Mrs. Danby Kaufman of Bayswater

Front matter

MRS. DANBY KAUFMAN OF BAYSWATER MRS. DANBY KAUFMAN OF BAYSWATER BY Mrs. MAEK HEEBEET LONDON DIGBY & LONG 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STBEET, E.C. MRS. DANBY KAUFMAN OF BAYSWATER. CHAPTEE I. " O wad some pow'r the giftie gi'e us To see oursel's as ithers see us ! " ■Burns. WILL nothing persuade you to refrain from this wretched writing, that you flatter yourself shows talent, but is only ill-natured, unwomanly satire, betraying what I never thought you possessed, an evil and perverted imagination, dislike and contempt for your own relations, and a disregard of all decent sentiment and feeling ? " The speaker, a sad-faced, elderly, intelligent-looking woman, sat in a long, fashionablyfurnished dining room on the ground-floor of a house situated in Leinster Terrace, one of the many thoroughfares of the class abounding in the neighbourhood of Bayswater, running parallel with Westbourne Terrace.

Her hearer was a young woman of about thirty summers. She was of spare figure, had small, piercing eyes, a good skin (which was, however, tanned by exposure to the weather), an abundance of light - brown hair, and sharp features. Her thin lips were at this moment set together in a straight line, and betokened a steady fixity of purpose not to be turned aside by any consideration or affection for the speaker, her mother, who sat facing her, with I her back to the window, while her daughter, whom she addressed, stood with one hand clenched on the table and the other resting on her side. "If not for my sake, for the sake of your sister, whose prospects you have hindered enough already by your effusion, can you not be influenced ? " " Well, upon my word, mother, I think by this time you ought to know that I am not to be turned aside from my purpose by such twaddle as you have been advancing.

I fully intend to proceed with the work I am engaged on in spite of all remonstrance and talk ; and I am surprised that you, who know and have had experience of me, should waste your own time and mine by arguing on the subject. Surely if Danby, with his coaxings and persuasions, has been unable to turn me from my purpose, nothing will do it." " Why, mother dear," continued she, walking ex citedly around the table, " your arrival took me from a grand 'scena' 1 was describing in my new book. It was a scene in Oxford Street, where Nora encounters me coming out of the Salvation Army's hall, and " " Hush ! you shameless creature," interrupted her mother. " If you must abandon yourself to your vile promptings, have regard enough to keep your sister's and family's names and doings out of print." As she spoke the old lady walked to the door, and left the room and house.

Chapter II

" A mind not to be changed by time or place : The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell — a hell of heaven." — Milton. MFiS. SIYAL'S family had once been members of a religious sect, but of late years religion, of any kind, had become an empty name. They never invoked the Deity except when sorrow, danger, or distress made them conscious of their own impotence. It had lately been rumoured that Mrs. Kaufman was about publishing another book, dealing with the inner life of her own community. When Lorrie gained admittance, Joan was walking rapidly up and down her drawing-room, an open letter in her hand, the perusal of which had evidently enraged her. " What, in heaven's name, is the matter, Joan ? What are you raging about so violently ? " " Paging about, indeed ; and so would you rage if you had received such an epistle as that," throwing the letter contemptuously over to her sister.

It ran thus : " Maidenhead, June. "Dear Joan, " I am sorry to have to decline the pleasure of your promised visit, as Reginald and I have a box at the Lyceum . to-night, and the following day we are going on a visit to some friends. " Yours sincerely, " Ethel Bright." " Well, Joan, I really don't see what there is in that letter to make you frantic. You will go your own pace, and I don't wonder at Mr. Bright's (for I don't doubt he is at the bottom of it) endeavouring to break off your intimacy with his wife." " Mr. Bright, indeed ! His wife too good for me ! I'll teach him to know better. I'll make him, before I've finished with him, sue to me on his bended knees to countenance the chit, after all I've gone through and suffered for her, and all I know of her doings — to defy me and write me such a letter !"

"Please mem, Mr. Henderson," said the maid, throwing open the drawing-room door, and ushering in a dapper little man artistically got up, his long hair curling down his neck, his open shirt-collar a la Byron, his little feet encased in shiny leather shoes. He came hopping in quite jauntily, but stopped short on coming face to face with Mrs. Kaufman in the middle of her declamatory speech. " Just in time, Dolly ! " — her pet name for her cousin. " I was just rehearsing for my private theatricals, and had quite worked myself up to the required excitement when your entrance interrupted me." "Will you allow me to look at your part, Joan ?" and as he spoke he put out his hand to possess himself of the paper, which Joan had recovered, and was twisting nervously about. " Oh, no ! that you must not see.

