MRS WILMINGTON'S GARDEN PARTY.

Evening Star, Issue 6915, 30 May 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

MRS WILMINGTON'S GARDEN PARTY.

The July sun, unabashed by the frown on the rector of Linthorpe’s face, at other times a cheerful, pleasant, handsome face enough, shone full upon that open paved space at the back of Linthorpo Church which goes by the name of the Church Kalends ; and so shining flung its radiance upon three figures. It shone upon the frowning rector as he walked away, his lips closed and his fingers grasping the handle of his umbrella with unwonted tightness; upon the portly person of Mrs Adam Wilmington standing where he left her ; and —oh singular beneficence ! —as brightly upon a third figure receding into the distance, the figure of the new curate. The rector and Mrs Adam (so she was,often called in Linthorpe) had just been discussing him, anil even now the lady stood looking after him, her head slightly thrown back that she might level her eye glasses with greater ease. It was a favorite pose of Mrs Adam Wilmington’s, and one therefore, it is needless to state, ricli in a certain conscious importance and dignity. The colloquy just ended had gone on in this wise. “He seems a very decent young man,” Mrs Adam had said j and the rector had said “ Umph !” “ What is his name !” Mrs Adam had asked ; and the rector had said “Jones.” Then the lady had said, “ Ho is married, I think?” and the rector had answered “ Yes.” And so far the discussion, though somewhat one-sided, had been a sufficiently pleasant one. But then Mrs Adam had said, “I trustshe is asensible person and well brought up?” and Mr Hablot had replied, “They come from Cornwall." Simply “They come from Cornwall,” and this with a shadow of a smile, as if there were some joke in it. If there were, it was a far-fetched one. Mrs Adam at any rate saw none, and only considered that the rector might have been more explicit. “I think I shall ask them to my party on the twenty-first,” she went pn to say, and this time the gentleman said nothing, which Mrs Adam thought more irrelevant than before. And so she bridled up with, “Now, rector, It is a long way, you know, to go for a curate to Cornwall; I trust that you had good references, and from respectable people?” She said it in her grandest manner. Yet Mr Hablot—who can gauge a man’s humors?—only answered “The best, the best!” and hastened off quite abruptly down High street with that frown upon his pleasant face which we have noted—such a frown as even the tradesmen’s salaams failed to remove.

It was the old story of two kings in Brentford. Mrs Adam Wilmington of the Tower House, Linthorpe, had once been tho wife of a Mr Adam Wilmington ; and Mr Adam Wilmington had once—a very long time ago—signed himself as of 17 Broad street, Linthorpe, wholesale wine and spirit merchant. A very long time ago this latter once; so long that many people in the town had forgotten it, and many others, to whom Mrs Adam’s horses and brougham and silks and sealskins, her daughter, her niece, her maid, and herself, were everyday objects, had never been aware of it, but regarded all these things as notable factors in the scheme of providence locally and partially unfolded at Linthorpe. Nay, indeed, the once In question was so long ago, and Mrs Adam was so happily constituted a woman, that I verily believe this to have been the view she toolc of it herself.

She was a woman of large mind, enjoying therein that even balance of mind and body which makes up the perfect creature. She was in truth of so managing a turn that the superintendence of her house and the lead in the society of the little town were not enough for her. Even the extension of a slight opening into the country circle, which she had effected vi et opibua, failed to amuse her after a time; it was so long in leading to anything. And so upon a sudden she discovered a vast interest in parish doings, and from aiding the rector passed easily to interfering with him; arriving in time at such a pitch of patronage and superintendence that the Old street laborers dubbed the rector the “ deputy-ganger,” and poor Mr Hablot himself, who, with an invalid wife, a large income, and three curates, should have been the most enviable of men, walked down his own High street of Linthorpo with a frown on his face. To return to Mrs Wilmington. After watching the curate as long as he remained in sight, she resolved to call upon his wife and confer the invitation at once ; and acted upon the thought without loss of time. The housemaid who announced her was Llnthorpe bred, and did it with awful relish, appreciating to the full the rustling of silk and scattering of perfumes which attended my lady into Mrs Jones’s drawing-room. It was not a large room at its best; now it seemed to grow smaller, as used the Court of Exchequer and its paling judges on each ninth of November when the City swordbearer in furry cap and scarlet coat walked in. The Indian china (which could not be real, could it ? a hundred and fifty pounds a year!) seemed to lose its brilliance —the bric-ii-brac (pretty, but cheap, ce'a ra sans dire) to grow tawdry. Indeed the only thing not entirely overcome by the grandeur of the visitor was the little lady who was mistress of china, and bric-k-brac, and all. And she was so self-possessed that Mrs Adam felt mysteriously compelled to a politeness as complete as it was possible for her to assume in such an establishment.

