Oakleigh Mascott: a novel

Chapter I

Fakenham is a small town in the North of England, which still condescends to receive that superannuated mode of conveyance — a stage coach. One of the great Railway Com panies did indeed once make violent efforts to carry a " branch" through its quiet pre cincts, but the squires of the neighbourhood — good, steady -going folks, little enough disposed to favor " new lines" of any description VOL. I. B — stood up so sturdily for the inviolability of their acres, that the scheme was abandoned, and the aflronted Jarvey was left thencefor ward in safe possession of "the ribands" of his government. It was on a bitterly cold December day, reader, not many years ago, that amidst the yelping of curs, the noisy escort of a running regiment of urchins, and the discordant im provisations of the Guard on an old hunting horn — the said coach rattled into Fakenham, and pulled up at the sign of " The Oakleigh Arms."

As this was its last stage on the road, the few remaining passengers prepared to alight. Stowed behind the box were a couple of gaping school-boys, under the charge of the coachman, their eyes almost starting out of their heads in search of the elder brother, who was not forthcoming to meet them ; and ruthfully rubbing their small noses to prevent the cold from carrying them utterly away. On the dickey, a soft, mild-looking curate was smirkingly assisting a fine lady from London, who had condescended, as she explained to him on the journey down, to rusticate herself for the purpose of " assisting a lady of rank in the duties of the toilet." In the meantime, a gentlemanly looking man of some fifty or sixty years of age, approached the window of the coach, and putting his head within, examined the "insides."

You, too, gentle reader, for purposes that shall afterwards be made mani fest, are invited to peep in with him. The back seat was monopolized by a fat puffing bundle of cloaks, from the top of which emerged a round bullet-like head, with one of those sour imperious faces, which, fairly or unfairly, are put down at a glance to the much maligned genus of old maids. Opposite her, to the left, sat a subdued looking girl, whose nervous though interest ing countenance might be taken not less unequivocally to denote the poor dependent : b she, my friend, who will amuse your leisure, smooth your sick pillow, and tend your con valescence — gulping down your sarcasms, and laughing at your jokes — and all for what ? For the privilege of being near you, and the charms of your society ? — at any rate for a pittance so trifling, that your greedy self-love may almost stand excused for cherishing the illusion !

Such a one, I say, sat opposite the Bundle, holding in her lap a wheezy, growl ing Blenheim, and encircling a parrot's cage with the other slender arm, at which the vicious darling, with a thorough appreciation of the mutual relations of a pet and a drudge, made every now and then a vigorous lunge with its bill. The faces of these ladies did not seem al together unknown to the stranger ; but he did not think proper to attempt a recognition — for with a hasty glance under each of their bonnets, he hailed a gentleman in the fur ther corner. " Well, my dear Harry," he cheerily ex claimed, "How are you? You were so completely hidden," he added, sotto voce, as he made his appearance at the opposite coach door, "by that moving cloak warehouse which your fair neighbour carries about with her, that I did not at first perceive you.

But come, out with you ! The girls are longing to see you, and Frank is waiting round the corner with the carriage." While he spoke, he opened the door of the coach, and his friend got out. The latter was a tall, tolerably well-built, young fellow, with an unmistakeably military bearing. His face was handsome, and set off to advantage by a dark blue travelling cap, which he wore jauntily a little on one side. This, most potent, grave, and reverend readers, was — myself! Nay, ladies fair, one moment's grace ere, condemning your devoted servant as a coxcomb, you cast him and his fortunes irretrievably to your lap dogs ! Consider whether, in writing this most vera cious history, I am not as much bound to acquaint you with my own personnel as with that of any other of the dramatis personœ of my narrative !

And even you will admit that I needed, at least, every advantage which self-esteem could tell me I possessed, when I add that I was a younger son. My father, the Earl of Ellisford, though far from defi cient in proper affection towards myself, had certainly always inclined, as was, perhaps, but natural, towards the heir to his title and estates, my elder and only brother. By a scarcely less customary compensation, I, on the other hand, had always been the favorite of my poor mother, whose death had occur red little less than two years previously to the time at which my story begins ; nor had the shock which this event had given me, yet ceased to throw an unusual shade of me lancholy over my otherwise mercurial tem perament. To these common place, but needful, preliminaries, I will only add, that the affection existing between my brother and myself was untainted either by jealousy on the one hand, or by, what a disposition like my own might perhaps have regarded as yet more insufferable, patronage on the other; that I was a Lieutenant in the — th, and pos sessed, besides my commission, a small for tune, inherited from my mother, and suffi cient to render me, to a certain degree, in dependent; and that, having just obtained leave of absence, I was about to pass the Christmas with Sir Charles Oakleigh, my maternal uncle : — to whom, having kept him all this time waiting at the coach door, I will now beg permission to return.

