Petticoat Government. A novel

Chapter I

About a quarter of a century ago there resided in a cathedral town, which we wid distinguish by the name of Westhampton — chiefly because we know of no town so caded — a very respectable family of the name of Jenkyns. They lived in a house which, though not in the close, was very near it, and which, better still, was built very much in the same handsome, substantial style as the prebendal houses. This mansion had been in the possession of the Jenkyns' family for several successive gene- >. VOL. I. B rations, and during the whole of this period it had never been inhabited by any one who did not bear the name ; a circumstance which, of course, greatly added to the respect in which the residence and its inhabitants were held, and this feeling was the stronger perhaps, because the magnates of a cathedral town are, of necessity, not hereditary magnates.

It was generally understood that the family were originady from Wales, and had, as ad the Westhampton townspeople strenuously declared, very excellent blood in their veins ; an advantage also of which they were, of course, justly proud, but which nevertheless had not prevented the race from being bankers in the said town of Westhampton, from father to son, pretty nearly from the time that country banking was first established in these realms. The race of Jenkyns had hitherto not been a very prolific race, for though there had never been wanting a David Jenkyns, Esquire, to succeed to the banking business whenever the preceding David Jenkyns, Esquire, had been removed 'by death, there had never been any one of them, since the time of their first settlement in Westhampton, who had been blessed with more than one son at the time of his death.

Neither were the daughters of the house very numerous, and of these the majority had died single, which may be accounted for by the fact that every successive David Jenkyns, Esquire, banker of Westhampton, had been uniformly of opinion that they owed it to themselves, their name, and their bank, not to diminish their credit, or the solid funds which supported it, by bestowing any very tempting amount of fortune on the daughters of their race; and the consequence of this was that, though their family connexions had not greatly increased, the family property had never been lessened. But for some years before the time at which my narration begins, this regular succession of Westhampton Jenkynses was overthrown, and their bank extinguished by the want of a male heir. The last David Jenkyns had married a beautiful young woman immediately upon the demise of his father, which took place B2 when this son had attained the age of thirty five years, and of this marriage four female Jenkynses were born, but that was all : no little David arrived to bless his grey hairs, and carry on his bank.

The regret occasioned by this was great ; but the last male Jenkyns was a worthy, sensible man, aud neither tormented himself, his wife, nor his daughters on the subject. Yet, not withstanding this peaceable disposition, he was not long-lived ; departing in peace at the age of fifty-five. He bequeathed to his wife four hundred a-year for her life, together with the use of the house which had been the scene of their one score years of peaceful union, and all that was contained in the said house in the way of plenishing. The rest of his property he left to be divided in equal portions between his four daughters, with the proviso, however, that if any one or more of them should remain single at the death of their mother, the house and plenishing should belong to them, to the exclusion of such as might at that time be married.

His widow survived him just twenty years, during which time she had seen her eldest and her youngest daughter married. But the marriages were not greatly to her satisfaction, for, considering that both the young ladies were as lovely as she had been herself, and possessed moreover fortunes amounting to the respectable sum of ten thousand pounds each, she thought that they might have done better. Penelope, the eldest, had in truth married as imprudently as it was wed possible for a young lady to do, having bestowed her pretty self, and her pretty fortune on her drawing master, a very clever artist, and a very fasci nating companion, but a singularly imprudent, yet by no means a worthless man. Though positively without a vice, and gifted with abounding talents of all kinds, he contrived somehow or other to get through rather more than half her property before he died, leaving her with one son, who was just old enough to have acquired his father's passionate love for art, as well as the habit of devoting pretty nearly all his hours of study to the cultivation of it.

He was an enthusiastic musician, too, and this he likewise inherited from his father, as well as his magnificent dark eyes, his fas cinating smde, and handsome form ; but with ad this, and a multitude of fine moral qualities to boot, this orphan son was an anxious treasure to his widowed mother, who having been long resident at Rome, remained there for many years after her husband's death, with httle or no intercourse with her offended family. The marriage of Judith, the youngest of Mrs. Jenkyns' four daughters, was less unfortunate, though, at the time it was formed, it was far from appearing prudent, for the young man was on the eve of his departure for India, with very little besides a cadet's commission in the Company's service by way of a pro vision for himself and his beautiful wife.

In this case, however, the marriage did not take place by stealth, like that of the elder sister, and the pretty Judith's fortune was settled upon herself and her offspring. Moreover, the young man lived long enough to attain the rank of Colonel, having distinguished himself on more than one occasion as a gallant soldier. He had likewise enjoyed the still more solid advantage of obtaining so profitable a government contract as enabled him, in a few years, to realize a very considerable sum of money ; and then he died, poor man, just when he was arranging his affairs in such a manner as might enable him to revisit Europe with his wife and family. Colonel Maitland left three children ; but scarcely had his widow sufficiently recovered from the shock occasioned by his sudden death to permit her to renew the preparations for her homeward voyage, than her eldest child, a son, and her youngest child, a daughter, were seized with cholera, which carried them off in a few hours.

