Wives and Daughters (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

‘Ah Molly,’ said she, ‘it’s really wonderful to see what a little good society will do for a girl. Even a week of association with such people as one meets with at the Towers is, as somebody said of a lady of rank whose name I have forgotten, “a polite education in itself.” There is something quite different about you—a je ne sais quoi ^ei—that would tell me at once that you have been mingling with the aristocracy. With all her charms, it was what my darling Cynthia wanted; not that Mr. Henderson thought so, for a more devoted lover can hardly be conceived. He absolutely bought her a parure of diamonds. I was obliged to say to him that I had studied to preserve her simplicity of taste, and that he must not corrupt her with too much luxury. But I was rather disappointed at their going off without a maid. It was the one blemish in the arrangements—the spot in the sun. Dear Cynthia, when I think of her, I do assure you, Molly, I make it my nightly prayer that I may be able to find you just such another husband. And all this time you have never told me who you met at the Towers?’

Molly ran over a list of names. Roger Hamley’s came last.

‘Upon my word! That young man is pushing his way up!’

‘The Hamleys are a far older family than the Cumnors,’ said Molly, flushing up.

‘Now, Molly, I can’t have you democratic. Rank is a great distinction. It is quite enough to have dear papa with democratic tendencies. But we won’t begin to quarrel. Now that you and I are left alone, we ought to be bosom friends, and I hope we shall be. Roger Hamley did not say much about that unfortunate little Osborne Hamley, I suppose?’

‘On the contrary, he says his father dotes on the child; and he seemed very proud of him, himself.’

‘I thought the squire must be getting very much infatuated with something. I dare say the French mother takes care of that. Why! he has scarcely taken any notice of you for this month or more, and before that you were everything.’

It was about six weeks since Cynthia’s engagement had become publicly known, and that might have had something to do with the squire’s desertion, Molly thought. But she said,—

‘The squire has sent me an invitation to go and stay there next week if you have no objection, mamma. They seem to want a companion for Mrs. Osborne Hamley, who is not very strong.’

‘I can hardly tell what to say,—I don’t like your having to associate with a Frenchwoman of doubtful rank; and I can’t bear the thought of losing my child—my only daughter now. I did ask Helen Kirkpatrick, but she can’t come for some time; and the house is going to be altered. Papa has consented to build me another room at last, for Cynthia and Mr. Henderson will, of course, come and see us; we shall have many more visitors, I expect, and your bedroom will make a capital lumber-room; and Maria wants a week’s holiday. I am always so unwilling to put any obstacles in the way of one’s pleasure, —weakly unwilling, I believe,—but it certainly would be very convenient to have you out of the house for a few days; so, for once, I will waive my own wish for your companionship, and plead your cause with papa.’

Miss Brownings came to call and hear the double batch of news. Mrs. Goodenough had come the very day on which they had returned from Miss Hornblower’s, to tell them the astounding fact of Molly Gibson having gone on a visit to the Towers; not to come back at night, but to sleep there, to be there for two or three days, just as if she was a young lady of quality. So Miss Brownings came to hear all the details of the wedding from Mrs. Gibson, and the history of Molly’s visit at the Towers as well. But Mrs. Gibson did not like this divided interest, and some of her old jealousy of Molly’s intimacy at the Towers had returned.

‘Now, Molly,’ said Miss Browning, ‘let us hear how you behaved among the great folks. You must not be set up with all their attention; remember that they pay it to you for your good father’s sake.’

‘Molly is, I think, quite aware,’ put in Mrs. Gibson, in her most soft and languid tone, ‘that she owes her privilege of visiting at such a house to Lady Cumnor’s kind desire to set my mind quite at liberty at the time of Cynthia’s marriage. As soon as ever I had returned home, Molly came back; indeed, I should not have thought it right to let her intrude upon their kindness beyond what was absolutely necessary.

Molly felt extremely uncomfortable at all this, although perfectly aware of the entire inaccuracy of the statement.

‘Well, but, Molly!’ said Miss Browning, ‘never mind whether you went there on your own merits, or your worthy father’s merits, or Mrs. Gibson’s merits; but tell us what you did when you were there.’