" You are very sensible to take so small a house,” she said, looking round her with much complacency, and considering what effect the double drawing-room at the Tower House would have upon her hostess. “ I always approve of young people commencing as they must go on, and according to their sphere. Of e mrse you will let the garden V” “ I think not," Mrs Jones replied sweetly. “I have a passion for flowers, and in a town a garden is almost a necessity, Mrs Wilmington.'’

“Oh!” with surprise; “well, of course that is all right if you can afford it. But the garden here is far too large for your husband’s inc—house. Why it is quite half the size of the gardens at the Tower House.” “ Indeed ! I have heard they are very fine.”

The elder lady was much mollified. “ You shall judge for yourself," she said. “ I hope to see you and Mr Jones at an archery party on Tuesday next. 1 am glad you have arrived in time, for I think it will be the affair of the season. You will make the acquaintance of my daughter, who was unable to call this afternoon, and will meet besides some very desirable people. The Aghleys of the Moor—he was member for the county in the last Parliament but one—and the Ferneys, Lord Sydenham’s second cousins—very nice people indeed—and the Archdeacon and his wife.” Mrs Jonesknewthat when Mrs Wilmington said “ nice people ” she did not mean neat or tidy or particular people. No, Mrs Wilmington, who lived in the country, meant people with shooting and fishing and a seat on the bench, and a carriage and a consulship, first, second, or third—the nearer the nicer—to Lord Sydenham. If she had lived in town, as we do, she would have meant people with a house in Cromwell road, or Carlton House terrace, partygiving, stylish, late dining —the later the nicer—people such as we love to bow to in the Parkj people that are altogether too

nice. Mrs Jones, I say, understood her; yet she murmured something which sounded like an excuse.

“ Now 1 cannot let you decline. You are a little shy, 1 dare say. It is an ordeal mixing with people of that class just at first, but you must fight against the feeling, and not give way to it. Clergymen’s wives should go everywhere.” “It is not that,” Mrs Jones answered, frankly and laughingly, “but my brother is coming to-moxvow to spend a few days with us.”

“ If that is all,” said her visitor, with a sudden access of generosity, “bring him with you ! Bring him with you—of course,” she added hastily, “if he goes into society at al’.”

If the saving clause did not come too late, it passed disregarded. Mrs Jones accepted for her brother so cheerfully that the great lady not only feared the favor was scarcely appreciated at its due weight, but augured ill of the brother's aid d fitacs-’. “ Depend upon it, my dear, she is going to bring him out at our expense,” she said to her daughter later in the day; “ but what does it matter ? There will be such a crowd that lie need not be thrown against the Ferneys, or the Moor a)le. ” To which Miss Wilmington agreed i her usual placidity. A crowd there was to be. Mrs Wilmington’s house, forming part of the old castle which stands in the midst of Linthorpe, had aided her greatly in reaching her social position. It now presented such facilities for the gathering she planned as might well be beyond the reach of more wealthy people. Not only her own gardens, but the outer and inner greens, their privacy still secured by the solid battlements, were at her service; and many were the guesses at Linthorpe teatables as to the use to be made of them. Very wild reports were current. The round chapel, it was said, would be arranged as a conservatory where coffee and ices could be served. The well might be used us a winecooler. The dungeon, not for the first time, would contain a witch ; and the Council Chamber, where also in all likelihood an old woman was no new thing, might fitly be devoted to Aunt Sally. Lawn tennis and archery would take up the outer green, and upon the lawn looking on the latter Mrs Wilmington would take up her position with her more notable guests. So wagged the Linthorpe tongues ; and so much truth was known to undeiTic these conjectures as sufficed to excite the liveliest curiosity in the town. The struggle which ensued was grim and great. How to get, and how to refuse an invitation, became the first questions of the day on either side. For years mention of the late Wilmington, hisi business, and his licensed premises in Brqad street had not been so frequent. Hundreds with a smack of the lips heard for the first time of his existence. But the lady of the Tower House, secure in the possession of the Ashleys and the Ferneys—nomina maynu , these—made light of hints and was proof against supplications. Nor, in truth, am I aware that any one actually refused her invitation on account of those little matters, though by very good luck she omitted to ask some who certainly would have done so. I have no hesitation in stating this, because I have it from themselves, and therefore the fact admits of no doubt.

