Castle Richmond by Anthony Trollope (best memoirs of all time txt) 📕

to Mrs. Townsend as the sly hits against the two priests.

And then, while they were still in the middle of all this; when the punch-jug had given way to the teapot, and the rector was beginning to bethink himself that a nap in his arm-chair would be very refreshing, Jerry came into the room to announce that Richard had come over from Castle Richmond with a note for "his riverence." And so Richard was shown in.

Now Richard might very well have sent in his note by Jerry, which after all contained only some information with reference to a list of old women which Herbert Fitzgerald had promised to send over to the glebe. But Richard knew that the minister would wish to chat with him, and Richard himself had no indisposition for a little conversation.

"I hope yer riverences is quite well then," said Richard, as he tendered his note, making a double bow, so as to include them both.

"Pretty well, thank you," said Mrs. Townsend. "And how's all the family?"

"Well, then, they're all rightly, considhering. The Masther's no just what he war, you know, ma'am."

"I'm afraid not—I'm afraid not," said the rector. "You'll not take a glass of spirits, Richard?"

"Yer riverence knows I never does that," said Richard, with somewhat of a conscious look of high morality, for he was a rigid teetotaller.

"And do you mean to say that you stick to that always?" said Mrs. Townsend, who firmly believed that no good could come out of Nazareth, and that even abstinence from whisky must be bad if accompanied by anything in the shape of a Roman Catholic ceremony.

"I do mean to say, ma'am, that I never touched a dhrop of anything sthronger than wather, barring tay, since the time I got the pledge from the blessed apostle." And Richard boldly crossed himself in the presence of them both. They knew well whom he meant by the blessed apostle: it was Father Mathew.

"Temperance is a very good thing, however we may come by it," said Mr. Townsend, who meant to imply by this that Richard's temperance had been come by in the worst way possible.

"That's thrue for you, sir," said Richard; "but I never knew any pledge kept, only the blessed apostle's." By which he meant to imply that no sanctity inherent in Mr. Townsend's sacerdotal proceedings could be of any such efficacy.

And then Mr. Townsend read the note. "Ah, yes," said he; "tell Mr. Herbert that I'm very much obliged to him. There will be no other answer necessary."

"Very well, yer riverence, I'll be sure to give Mr. Herbert the message." And Richard made a sign as though he were going.

"But tell me, Richard," said Mrs. Townsend, "is Sir Thomas any better? for we have been really very uneasy about him."

"Indeed and he is, ma'am; a dail betther this morning, the Lord be praised."

"It was a kind of a fit, wasn't it, Richard?" asked the parson.

"A sort of a fit of illness of some kind, I'm thinking," said Richard, who had no mind to speak of his family's secrets out of doors. Whatever he might be called upon to tell the priest, at any rate he was not called on to tell anything to the parson.

"But it was very sudden this time, wasn't it, Richard?" asked the lady; "immediately after that strange man was shown into his room—eh?"

"I'm sure, ma'am, I can't say; but I don't think he was a ha'porth worse than ordinar, till after the gentleman went away. I did hear that he did his business with the gentleman, just as usual like."

"And then he fell into a fit, didn't he, Richard?"

"Not that I heard of, ma'am. He did a dail of talking about some law business, I did hear our Mrs. Jones say; and then afther he warn't just the betther of it."

"Was that all?"

"And I don't think he's none the worse for it neither, ma'am; for the masther do seem to have more life in him this day than I'se seen this many a month. Why, he's been out and about with her ladyship in the pony-carriage all the morning."

"Has he now? Well, I'm delighted to hear that. It is some trouble about the English estates, I believe, that vexes him?"

"Faix, then, ma'am, I don't just know what it is that ails him, unless it be just that he has too much money for to know what to do wid it. That'd be the sore vexation to me, I know."

"Well; ah, yes; I suppose I shall see Mrs. Jones to-morrow, or at latest the day after," said Mrs. Townsend, resolving to pique the man by making him understand that she could easily learn all that she wished to learn from the woman: "a great comfort Mrs. Jones must be to her ladyship."

"Oh yes, ma'am; 'deed an' she is," said Richard; "'specially in the matter of puddins and pies, and such like."

He was not going to admit Mrs. Jones's superiority, seeing that he had lived in the family long before his present mistress's marriage.

"And in a great many other things too, Richard. She's quite a confidential servant. That's because she's a Protestant, you know."

Now of all men, women, and creatures living, Richard the coachman of Castle Richmond was the most good tempered. No amount of anger or scolding, no professional misfortune—such as the falling down of his horse upon the ice, no hardship—such as three hours' perpetual rain when he was upon the box—would make him cross. To him it was a matter of perfect indifference if he were sent off with his car just before breakfast, or called away to some stable work as the dinner was about to smoke in the servants' hall. He was a great eater, but what he didn't eat one day he could eat the next. Such things never ruffled him, nor was he ever known to say that such a job wasn't his work. He was always willing to nurse a baby, or dig potatoes, or cook a dinner, to the best of his ability, when asked to do so; but he could not endure to be made less of than a Protestant; and of all Protestants he could not endure to be made less of than Mrs. Jones.

"'Cause she's a Protestant, is it, ma'am?"

