Read Ebook: Mortomley's Estate: A Novel. Vol. 2 (of 3) by Riddell J H Mrs

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 1207 lines and 48600 words, and 25 pages

"If by that you mean I have no knowledge of the quality of every tap in the metropolis, you are right, and, what is more, I do not want to have anything to do with poetry or imagination if either assumes that particular development."

"We put all those things on one side for an instant," suggested Kleinwort, making a sudden dive into a tavern which occupied a non-conspicuous position in an alley through which they were passing, leaving Werner standing on the pavement wet as a brook from the torrents of rain that were at last coming down as if a second deluge had commenced.

When Kleinwort reappeared, which he did almost immediately, his cheeks had resumed their natural hue, and the hand which grasped his umbrella was steady enough.

"If I drank as much as you," commented Mr. Werner, "I should go mad."

"And if I drank as you so little I should go mad," was the answer. "You have got in your lovely English some vulgar saying about meat and poison."

"Shall I? No, I think not. When the engine has not need to work no longer, it will be that I lower the steam. Some day, some blessed day, I shall return to mine own land to there take mine ease."

"I wish to God you had never left it," muttered Henry Werner, and it was after the exchange of these amenities that the pair ascended to the offices of Asherill and Swanland, Salisbury House.

MR. DEAN AND HIS FUTURE RELATIVES.

It was quite dark by the time Mr. Swanland's clerks reached Homewood on the rainy Saturday in question.

In the first place they lost their train by about half a minute, which was not of much consequence as another started in less than half an hour afterwards, but Mr. Bailey chose to lose his temper, and exchanged some pleasant words first with a porter who shut the door in his face, and afterwards with a burly policeman big enough to have carried the little clerk off in his arms like a baby.

The young gentlemen, engaged at a few shillings a week to perform liquidation drudgery in Messrs. Asherill and Swanland's offices, were so accustomed to regard the members of their firm as autocrats that they affected the airs of autocrats themselves when out of the presence chamber, and were consequently indignant if the outer world, happily ignorant of the nature of accountants, treated them as if they were very ordinary mortals indeed.

Having nothing to do for half an hour save kick their heels in that dingy, dirty, fusty, comfortless hall which the Great Eastern Railway Company generously offers for the use of the travellers on its line who repair to London Street, Mr. Bailey improved the occasion by delivering a series of orations on the folly of that old sinner Asherill, who detained them talking humbug till they lost the train, and having eased his feelings so far, he next proceeded to relieve them further by anathematizing Mortomley, who chose Saturday of all days in the week, and that Saturday of all Saturdays in the year, to take up his residence in Queer Street.

"I won't stand it," finished Mr. Bailey, while his eyes wandered over that cheerful expanse of country which greets the traveller who journeys by train from London to Stratford, as he nears the latter station. "I'll give them notice on Monday. They could not get on without me. I'd like to know where they could possibly find a man able to work as I can who would put up with such treatment. On Monday I will give them a piece of my mind they won't relish as much as they will their cut of roast beef to-morrow."

Which was all very well, but as Mr. Bailey had been in the habit of making the same statement about once a fortnight upon an average, since liquidation came into fashion, his companion attached less importance to it than might otherwise have been the case.

"What a day it has turned out!" was all the comment he made.

"Yes, and they are at home safe and snug before this, or on their way to it. Well, it is of no use talking."

"I wonder if we shall have far to walk," said the junior, whose name was Merle.

"Miles no doubt," answered Mr. Bailey, "and get drenched to the skin. But what do they care! We are not flesh and blood to them. We are only pounds shillings and pence."

Which was indeed a very true remark, although it emanated from Mr. Bailey. Had he been aware how exactly his words defined his employers' feelings, he would not perhaps have been so ready to give utterance to them.

As matters stood, he grumbled on until they were turned out in the drenching rain to get from Leytonstone Station to Whip's Cross as best they could. Green Grove Lane was still leafy, and flowers bloomed gaily in the railway gardens, and Leytonstone church stood in its graveyard a picturesque object in the landscape, and there was a great peace about that quiet country station with its level crossing and air of utter repose which might have been pleasant to some people.

But it did not prove agreeable to Mr. Bailey. A soaking rain. An indefinite goal. An unknown amount of work to be got through!

Very comprehensively and concisely Mr. Bailey read a short commination service over Mr. Mortomley and his affairs, whilst he and Merle stood on the down platform waiting the departure of the train ere crossing the line.

He had got his directions from the station master, and they did not agree with those issued at head-quarters.

"He should have gone to Snaresbrook. That was the nearest point, but, however, he could not miss his way. It was straight as an arrow after he get to the 'Green Man,' still keeping main road to the left."

Which instructions he followed so implicitly that the pair found themselves finally at Leyton Green.

From thence they had to make their way back into the Newmarket Road, and as that way lay along darksome lanes under the shade of arching trees, through patches of Epping Forest, while all the time the rain continued to pour down, steadily and determinedly, it may be imagined how much Mr. Bailey was enamoured of Mortomley and his estate by the time the two clerks reached Homewood.

But once within the portals of that place, circumstances put on a more cheerful aspect. A bright fire blazed in the old-fashioned hall, glimpses were caught of well lighted and comfortably furnished rooms. Rupert, with a rare civility, addressed them with a polite hope that they were not very wet, and Mrs. Mortomley, after reading Mr. Swanland's note, sent to inquire if they would not like some tea.

