I, Thou, and the Other One: A Love Story

Now if there had been a direct electric or magnetic current between England and the Continent, the effect could not have been more sympathetically startling; and these three memorable “Days of July” in Paris impelled forward, with an irresistible impetus, the cause of freedom in England. The nobility and the landed gentry were gravely aware of this effect; and the great middle class, and the working men in every county, were stirred to more hopeful and united action. Far and wide the people began anew to express, in various ways, their determination to have the Tory Ministers dismissed, and a Liberal Government in favour of Reform inaugurated.

For the first time the Squire was anxious. For the first time he saw and felt positive symptoms of insubordination among his own people. Pickering’s barns were burnt one night; and a few nights afterwards, Rudby’s hay-ricks. Squire Atheling was a man of prompt action; one well disposed to do in his own manor what he expected the Government to do in the country,–take the Reform bull by the horns. He sent for all his labourers to meet him in the farm court at Atheling; and when they were gathered there, he stood up on the stone wall which enclosed one side of it and said in his strong, resonant voice,–

“Now, men of Atheling manor and village, you have been sulky and ugly for two or three weeks. You aren’t sulky and ugly without knowing why you are so. If you are Yorkshiremen worth your bread and bacon, you will out with your grievance–whatever it is. Tom Gisburn, what is it?”

“We can’t starve any longer, Squire. We want two shillings a week more wages. Me and mine would hev been in t’ churchyard if thy Missis hed been as hard-hearted as thysen.”

“I will give you all one shilling a week more.”

“Nay, but a shilling won’t do. Thy Missis is good, and Miss Kate is good; but we want our rights; and we hev made up our minds that two shillings a week more wage will nobbut barely cover them. We are varry poor, Squire! Varry poor indeed!”

The man spoke sadly and respectfully; and the Squire looked at him, and at the stolid, anxious faces around with an angry pity. “I’ll tell you what, men,” he continued; “everything in England is going to the devil. Englishmen are getting as ill to do with as a lot of grumbling, contrary, bombastic Frenchers. If you’ll promise me to stand by the King, and the land, and the laws, and give these trouble-making Reformers a dip in the horse-pond if any of them come to Atheling again–why, then, I will give you all–every one of you–two shillings a week more wage.”

“Nay, Squire, we’ll not sell oursens for two shillings a week; not one of us–eh, men?” and Gisburn looked at his fellows interrogatively.

“Sell oursens!” replied the Squire’s blacksmith, a big, hungry-looking fellow in a leather apron; “no! no, Squire! Thou oughtest to know us better. Sell oursens! Not for all the gold guineas in Yorkshire! We’ll sell thee our labour for two shilling a week more wage, and thankful; but our will, and our good-will, thou can’t buy for any money.”

There was a subdued cheer at these words from the men, and the Squire’s face suddenly lightened. His best self put his lower self behind him. “Sawley,” he answered, “thou art well nicknamed ‘Straight-up!’ and I don’t know but what I’m very proud of such an independent, honourable lot of men. Such as you won’t let the land suffer. Remember, you were all born on it, and you’ll like enough be buried in it. Stand by the land then; and if two shillings a week more wage will make you happy, you shall have it,–if I sell the gold buttons off my coat to pay it. Are we friends now?”

A hearty shout answered the question, and the Squire continued, “Then go into the barn, and eat and drink your fill. You’ll find a barrel of old ale, and some roast beef, and wheat bread there.”

In this way he turned the popular discontent from Atheling, and doubtless saved his barns and hay-ricks; but he went into his house angry at the men, and angry at his wife and daughter. They had evidently been aiding and succouring these discontents and their families; and–as he took care to point out to Kate–evil and not good had been the result. “I have to give now as a right,” he said, “what thee and thy mother have been giving as a kindness!” And his temper was not improved by hearing from the barn the noisy “huzzas” with which the name of “the young Squire” was received, and his health drank.

“Wife, and son, and daughter! all of them against me! I wonder what I have done to be served in such a way?” he exclaimed sorrowfully. And then Kate forgot everything about politics. She said all kinds of consoling words without any regard for the Reform Bill, and, with the sweetest kisses, promised her father whatever she thought would make him happy. It is an unreasonable, delightful way that belongs to loving women; and God help both men and women when they are too wise for such sweet deceptions!