Tho weather on the twenty-first disappointed the hopes of such as were uninvited. The aky was cloudless. There was only so much breeze as would serve to cool fair cheeks flushed with exercise. The first to appear at the great party—of the notables that is—was Mrs Drage, of Felton-Hoy. She tripped In gaily with one, two, three, foul' daughters, pretty-faced and prettyfigijred, and—let me sea—one gen^e; an, a tall bald man with eyes too large for a red face over which many crows had trodden. Ah, Mrs Drage, you may greet our hostess with as much light-heartedness as you please, and wag your grey old curls jauntily, but you arc finely embarrassed for all that. Call tli.at bald man a regiment! Pooh ! “My dear MrS Drage, 1 ' quoth our hostess, fixing him pidlessly with her eje, “I suppose your other gentlemen are following?’ Hlheufmjaees! The truth must ho told. Mrs Drage had faithfully promised to bring four youths to balance her girls, “ quite a regiment, my dear,” and eligible ami fashionable and good-tempered into the bargain. Moreover she had hinted witli nods and winks unmistakeable that two of the four—“she would say nothing about the others ” were mightily impressed with Carrie and Flo, “ dear girls.” But Mrs Drage would not have been Mrs Drage had she blenched. “ Ah, my dear Mrs Wilmington,” she cried with emotion, “If you only knew ! But there, I cannot tell you now. I’ve no patience with the men, and the disgraceful way in which they've behaved ” Carrie and Flo might bite their lips, and tap their little toes on the sod, but I verily believe the dear, simple, transparent, garrulous old lady would then and there have narrated their wrongs in the public ear—nay, she was doing so—when the Ash leys of the Moor appeared in the nick of time at the great gates within which Mrs Wilmington was receiving her guests. They knew Mrs Drage. They were glad to find her here, and they carried her off into an aristocratic seclusion, whence however the gentle breeze now and again brought the words “shameful,” “ disgraceful,” and the like to admiring ears. At which times it might be observed that the bald-headed man turned a shade pinker, and shuffled his big feet uneasily. Who knows ? The position of tho last rose of summer left blooming alone may have its discomforts. However, Miss Wilmington, a tall handsome girl, though I have heard Mrs Drage say there was a little excess of repose in her attitudes and of graciousness in her smile (which could not he said of Carrie and Flo), took him in hand ; hut in a few moments at the sight of some fresh arrivals she left him to go to her mother. “ Who are these, mamma ? I don't know them.”

“ Only the new curate and his wife and her brother. I told you about them. Ah, how do you do, Mrs Jones ? lam really charmed to see you.” If little Mrs Jones had been self-possessed in her own drawing-room, she seemed equally at her ease here. She remarked upon the beauty of the weather, and the ruins, and Mrs Wilmington’s arrangements, with much calmness; then introduced her brother, whose name Mrs Adam did not distinctly catch, but it sounded like Fulton. But bless my soul, if Mrs Jones was self-pos-sessed, Mr Fulton was equally so; evidently it ran in the family. He was not a strikingly handsome man in appearance, being a tall fair young fellow with a bumpy forehead and a small moustache. Ho had, however, a quick assured way of talking, and he took the lead at once with a coolness that quite bewildered Mrs Wilmiugton, and surprised her daughter, to whom he bowed with great friendliness. But he stepped up to Miss Effie and shook hands with her. “How charming !” he said brightly. “ I think I had the pleasure of travelling from London with you last week.” Whereat Miss Effie blushed, and turning shy eyes on older fi i mds seemed to ask what they thought of him ; and ISlrs Adam began to come to the conclusion that the young man was very presentable. Began, alas! for just when the new luminary was in the heyday of his dawn, and Miss Effio’s cheeks were yet tinged with the roseate hues that heralded his appearance, ho was totally eclipsed by the malign influence of Sirius—of the Dog Star in fact. In other words, just when our young friend’s first appearance promised to be a most successful one, a little incident happened, a mere trifle in itself, yet sufficient vastly to amuse all Linthorpe who were not privileged to see it, and to cloud forever the rising aspirant to Mrs Wilmington’s favor. '