You must hear it for the first time when I perform in it." It was truly amazing to see the quick change that came over Mrs. Kaufman's manner the instant her cousin was admitted. A moment before, and her little green eyes were literally blazing with wrath ; and lo ! in a second, her manner changed to a caressing and happy one, as she fluttered about her visitor. She rolled a low seat to him, rang for tea, and donned her company manners. " Come here, Dolly, and tell us all the latest news." " Well, to tell you the thuth," drawled her cousin, who lisped most aristocratically, " I have not been dhoing much, but not theeing you at Mrs. Thravers' dance," addressing Lorrie, "last night, I wath afwaid you might be ill. I didn't thee you either, Joan." " No," replied she. " Mrs. Travers and I have not hit it lately ; hence I did not get invited."

" The fact ith, I thuppothe," said Dolly, " thince you became a literawy woman, you have no time to thpare for thuch vanities." Meanwhile Lorrie had seated herself at the low table, and was pouring out the tea. " Now, Dolly, make yourself useful and don't talk scandal, but come and hand Joan some tea." Joan had lapsed into silence, and was moodily em ployed in twisting the obnoxious letter into all manner of shapes. Her annoyance and impatience were fast rendering her beside herself. Suddenly starting up — " Dolly," cried she, interrupting the satisfied little man in the midst of a description (which he was treating Lorrie to) of his last new horse, " will you take me to the theatre to-night ? " "Eh, what! Theatre ! Well, theally— by Jove, I haven't any thickets — and what'll Danby thay ? — and I, I," stammered Dolly, " I " " Oh, give over that ' I thay '-ing, ' Oh my '-ing.

Will you or won't you ? " " But theally, I thay, Joan, I've got no thickets." " We can easily obtain stalls, and there is a dress suit of Danby's upstairs — I'll lend it to you ; or, better still," continued she, excitedly, " if you drink your tea quickly, and take a hansom, you will be able to get to Piccadilly and back in good time." " Oh, ah ! I darethay, Cuthin Joan, thath all vethy fine, but I wanth thome dinner, and I don't feel like going withouth it." " Neither shall you, Dolly ; I'll guarantee you time to eat a chop — when you return for me — and it shall be ready for you. Now, make haste and be off, and in the meantime I'll do my best to make myself look charming, and introduce you to a lovely young lady. Now, you are ready, I'm sure ; " and, ringing the bell sharply, she ordered one maid to whistle a hansom, and another to help Mr. Henderson on with his over coat, without regard to his nervous protestations of "Oh, I thay," and "Well, to bethure".

She hurried him off, saying, " I'll never speak to you again, if you dou't hasten back and fetch me. Oh, what a dear old coz you are, to be so good ; " and she literally bundled him downstairs and into the cab before he knew where he was. On returning to the drawing-room she found her sister nearly choking with laughter. " Well, of all the cool things, that was the iciest. Poor, poor Dolly, he came all this way through broiling sunshine on purpose for a quiet spoon with me — the latest dish of scandal ; and before the poor fellow had time to recover from his amazement at your heroics on his entrance he finds himself turned back to execute your unreasonable commands, whether he likes it or not." " Do you think, Lorrie," replied Joan, speaking em phatically and with suppressed excitement, "that I could tamely sit down for the next two hours and gossip with that noodle ?

I am determined to go to the theatre to-night ; and what's more, to go up to Ethel's box and sit and talk to her, and that prcnul husband of hers, in spite of all his dislike." " But how about Danby ? " " As to that," answered Joan, who was still pacing the floor, " Danby has extra work in the warehouse to-night, and would not be at liberty. He intends dining in the city, and even were he not occupied, he wouldn't allow me to rush him out the instant he returns home." " Not like poor Dolly. Well, of all the ninnies he did look wheu he left, I shall never forget." and Lorrie had to indulge in another burst of laughter at the mere re collection. " But I must be off ; I want to be at home when the ' Mater' returns from her drive. I say, Joan, you haven't been inundated with visitors to-day." " No, I have not ; and very glad I am that I w-as not.

I'm sick of all the crowd, but I feel that I must go and show Ethel that I am not going to be thrown off as easily as an old glove, now that I don't fit into her life as before." " For my part," replied Lorrie, " I can't imagine why you want to keep up an intimacy with a woman, who evidently no longer desires your acquaintance, and whose husband positivelydislikes you." "And I," answered Joan, excitedly, " don't wish you to imagine anything at all about it ; so you can leave off trying." " Certainly," said Lorrie, shortly ; " I shall be only too glad to keep the subject of your ill-managed affairs out of view. May I go up and see Oswald for a minute ? " asked she. " Well, I had rather you didn't." " But I really must see him ; " and she ran lightly upstairs to see her little nephew. The child was standing before the open window listen ing to a group of sturdy men lustily singing a song of the unemployed.