Yet the Squire carried a hot, restless heart to the Duke’s meeting that night; and he was not pleased to find that the tactics he had used with his labourers met with general and great disapproval. Those men who had already suffered loss, and those who knew that they had gone beyond a conciliating policy, said some ugly words about “knuckling down,” and it required all the Duke’s wisdom and influence to represent it as “a wise temporary concession, to be recalled as soon as the election was over, and the Tory Government safely reinstalled.”

Upon the whole, then, Squire Atheling had not much satisfaction in his position; and every day brought some new tale of thrilling interest. All England was living a romance; and people got so used to continual excitement that they set the homeliest experiences of life to great historical events. During the six weeks following the death of King George the Fourth occurred the new King’s coronation, the dissolution of Parliament, the “Three Days of July,” and the landing of the exiled French King in England; all of these things being accompanied by agrarian outrages in the farming districts, the destruction of machinery in the manufacturing towns, and constant political tumults wherever men congregated.

The next six weeks were even more restless and excited. The French King was a constant subject of interest to the Reformers; for was he not a stupendous example of the triumph of Liberal principles? He was reported first at Lulworth Castle in Devonshire. Then he went to Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. The Scotch Reformers resented his presence, and perpetually insulted him, until Sir Walter Scott made a manly appeal for the fallen tyrant. And while the Bourbon sat in Holyrood, a sign and a text for all lovers of Freedom, England was in the direst storm and stress of a general election. The men of the Fen Country were rising. The Universities were arming their students. There was rioting in this city and that city. The Tories were gaining. The Reformers were gaining. Both sides were calling passionately on the women of the country to come to their help, without it seeming to occur to either that if women had political influence, they had also political rights.

But the end was just what all these events predicated. When the election was over, the Tory Government had lost fifty votes in the House of Commons; but Piers Exham was Member of Parliament for the borough of Gaythorne, and Squire Atheling was the Representative of the Twenty-two Tory citizens of the village of Asketh.

CHAPTER FIFTH

ANNABEL VYNER

The first chapter of Kate’s and Piers’ love-story was told to these stirring events. They were like a trumpet obligato in the distance thrilling their hearts with a keener zest and a wider sympathy. True, the sympathy was not always in unison, for Piers was an inflexible partisan of his own order, yet in some directions Kate’s feelings were in perfect accord. For instance, at Exham Hall and at Atheling Manor-house, there was the same terror of the mob’s firebrand, and the same constant watch for its prevention. These buildings were not only the cherished homes of families; they were houses of national pride and record. Yet many such had perished in the unreasoning anger of multitudes mad with suffering and a sense of wrong; and the Squire and the Lord alike kept an unceasing watch over their habitations. On this subject, all were unanimous; and the fears, and frights, and suspicions relating to it drew the families into much closer sympathy.

After the election was over, there was a rapid subsidence of public feeling; the people had taken the first step triumphantly; and they were willing to wait for its results. Then the Richmoor family began to consider an immediate removal to London, and, as a preparatory courtesy, gave a large dinner party at the Castle. As Kate was not yet in society, she had no invitation; but the Squire and Mrs. Atheling were specially honoured guests.

“The Squire has been of immense service to me,” said Richmoor to his Duchess. “A man so sincere and candid I have seldom met. He has spoken well for us, simply and to the point, and I wish you to pay marked attention to Mrs. Atheling.”

“Of course, if you desire it, I will do so. Who was Mrs. Atheling? Is she likely to be detrimental in town or troublesome?”

“She is the daughter of the late Thomas Hardwicke, of Hardwicke–as you know, a very ancient county family. She had a good fortune; in fact, she brought the Squire the Manor of Belward.”

“In appearance, is she presentable?”

“She was very handsome some years ago. I have not seen her for a long time.”

“I dare say she has grown stout and red; and she will probably wear blue satin in honour of her husband’s Tory principles. These county dames always think it necessary to wear their party colours. I counted eleven blue satin dresses at our last election dinner.”

“Even if she does wear blue satin, I should like you to be exceedingly civil to her.”

“I suppose you know that Piers has been at Atheling a great deal. I heard in some way that–in fact, Duke, that Piers and Miss Atheling were generally considered lovers.”

The Duke laughed. “I think I understand Piers,” he said. “These incendiary terrors have drawn people together; and there has also been the election business as well. Many perfectly necessary natural causes have taken Piers to Atheling.”

