The Trellised Lane, page 6
“But you just had breakfast. Did you not say just a moment ago that another cup of coffee would—”
“Cup of coffee! Sounds lovely! Pour one for me, do please. O yes, just the thing after that naughty little muffin. Well, go on, pour it. Why do you stare at me?”
“Stare?” asked Julia vaguely. “O! No reason at all,” and she returned her attention to her toast. “But Fitz, since you seem to be in such a state, would you use some of your energy to drive me into town this morning? I want to do some shopping—for the house, you know.”
“Shopping!” Fitz exploded. “My energy—your shopping! O no, dear girl—horrifying prospect—couldn’t do it. Preposterous, in fact.”
“O, Fitz, be a good brother, do.”
“Out of the question, Julia, my love. Got some exploring to do myself.”
“But we shall do it together! I should love to see London, too, you know, and we’ll go wherever you like.”
“Bond Street?” asked Fitzgerald, suspiciously.
“Yes, yes indeed. Bond Street, if you like. In fact, I believe there are some drapers in Bond Street, and that is just what I need.”
“Drapers? I think not. It’s a fashionable lounge, you know—but never mind. Bond Street it is. Bond Street ho!” he exclaimed grabbing a poker, brandishing it, and leaping out of the room.
An instant later Miss Piffin became acquainted with the other end of the poker, for she had been proceeding towards the dining parlour at a purposeful pace just at the moment Fitzgerald issued thence.
“Fancy meeting you here,” said the swashbuckler, in reply to the lady’s horrified scream. “Dreadful sorry; didn’t mean to alarm you,” he added, executing an awkward bow while attempting to place the poker in an imaginary sheath.
“Fitzgerald!” cried Julia, who had heard the scream and come running to the door.
“Well, no need to go that far,” said the gentleman reproachfully. Julia glared at him.
“Master Edgehampton,” said Miss Piffin, with more than double her usual volubility, “that is a very good way to hurt someone. I am shocked, sir—shocked.”
Mr. Hale and Mrs. Gill, having heard the thunderous words thus addressed to their master, issued from the kitchen and were soon standing in the hall. The lace edge of Mrs. Forster’s cap could just be seen through the doorway, framing a single, curious eye. Mrs. Gill rushed up to Miss Piffin and offered to find her salts; Mr. Hale’s dignified visage bespoke a sense of outrage, and from the recesses of the kitchen, Kitt’s voice could be heard muttering, “Such a to-do…nothing at all.”
Fitzgerald, already angry with Julia for having called him by his proper name, was disgusted by the fuss being made over his former governess who, as far as he could see, was none the worse for the mishap. He reiterated his apology in a tone barely audible and repaired to the library, where he planned to sulk until the storm was passed.
Julia followed him there, feeling that Miss Piffin would be well enough attended by the other four lookers-on. She found him lounging in a huge mahogany chair in an exaggerated attitude of dejection.
“Come now, Fitz; it will all be forgotten in a moment.”
The gentleman thus addressed looked up in some surprise. “Then you are not angry with me?”
“No, not really.”
“But you called me Fitzgerald!”
“I did not mean to, my dear; truly I did not. Come and apologize to Piffin, will you?”
“I did, Julia! Twice, in fact.”
“Yes, but I am sure she did not hear you; I wish you will do it once again.”
“I won’t,” said Fitzgerald, and he set his mouth into the stubborn line Julia knew so well.
“Good enough then; if you shan’t apologize, we shall have to take Piffin to town with us to-day, for if we do not she will feel offended for weeks.”
“Please Julia, is there no other solution? Really, I do not think she will like such an outing as we have planned. I shouldn’t like it above half if I were a nasty old lady.”
“Do stop being a baby, Fitz. Miss Piffin likes to feel useful—she likes it above all things. Very well then, I shall tell her that we would both be immensely obliged if she were to accompany us. I warn you, brother—I am more afraid of Piffin’s sulks than I am of yours. You only get very quiet and look dreadful; she says a great deal, and more loudly than ever. If you will not co-operate: I shall be forced to ally with her and make your life miserable. Consider yourself cautioned.”
