Book: Marriage

S >> Susan Edmonstone Ferrier >> Marriage




In short, Miss Jacky was all over sense. A skilful physiognomist would,
at a single glance, have detected the sensible woman, in the erect head,
the compressed lips, square elbows, and firm judicious step. Even her
very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing character of their
mistress: her ruff always looked more sensible than any other body's;
her shawl sat most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking shoes were
acknowledged to be very sensible; and she drew on her gloves with an air
of sense, as if the one arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. From
what has been said it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky was in fact
anything but a sensible woman; as indeed no woman can be who bears such
visible outward marks of what is in reality the most quiet and
unostentatious of all good qualities. But there is a spurious sense,
which passes equally well with the multitude; it is easily assumed, and
still more easily maintained; common truths and a grave dictatorial air
being all that is necessary for its support.

Miss Grizzy's character will not admit of so long a commentary as that
of her sister. She was merely distinguishable from nothing by her simple
good nature, the inextricable entanglement of her thoughts, her love of
letter-writing, and her friendship with Lady Maclaughlan. Miss Nicky had
about as much sense as Miss Jacky; but, as no kingdom can maintain two
kings, so no family can admit of two sensible women; and Nicky was
therefore obliged to confine hers to the narrowest possible channels of
housekeeping, mantua-making, etc., and to sit down for life (or at least
till Miss Jacky should be married) with the dubious character of "not
wanting for sense either." With all these little peccadilloes the
sisters possessed some good properties. They were well-meaning,
kind-hearted, and, upon the whole, good-tempered they loved one another,
revered their brother, doated upon their nephews and nieces, took a
lively interest in the poorest of their poor cousins, a hundred degrees
removed, and had a firm conviction of the perfectibility of human
nature, as exemplified in the persons of all their own friends. "Even
their failings leaned to virtue's side;" for whatever they did was with
the intention of doing good, though the means they made use of generally
produced an opposite effect. But there are so many Miss Douglases in the
world that doubtless everyone of my readers is as well acquainted with
them as I am myself. I shall therefore leave them to finish the picture
according to their ideas, while I return to the parlour, where the
worthy spinsters are seated in expectation of the arrival of their
friend.






CHAPTER IX.

"Though both
Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed--
For contemplation he, and valour formed;
For softness she, and sweet attractive grace."

MILTON.


"WHAT _can_ have come over Lady Maclaughlan?" said Miss Grizzy, as she
sat at the window in a dejected attitude.

"I think I hear a carriage at last," cried Miss Jacky, turning up her
ears. "Wisht! let us listen."

"It's only the wind," sighed Miss Grizzy.

"It's the cart with the bread," said Miss Nicky.

"It's Lady Maclaughlan, I assure you," pronounced Miss Jacky.

The heavy rumble of a ponderous vehicle now proclaimed the approach of
the expected visitor; which pleasing anticipation was soon changed into
blissful certainty by the approach of a high-roofed, square bottomed,
pea-green chariot, drawn by two long-tailed white horses, and followed
by a lackey in the Highland garb. Out of this equipage issued a figure,
clothed in a light-coloured, large-flowered chintz raiment, carefully
drawn through the pocket-holes, either for its own preservation, or the
more disinterested purpose of displaying a dark short stuff petticoat,
which, with the same liberality, afforded ample scope for the survey of
a pair of worsted stockings and black leather shoes, something
resembling buckets. A faded red cloth jacket, which bore evident marks
of having been severed from its native skirts, now acted in the capacity
of a spencer. On the head rose a stupendous fabric, in the form of a
cap, on the summit of which was placed a black beaver hat, tied
_a la poissarde._ A small black satin muff in one hand, and a
gold-headed walking-stick in the other, completed the dress and
decoration of this personage.

The lackey, meanwhile, advanced to the carriage; and, putting in both
his hands, as if to catch so something, he pulled forth a small bundle,
enveloped in a military cloak, the contents of which would have baffled
conjecture, but for the large cocked hat and little booted leg which
protruded at opposite extremities.

A loud but slow and well-modulated voice now resounded through the
narrow stone passage that conducted to the drawing-room.

"Bring him in--bring him in, Philistine! I always call my man
Philistine, because he has Sampson in his hands. Set him down there,"
pointing to an easy chair, as the group now entered, headed by Lady
Maclaughlan.

"Well, girls!" addressing the venerable spinsters, as they severally
exchanged a tender salute; "so you're all alive, I see;--humph!"

"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, allow me to introduce our beloved niece, Lady
Juliana Douglas," said Miss Grizzy, leading her up, and bridling as she
spoke with ill-suppressed exultation.