"Of course, Richard; you can't but see that Protestants are more trusted, more respected, more thought about than Romanists, can you?"

"'Deed then I don't know, ma'am."

"But look at Mrs. Jones."

"Oh, I looks at her often enough; and she's well enough too for a woman. But we all know her weakness."

"What's that, Richard?" asked Mrs. Townsend, with some interest expressed in her tone; for she was not above listening to a little scandal, even about the servants of her great neighbours.

"Why, she do often talk about things she don't understand. But she's a great hand at puddins and pies, and that's what one mostly looks for in a woman."

This was enough for Mrs. Townsend for the present, and so Richard was allowed to take his departure, in full self-confidence that he had been one too many for the parson's wife.

"Jerry," said Richard, as they walked out into the yard together to get the Castle Richmond pony, "does they often thry to make a Prothestant of you now?"

"Prothestants be d——," said Jerry, who by no means shared in Richard's good gifts as to temper.

"Well, I wouldn't say that; at laist, not of all of 'em."

"The likes of them's used to it," said Jerry.

And then Richard, not waiting to do further battle on behalf of his Protestant friends, trotted out of the yard.

 

 

CHAPTER XI. SECOND LOVE.
 

On the day after Clara's departure, Herbert did, as a matter of course, make his promised visit at Desmond Court. It was on that day that Sir Thomas had been driving about in the pony-carriage with Lady Fitzgerald, as Richard had reported. Herbert had been with his father in the morning, and then having seen him and his mother well packed up in their shawls and cloaks, had mounted his horse and ridden off.

"I may be kept some time," said he, "as I have promised to go on to Clady, and see after that soup kitchen."

"I shouldn't wonder if Herbert became attached to Clara Desmond," said the mother to Sir Thomas, soon after they had begun their excursion.

"Do you think so?" said the baronet; and his tone was certainly not exactly that of approbation.

"Well, yes; I certainly do think it probable. I am sure he admires her, and I think it very likely to come to more. Would there be any objection?"

"They are both very young," said Sir Thomas.

"But in Herbert's position will not a young marriage be the best thing for him?"

"And she has no fortune; not a shilling. If he does marry young, quite young you know, it might be prudent that his wife should have something of her own."

"They'd live here," said Lady Fitzgerald, who knew that of all men her husband was usually most free from mercenary feelings and an over-anxiety as to increased wealth, either for himself or for his children; "and I think it would be such a comfort to you. Herbert, you see, is so fond of county business, and so little anxious for what young men generally consider pleasure."

There was nothing more said about it at that moment; for the question in some measure touched upon money matters and considerations as to property, from all of which Lady Fitzgerald at present wished to keep her husband's mind free. But towards the end of the drive he himself again referred to it.

"She is a nice girl, isn't she?"

"Very nice, I think; as far as I've seen her."

"She is pretty, certainly."

"Very pretty; more than pretty; much more. She will be beautiful."

"But she is such a mere child. You do not think that anything will come of it immediately;—not quite immediately?"

"Oh no; certainly not quite immediately. I think Herbert is not calculated to be very sudden in any such feelings, or in the expression of them: but I do think such an event very probable before the winter is over."

In the mean time Herbert spent the whole day over at Desmond Court, or at Clady. He found the countess delighted to see him, and both she and Lady Clara went on with him to Clady. It was past five and quite dark before he reached Castle Richmond, so that he barely got home in time to dress for dinner.

The dinner-party that evening was more pleasant than usual. Sir Thomas not only dined with them, but came into the drawing-room after dinner, and to a certain extent joined in their conversation. Lady Fitzgerald could see that this was done by a great effort; but it was not remarked by Aunt Letty and the others, who were delighted to have him with them, and to see him once more interested about their interests.

And now the building of the mill had been settled, and the final orders were to be given by Herbert at the spot on the following morning.

"We can go with you to Berryhill, I suppose, can't we?" said Mary.

"I shall be in a great hurry," said Herbert, who clearly did not wish to be encumbered by his sisters on this special expedition.

"And why are you to be in such a hurry to-morrow?" asked Aunt Letty.

"Well, I shall be hurried; I have promised to go to Clady again, and I must be back here early, and must get another horse."

"Why, Herbert, you are becoming a Hercules of energy," said his father, smiling: "you will have enough to do if you look to all the soup kitchens on the Desmond property as well as our own."

"I made a sort of promise about this particular affair at Clady, and I must carry it out," said Herbert.

"And you'll pay your devoirs to the fair Lady Clara on your way home of course," said Mary.

"More than probable," he replied.

"And stay so late again that you'll hardly be here in time for dinner," continued Mary: to which little sally her brother vouchsafed no answer.

But Emmeline said nothing. Lady Clara was specially her friend, and she was too anxious to secure such a sister-in-law to make any joke upon such a subject.

On that occasion nothing more was said about it; but Sir Thomas hoped within his heart that his wife was right in prophesying that his son would do nothing sudden in this matter.

On the following morning young Fitzgerald gave the necessary orders at Berryhill very quickly, and then coming back remounted another horse without going into the house. Then he trotted off to Clady, passing the gate of Desmond Court without calling; did what he had promised to do at Clady, or rather that which he had made to stand as an excuse for again visiting that part