Yet itwasnetentirelyhis fault. Onthecontrary, the uninvited of Linthoi pe ct down the mishap to the fact that Mrs Wilmington had omitted to put down a doormat at the gates. The doormat in her front hall was big with the warning “ Cave Canem,” “ Ware dog,” but mat or warning at the entrance to the green there was none. So Mr Fulton stepping airily back had Miss Eflio and not dogs on his mind, and came down with some little w'eight upon the toes of a fat black spaniel. The dog w'as in the act of entering ; its feet were tender and unused to the treatment. It shrieked terribly, piteously, to its gods, yelled savagely, hung on to its assailant’s garments, and finally howled its way back limping and in woeful plight to its mistress, whose cries ivere hardly less distressing. Then was there a pretty to-do ! “ My poor darling!” wailed that lady, stooping over him—she was no other than

the nobly related Mrs Ferney, and the face of our hostess when she turned it in speechless indignation upon the culprit was dark indeed—“my sweet put, has the clumsy man trodden upon it, and crushed its toes ! Well, its mother will take it home to its own friends away from the nasty town ! ’ And so on, and so on, while Mr Ferney, an involuntary member of the group, stood over the childless Niobe and smiled such a vacuous smile as becomes a man’s face when the wife of his bosom is fondling her dog. But everyone else was full of commiseration ; advice, regrets, and vinaigrettes were showered upon Mrs Ferney. Even the unlucky oil'ender made a forward move amid the hubbub, as if to apologise, but was hustled aside by the crowd of sympathisers, whose looks seemed to say, “ Monster, begone !” So, urged thereto by a gesture from the hostess, Miss Elbe carried him off as little rudely as might be, and enticed him to a less frequented part of the grounds. He was nothing loth to go in his heart; only youth, which grasps so eagerly at gilded pills, is us apt tq make wry faces over floured sugar-plums. Maybe he thought it consorted with his dignity to assume an injured air. Fie, Mr Fulton ! or shall we not think so badly of you ? To be taken under Miss Effie’s protection—and the more when a journey from London to Linthorpo in her company had induced an acquaintance with certain merits that were too prone to lie, violet-like, half hidden —with the sweet curves of her thoughtful mouth, and the pretty turn of that dimple in her chin, with the humor that played at bo-peep in the depths of her blue eyes, and the quaint, wise way of holding her shapely head that went so well with her little old-fashioned stately bearing—l say, to be taken under Miss Effie’s protection after an introduction to such daintinesses as these—not granted to all, mind you—was not a thing, no matter what film of others’ disfavor might dull the event, over which any young man might look sulky or think of his dignity ; nut rather a clue to lead him to meditate very gravely and seriously of old ago, and loneliness, and buttonless shirts, and suchlike things. Perhaps Miss Elbe was aware of this ; but if so she looked as good-humored as ever, and when he said “ What a fuss about a dog’s toe being trodden on !” and prodded the turf with a stick, and had no eyes for her any more than if she were forty instead of nineteen, she did not sulk, but answered merrily, “A dog’s toe? Mrs Ferney’s dog’s toe, you mean.” “ And why Mrs Ferney’s in particular ?” “Do you ask why ? Don’t you know I am his lordship’s dog at Kew; lb ay tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Mrs Ferney is second cousin to the Earl of Sydenham ?” The gentleman made a comic, and, indeed, impertinent grimace, “Then it would not have been the same if my dog’s toe had suffered?” he asked, looking her keenly in the face. “Not at all,” cried Effie, returning his glance with the merriest of smiles; “ nor your own toe, I assure you. You are only the new curate's wife’s brother, you know.” Before she had risen from her mock courtesy she repented of her pertness. But she might have spared her blushes and her fears of hurting her companion’s feelings. On the contrary, he laughed so long and so unconstrainedly that she hastened to put a bow into his hands, and challenge him to a dozen shots at the gold. Even then ho gave way from time to time to fits of merriment, sufficiently disconcerting, which made Effie doubt for a whole second together whether he were quite as charming as she had thought him on that journey. For quite a whole second together—at least once in the afternoon.

(To he continued.)