North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell (book recommendations for young adults txt) 📕

‘Have you dined? How did you come? Let me order you some dinner.’

‘If you’re going to have any. Otherwise, you know, there is no one who cares less for eating than I do. But where are the others? Gone out to dinner? Left you alone?’

‘Oh yes! and it is such a rest. I was just thinking—But will you run the risk of dinner? I don’t know if there is anything in the house.’

‘Why, to tell you the truth, I dined at my club. Only they don’t cook as well as they did, so I thought, if you were going to dine, I might try and make out my dinner. But never mind, never mind! There aren’t ten cooks in England to be trusted at impromptu dinners. If their skill and their fires will stand it, their tempers won’t. You shall make me some tea, Margaret. And now, what were you thinking of? you were going to tell me. Whose letters were those, god-daughter, that you hid away so speedily?’

‘Only Dixon’s,’ replied Margaret, growing very red.

‘Whew! is that all? Who do you think came up in the train with me?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Margaret, resolved against making a guess.

‘Your what d’ye call him? What’s the right name for a cousin-in-law’s brother?’

‘Mr. Henry Lennox?’ asked Margaret.

‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Bell. ‘You knew him formerly, didn’t you? What sort of a person is he, Margaret?’

‘I liked him long ago,’ said Margaret, glancing down for a moment. And then she looked straight up and went on in her natural manner. ‘You know we have been corresponding about Frederick since; but I have not seen him for nearly three years, and he may be changed. What did you think of him?’

‘I don’t know. He was so busy trying to find out who I was, in the first instance, and what I was in the second, that he never let out what he was; unless indeed that veiled curiosity of his as to what manner of man he had to talk to was not a good piece, and a fair indication of his character. Do you call him good looking, Margaret?’

‘No! certainly not. Do you?’

‘Not I. But I thought, perhaps, you might. Is he a great deal here?’

‘I fancy he is when he is in town. He has been on circuit now since I came. But—Mr. Bell—have you come from Oxford or from Milton?’

‘From Milton. Don’t you see I’m smoke-dried?’

‘Certainly. But I thought that it might be the effect of the antiquities of Oxford.’

‘Come now, be a sensible woman! In Oxford, I could have managed all the landlords in the place, and had my own way, with half the trouble your Milton landlord has given me, and defeated me after all. He won’t take the house off our hands till next June twelvemonth. Luckily, Mr. Thornton found a tenant for it. Why don’t you ask after Mr. Thornton, Margaret? He has proved himself a very active friend of yours, I can tell you. Taken more than half the trouble off my hands.’

‘And how is he? How is Mrs. Thornton?’ asked Margaret hurriedly and below her breath, though she tried to speak out.

‘I suppose they’re well. I’ve been staying at their house till I was driven out of it by the perpetual clack about that Thornton girl’s marriage. It was too much for Thornton himself, though she was his sister. He used to go and sit in his own room perpetually. He’s getting past the age for caring for such things, either as principal or accessory. I was surprised to find the old lady falling into the current, and carried away by her daughter’s enthusiasm for orange-blossoms and lace. I thought Mrs. Thornton had been made of sterner stuff.’

‘She would put on any assumption of feeling to veil her daughter’s weakness,’ said Margaret in a low voice.

‘Perhaps so. You’ve studied her, have you? She doesn’t seem over fond of you, Margaret.’

‘I know it,’ said Margaret. ‘Oh, here is tea at last!’ exclaimed she, as if relieved. And with tea came Mr. Henry Lennox, who had walked up to Harley Street after a late dinner, and had evidently expected to find his brother and sister-in-law at home. Margaret suspected him of being as thankful as she was at the presence of a third party, on this their first meeting since the memorable day of his offer, and her refusal at Helstone. She could hardly tell what to say at first, and was thankful for all the tea-table occupations, which gave her an excuse for keeping silence, and him an opportunity of recovering himself. For, to tell the truth, he had rather forced himself up to Harley Street this evening, with a view of getting over an awkward meeting, awkward even in the presence of Captain Lennox and Edith, and doubly awkward now that he found her the only lady there, and the person to whom he must naturally and perforce address a great part of his conversation. She was the first to recover her self-possession. She began to talk on the subject which came uppermost in her mind, after the first flush of awkward shyness.

‘Mr. Lennox, I have been so much obliged to you for all you have done about Frederick.’

‘I am only sorry it has been so unsuccessful,’ replied he, with a quick glance towards Mr. Bell, as if reconnoitring how much he might say before him. Margaret, as if she read his thought, addressed herself to Mr. Bell, both including him in the conversation, and implying that he was perfectly aware of the endeavours that had been made to clear Frederick.

‘That Horrocks—that very last witness of all, has proved as unavailing as all the others. Mr. Lennox has discovered that he sailed for Australia only last August; only two months before Frederick was in England, and gave us the names of–-‘

‘Frederick in England! you never told me that!’ exclaimed Mr. Bell in surprise.

‘I thought you knew. I never doubted you had been told. Of course, it was a great secret, and perhaps I should not have named it now,’ said Margaret, a little dismayed.

‘I have never named it to either my brother or your cousin,’ said Mr. Lennox, with a little professional dryness of implied reproach.

‘Never mind, Margaret. I am not living in a talking, babbling world, nor yet among people who are trying to worm facts out of me; you needn’t look so frightened because you have let the cat out of the bag to a faithful old hermit like me. I shall never name his having been in England; I shall be out of temptation, for no one will ask me. Stay!’ (interrupting himself rather abruptly) ‘was it at your mother’s funeral?’

‘He was with mamma when she died,’ said Margaret, softly.

‘To be sure! To be sure! Why, some one asked me if he had not been over then, and I denied it stoutly—not many weeks ago—who could it have been? Oh! I recollect!’

But he did not say the name; and although Margaret would have given much to know if her suspicions were right, and it had been Mr. Thornton who had made the enquiry, she could not ask the question of Mr. Bell, much as she longed to do so.

There was a pause for a moment or two. Then Mr. Lennox said, addressing himself to Margaret, ‘I suppose as Mr. Bell is now acquainted with all the circumstances attending your brother’s unfortunate dilemma, I cannot do better than inform him exactly how the research into the evidence we once hoped to produce in his favour stands at present. So, if he will do me the honour to breakfast with me to-morrow, we will go over the names of these missing gentry.’

‘I should like to hear all the particulars, if I may. Cannot you come here? I dare not ask you both to breakfast, though I am sure you would be welcome. But let me know all I can about Frederick, even though there may be no hope at present.’

‘I have an engagement at half-past eleven. But I will certainly come if you wish it,’ replied Mr. Lennox, with a little afterthought of extreme willingness, which made Margaret shrink into herself, and almost wish that she had not proposed her natural request. Mr. Bell got up and looked around him for his hat, which had been removed to make room for tea.

‘Well!’ said he, ‘I don’t know what Mr. Lennox is inclined to do, but I’m disposed to be moving off homewards. I’ve been a journey to-day, and journeys begin to tell upon my sixty and odd years.’

‘I believe I shall stay and see my brother and sister,’ said Mr. Lennox, making no movement of departure. Margaret was seized with a shy awkward dread of being left alone with him. The scene on the little terrace in the Helstone garden was so present to her, that she could hardly help believing it was so with him.

‘Don’t go yet, please, Mr. Bell,’ said she, hastily. ‘I want you to see Edith; and I want Edith to know you. Please!’ said she, laying a light but determined hand on his arm. He looked at her, and saw the confusion stirring in her countenance; he sate down again, as if her little touch had been possessed of resistless strength.

‘You see how she overpowers me, Mr. Lennox,’ said he. ‘And I hope you noticed the happy choice of her expressions; she wants me to “see” this cousin Edith, who, I am told, is a great beauty; but she has the honesty to change her word when she comes to me—Mrs. Lennox is to “know” me. I suppose I am not much to “see,” eh, Margaret?’

He joked, to give her time to recover from the slight flutter which he had detected in her manner on his proposal to leave; and she caught the tone, and threw the ball back. Mr. Lennox wondered how his brother, the Captain, could have reported her as having lost all her good looks. To be sure, in her quiet black dress, she was a contrast to Edith, dancing in her white crape mourning, and long floating golden hair, all softness and glitter. She dimpled and blushed most becomingly when introduced to Mr. Bell, conscious that she had her reputation as a beauty to keep up, and that it would not do to have a Mordecai refusing to worship and admire, even in the shape of an old Fellow of a College, which nobody had ever heard of. Mrs. Shaw and Captain Lennox, each in their separate way, gave Mr. Bell a kind and sincere welcome, winning him over to like them almost in spite of himself, especially when he saw how naturally Margaret took her place as sister and daughter of the house.

‘What a shame that we were not at home to receive you,’ said Edith. ‘You, too, Henry! though I don’t know that we should have stayed at home for you. And for Mr. Bell! for Margaret’s Mr. Bell–-‘

‘There is no knowing what sacrifices you would not have made,’ said her brother-in-law. ‘Even a dinner-party! and the delight of wearing this very becoming dress.’

Edith did not know whether to frown or to smile. But it did not suit Mr. Lennox to drive her to the first of these alternatives; so he went on.

‘Will you show your readiness to make sacrifices to-morrow morning, first by asking me to breakfast, to meet Mr. Bell, and secondly, by being so kind as to order it at half-past nine, instead of ten o’clock? I have some letters and papers that I want to show to Miss Hale and Mr. Bell.’