“Miss Atheling, for instance!”

“Oh, perhaps so! Why not? When I was a young man, I thought it both necessary and natural to have a pretty girl to ride and walk with. But riding and walking with a lovely girl is one thing; marrying her is another. Piers knows that he is expected to marry Annabel Vyner; he knows that for many reasons it will be well for him to do so. And above all other considerations, Piers puts his family and his caste.”

The Duke’s absolute confidence in his son satisfied the Duchess. She looked upon her husband as a man of wonderful penetration and invincible wisdom. If he was not uneasy about Piers and Miss Atheling, there was no necessity for her to carry an anxious thought on the subject; and she was glad to be fully released from it. Yet she had more than a passing curiosity about Kate’s mother. The Squire she had frequently seen, both in the pink of the hunting-field and in the quieter dress of the dinner-table. But it so happened that she had never met Mrs. Atheling; and, on entering the great drawing-room, her eyes sought the only lady present who was a stranger to her.

Mrs. Atheling was standing at the Duke’s side; and she went directly to her, taking note, as she did so, of the beauty, style, and physical grace that distinguished the lady. She saw that she wore a gown–not of blue–but of heavy black satin, that it fell away from her fine throat and shoulders, and showed her arms in all their exquisite form and colour. She saw also that her dark hair was dressed well on the top of the head in bouillonés curls, and that the only ornament she wore was among them,–a comb of wrought gold set with diamonds,–and that otherwise neither brooch nor bracelet, pendant nor ruffle of lace broke the noble lines of her figure or the rich folds of her gown. And the Duchess was both astonished and pleased with a toilet so distinguished; she assured herself in this passing investigation that Mrs. Atheling was quite “presentable,” and also probably desirable.

The favourable impression was strengthened in that hour after dinner when ladies left to their own devices either become disagreeable or confidential. The Duchess and Mrs. Atheling fell into the latter mood, and their early removal to London was the first topic of conversation.

“We have no house in town,” said Mrs. Atheling; “but the Squire has rented one that belonged to the late General Vyner. It is in very good condition, I hear, though we may have to stay a few days at ‘The Clarendon.’”

“How strange! I mean that it is strange you should have rented the General’s house. Did you make the arrangement with the Duke?”

“No, indeed; with a Mr. Pownell who is a large house agent.”

“Mr. Pownell attends to the Duke’s London property. I am sure he will be delighted to know his old friend’s home is in such good hands. I wonder if you have heard that the Duke is General Vyner’s executor and the guardian of his daughter?”

Mrs. Atheling made a motion indicative of her ignorance and her astonishment, and the Duchess continued, “It is quite a charge everyway; but there was a life-long friendship between the two men, and Annabel will come to us almost like a daughter.”

“A great charge though,” answered Mrs. Atheling, “especially if she is yet to educate.”

“Her education is finished. She is twenty-two years of age. It is her wealth which will make my position an anxious one. It is not an easy thing to chaperon a great heiress.”

“And if she is beautiful, that will add to the difficulty,” said Mrs. Atheling.

“I have never seen Miss Vyner. I cannot tell you whether she is beautiful or not so. She joins us in London, and my first duty will be to present her at the next drawing-room.”

A little sensitive pause followed this statement,–a pause so sensitive that the Duchess divined the desire in Mrs. Atheling’s heart; and Mrs. Atheling felt the hesitancy and wavering inclination weighing her wish in the thoughts of the Duchess. A sudden, straight glance from Mrs. Atheling’s eyes decided the question.

“I should like to present Miss Atheling at the same time, if you have no objection,” she added. And Mrs. Atheling’s pleasure was so great, and her thanks so candid and positive, that the Duchess accepted the situation she had placed herself in with apparent satisfaction. Yet she wondered why she had made the offer. She felt as if the favour had been obtained against her will. She was half afraid in the very moment of the proposal that she was doing an imprudent thing. But when she had done it, she never thought of withdrawing from a position she must have taken voluntarily. On the contrary, she affected a great interest in the event, and talked of “the ceremonies Miss Atheling must make herself familiar with,” of the probable date at which the function would take place, and of the dress and ornaments fitting for the occasion. “And the young people must meet each other as soon as possible,” she continued.