“O all right then,” muttered Fitz, “but it’s jolly blackmail if you ask me. Go on and invite her, if you insist.”
Julia excused herself and ran off to execute this commission. She found Miss Piffin seated at the breakfast table, much restored by a whiff of her salts and a strong cup of tea. She still appeared to be out of sorts, however, and Julia approached her gently, expressing the hope she was well and suggesting that she join the excursion to London. Miss Piffin looked extremely doubtful, but at last conceded that such a thing might be possible if the children felt they really could not do without her. After several more expressions of solicitude, and another cup of tea, it developed that she was in fact quite eager to visit the metropolis, as she had never done so before. Fitzgerald, still scowling in the library, overheard these tidings with mingled dismay and relief, and finally decided that there was no use being in a pucker all day and resolved to make the best of things.
Thus it was that the next hour saw them safely installed in Fitzgerald’s curricle, a little bit squeezed but with refreshed spirits, and on the road to London. The day was indeed fresh and fine, and Julia had chosen a light yellow spencer that buttoned up to the neck and contrasted admirably with an azure frock. Fitzgerald had dressed himself quite to the nines; his attire included the infamous Petersham Pantaloons and a style of cravat suspiciously reminiscent of that worn by Monsieur d’Arbois on the previous evening. His sister prudently refrained from comment on this last circumstance and instead flattered him by remarking that he looked as though he had lived in London all his life. Fitzgerald brightened visibly at this compliment, and by the time they reached Bond Street he was absolutely hugging himself with exuberant satisfaction. Those few ruffled feathers that had not been smoothed by inviting Miss Piffin on the expedition Julia had taken care of excellently by requesting that the governess adjust her coiffure, and noting that Anne’s young hands were but a poor second to Miss Piffin’s experienced ones. Miss Piffin had been easily cajoled into good humour, and had very nearly forgotten the morning’s emergence.
Chapter VI
Thus content, the trio were not at all prepared for the reception they got in Bond Street. They arrived there about three in the afternoon; the ladies alit before a draper’s shop whose window looked enticing, while Fitzgerald hurried off to find a place to leave the carriage, promising to rejoin his charges in the shop. Julia and Miss Piffin entered the draper’s premises and found a quantity of gentlemen milling about, fingering the stuffs, but there were surprisingly few ladies. Those females who were present were clad in gorgeous fashion that Julia, accustomed to country ways, would normally have labelled vulgar; but recognising that probably her own idea of fashion was at fault, she reserved judgement and wondered instead if she herself appeared very shabby to the beaux round her. As she promenaded with her companion among the bolts of material, it struck her that she was going to have a difficult time finding the heavy silks and brocades that were the proper complement to the furniture at Heathedge, for apparently they were sadly outmoded. She was endeavoring to gain the attention of a clerk when a young gentleman stepped up to her and asked if he could be of service. To Julia’s rustic eyes, the fellow appeared too much the dandy to hold a position in a shop, so she asked, hoping that she was not making a blunder, “Do you work here?”
“No, indeed,” said the gentleman, “but then, you don’t neither, I’ll wager.” He paused and leered at her in a way that was positively rude. “Besides,” he added, glancing down at her azure dress, “I’ll lay blunt you don’t need no assistance in picking out items.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked Julia, thinking that Londoners were very odd indeed. “If you are not a clerk I suppose I must find one. Excuse me.”
“Don’t rush away, my dear! I’m not such a bad sort—if you must have a clerk, I’ll find one. Perhaps,” he said, with a nervous glance at Miss Piffin. “I could find us a cosy little supper to-night as well.”
“I do beg your pardon,” said Julia, her eyes widening—but at this point she was interrupted by the voice of Miss Piffin, who had only time to bellow, “This man is propositioning you!” before she fainted dead away.