As the door opened, the child looked round with a cry of delight, " Oh, Aunt Lorrie, I not seen you for such a long time." The child was an interesting, delicate-looking boy, with dark hair and eyes, and a pensive, quaint air, generally acquired by those children who associate constantly with grown-up people. " Hasn't Oswald been out to-day ?" " No, Auntie ; mamma said I was to rest, and to come down into the drawing-room when she rang ; but she never rang for Wally, and nurse wouldn't let me go down without." " Yes, Miss," replied the nurse ; " mistress said this morning was too hot for Master Wally's walk, and promised to have him in the drawing-room for tea. She said she would ring when she wanted him brought down, but as she did not send for him, I was afraid to take him down without orders."

"Never mind, Wally," said his aunt, soothingly. "I'll ask mamma to let you come to-morrow and spend a long dav with auntie and grandmamma ; and here is a six pence y7ou can spend on the way." " I would rather have six pennies, Auntie, for then I could give them to six poor people." " There's such a lot of poor people about here," said the nurse. " And it's just like Master Wally, Miss ; if he takes out a few pence, he must give them to his pet beggars : there are two or three that watch for him. It's quite a nuisance. He generally saves one penny for a flower for his mother, and the rest he gives away to the poor." Meantime Mrs. Kaufman ordered a chicken, &c, for half-past six, and at a quarter past five made a careful toilet. With her abundant fair hair piled high on her head, and wearing a very handsome black silk dress, made in the height of fashion, with only narrow bands of jet for sleeves, a very low bodice nearly all jet, large pink fan, superb single-stone diamond earrings in her ears, she looked, if not handsome, dainty and piquant.

Joan knew which box Ethel would occupy. It was a small one rented by a Mr. Lascelles, a cousin of Mr. Bright's, aud a great theatre-goer. " I'll go straight up to her box and sit in front, in despite of that bright husband of hers. I'm positively certain it is all his doing. I've seen for a long time past that he has shunned and disliked me. I'll show him that I have power enough over his weak wife to force her to countenance me, just now too, of all times, when her friendship and intimacy may prove my hold on society. " Ah, there's Dolly ! " as her ruminations were cut short by her cousin's return. " Now for a little gush to repay him." As Dolly entered she saw at a glance that her behests had been obeyed, for he was at tired in evening dress, flower in button-hole, and held a paper containing a spray of pink roses for her acceptance.

" My ! what a thwell you look, Joan," he observed, " and how bthight your eyeth are. I think there'th more than meeth the eye in your wanting to go to the Lytheum ; you theem quite exthited." " The truth really is, I want to meet a lady whom I expect to be there. I have not seen her for some time, and I fancy she is avoiding me, but I mean to give her a bit of my mind." " Oh, I thay, Joan," remonstrated Dolly with his mouth full, " don't do that iu the houth. " " Don't be frightened ; I intend to observe the pro prieties. Now try the chicken ; it is delicious." " Tho' it ith, by Jove : I begin to feel bether altheady." " Now you must finish that bottle of wine. I sent out for it on purpose for you : Danby keeps the key of the wine cellar, because I leave it lying about." It was by little arts like these that Joan attracted the attention of men about her.

On leaving for the theatre, "Mind, Bennett," said Mrs. Kaufman to the parlour-maid, " have the decanter of sherry and some sandwiches ready in your master's study ; and if he should return from the city early, tell him that Mr. Henderson called suddenly with tickets for the theatre, and insisted on my going with him ". CHAPTEE III. " 'Tis expectation, makes a blessing dear ; 'Heaven were not heaven,' if we knew what it were." THE overture had commenced ; the house was not crowded. Mrs. Kaufman turned her glasses towards the Lascelles' box, and watched tor the expected arrival of her friend. As the curtain rose on the well-known scene of Dr. Faustus' study, Joan became absorbed in the play, and forgot for a time the main object which had brought her there. At the conclusion of the first scene she remembered, and turned herself round to face, as she thought, her derelict friend, but was just in time to see one of the trim attendants enter the box, and loop aside the heavy silk curtains preparatory to the entrance of the occupiers, who, much to Joan's chagrin, turned out to be the owner — Mr. Lascelles — and his sou.