"So--you're very pretty--yes, you are very pretty!" kissing the
forehead, cheeks, and chin of the youthful beauty between every pause.
Then, holding her at arm's length, she surveyed her from head to foot,
with elevated brows, and a broad fixed stare.

"Pray sit down, Lady Maclaughlan," cried her three friends all at once,
each tendering a chair.

"Sit down!" repeated she; "why, what should I sit down for? I choose to
stand--I don't like to sit--I never sit at home--do I, Sir Sampson?"
turning to the little warrior, who, having been seized with a violent
fit of coughing on his entrance, had now sunk back, seemingly quite
exhausted, while the _Philistine_ was endeavouring to disencumber him of
his military accoutrements.

"How very distressing Sir Sampson's cough is!" said the sympathising
Miss Grizzy.

"Distressing, child! No--it's not the least distressing. How can a thing
be distressing that does no harm? He's much the better of it--it's the
only exercise he gets."

"Oh! well, indeed, if that's the case, it would be a thousand pities to
stop it," replied the accommodating spinster.

"No, it wouldn't be the least pity to stop it!" returned Lady
Maclaughlan, in her loud authoritative tone; "because, though it's not
distressing, it's very disagreeable. But it cannot be stopped--you might
as well talk of stopping the wind--it is a cradle cough."

"My dear Lady Maclaughlan!" screamed Sir Sampson in a shrill pipe, as he
made an effort to raise himself, and rescue his cough from this
aspersion; "how can you persist in saying so, when I have told you so
often it proceeds entirely from a cold caught a few years ago, when I
attended his Majesty at-----" Here a violent relapse carried the
conclusion of the sentence along with it.

"Let him alone-don't meddle with him," called his lady to the assiduous
nymphs who were bustling around him; "leave him to Philistine; he's in
very good hands when he is in Philistine's." Then resting her chin upon
the head of her stick, she resumed her scrutiny of Lady Juliana.

"You really are a pretty creature! You've got a very handsome nose,
and your mouth's very well, but I don't like your eyes; they're too
large and too light; they're saucer eyes, and I don't like saucer eyes.
Why ha'nt you black eyes? You're not a bit like your father--I knew
him very well. Your mother was an heiress; your father married her for
her money, and she married him to be a Countess; and so that's the
history of their marriage-humph."

This well-bred harangue was delivered in an unvarying tone, and with
unmoved muscles; for though the lady seldom failed of calling forth some
conspicuous emotion, either of shame, mirth, or anger, on the
countenances of her hearers, she had never been known to betray any
correspondent feelings on her own; yet her features were finely formed,
marked, and expressive; and, in spite of her ridiculous dress and
eccentric manners, an air of dignity was diffused over her whole person,
that screened her from the ridicule to which she must otherwise have
been exposed. Amazement at the uncouth garb and singular address of Lady
Maclaughlan was seldom unmixed with terror at the stern imperious manner
that accompanied all her actions. Such were the feelings of Lady Juliana
as she remained subjected to her rude gaze and impertinent remarks.

"My Lady?" squeaked Sir Sampson from forth his easy chair.

"My love?" interrogated his lady as she leant upon her stick.

"I want to be introduced to my Lady Juliana Douglas; so give me your
hand," attempting, at the same time, to emerge from the huge leathern
receptacle into which he had been plunged by the care of the kind
sisters.

"Oh, pray sit still, dear Sir Sampson," cried they as usual all at once;
"our sweet niece will come to you, don't take the trouble to rise; pray
don't," each putting a hand on this man of might, as he was half risen,
and pushing him down.

"Ay, come here, my dear," said Lady Maclaughlan; "you're abler to walk
to Sir Sampson than he to you," pulling Lady Juliana in front of the
easy chair; "there--that's her; you see she is very pretty."

"Zounds, what is the meaning of all this?" screamed the enraged baronet.
"My Lady Juliana Douglas, I am shocked beyond expression at this freedom
of my lady's. I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons; pray be seated.
I'm shocked; I am ready to faint at the impropriety of this
introduction, so contrary to all rules of etiquette. How _could _you
behave in such a manner, my Lady Maclaughlan?"

"Why, you know, my dear, your legs may be very good legs, but they can't
walk," replied she, with her usual _sang froid._

"My Lady Maclaughlan, you perfectly confound me," stuttering with rage.
"My lady Juliana Douglas, see here," stretching out a meagre shank, to
which not even the military boot and large spur could give a respectable
appearance: "You see that leg strong and straight," stroking it down--;
"now, behold the fate of war!" dragging forward the other, which was
shrunk and shrivelled to almost one half its original dimensions. "These
legs were once the same; but I repine not--I sacrificed it in a noble
cause: to that leg my Sovereign owes his life!"