Of course, Miss Piffin’s pronouncement attracted the attention of the whole shop, and a rush was made to catch her as she swooned. This act was successfully performed by a short, brisk-looking young gentleman who had been standing close behind her and eavesdropping on the colloquy between Julia and her admirer. In the ensuing confusion, that rascal escaped; spectators crowded up in a ring three deep (as if to ensure that Miss Piffin would never recover), and by the time Fitzgerald had entered the shop and made his way to the center of the mob, the scoundrel was far beyond capture. According to the brisk young man, however, who still held the wilted lady in his arms, it would have made no difference if they had caught him, anyway, for the misunderstanding was (in his view) quite understandable.
“Whatever can you mean?” cried Julia, as her brother forged a path through the crowd and she and the young man followed.
“Simplest thing,” said the young man, as he bestowed Miss Piffin on a couch and waited for Julia to find some salts. “Bond Street in the afternoon!”
He pronounced this phrase as if it rendered all other explanation unnecessary, which indeed, in his mind, it did, and so he was rather surprised when Julia inquired what the location signified.
The brisk gentleman stared at her for a moment and then stared at Fitzgerald. “O,” said he, in a different tone of voice. “I can see—you must be from out of town, is that it?”
Fitzgerald acted as spokesman while Julia applied the salts (at last found at the bottom of the lady’s reticule) to the unconscious Piffin. “Yes,” he admitted, “we are only just come to London—from Gloucestershire,” he added.
“There is the solution,” said the brisk young man. “Haven’t learned city ways just yet. You see, a lady does not walk in Bond Street in the afternoon—she just doesn’t.” Noticing that Fitzgerald was looking at several females who had gathered round the sofa on which Miss Piffin was disposed, he added in a lower tone, “Not a proper lady, you know, sir. Not a real one.” Seeing that Fitzgerald still did not comprehend, he reduced his voice to whisper and leaned over confidentially. “These are bits of muslin, understand? Petticoats.”
A glimmer of comprehension appeared in Fitzgerald’s eye. “Do you mean to say they are—” he whispered, and stopped.
“Exactly,” said the stranger.
“Well, I’ll be dashed!” said Fitzgerald, who, to say truth, was a great innocent and had only the vaguest inkling of the quality that set his sister apart from these women. “I’ll be dashed! Then I’m much obliged to you, sir—very much obliged indeed.”
“Nothing at all,” said the short gentleman. “A pleasure to be of service.”
“Nothing?” exclaimed Fitzgerald. “Balderdash! When you have been so very good—you must come round and call on us some time—will you?”
“Happy to do it, my dear sir—see how the lady is getting on,” he added with a swift glance at Julia, who was kneeling gracefully beside Miss Piffin’s couch. “But hadn’t we better introduce ourselves first? Eustace Compton, Esquire,” said the brisk young man, bowing slightly with a crooked grin. “Stacey to my friends, sir.”
“Fitzgerald Edgehampton,” said that gentleman, returning the bow. “Fitz to any who value my regard. Here is my card,” he continued and, confiscating a pencil from a clerk, scribbled his direction on it. “It’s a bit out of the way, but you’ll find it easily enough once you reach Hampstead. How does Miss Piffin do?” he asked his sister.
“She is coming round,” Julia replied. “She will be right as a trivet in a few moments, if we can get her out of here.”
“I am sorry, Julia,” Fitzgerald offered handsomely; “I oughtn’t to have left you alone.”
“You could not help it,” said Julia, with equal good grace. “We did not know.”
“Come and meet Mr. Compton,” said her brother, as Miss Piffin voiced a desire to be left to herself for a moment. “Mr. Eustace Compton, my sister Lady Julia.”
“Sister, is it?” said Mr. Compton, in a voice he had meant to be inaudible. “I’ve got sisters myself,” he said more loudly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Julia, “and thank you for your assistance.”
“Nothing at all,” Mr. Compton reiterated. “Perhaps if the lady is well enough I can escort you to your carriage.”
“I’d be very much obliged if you would,” said Fitzgerald; “I shall have to go round and get it. Do you think—I feel terrible imposing on you this way—but do you think you might stay here and, you know, watch the ladies for a moment while I fetch my curricle?”
“Happy to do it, my good fellow; no trouble at all.”
“Well, I know that’s not true. You’ve been extremely kind,” said Fitzgerald as he turned to hurry out the door. “Excuse me, I shall only be a moment.”
