Olla Podrida

The Grand Duke paced the room for a minute, and then replied, “Signor Herbert, I feel so disgusted with the treachery and baseness of Count Rodolph, that I hardly need observe, if my daughter were free he never should espouse her; indeed, he will have immediate orders to quit the state. You have been instrumental in preserving the life of the Marquis of Salerno, who is my son-in-law, and as matters now stand, I am indebted to you. Your dismissal of the bravoes, by means of the count’s ring, was a masterly stroke. You shall have the pleasure of taking my forgiveness to my daughter and her husband; but as for the child, it may as well remain here. Tell Viola I retain it as a hostage for the quick return of its mother.”

I took my leave of his Highness, and hastened to Pisa, where I soon found out the retreat of the marquis and his wife. I sent up my name, requesting immediate admittance, as having a message from the Grand Duke. I found them in great distress. The Count d’Ossore had returned late on the night of the masquerade, found the letter, hastened to the Marquesa de Cesto’s, and had arrived just after the elopement had been discovered. He immediately followed them to Pisa, when an explanation took place, and they discovered that they had been communicating with some unknown person, by whom they had, in all probability, been betrayed.

It would be difficult to portray their astonishment and joy when I entered into a detail of what had occurred, and wound up with the message from the Grand Duke; and I hardly need add, now that I wind up my story, that the proofs of gratitude I received from the marquis and his wife, during my subsequent residence in Italy, left me no occasion to repent that I had gone to the masquerade of the Marquesa de Cesto, in a Sky-Blue Domino.

The End

Chapter Forty Five

Modern Town Houses

I have often thought, when you consider the difference of comfort between houses built from sixty to a hundred years back, in comparison with the modern edifices, that the cry of the magician in “Aladdin,” had he called out “new houses,” instead of “new lamps,” for old ones, would not have appeared so very absurd. It was my good fortune, for the major part of my life, to occupy an ancient house, built, I believe, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. My father lived in it before I was in existence: I was born in it, and it was bequeathed to me. It has since been my misfortune to have lived three years in one of the modern-built houses; and although I have had my share of the ills to which we all are heir, I must date my real unhappiness from the first month after I took possession. With your permission, I will enter into my history, as it may prove a warning to others, who will not remember the old proverb of “Let well alone.”

I am a married man, with six children; my three eldest are daughters, and have now quitted a school, near Portman-Square, to which my wife insisted upon my sending them, as it was renowned for finishing young ladies. Until their return to domiciliate themselves under my roof, I never heard a complaint of my house, which was situated at Brompton. It was large, airy, and comfortable, with excellent shrubberies, and a few acres of land; and I possessed every comfort and even luxury which could be rationally required, my wife and daughters having their carriage, and in every respect my establishment being that of a gentleman.

I had not, however, taken my daughters from school more than two months, before I was told that we were “living out of the world,” although not a mile and a half from Hyde Park Corner; and, to my surprise, my wife joined in the cry; it was always from morn to night, “We might do this but, we cannot do this because, we are quite out of the world.” It was too far to dine out in town; too far for people to come and dine with us; too far to go to the play, or the opera; too far to drive in the park; too far even to walk in Kensington Gardens. I remonstrated, that we had managed to dine out, to receive visitors, and to enjoy all other amusements very well for a considerable number of years, and that it did not appear to me that Brompton had walked away from London, on the contrary, that London was making rapid advances towards Brompton; but it would not do,—all day the phrase rang in my ears, “out of the world,” until I almost began to wish that I was out too. But it is no use having the best of an argument when opposed to women. I had my choice, either to give up my house, and take another in London, or to give up my peace. With an unwilling sigh, I at last consented to leave a place dear to me, from long association and many reminiscences; and it was arranged that Brompton Hall was to be let, or sold, and that we were to look out immediately for a house in some of the squares in the metropolis. If my wife and daughters found that the distance from London was too far for other purposes, at all events it was not too far for house-hunting. They were at it incessantly week after week; and, at last, they fixed upon one in the neighbourhood of Belgrave-Square, which, as they repeated, possessed all the cheerfulness and fresh air of the country, all the advantages of a town residence. The next day I was to be dragged to see it, and give my opinion; at the same time, from the commendations bestowed upon it previous to my going, I felt assured that I was expected to give their opinion, and not my own.