"Well, I declare, I had no idea; I thought always it had been
rheumatism," burst from the lips of the astonished spinsters, as they
crowded round the illustrious limb, and regarded it with looks of
veneration.

"Humph!" emphatically uttered his lady.

"The story's a simple one, ladies, and soon told: I happened to be
attending his Majesty at a review; I was then aid-de-camp to Lord -----.
His horse took fright, I--I--I,"--here, in spite of all the efforts that
could be made to suppress it, the _royal_ _cough _burst forth with a
violence that threatened to silence its brave owner for ever.

"It's very strange you will talk, my love," said his sympathising lady,
as she supported him; "talking never did, nor never will agree with you;
it's very strange what pleasure people take in talking--humph!"

"Is there anything dear Sir Sampson could take?" asked Miss Grizzy.

_"Could_ take? I don't know what you mean by _could_ take. He couldn't
take the moon, if you meant hat; but he must take what I give him; so
call Philistine; he knows where my cough tincture is."

"Oh, we have plenty of it in this press," said Miss Grizzy, flying
to a cupboard, and, drawing forth a bottle, she poured out a bumper,
and presented it to Sir Sampson.

"I'm poisoned!" gasped he feebly; "that's not my lady's cough-tincture."

"Not cough-tincture!" repeated the horror-struck doctress, as for the
first time she examined the label; "Oh! I declare, neither it is--it's
my own stomach lotion. Bless me, what will be done?" and she wrung her
hands in despair. "Oh, Murdoch," flying to the _Philistine,_ as he
entered with the real cough-tincture, "I've given Sir Sampson a dose of
my own stomach lotion by mistake, and I am terrified for the
consequences!"

"Oo, but hur need na be feared, hur will no be a hair the war o't; for
hurs wad na tak' the feesick that the leddie ordered hur yestreen."

"Well, I declare things are wisely ordered," observed Miss Grizzy; "in
that case it may do dear Sir Sampson a great deal of good."

Just as this pleasing idea was suggested, Douglas and his father
entered, and the ceremony of presenting her nephew to her friend was
performed by Miss Grizzy in her most conciliating manner.

"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, this is our nephew Henry, who, I know, has the
highest veneration for Sir Sampson and you. Henry, I assure you, Lady
Maclaughlan takes the greatest interest in everything that concerns Lady
Juliana and you."

"Humph!" rejoined her ladyship, as she surveyed him from head to foot.
"So your wife fell in love with you, it seems; well, the more fool she;
I never knew any good come of love marriages."

Douglas coloured, while he affected to laugh at this extraordinary
address, and withdrawing himself from her scrutiny, resumed his station
by the side of his Juliana.

"Now, girls, I must go to my toilet; which of you am I to have for my
handmaid?"

"Oh, we'll all go," eagerly exclaimed the three nymphs; "our dear niece
will excuse us for a little; young people are never at a loss to amuse
one another."

"Venus and the Graces, by Jove!" exclaimed Sir Sampson, bowing with an
air of gallantry; "and now I must go and adonise a little myself."

The company then separated to perform the important offices of the
toilet.






CHAPTER X.

"Nature here
Wanton'd as in her prime, and played at will
Her virgin fancies."

MILTON.

THE gentlemen were already assembled round the drawing-room fire,
impatiently waiting the hour of dinner, when Lady Maclaughlan and her
three friends entered. The masculine habiliments of the morning had been
exchanged for a more feminine costume. She was now arrayed in a
pompadour satin _negligee,_ and petticoat trimmed with Brussels lace. A
high starched handkerchief formed a complete breast work, on which, amid
a large bouquet of truly artificial roses, reposed a miniature of Sir
Sampson, _a la militaire_. A small fly cap of antique lace was scarcely
perceptible on the summit of a stupendous frizzled toupee, hemmed in on
each side by large curls. The muff and stick had been relinquished for a
large fan, something resembling an Indian screen, which she waved to and
fro in one hand, while a vast brocaded workbag was suspended from the
other.

"So, Major Douglas, your servant," said she, in answer to the
constrained formal bow with which he saluted her on her entrance. "Why,
it's so long since I've seen you that you may be a grandfather for ought
I know."

The poor awkward Misses at that moment came sneaking into the room:
"As for you, girls, you'll never be grandmothers; you'll never be
married, unless to wild men of the woods. I suppose you'd like that; it
would save you the trouble of combing your hair, and tying your shoes,
for then you could go without clothes altogether--humph! You'd be much
better without clothes than to put them on as you do," seizing upon the
luckless Miss Baby, as she endeavoured to steal behind backs.