Judith, a girl about sixteen, escaped the fatal malady by being on a visit to some distant friends, and it was some weeks before her mother thought it safe to recall her. But when she came at last, it was only to receive the last sigh of that broken-hearted mother whose health had failed even before that of her husband, and who had no strength to bear the load of sorrow that had fallen on her. By the wid of her father the young Judith, as his sole heiress, inherited all the property he left, as well as the ten thousand pounds settled upon her mother ; and knowing little, and caring less, about anything that was likely to happen to her for the future, the weeping orphan was shipped off to England to be made a ward in Chancery, with a fortune somewhat above forty thousand pounds, and a sort of testamentary letter from her poor mother to her two maiden sisters, entreating them to apply to the proper authorities for permission to take the personal charge of the young heiress, and to supply to her the place of the parents, the brother, and the sister she had so suddenly lost.

Chapter II

While these events occurred to the two married daughters of the Jenkyns family, the two spinster sisters of the same respectable race had passed the interval with much less of adventure, and much less apparent change of condition ; but although they were still Miss Barbara Jenkyns, and Miss Elfreda Jenkyns, as they had been at the time of their father's decease, they had nevertheless passed through a variety of quiet little transitions which had brought them to a condition as little resembling that in which his death had left them, as if, among other changes, they had changed their names also. Whether it be the natural sequence of cause and effect, or the result of a special dispensa tion of Providence, may be considered, per haps, as a matter of doubt ; but it is, speaking generally, au admitted fact that in a family of several daughters, those who are considered as the beauties among them are less inclined to be studious, than those who are considered as not beauties.

This was very decidedly the case in the Jenkyns family. The eldest and the youngest daughters were very pretty girls, and though they were neither of them particularly silly, or particularly coquettish, they certainly had, somehow or other, a vast deal more of visiting dress, and visiting acquaintance, to attend to, than their plainer sisters. Miss Barbara Jenkyns, the second daughter, being a quick-sighted, discerning young lady, was not yet twenty years old when she discovered that tbe officers never, or very rarely, asked her to dance ; for even in those peaceful days there was generally a small detachment of military quartered in the commodious barracks of Westhampton. She observed, also, that at the archery meetings for which the neighbourhood was particularly celebrated, some reason or other was always found why it would be more convenient for her eldest sister, or her youngest sister, or both of them, to be long to the set that were to wear the uniform, &c. &c. &c, than either her sister Elfreda or herself.

Nor was Miss Elfreda, the third sister, at" ad less quick in making the same sort of discoveries ; and not long after the death of their father they talked the matter over to gether, and their two heads conjointly were quite equal to the task of discovering the why and the wherefore of these peculiarities. " The fact is," observed Miss Barbara, " that both Penelope and Judith are what is called regular beauties ; and you may take my word for it, Elfreda, there is not a greater bore in the world than the having a regular beauty belonging to you. I do not believe that I am particularly ugly, because mamma always says I have such a good nose. You, Elfreda, have not any one good feature in your face, and therefore, of course, I suppose you are parti cularly ugly. However, there is nobody wdl deny, I think, that we are both of us ten thousand times cleverer than they are.

And, moreover, you and I know, if nobody else happens to remember it, that this beautiful large house, and every thing in it, is to belong, after mamma's death, to whichever of us con tinues to remain single. And with ten thousand pounds a-piece, I cannot but think that I, for instance, with my ecclesiastical information, and my high principles upon church and state, you know, and all that sort of thing, I cannot but think it will be strange if I do not make myself count for somebody, in such a place as this. As to the officers, I don't care one single straw for the whole set of them ! A parcel of idiots, that are here to day, and gone to-morrow! — I would rather have a good long talk, or a rubber of whist either, with the very ugliest old prebend of the whole set, than with the finest red-coat of them all."

To all which Miss Elfreda replied with equal quickness and sagacity : — " If I am uglier than you, sister Barbara," she said, " so much the better for me ; for the uglier I am, the better my chance of being let alone and permitted to remain as I am, and so of going half-and-half shares in the house with you. But you seem to forget my pretty feet, my dear. Mamma says I have the best legs and feet of the whole family. However, I don't want any body to fad in love with my legs and feet, not I, for I should not like to shape my intellect so as to please any man. I would not marry one of the clerical set if all their wives were in heaven to-morrow, and I had first choice of the bishop, dean, prebends, and minor canons, with the singing men into the bargain. And as to the red-coats, I never saw one yet that I liked well enough to give up my fortune to amuse him, instead of spend ing it myself.