Our first greetings were 60on over, and slight preparation sufficed to see us whirling away under the Jehuship of my cousin Frank, — a fine young fellow, a year or two younger than myself — as fast as a pair of dashing greys could carry us, towards Oakleigh Mascott.

Chapter II

Fakenham was about four miles from my uncle's place. The beauty of the surround ing country, though labouring under the disadvantages of leafless winter, was yet striking. Richly wooded heights rose on either side of the road, at a little distance from which a clear trout-stream went dancing and rippling over its pebbly bed, and making, in defiance of the frost, a soft and musical accompaniment to the rough north wind. Leaving on our left the village of Oakleigh, with its old church tower standing out in deep relief against the dark shadow of the hills, a sudden turn of the road brought us in view of a plateau half-way up the heights, whereon stood Oakleigh Mascott itself, commanding a magnificent view of the scenery for miles round, and more immediately overlooking the hamlet which had been its vassal time out of mind, and which still looked up to the house, "as the eyes of a handmaiden unto the hand of her mistress."

It was a large, rambling old mansion. The front was of the old Norman style, and with its battlements and turrets, still seemed as if it could stand a siege. But grass grew where the moat once had been, and the draw bridge that had so often resounded with the clang of mail, had long given place to a com modious entrance, better suited to more silken times. Behind was a medley of all the styles. Each succeeding Oakleigh seemed to have added a turret or a wing to the structure, in the prevalent fashion of his time, and with such small regard for congruity, that, seen VOL. 1. B from above, the whole might have been taken for a fortified village. Far enough, however, were architectural criticisms from my thoughts, as the long avenue brought us at last to those hospitable doors! In a moment, I had jumped out, and found myself face to face with a young lady, who came running down the steps to receive us — " At last, Papa !

I thought you would never arrive ! And how are you, Harry?" continued she, holding out her hand, — " Have you quite forgotten me ? No, no, sir, none of that, if you please !" shaking her finger at me as I advanced to give her a rather more affectionate greeting : — " You forget that I, at least, have grown since we last met ! But come in ; there is Ethel in the hall waiting for you." I followed her into the house, where I was kindly welcomed by my other cousin. Six years had elapsed since I had seen the two sisters, the greater part of which they had spent abroad. In that time they had grown from beautiful children to beautiful girls. They were twins, and their mother had died when they were about eight years of age. The ten years which had intervened since then, had made the original difference between their persons and minds still more striking.

Georgiana, the youngest, was the true type of a Northern beauty. Tall and graceful, with a rounded and well propor tioned figure — these charms were set off by large clear blue eyes, fringed with soft dark brown lashes, a Grecian profile, golden hair, and a truly English complexion of lilies and roses. Ethel's figure was like her sister's ; but this, and an expression about the mouth, were the only points of resemblance. Her hair was raven, her eyes dark, the nose slightly aquiline, and her complexion, though good, was of a darker hue. There was, as I after wards had many opportunities of judging, at least an equal contrast between their charac ters. Georgiana was of a light-hearted easy disposition, often deemed frivolous by strangers, who little suspected the strong, and some what determined current, that flowed beneath her airy manner.

To a keen sense of the ridiculous, she added a ready wit and a spirit of repartee, through which a slight vein of satire would too often run ; but her quiz zing was all done so good-naturedly, and was accompanied by such a merry, musical laugh, that no one could feel angry with her. Ethel on the other hand, had a sweet temper, with a thoughtful, perhaps sentimental, mind. Her manners were quiet and graceful ; and she did the honours of her father's house with a dignity and unobtrusive kindness which, I am inclined to suspect, took captive the hearts of far more than her fair moiety of — at least the elderly — gentlemen who visited Oakleigh. In accomplishments it was the same. Both were first-rate performers on the piano and harp ; but while Ethel would choose some soul-melting strain of the romantic school, Georgy would dash off a brilliant piece a la Thulberg.

In Ethel's portfolio you would probably, select as the chef d'œuvre, some moonlit landscape, the soft shades mellowing into one another, and all attuned to harmony and repose, — in Georgiana's would be found a profusion of vigorous sketches, in which, with less finish, the whole effect was produced by a few bold strokes of the pencil. These differences were not, how ever, equally visible at all times. There was never wanting a tender chord of sym pathy between the two to harmonise their most opposite moods. I have even seen them so thoroughly change characters for a single evening, that a stranger would have given Georgy credit for sentiment, and have taken Ethel for the impersonation of mirth. Of their father, Sir Charles Oakleigh, I will merely say that he was a finished specimen of an "old English gentleman."