For a moment she hardly realised that Ethel Bright was not of the party, but when she did she became livid with suppressed passiou. Her little green eyes dilated, her features quivered with the intensity of her emotion, and muttering half audibly, " I knew it was a he," she sat trembling with rage. At this juncture a couple of young men, friends of Dolly's made a move towards them, one of them saying, " Come and be introduced to Dolly Henderson's cousin, she's awful good fun ; she has just published a deuced clever skit on a number of her own relatives, brinoiuo to light a past and forgotten scandal in which they were implicated, and trying at any cost to make herself famous, though some would suggest a prefix to the word ". " Come," continued he, " Dolly is beckoning us." They crossed and were introduced and took possession of a couple of vacant seats.

Joau threw off with an immense effort of will the deep chagrin from which she suffered, and put forth her full powers of repartee and wit, amusiug the younofellows with her reckless chatter until the rising of the curtain and the enhancing spectacle of Marguerite in the person of Ellen Terry, her temptation, fall, and death (although witnessed many times before), rendered her motionless and subdued. On reaching home Joan, having a latchkey, bade Dolly an affectionate good-night (he giving her an earnest injunction not to forget a projected riding-party the next day), and entered as the maids were filing upstairs. " Has your master returned ? " she asked. " No mem," said the parlour-maid, " but I have left a light and refreshments in his study". Joan walked wearily upstairs, the events of the day had been rather too much for her ; first the stormy interview with her mother, later the reception of her friends, Ethel's letter, her hurried arrangements for the theatre, and last, though not the least, the mortification of not finding Ethel at the theatre.

All these things made her wretched and irritable. Throwing herself into an armchair she muttered, half aloud, " So my gentle Ethel means throwing me over ? but she will find to her cost that it is not so easily done as she imagines. I'll go to Maidenhead to-morrow, and if I don't make her repent this day's work, my name is not what it is." Then she started into a listening attitude as she heard her husband softly open the street door and creep quietly to his study. Soon he emerged thence, and stealthily crept upstairs, treading cautiously so as not to disturb her. On perceiving her sitting in the dim light, he hurried to her, saying affectionately, " What's the matter, my darling, are you not well ? " " Not very well, dear," said Joan wearily, " but I think it is only the heat and over fatigue.

That silly little Dolly came with theatre tickets at about half-past six, and I think the hurry and the heat rather knocked me up." " Poor pet," said her husband, " you are far too self sacrificing, you should think more of yourself, and not allow7 yourself to be put upon. Let me help you into bed, and then I'll fetch you a glass of wine. I shall have to stay downstairs for another hour or two, as I have to write some important business letters, so I shall sleep in the dressing-room so as not to rouse you." " Thanks," replied Joan, " but don't trouble to bring me any wine, I only require a good night's rest." " How is Wally ? " " Oh, all right," but as the heartless woman answered a spasm passed over her features, for she remembered how, until this moment of her husband mentioning the child, she had almost forgotten his very existence.

On the following morning the maid brought her a note from her sister Lorrie, asking permission for the child to spend a long day with them. She immediately acceded to the request, and then laid herself down for an hour's sleep. About nine o'clock the child was brought down by the nurse. He knocked gently at the door, and waited until told to enter. " Oh, I am so glad to see you, dear mamma," said he, " but you was a naughty mamma yesterday, and told fibs, for you promised Wally he should come down to the drawing-room, and you never sent for him." " Come here, my pet, and kiss poor mamma, I was worried yesterday and could not keep my promise, but how would you like to spend to-day7 with Grandma and Aunt Lorrie ? " " I would rather stay7 with you, Mammy." " But poor mother has to go a long way to-day, out of town, and cannot take her little son."

" Oh, well I think it will be very nice to be with Auntie and Grandma, and perhaps they will take me out with them. Here's dear papa," as his father entered, fresh from his morning tub, and the child sprang gladly into his arms. " And how is my dear little sonny, and what do you think I've got for you in my pocket ? " He brought out a mechanical mouse, which, being wound up, ran some distance, and was brought to a standstill by a string attached to its tail. The little one, after looking at the toy seriously for a few moments, said, "Wally don't like that toy ". " Why, my dear ? " asked his father. " Because the string hurts the poor mouse." " No it doesn't, Wally ; the mouse is not alive." "Ah, but it would hurt it if it was; I don't want it. " All right," said his father, " I will bring you home something else, come downstairs with me while I eat my breakfast ; " but the boy preferred to remain with his mother, as he felt so tired.