And here, in justice to the lady, it must be owned that, for once,
she had some grounds for animadversion in the dress and appearance of
the Misses Douglas.

They had stayed out, running races and riding on a pony, until near the
dinner hour; and, dreading their father's displeasure should they be too
late, they had, with the utmost haste, exchanged their thick morning
dresses for thin muslin gowns, made by a mantua-maker of the
neighbourhood in the extreme of a two-year-old fashion, when waists
_were not._

But as dame Nature had been particularly lavish in the length of theirs,
and the stay-maker had, according to their aunt's direction, given them
_full measure_ of their new dark stays, there existed a visible breach
between the waists of their gowns and the bands of their petticoats,
which they had vainly sought to adjust by a meeting. Their hair had been
curled, but not combed, and dark gloves had been hastily drawn on to
hide red arms.

"I suppose," continued the stern Lady Maclaughlan, as she twirled her
victim round and round; "I suppose you think yourself vastly smart and
well dressed. Yes, you are very neat, very neat indeed; one would
suppose Ben Jonson had you in his eye when he composed that song." Then
in a voice like thunder, she chanted forth--

"Give me a look, give me a face
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free,
Such sweet neglect more taketh me."

Miss Grizzy was in the utmost perplexity between her inclination to urge
something in extenuation for the poor girls, and her fear of dissenting
from Lady Maclaughlan, or rather of not immediately agreeing with her;
she therefore steered, as usual, the middle course, and kept saying,
"Well, children, really what Lady Maclaughlan says is all very true; at
the same time"--turning to her friend--"I declare it's not much to be
wondered at; young people are so thoughtless, poor lambs!"

"What's aw this wark aboo?" said the old gentleman angrily; "the girlies
are weel eneugh; I see naething the matter wi' them; they're no dresse
like auld queens or stage-actresses;" and he glance his eye from Lady
Maclaughlan to his elegant daughter-in-law, who just then entered,
hanging, according to custom, on her husband, and preceded by Cupid.

Mrs Douglas followed, and the sound of the dinner bell put a stop to the
dispute.

"Come, my leddie, we'll see how the dinner's dressed," said the Laird,
as he seized Lady Maclaughlan by the tip of the finger, and holding it
up aloft, they marched into the dining room.

"Permit me, my Lady Juliana Douglas," said the little Baronet, with much
difficulty hobbling towards her, and attempting to take her hand. "Come,
Harry, love; here, Cupid," cried she; and without noticing the enraged
Sir Sampson, she passed on, humming a tune, and leaning upon her
husband.

"Astonishing! perfectly astonishing!" exclaimed the Baronet; "how a
young woman of Lady Juliana's rank and fashion should be guilty of such
a solecism in good breeding."

"She is very young," said Mrs. Douglas, smiling, as he limped along with
her, "and you must make allowances for her; but, indeed, I think her
beauty must ever be a sufficient excuse for any little errors she may
commit with a person of such taste and gallantry as Sir Sampson
Maclaughlan."

The little Baronet smiled, pressed the hand he held; and, soothed by the
well-timed compliment, he seated himself next to Lady Juliana with some
complacency. As she insisted on having her husband on the other side of
her, Mr. Douglas was condemned to take his station by the hated Lady
Maclaughlan, who, for the first time observing Mrs. Douglas, called to
her--

"Come here, my love; I haven't seen you these hundred years;" then
seizing her face between her hands, she saluted her in the usual style.
"There," at length releasing Mrs Douglas from her gripe--"there's for
you! I love you very much; you're neither a fool nor a hoyden; you're a
fine intelligent being."

Having carefully rolled up and deposited her gloves in her pocket, she
pulled out a pin-cushion, and calling Miss Bella, desired her to pin her
napkin over her shoulders; which done, she began to devour her soup in
silence.

Peace was, however, of short duration. Old Donald, in removing a dish
of whipt cream, unfortunately overturned one upon Lady Maclaughlan's
pompadour satin petticoat--the only part of her dress that was
unprotected.

"Do you see what you have done, you old Donald, you?" cried she, seizing
the culprit by the sleeve; "why, you've got St. Vitus's dance. A fit
hand to carry whipt cream, to be sure! Why, I could as well carry a
custard on the point of a bayonet--humph!"

"Dear me, Donald, how could you be so senseless?" cried Miss Jacky.

"Preserve me, Donald, I thought you had more sense!"
squeaked Miss Nicky.

"I am sure, Donald, that was na like you!" said Miss Grizzy, as the
friends all flocked around the petticoat, each suggesting a different
remedy.

