hair flowed in luxuriant tresses from the sides. She was a malade imaginaire-ist, having originally come as a patient of Swizzle’s; but that roistering practitioner had grievously offended her by abruptly closing a long list of inquiries by replying to the question if he thought she might eat a few oysters, with, “Oh, hang it, marm, yes, shells and all!” She was now pretending to read the Handley Cross Paul Pry, while with her left hand she kept applying a costly gold vinaigrette to her nose. The room was a mass of jewellery, costly furniture, and expensive flowers.

“Good morning, Captain,” said she, with the slightest possible inclination of her head.—“Bandoline, set a chair,” which she motioned the Captain to occupy, and the pretty little maid departed. “Pray,” said she, as soon as the door closed, “what is the meaning of all this to-do about a Mr. Horrocks, that I read of in the Paul Pry?”

“Mr. Horrocks,” replied the Captain, colouring, “really, marm, I don’t know—it’s the first time I’ve heard the name mentioned this long time,—there was a Mr. Horrocks lived in Silenus Villa the year before last, but I understood he had gone back to India.”

“Oh, no,” replied Mrs. Barnington, “that’s quite another person—these are Londoners—tradespeople, I hear, and the man Horrocks, the paper says, is to have the hounds.”

“Oh,” replied the Captain, now blushing to the very tips of his ears, “you’ve mistaken the name, marm. Yes, marm.—It’s Jorrocks, marm—Mister Jorrocks of Great Coram Street, marm, a merchant prince, marm—at least his father was. The present Mr. Jorrocks is a mighty sportsman, and hearing the hounds were without a leader, he wrote to offer himself, and some of the sporting gentry of the place have been in treaty with him to take them; but I need not tell you, Mrs. Barnington, that hunting is not an amusement I am partial to, indeed I hope I may never have occasion to go out again; but you know that as Master of the Ceremonies I am obliged to countenance many things that I would gladly avoid.”

“True,” replied Mrs. Barnington, with a smile of approbation—“I thought you would not be likely to encourage vulgar people coming here merely because they don’t care for breaking their necks over hedges and ditches—but tell me, isn’t there a Mrs. Jorrocks?”

“I understand so,” replied the Captain with a hem and a haw; “a lady of birth, they say; but had I known you would have interested yourself in the matter, I should certainly have informed myself, so as to have been able to tell you all about her.”

“Oh dear no! not for the world!—whether as a lady of birth or a tradesman’s wife, it would never do for me to concern myself about them. You know my position here is not to be controverted by any interlopers, be they who they may,—or come from where they will.”

“Undoubtedly not, marm,” replied the obsequious M.C.; “there’s not a person in the place insensible of the advantages of your presence; but I should hope,—at least, perhaps I may venture to express a slight wish,—that if those Jorrocks’s appear respectable people, you will for the sake of sociability vouchsafe them the favour of your countenance, and condescend to notice them a little.”

“I don’t know what to say about that, my dear Captain,” replied Mrs. Barnington, thoughtfully. “If they appear respectable people, and if they live in a certain style, and if I thought the matter would rest at Handley Cross, and they would not obtrude their acquaintance upon me elsewhere, and if they appeared sensible of the obligation, I might perhaps call upon them; but where there are so many points to consider, and so many to ascertain, it is almost needless speculating upon how one might act; all that we can do for the present is to maintain one’s own consequence, and you know full well the only way to support a place like this is to uphold the dignity of the chief patroness.”

“No doubt,” replied Captain Doleful, with a half-suppressed sigh as the table of precedence among women came across his mind. “I am sure, Madam, I have always been most anxious to pay you every respect and attention in my power, and if I have failed it has been owing to the multiplicity of my engagements and duties, and not from any want of inclination on my part.”—“I’m sure of it, Captain; and now let us see you back here at dinner at ten minutes past six.”—“With pleasure,” replied the Captain, rising to depart, with a grin of satisfaction on his melancholy visage.

“Stay one moment,” resumed Mrs. Barnington, as the Captain was leaving the room. “The paper says these people arrive to-day. If you chance to see them or can find anything out about them, you know, well and good—perhaps Mr. Barnington might like to know.”—“By all means,” replied the obsequious M.C., backing courtierlike out of the room, and nearly splitting himself up with the now opening door.