The next day, accordingly, we repaired thither, setting off immediately after breakfast, to meet the surveyor and builder, who was to be on the spot. The house in question was one of a row just building, or built, whitened outside, in imitation of stone. It was Number 2. Number 1 was finished; but the windows still stained with the drippings of the whitewash and colouring. Number 2, the one in question, was complete; and, as the builder asserted, ready for immediate occupation. Number 3 was not so far advanced. As for the others, they were at present nothing but carcasses, without even the front steps built to them; and you entered them by a drawbridge of planks.

The builder stood at the front door, and bowed most respectfully. “Why,” observed I, looking at the piles of mortar, lime, and bricks, standing about in all directions, “we shall be smothered with dust and lime for the next two years.”

“Don’t be alarmed, sir,” replied the builder; “every house in the row will be finished before the winter. We really cannot attend to the applications for them.”

We entered the house.

“Is not the entrance handsome?” observed my wife; “so neat and clean.”

To this I had not a reply to make; it certainly did look neat and clean.

We went into the dining-room. “What a nice room,” exclaimed my eldest daughter. “How many can we dine in this room?”

“Um!” replied I; “about twelve, I suppose, comfortably.”

“Dear me!” observed the builder; “you have no notion of the size of the house; rooms are so deceiving, unfurnished. You may sit down twenty with ease; I’ll appeal to the lady. Don’t you think so, ma’am?”

“Yes, I do,” replied my wife.

After that we went over the drawing-rooms, bed-rooms, and attics.

Every bed-room was apportioned by my wife and daughters, and the others were allotted to the servants; and that in the presence of the builder, who took good note of all that passed.

The kitchen was admired; so were the pantry, scullery, coal-hole, dust-hole, etcetera; all so nice and clean; so compact; and, as the builder observed, not a nail to drive anywhere.

“Well, my dear, what do you think now? isn’t it a charming house?” said my wife, as we re-ascended into the dining-parlour.

“It’s a very nice house, my dear; but still it requires a little consideration,” replied I.

“Consideration, my dear?” replied my wife; “what! now that you have gone over it?”

“I am afraid that I cannot give you very long, sir,” observed the builder; “there are two other parties after the house, and I am to give them an answer by two o’clock.”

“Mr Smithers told me the same yesterday,” whispered my wife.

“What did you say the rent was, Mr Smithers?”

“Only 200 pounds per annum.”

“Any ground-rent?”

“Only 27 pounds 10 shillings.”

“And the taxes?”

“Oh, they will be a mere trifle.”

“The rent appears to me to be very high.”

“High, my dear sir! consider the situation, the advantages. We can’t build them fast enough at that price. But of course, sir, you best know,” replied he, carelessly walking towards the window.

“Take it; my dear,” said my wife.

“You must take it, papa.”

“Pray take it, papa.”

“Mr Whats-your-name, I beg your pardon—”

“Smithers, sir,” said the builder, turning round.

“Pray, Mr Smithers, what term of lease do you let at?”

“Seven, fourteen, or twenty-one, at the option of either party, sir.”

“I should have no objection to take it for three years.”

“Three years, my dear sir!—that would be doing yourself an injustice. You would lose half the value of your fixtures provided you left—and then the furniture. Depend upon it, sir, if you once get into it, you will never wish to leave it.”

“That may or not be,” replied I; “but I will not take it for more than three years. The town-air may not agree with me; and if, as you say, people are so anxious to take the houses, of course it can make no difference to you.”

“I’m afraid, sir, that for so short a time—”

“I will not take it for longer,” replied I, rising up, glad of an excuse to be off.

“Oh, papa!”

“My dear Mr B—.”

“On that point,” replied I, “I will not be overruled. I will not take a lease for more than three years, with the right of continuing, if I please.”