Miss Piffin now found that she was able to rise with the support of Julia’s arm. Mr. Compton inquired how she was doing, an offer of solicitude that alarmed the good lady until Julia had introduced them and informed her companion that it was Mr. Compton who had rescued her as she swooned.
“I suppose I must thank you then,” roared Miss Piffin, whose capable lungs did not seem to have been impaired by her accident. Julia shuddered at her volubility. “Excessively shocking, you know,” she continued, while Julia attempted to think of some thing to say that would quiet her, for she was again attracting the attention of all the customers. “Really devastating; I thought I should die!”
“All’s well that ends well,” Julia said, without thinking for a moment whether or not this was an appropriate remark. “We shall soon be nice and cosy. We shall go home directly, if you like. I can find what I need another day.”
“What was it you were looking for, if I may inquire?” asked Mr. Compton.
“The cottage we are now inhabiting has been empty of residents for some ten years,” said Julia, a little embarrassed. “I wished to find some materials to reupholster the furniture—and some carpets, and drapery, and so forth. But the style of the furniture is so outmoded, I shall have to find a warehouse with rather a large selection, I think, for the fabrics that are now in fashion simply will not answer.”
“Upholstery…furnishings…hmmm,” said Mr. Compton, tapping the side of his pink nose with a stubby forefinger. “I think I know where you might go; there is a great deal of that sort of thing in Tottenham Court Road, near Oxford Street. Have you been down there yet?”
“No, indeed, I really did not know where to look.”
“Well,” said Mr. Compton, smiling, “that may be the best place. Of course, I don’t know too very much about that sort of thing…”
“Please,” Julia interrupted, “I know nothing at all. Your advice is most welcome, and I am sure it will be most useful as well. Naturally,” she added, with a rueful glance at Miss Piffin, whose arm was bearing down rather heavily upon hers, “we shall have to do it another day, for I know Miss Piffin must be in an exhausted state…”
“I shall not mind staying in the carriage,” shouted Miss Piffin. “Fitzgerald may attend to me while you accomplish your shopping.”
“Really, madam, you are very good, madam,” Julia said, in her hurry to interrupt her governess. “We shall decide when we have got into the curricle. There—I believe it is coming now. I do not know how to thank you adequately, sir,” she said to Mr. Compton as she prepared to enter the curricle.
“I protest, I do not wish to be thanked. Merely allow me the pleasure of making your acquaintance again when I wait upon your brother and I shall be quite satisfied with my reward.”
Julia coloured, nodded, and concentrated her attention on Miss Piffin, whom she and Mr. Compton were now assisting into the carriage. “Please do not trouble yourself,” she said at last, when Miss Piffin was safely inside and Mr. Compton offered his aid to Julia herself.
“One cannot trouble oneself for you; to assist you is a positive pleasure,” exclaimed the gentleman, who was, to say truth, not a little surprised at his own gallantry. He was relieved to find that Fitzgerald seemed not to have heard this last effusion, for when he had hastened round the carriage to take leave of the driver he found that gentleman still full of the most sincere apologies and thanks. The usual civilities were exchanged within a moment, and the curricle was off with a rather unsettled party inside.
“Awfully good fellow,” said Fitzgerald, as he got the horses into motion. “Where to now, do you think?”
“Towards Tottenham Court Road, Fitz,” said his sister. “Do you know, I do not quite like being obliged to a stranger. I believe it is quite the first time such a thing has happened to me. It is excessively uncomfortable.”
“Don’t see why you feel that way,” answered Fitz. “Jolly good way to make an acquaintance. Why do you say Tottenham Court Road? That is the way home, you know.”
“Is it? Just as well, then. Miss Piffin is not altogether recovered yet, Fitz, but she has agreed to stay a while longer in town if—if you will stay in the carriage with her while I do my shopping.” She paused while Fitzgerald’s eyes widened and prayed he would not allow the indignant response that was evidently welling up in him to find expression. “Fitz dear,” she added at last.
“O fine,” said Fitz bitterly, not quite successfully mastering himself. “That is very good of you, Miss Piffin.”