So Molly began an account of their sayings and doings, which she could have made far more interesting to Miss Browning and Miss Phoebe if she had not been conscious of her stepmother’s critical listening. She had to tell it all with a mental squint; the surest way to spoil a narration. She was also subject to Mrs. Gibson’s perpetual corrections of little statements which she knew to be facts. But what vexed her most of all was Mrs. Gibson’s last speech before the Miss Brownings left.

‘Molly has fallen into rambling ways with this visit of hers, of which she makes so much, as if nobody had ever been in a great house but herself. She is going to Hamley Hall next week—getting quite dissipated, in fact.’

Yet to Mrs. Goodenough, the next caller on the same errand of congratulation, Mrs. Gibson’s tone was quite different. There had always been a tacit antagonism between the two, and the conversation now ran as follows:—

Mrs. Goodenough began,

‘Well! Mrs. Gibson, I suppose I must wish you joy of Miss Cynthia’s marriage; I should condole with some mothers as had lost their daughters; but you’re not one of that sort, I reckon.’

Now, as Mrs. Gibson was not quite sure to which ‘sort’ of mothers the greatest credit was to be attached, she found it a little difficult how to frame her reply.

‘Dear Cynthia!’ she said. ‘One can’t but rejoice in her happiness! And yet—’ she ended her sentence by sighing.

‘Aye. She was a young woman as would always have her followers; for, to tell the truth, she was as pretty a creature as ever I saw in my life. And all the more she needed skilful guidance. I’m sure I, for one, am as glad as can be she’s done so well by herself Folks say Mr. Henderson has a handsome private fortune over and above what he makes by the law.’

‘There is no fear but that my Cynthia will have everything this world can give!’ said Mrs. Gibson with dignity.

‘Well, well! she was always a bit of a favourite of mine; and as I was saying to my granddaughter there’ (for she was accompanied by a young lady, who looked keenly to the prospect of some wedding-cake), ‘I was never one of those who ran her down, and called her a flirt and a jilt. I’m glad to hear she’s like to be so well off. And now, I suppose, you’ll be turning your mind to doing something for Miss Molly there?’

‘If you mean by that, doing anything that can, by hastening her marriage, deprive me of the company of one who is like my own child, you are very much mistaken, Mrs. Goodenough. And pray remember, I am the last person in the world to match-make. Cynthia made Mr. Henderson’s acquaintance at her uncle’s in London.’

‘Aye! I thought her cousins was very often ill, and needing her nursing, and you were very keen she should be of use. I’m not saying but what it’s right in a mother; I’m only putting in a word for Miss Molly.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Goodenough,’ said Molly, half angry, half laughing. ‘When I want to be married, I’ll not trouble mamma. I’ll look out for myself.’

‘Molly is becoming so popular, I hardly know how we shall keep her at home,’ said Mrs. Gibson. ‘I miss her sadly, but, as I said to Mr. Gibson, let young people have change, and see a little of the world while they are young. It has been a great advantage to her, being at the Towers while so many clever and distinguished people were there. I can already see a difference in her tone and conversation: an elevation in her choice of subjects. And now she is going to Hamley Hall. I can assure you I feel quite a proud mother, when I see how she is sought after. And my other daughter—my Cynthia—writing such letters from Paris!’

‘Things is a deal changed since my days, for sure,’ said Mrs. Goodenough. ‘So, perhaps, I’m no judge. When I was married first, him and me went in a post-chaise to his father’s house, a matter of twenty mile off at the outside; and sat down to as good a supper amongst his friends and relations as you’d wish to see. And that was my first wedding jaunt. My second was when I better knowed my worth as a bride, and thought that now or never I must see London. But I were reckoned a very extravagant sort of a body to go so far, and spend my money, though Jerry had left me uncommon well off. But now young folks go off to Paris, and think nothing of the cost: and it’s well if wilful waste don’t make woeful want before they die. But I’m thankful somewhat is being done for Miss Molly’s chances, as I said afore. It’s not quite what I should have liked to have done for my Anna-Maria, though. But times are changed, as I said just now.’