With which, Mr. Bailey having readily responded in the affirmative, they were provided presently. Rupert in the meantime having recommended half a glass of brandy, which Merle gulped down thankfully, and Mr. Bailey sipped sullenly, angry a whole one had not been advised.

When the dining-room door was shut, and the pair had made an onslaught on the cold fowl and ham sent in with tea for their delectation, Merle remarked,

"What a stunning place, ain't it!"

"Ay, it is a snug crib enough," replied the other, who had already beheld wreck and ruin wrought in much finer abodes.

"They don't seem a bad sort," observed Merle, who, being young to the business, still thought a bankrupt might be a gentleman, and who moreover was not a tip-top swell like Bailey, whose father rented a house at fifty pounds a year, and only let off the first floor in order to make the two obstinate ends meet.

"What do you mean?" inquired Bailey.

"Why, asking us to have tea and all that," was the innocent answer.

"Pooh!" replied his companion. "Why, it is all over now. They don't know it, but the whole place belongs to us, I mean to our governors. The tea is ours, and the bread and butter and the ham, and not this fowl alone, but every hen and chicken on the premises. Hand me over the loaf, I am as hungry as a hunter."

Had little Mrs. Mortomley understood matters at that moment as she understood them afterwards, she would, hospitable as was her disposition, have turned those two nice young clerks out into the weather, and told them to make up their accounts in the Works or Thames Street, as they should never enter the house at Homewood so long as she remained in it.

But she did not understand, and accordingly after tea the making out of the liabilities proceeded under Rupert's superintendence, Mrs. Mortomley's presence being occasionally required when any question connected with her own department had to be answered.

"I do not see why these debts should be put down," said Dolly at last. "Of course, all household liabilities I shall defray out of my own money."

"No, you won't," replied Rupert brusquely. "You will want every penny of your money for yourself, or I am much mistaken."

At length Mr. Bailey bethought him of asking Rupert about the return trains, and finding that the last was due in three quarters of an hour, stated that as it seemed impossible the work could be finished then, he and Merle would be down at about eight o'clock on Monday morning.

Having given which promise he went out into the night, followed by his junior, and Homewood was shortly after shut up, and every member of the household, tired out with the events of the day, went early to bed, and woke the next morning with a sense of rest and ease as strange as it proved transitory.

In the afternoon Mr. Dean called and asked specially for Mrs. Mortomley, and when Dolly went down to him, she found that he wished to tell her in his own formal way that the idea of Miss Halling, his promised wife, the future mistress of Elm Park remaining in a house where bailiffs were unhappily located, had troubled and was troubling him exceedingly. Of course, he felt every sympathy for Mrs. Mortomley in her sad position, and for Mr. Mortomley in his present unfortunate circumstances, but--

"In a word," broke in Dolly, "you want Antonia to leave Homewood and go to your sister. That is it, is it not, Mr. Dean? Of course I can make no objection, and when affairs are arranged here she can return to be married from her uncle's house."

For a moment Mr. Dean was touched. He saw Dolly believed matters would be so arranged that Homewood should still belong to Mortomley, and that she offered hospitality to a woman she cordially disliked on this supposition. And he thought it rather nice of the little woman, whose face he could not avoid noticing was very white and pinched, though she carried the trouble lightly, and, in his opinion, with almost unbecoming indifference. But Mr. Dean quickly recovered his balance. These people were paupers. Great heavens! literally paupers, except for the few thousands left of Mrs. Mortomley's fortune. They might ask him to lend them money. Presuming upon their relationship to Miss Halling, they might even expect to be asked to stay at his house--at Elm Park--a gentleman's mansion, across the threshold of which no bankrupt's foot had ever passed. At the bare idea of such complications, Mr. Dean turned hot and cold alternately.

He had done much for these Mortomley people already. He had broke the news of the impending catastrophe to Mr. Forde, and after that act of weakness what might they not expect in the future!

When Mr. Dean thought of this he felt horrified at the possible consequences resulting from his extraordinary amiability. Indeed, he felt so horrified that dismay for a minute or two tied his tongue, and it was Dolly who at last broke the silence. Leaning back in an easy-chair, her thin white hands clasped together, her eyes too large and bright, but still looking happy and restful, she said, "I should like very much, Mr. Dean, to know where your thoughts are wandering?"

Mr. Dean, thus aroused, answered with a diplomatic truthfulness which afterwards amazed himself.

"I was thinking of you and Mr. Mortomley, and Miss Halling and myself."

"Yes?" Dolly said inquiringly. There had been a time when she would have remarked all four were interesting subjects, but on that especial Sunday she was a different woman from the Mrs. Mortomley of Mr. Dean's earlier recollection.

"To a lady possessed of your powers of observation," began Mr. Dean, "I need scarcely remark that difficulties might arise were Miss Halling to take up even a temporary abode with my sister, and therefore--"

"I comprehend what you mean, and I know why you hesitate," said Mrs. Mortomley, as her visitor paused and cast about how to finish his sentence, "but I really do not see what can be done. I am afraid," she added, with a pucker of her forehead, which had latterly grown habitual when she was troubled or perplexed. "Antonia would not like my Aunt Celia. My aunt is goodness itself, but a very little eccentric. Still, if she understood the position--"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet