said Raymond.
“Her laughing whenever I mention Dunstone, and tell them the proper way of doing things.”
“There may be different opinions about the proper way of doing things.” Then as she opened her eyes in wonder and rebuke, he continued, in his elder-brotherly tone of kindness, “You know I told you already that you had better not interfere in matters concerning his church and parish.”
“We always managed things at Dunstone.”
Hang Dunstone! was with some difficulty suppressed; but in an extra gentle voice Raymond said, “Your father did what he thought his duty, but I do not think it mine, nor yours, to direct Julius in clerical matters. It can only lead to disputes, and I will not have them.”
“It is Rosamond. I’m sure I don’t dispute.”
“Listen, Cecil!” he said. “I can see that your position may be trying, in these close quarters with a younger brother’s wife with more age and rank than yourself.”
“That is nothing. An Irish earl, and a Charnock of Dunstone!”
“Dunstone will be more respected if you keep it in the background,” he said, holding in stronger words with great difficulty. “Once for all, you have your own place and duties, and Rosamond has hers. If you meddle in them, nothing but annoyance can come of it; and remember, I cannot be appealed to in questions between you and her. Julius and I have gone on these nine-and-twenty years without a cloud between us, and I’m sure you would not wish to bring one now.”
Wherewith he left her bewildered. She did not perceive that he was too impartial for a lover, but she had a general sense that she had come into a rebellious world, where Dunstone and Dunstone’s daughter were of no account, and her most cherished notions disputed. What was the lady of the manor to do but to superintend the church, parsonage, and parish generally? Not her duty? She had never heard of such a thing, nor did she credit it. Papa would come home, make these degenerate Charnocks hear reason, and set all to rights.
CHAPTER VI
Wedding Visits
Young Mrs. Charnock Poynsett had plenty of elasticity, and her rebuffs were less present to her mind in the morning than to that of her husband, who had been really concerned to have to inflict an expostulation; and he was doubly kind, almost deferential, giving the admiration and attention he felt incumbent on him to the tasteful arrangements of her wedding presents in her own sitting-room.
“And this clock I am going to have in the drawing-room, and these Salviati glasses. Then, when I have moved out the piano, I shall put the sofa in its place, and my own little table, with my pretty Florentine ornaments.”
Raymond again looked annoyed. “Have you spoken to my mother?” he said.
“No; she never goes there.”
“Not now, but if ever she can bear any move it will be her first change, and I should not like to interfere with her arrangements.”
“She could never have been a musician, to let the piano stand against the wall. I shall never be able to play.”
“Perhaps that might be contrived,” said Raymond, kindly. “Here you know is your own domain, where you can do as you please.”
“Yes; but I am expected to play in the evening. Look at all those things. I had kept the choicest for the drawing-room, and it is such a pity to hide them all up here.”
Raymond felt for the mortification, and was unwilling to cross her again, so he said, “I will ask whether my mother would object to having the piano moved.”
“This morning?”
“After eleven o’clock—I never disturb her sooner; but you shall hear before I go to Backsworth.”
“An hour lost,” thought Cecil; but she was too well bred to grumble, and she had her great work to carry on of copying and illustrating her journal.
Mrs. Poynsett readily consented. “Oh yes, my dear, let her do whatever she likes. Don’t let me be a bugbear. A girl is never at home till she has had her will of the furniture. I think she will find that moving out the piano betrays the fading of the rest of the paper, but that is her affair. She is free to do just as she likes. I dare say the place does look antediluvian to young eyes.”
So Raymond was the bearer of his mother’s full permission; and Cecil presided with great energy over the alterations, which she carried out by the aid of the younger servants, to the great disgust of their seniors. She expected the acclamations of her contemporaries; but it happened that the first of them to cross the room was Julius, on his way to his mother’s room after luncheon, and he, having on a pair of make-shift glasses, till the right kind could be procured from London, was unprepared for obstacles in familiar regions, stumbled over an ottoman, and upset a table with the breakage of a vase.
He apologized, with much regret; but the younger brothers made an outcry. “What has come to the place? Here’s the table all over everything!”
“And where are the bronzes?”
“And the humming-birds? Miles’s birds, that he brought home after his first voyage.”
“And the clock with the two jolly little Cupids? Don’t you remember Miles and Will Bowater dressing them up for men-of-war’s men? Mother could not bring herself to have them undressed for a year, and all the time the clock struck nohow!”
“This is an anatomical study instead of a clock,” lamented Frank. “I say, Cecil, do you like your friends to sit in their bones, like Sydney Smith?”
“I never saw such a stupid old set of conservatives!” broke in Rosamond, feeling for Cecil’s mortification. “In an unprejudiced eye the room looks infinitely better, quite revivified! You ought to be much obliged to Cecil for letting you see all her beautiful things.”
“Why don’t you favour us with yours?” said Charlie.
“I know better! Mine aren’t fit to wipe the shoes of Cecil’s! When I get into the Rectory you’ll see how hideous they are!” said Rosamond, with the merriest complacency. “Couvre-pieds to set your teeth on edge, from the non-commissioned officers’ wives; and the awfullest banner-screen you ever saw, worked by the drum-major’s own hands, with Her Majesty’s arms on one side, and the De Courcy ones on the other, and glass eyes like stuffed birds’ to the lion and unicorn. We nearly expired from suppressed laughter under the presentation.”
Then she went round, extorting from the lads admiration for Cecil’s really beautiful properties, and winning gratitude for her own cordial praise, though it was not the artistic appreciation they deserved. Indeed, Cecil yielded to the general vote for the restoration of the humming-birds, allowing that, though she did not like stuffed birds in a drawing-room, she would not have banished them if she had known their history.
This lasted till Charlie spied a carriage coming up the drive, which could be seen a long way off, so that there was the opportunity for a general sauve qui peut. Cecil represented that Rosamond ought to stay and receive her bridal visits; but she was unpersuadable. “Oh no! I leave all that for you! My time will come when I get into the Rectory. We are going in the dog-cart to the other end of the parish.—What’s its name—Squattlesea Marsh, Julius?”
“Squattlesford!” said Charlie. “If Julius means to drive you, look out for your neck!”
“No, it’s the other way, I’m going to drive Julius!—Come along, or we shall be caught!”
Cecil stood her ground, as did Anne, who was too weary and indifferent to retreat, and Frank, who had taken another view of the carriage as it came nearer.
“I must apologize