"It's all of you, girls, that his has happened. Why can't you have a
larger tablecloth upon your table! And that old man has the palsy. Why
don't you electrify him?' in a tone admirably calculated to have that
effect.

"I declare, it's all very true," observed Miss Grizzy; "the tablecloth
_is_ very small, and Donald certainly _does_ shake, that cannot be
denied;" but, lowering her voice, "he is so obstinate, we really don't
know what to do with him. My sisters and I attempted to use the
flesh-brush with him."

"Oh, and an excellent thing it is; I make Philistine rub Sir Sampson
every morning and night. If it was not for that and his cough, nobody
would know whether he were dead or alive; I don't believe he would know
himself--humph!"

Sir Sampson's lemon face assumed an orange hue as he overheard this
domestic detail; but not daring to contradict the facts, he prudently
turned a deaf ear to them, and attempted to carryon a flirtation with
Lady Juliana through the medium of Cupid, whom he had coaxed upon his
knee.

Dinner being at length ended, toasts succeeded: and each of the ladies
having given her favourite laird, the signal of retreat was given, and a
general movement took place.

Lady Juliana, throwing herself upon a sofa with her pugs, called Mrs.
Douglas to her. "Do sit down here and talk with me," yawned she.

Her sister-in-law, with great good-humour, fetched her work, and seated
herself by the spoilt child.

"What strange thing is that you are making?" asked she, as Mrs. Douglas
pulled out her knitting.

"It's a child's stocking," replied her sister-in-law.

"A child's stocking! Oh, by-the-bye, have you a great many children?"

"I have none," answered Mrs. Douglas, with a half-stifled sigh.

"None at all?" repeated Lady Juliana, with surprise "then, why do you
make children's stockings?"

"I make them for those whose parents cannot afford to purchase them."

"La! what poor wretches they must be, that can't afford to buy
stockings," rejoined Lady Juliana, with a yawn. "It's monstrous good of
you to make them, to be sure; but it must be a shocking bore! and such a
trouble!" and another long yawn succeeded.

"Not half such a bore to me as to sit idle," returned Mrs. Douglas, with
a smile, "nor near so much trouble as you undergo with your favourites."

Lady Juliana made no reply, but turning from her sister-in-law, soon
was, or affected to be, sound a sleep, from which she was only roused by
the entrance of the gentlemen. "A rubber or a reel, my Leddie?" asked the
Laird, going up to his daughter-in-law.

"Julia, love," said her husband, "my father asks you if you choose
cards or dancing."

"There's nobody to dance with," said she, casting a languid glance
around; "I'll play at cards."

"Not whist, surely!" said Henry.

"Whist! Oh, heavens, no."

"Weel, weel, you youngsters will get a roundgame; come, my Leddy
Maclaughlan, Grizzy, Mrs. Douglas, hey for the odd trick and the
honours!"

"What would your Ladyship choose to play at?' asked Miss Jacky,
advancing with a pack of cards in one hand, and a box of counters in the
other.

"Oh, anything; I like 100 very well, or quadrille, or--1 really don't
care what."

The Misses, who had gathered round, and were standing gaping in joyful
expectation of Pope Joan, or a pool at commerce, here exchanged
sorrowful glances.

"I am afraid the young people don't play these games," replied Miss
Jacky; "but we've counters enough," shaking her little box, "for Pope
Joan, and we all know that."

"Pope Joan! I never heard of such a game," replied Lady Juliana.

"Oh, we can soon learn you," said Miss Nicky, who having spread the
green cloth on the tea-table, now advanced to join the consultation.

"I hate to be taught," said Lady Juliana, with a yawn; "besides, I am
sure it must be something very stupid."

"Ask if she plays commerce," whispered Miss Bella to Miss Baby.

The question was put, but with no better success, and the young ladies'
faces again bespoke their disappointment, which their brother observing,
he good-naturedly declared his perfect knowledge of commerce; "and I must
insist upon teaching you, Juliana," gently dragging her to the table.

"What's the pool to be?" asked one of the young ladies.

"I'm sure I don't know," said the aunts, looking to each other.

"I suppose we must make it sixpence," said Miss Jacky, after a
whispering consultation with her sister.

"In that case we can afford nothing to the best hand," observed Miss
Nicky.

"And we ought to have five lives and grace," added one of the nieces.

These points having been conceded, the preliminaries were at length
settled. The cards were slowly _doled_ out by Miss Jacky; and Lady
Juliana was carefully instructed in the rules of the game, and strongly
recommended always to try for a sequence, or pairs, etc. "And if you
win," rejoined Miss Nicky, shaking the snuffer-stand in which were
deposited the sixpences, "you get all this."

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