Frank was, to use his own term of approbation, " a regular brick," and in features was not unlike his sister Georgiana. Sir Charles would now and then sagely shake his head, as some of Frank's escapades came to his ears, and de clare with a smile that " he was very wild, but you know," he would add, turning to me, " boys must sow their wild oats ; I'll warrant you've sown a crop of your own, Harry, in your day — eh ?" For be it known, my respected uncle had marvellous ideas of my steadiness, and on the strength of them, would take from time to time his opportunity of complimenting me in a strain which, I grieve to say, seemed destined only to provoke the most embarrassing winks from the young scape grace for whose benefit it was intended, — accompanied, if I was not frequently mis taken, by smiles of no small meaning from Miss Georgy.

The reader will by this time have discovered, that I have a very satisfactory, and — he must take my word for it, — a not unjust, opinion of myself and my relations ; so, — that point being settled, — and this long devia tion from the straight path of my story being brought to an end, — " revenons a nos moutons." The preliminary greetings which I received were cut short by a hint from Frank, (on which I was not sorry to act) as to the expe diency of getting rid of a few layers of the dust with which my journey had encased me ; and I accordingly followed him up the old oak staircase, adorned with the por traits of my maternal ancestry, and was ushered into a large imposing room, pro vided with a bed, whose hangings of rich crimson damask, and polished oak carvings, frowned down upon me with truly awiul grandeur.

Here Frank, after having ex pressed all sorts of hopes and fears as to my comfort, withdrew; leaving me, as he observed, to "idolize." As soon as he had closed the door, I flung myself into an arm chair (not one of your stiff, regular old fashioned high-backers, but a veritable easy-chair, in the most literally com fortable sense of the word) placed very invitingly beside the fire, and proceeded to indulge in a thorough appreciation of my "situation." Shut up with a couple of charming cousins in a country house ! What pleasant ideas does the very name recal, of long past flirtations, of friendships acquired, of all the social ties that make life sweet ! A host of such thoughts passed through my mind — stimulated, doubtless, by the genial warmth which spread around me — when I was aroused by the dressing bell from my ungallant apathy.

My tardy appearance elicited a little rail lery from Georgy, from which the announce ment of dinner brought me timely rescue. I don't think it necessary, however, to treat the reader to the conversation of a family party, at which I was the only guest, and the less so, as a considerable reinforcement of company was in store for the morrow.

Chapter III

The day following my arrival at Oakleigh was ushered in by a bright frosty morning, more akin to October than December — one of those gleams of sunshine which often relieve the outset of an English winter, as if to tell of the past glories of the year; or resembling, perhaps, rather the momentary lightning athwart a storm, that only makes the succeeding darkness more apparent. The sound of a carriage, conveying Sir Charles and his son to a magistrates' meeting, which was to be held at a distant part of the country, had roused me from my slumbers rather earlier than the regular breakfast hour re quired. Inspired, however, by the cheering rays that were slanting through my shutters, I got up and dressed ; and whiled away the superfluous half-hour down stairs, in recon noitering the haunts which once were so familiar to me.

A hundred little graceful changes in the house and its furniture attested the transformation of the twin play mates of my boyhood into accomplished women. The schoolroom had budded into a boudoir. A great bare chamber with a skylight, sacred of yore to battledoor and shuttlecock, was now promoted into a well appointed studio. Here stood a harp, and there an easel ; in one corner was a table covered with unfinished drawings, in another the tools and appbances of an amateur modeller Avere scattered among a collection of spirited figures in clay and plaster. "While I was amusing myself with conjecturing as to which of my fair cousins the credit of these little compositions was due ; Georgy entered, laughing and breathless, and apprised me that breakfast was nearly cold, and that Ethel and herself had been hunting for me " upstairs and downstairs," and everywhere but in " my lady's chamber," where I happened, in one sense, to be.

" Imagine, Ethel," she exclaimed, after hurrying me off to the good things that were waiting for me to con sume them — "imagine his finding his way, the very first morning, to our unfortunate portfolios, and to poor shy little Ella's modelling table ! Will she ever forgive us for having left her compositions ex posed to the gaze of this redoubtable critic ? Ethel and I ought to have been there, Sir, to have pelted you back, as ladies, I am told, do in Turk ey, when gentlemen are intrusive !" "Never mind, Georgy;" I laughingly re plied, " you know that I've a prescriptive right to the run of that room ; and as to the models, I declare that your "shy little Ella," — whoever she may be — is a genius, and I hope you'll introduce me, if she's coming here this Christmas." "Introduce you! Don't you remember Ella — Gabrielle ?