Seating him on the bed, his father left him; and when the nurse came to prepare him for going out, the little fellow was still reluctant to leave his mother. The nurse insisted, and took the child outside, but returned, saying to her mistress, " I'm afraid, ma'am, Master Wally is sickening for some complaint, he has been so serious and quiet the last day or two, and complaining of feeling tired. He fretted so much yesterday to go to you, it made my heart ache." " I think he's all right, nurse, it's only the hot weather ; however, ask Miss Lorrie to be very careful with him and his food." "Yes ma'am, I will." A maid entered at this moment with her mistress' breakfast, which had been carefully arranged on the tray by her doting husband, and to which "Joan" proceeded to do ample justice, untroubled by thought of her sweet child and neglected duties.

Her husband came up to bid her " good-bye," and said, " I did not like to speak before the child, but I think he looks far from well. If I were you, dear, I wouldn't allow him to go out of my sight to-day." " What nonsense, Danby ; its just like you to upset me when I've made up my mind for a day's outing. I'm sure its little enough pleasure I get now. You have never a moment to spare to take me out ; and I promised Ethel Bright I would go to Maidenhead for a few hours. Lorrie has promised to look after Wally." " Well, darling, I don't wish to make you uneasy, and I hope my fears are unfounded." " He ought to have been a girl," grumbled Joan. " Fancy his being sorry for the mouse, and objecting to its being pulled by the tail ; to most children that would have been where the fun came in." " Good-bye, my dear ; don't over-fatigue yourself," said her husband, as, affectionately kissing her, he left the room.

But before leaving the house the anxious father went up to the nursery to see his little one again, and to ex press to the nurse once more his doubts as to the boy's health. Joan now commenced to dress, soliloquising the while : " How Danby is wrapped up in that boy ; and for the matter of that 1 don't feel over easy myself about him, his little hands were so hot and dry. I do hope the little chap is not going to be ill. When I've had it out with Ethel, I'll look after him. But I can't rest until I find out why she sent me that daring note. I've no doubt I am a thorn in her flesh, poor girl ; no one regrets it more than I do ; but we are launched in the same boat and must sink or swim together. Besides I must get some money from her soon, for I'm awfully iu debt. Heigho ! how I wish to goodness I had never run myself into all this trouble ; but it's done and cannot be undone — unfortunately."

She dressed herself with great care in a neat tailor made robe of soft, thin, fawn-coloured cloth, with hat to match ; a red sunshade and veil completed her attire. She went first to Oxford Street, intending to call at Buzzard's for sweets for Ethel's little daughter, whose birthday she remembered it was. She always made a practice of remembering little points of this kind (especially when she had a purpose to serve). The bright summer day soothed and reconciled her, and by the time she reached her destination her errand seemed much less difficult, and she felt fully equal to the coming encounter.

Chapter IV

" For so it falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours." — Shakespeahe. A SPACIOUS, well-kept lawn sloping down to the river, with a view of the lovely Cliveden woods and hills in the distance, and a glimpse of boats shooting by, met Joan's gaze on arriving at her friend's house ; a long, low, irregular pile of white buildings — a great contrast to the sumptuous wealth of colour displayed in the brilliant flower-beds that bordered the lawn. The whole looked what it really was — the abode of wealth and refinement. Shouts of laughter came from a group of lovely children around a lively, beautiful girl of about four years of age.

Her companions were a year or two older (two boys and two girls). Linda, the first men tioned, is a fairy-like child, evidently much petted and admired by her playmates. She is the only child of Mr. Bright, a wealthy barrister, and the assembled children have gathered in honour of her fourth birth day. She is evidently a little coquette, and monopolises the tennis balls and boys, much to the disgust of the other little girls, who do not seem to relish their games being spoilt for the gratification of Linda's humour. Near the group, under the shade of two large chestnut trees, in a low hammock, lies a lady leaning over the side, an open book just dropped from her hand ; she is trying to hear what is going on among the children, and an amused expression steals over her sweet face as she catches some of her wilful little daughter's words.

As she lies there she seems the embodiment of a poet's dream, in the graceful length of the supple limbs, her warm, golden tresses, the clear white skin, dark eyebrows, and large blue eyes. She was dressed in a loose, long gown of cream-coloured cashmere, a kerchief of coffee-coloured muslin around her neck, fichu-like. As the sounds from the children ceased, she leaned over, and was in the act of picking up her fallen book, when the bushes were suddenly pushed aside, and she was confronted by the form of her friend, Mrs. Kaufman. It is painful to behold the sudden change that comes over her fair face, and indeed her whole appearance. She starts into a sitting posture in a second, a pallid hue overspreads her features, and, clasping her hands together, she cried : " How very cruel of you, Joan, to startle me so.