Why, Harry, where has your memory flown to ? You surely recol lect the timid little girl who used to run away from you long ago, when, in your boyish pranks you sometimes broke into our school-room?" A glimmer of recollection now passed through my mind. The name certainly sounded not unfamiliar, and recalled an odd jumble of ideas, — about snow-storms, and babies, and gipsies — which, however, would not soon have become clear, had I not pre vailed upon Ethel to recount to me anew the strange circumstance, which many years previously, had led Sir Charles to introduce into his family the young lady in question — then a helpless infant, of whose very paren tage he was ignorant. It was in the severe winter of 18 — , she said, (so their father had often told them), when she and Georgy were children in the nursery, — that he was interrupted one morn ing at breakfast, by the announcement that a woman, refusing to give a name, wished to speak with him on business.

Anticipating that it was in some way connected with his magisterial office, he replied that he would see her after breakfast. On being told, however, that she had followed the servant to the door, he desired her to be shown in at once. Sir Charles could hardly restrain his vexation at the interruption, when he recognised the intruder. A diminutive old woman, with shrivelled features, and wrapped in a large cloak, stood before him ; and her piercing black eyes, dark skin, and wild ex pression, easily identified her as one of a neighbouring camp of gipsies, who had but lately been brought before the Bench, on the usual charge of larceny, and who had nar rowly escaped the tread-mill. Without waiting, however, for encourage ment or reprimand, she at once introduced the object of her visit. The preceding night, she said, as his worship doubtless knew, had been a terrible one ; — the snow still lay many feet deep on the ground.

The gipsy camp was pitched a little above the foot of the Oak hill, and in the middle of the night, through the raging of the storm, her companions had heard a wail like that of an infant. Zara (the narrator) notwithstanding her age and sex, had at once set out with two of the men in the direction of the cry ; " the snow beating in their faces the while, so as well nigh to blind them." The night was pitch-dark, and the lantern they carried could scarcely be kept alight ; but at last the sound seemed nearer, and they discovered whence it proceeded. Seated half buried in snow was a woman — unable to move, and already speechless from exhaustion. Clinging to her bosom, be neath the scanty remnants of her cloak, was the child whose cries had directed the gipsies, and but for which, both must infallibly have perished.

Zara and her companion carried them to the encampment, and applied such remedies as were at hand for restor ing the poor woman to consciousness. At length these proved effectual — but alas ! when she did speak, it was in a tongue foreign to their own, and not even understood by Zara (the Solon of her tribe), who, however, had resolutely set it down as " French." The stranger, continued the old woman, looked wistfully after the child when they relieved her of it, and continued as long as her strength allowed her, to address it in a soothing and caressing voice ; but before the morning dawned, she was a corpse. The cold to which she had been exposed, together with the hunger which, by her exhausted condition, it was evident she had long suffered, were more than her frame could support, and she died; — died in a strange land, and among a strange people ; — her last look on the child, — " Gabrielle," the last word on her lips.

As the gipsy came to this part of her narrative, she opened her cloak, and disclosed to Sir Charles's wondering gaze a sleeping infant, beautiful as a cherub — declaring, that she had brought it to him, as the most fitting person to decide what was to be done with it. Not that (she added) she was unwilling to take charge of it herself, but she could not help feeling that the wandering life she and her comrades led, was little fitted for limbs of so delicate a mould as those of the little stranger ; while the workhouse was a yet rougher school for one whose dress and appearance were those, as she expressed it, of " a born lady." vol. i. c Sir Charles consulted with his wife on the subject ; and they decided that, come what might of the adventure, the infant should from that moment be as one of their own.

And well had they kept their word. Ethel and Georgy had ever been taught to look upon the adopted child as a sister, and as a sister they loved her. The clothes the bttle girl had on, were marked simply with the name " Gabrielle ;" and Zara's guess as to her nationabty, was further borne out by a silver medal of the Virgin, suspended round her neck (as is common with French children) — on the reverse of which, had been engraved the letters " G.H.," and the date, " Janvier 15, 18 — ." This possible clue to her parentage was, of course, carefully secured by Sir Charles, who also took care, shortly after the inquest, to circulate advertisements calcu lated to attract the notice of the child's relatives — but without effect ; nor had any light been thrown on the mystery by the examination of the body, which was that of a woman too old to have been Gabrielle's mother, while her dress seemed that of a poorer, though respectable, class.

Meanwhile Sir Charles took his own line with the child. Having occasion to go abroad for Lady Oakleigh's health, when his little girls were about seven years old, he carried Gabrielle with them, and placed her, — not at school (for of those nests of gossip and affectation the worthy baronet had a holy horror) — but with a French Protestant clergyman and his wife, — refined and well educated people — in order that she might acquire her own language, against the im probable event of her being claimed by her unknown kinsfolk. Some of those busy bodies who are ever ready to carp at the benevolence they do not practice, were indeed eloquent enough on the imprudence of this course : — " For their part, they c could not help thinking that she should be brought up as became her station, and not placed on a level with Sir Charles Oakleigh's daughters ; — It really was doing the girl a serious injury, taking her so completely out of her sphere !" &c., &c. To all of which, and sundry other opinions, Sir Charles merely repbed, with the blandest possible smile, that as "he really didn't know wliat her proper station was, he meant to do his best to make one for her," and so kept on his way rejoicing.

I was now about to judge of the result of the experiment. Gabrielle, who had con stantly been kept at Oakleigh, was coming home "for good," and Ethel wound up the story by giving us a flowing description of the young lady's physical and mental gifts, which Georgy interrupted with a caution to me not to " monter ma tite," as the damsel in question was a diminutive little animal with a turn up nose, red hair, no eyes, and " No eyes," interrupted I in my turn, " why, it was the wonderful impression made on me years ago by her eyes which recalled her to my recollection." " Well, never mind ! I only caution you that if, through Ethel's praises, or any other pretext, you take it into your head to be diappointed with her, you will incur the pain of my sovereign' displeasure. How ever, I don't think you'll find it easy."

The reader may suppose that, though I have introduced this history in the middle of breakfast, Ethel had sufficient consideration for my appetite to refrain from telling it till we had adjourned to their boudoir, — a charming little nest of chintz and china, where we spent the morning not the less pleasantly for having been left by the gentle men of the family to our own resources.

Chapter IV

The dinner hour arrived, and with it Sir Charles's guests. The party which I found in the drawing room amounted to about twelve besides ourselves, and I was making my way through the imposing array of starched cravats and expansive musbns, when Sir Charles touched my arm — " Harry, I must introduce you to Lord Grantham, — Lord Grantham, my nephew, Mr. Mountjoy." As I raised my eyes to the face of my new acquaintance, I could not help being struck by it. It was, indeed, remarkably handsome, — every feature regular and chiselled ; nothing could be more " avenant" than the smile which played round his mouth ; and yet — whether it was an expression of hauteur that lurked beneath the carefully trimmed black moustache, or, (what was, perhaps the only defect in his face) that the eye-brows which shaded those large lustrous black eyes, grew too near together, and gave them a slightly stern character, — certain it is, that I at once became conscious of an odd sensation of something either de trop or wanting, which then, and ever afterwards, made it painful to look at that otherwise splendid countenance without quickly Avithdrawing my gaze.

His figure was good, and his bearing altogether had the cachet of noble blood. "Very happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mountjoy," he said, resuming his lounging attitude against the chimney piece, and sur veying the party before him through his half-closed eyes, — " I have heard my friend, Frank Oakleigh, speak so much about you, that I can hardly regard you as a stranger. Can you tell me, by the way, who that pretty girl in white is, behind the odd looking old lady \nth — By Jove !" suddenly exclaimed his lordship, interrupting himself in a lower, but no longer listless, tone, — " What a pair of eyes !" I followed the direction of his glance to a corner of the room, where a simply dressed girl was talking to Sir Charles. Yes! there Avas reason for his lordship's admiration. I had seen and raved about a tolerable variety of eyes ; but these were not to be classified according to any general rules of beauty suggested by my diversified experience.

They were not of the clear serene blue of our Nor thern climes — nor of the dark shade of war mer skies; nor yet were they the long almond shaped Eastern eyes, Avith their hea-yy-fringed lids, so dear to our modern Hafizes. Con ceive an eye large and full, bordered by lonosilky black lashes; of a dark grey colour when in repose, but gleaming at other times with a hue that seemed to vary each moment with the expression which shone through it. Instinct and beaming Avith the light of in tellect, truly and Avithout metaphor, might it have been called the " Mind's eye." The face, too, was lovely, and of the most femi nine order of loveliness. A skin almost too delicate in its blush-rose hue (for it showed the veins with their azure tracery on the broad intellectual forehead) formed an ex quisite contrast Avith her broAvn hair, as it Avaved back, Avith a golden reflection in its simple braids, round her classically shaped head.