However, Barbara, if it really should happen that we two are left in the possession of this house and all it contains, there will be no occasion, you know, for us both to be always living in it. I am quite ready to allow your superiority to the beauties iu all intellectual matters, and I don't suppose you will deny mine. Upon my honour I don't believe that they, either of them, know the difference between the occiput and the frontal sinus, any more than the cook-maid or the footmau. And as to the distinction of races, and all the immensely important doctrines connected with it, I doubt if they could com prehend the very simplest phrase that could be uttered on the subject." "Likely enough!" responded Miss Barbara. " In fact, they neither of them seem to me to comprehend any thing beyond the most be coming way of putting on a bonnet, or arrang ing a scarf.

It is really pitiable ! Heaven knows I do not envy their beauty, and I should be sorry to think that you did, either; though I can't say that I think your wearing smaller shoes than the rest of us is likely to make much difference." " Never mind my small shoes, Barbara," returned her sister with a smile, which, if rightly interpreted, might have been found to display the conviction of the small-footed sister that her advantage in this particular branch of beauty was minded, and very much minded, by the rest of the family. "Never mind my small feet ; they can't have any thing to do, you know, with what I was saying about the house. There would be no occasion, I suppose, for us both to live here always ? I am sure there is no such clause as that in my father's will. London is the only fitting residence for a person so devoted to science as I am, and I don't think I shall ever be happy any where else.

We could divide the value of the house, you know, without my living in it." " We can settle all that when the time comes," replied the very sensible Miss Bar bara; and for several years no more was said on the subject, though it may be that it was often in the thoughts of both. But, though not very speedily, this time came at last, and then the discussion was renewed ; and the settlement of the question appeared to involve some difficulties. At the time of Mrs. Jenkyns' death Miss Barbara had attained the mature age of forty three, and her sister Elfreda was two years her junior. Miss Barbara, or more properly speaking, Miss Jenkyns, gave it as her opinion that the best thing they could do, would be to continue to live together in the commodious mansion which the thoughtful kindness of their good father had pro vided for them.

The two sisters were at this time each of them in possession of rather more than fifteen thousand pounds, — the respective share of their mother's settlement, together with their own savings during the twenty years which had elapsed since the death of their father, amounting together to this sum. And the income of this, as Miss Jenkyns the elder very judiciously observed, must and ought to be fully sufficient to enable them to continue in the paternal mansion with perfect ease and comfort. But on this point Miss Elfreda most completely differed from her, and with a sturdiness of purpose not likely to be overcome. It was not, however, because she really anticipated any pecuniary difficulties that Miss Elfreda objected to this plan, for she was herself an excellent manager, and well knew that her sister was so likewise; but the "living together" in the old-world ecclesias tical county town which had hitherto been their residence, accorded not in any way with either her wishes or intentions.

She felt that she was not born for such an exist ence as that. " I hope we are not going to quarrel about our poor dear father's will," said the younger sister, " for the doing so could by no possi bility do us any good, but might very likely bring us eventually to absolute penury ; for I am quite determined that I will try your right to make me live here in a court of law, Miss Jenkyns, before I yield to it," was her reply to her sister's proposal. " Very well, Miss Elfreda ; then let the law decide," returned the elder. " The in tention of the good and wise testator," she added, " is obvious. He meant that the respectable house in which we were born, and the venerable city in which we were bred, should be our safeguard and protec tion through life, in case we remained single; and it never entered his head, dear, blessed man ! that one of his children should pay rent to another of them, for permission to live in the house that it was his express purpose to bestow upon her as a dwelling with out her paying any rent at ad for it.

It vol. I. c must be queer logic that would prove this, I think." " You have stated your case strongly, and cleverly enough, Miss Jenkyns, and it gives me pleasure to hear you," replied her sister; " for it would be really too mortifying if the conviction were forced upon me, that all my race were as completely idiots as Penelope and Judith have shown themselves. So you must not suppose that I have any intention whatever to quarrel with you. The folly of our quarrelling would indeed be preposterous. Nothing can be more agreeable than our prospects for the future, if we do not mar them by some folly of our own. My purpose is to establish myself in comfortable, lady-like lodg ings in London, in a quarter not so fashion able as to make every inch of space important, nor yet so out of the way as to produce an obstacle to the easy visitings of my acquaintance.

When thus established, I shall have much pleasure in receiving you as a visitor during the cold winter months — or weeks, during which you might find Westhampton dirty and dreary; and when London becomes dull and dusty, I shall have great satisfaction in returning your visit. But I have no intention, while pursuing this very rational plan of existence, to commit the egregious fody of giving up my share of the property which was expressly left by our father for the consolation of such members of his family as did not happen to obtain the much-vaunted felicity of ma trimonial love and protection. This is my case, sister Barbara. But as a proof of my sisterly confidence and affection, I will add that I have already had half an hour's perfectly unreserved conversation with our respected friend Mr. Price, who, after having read the clause in my father's wid which we are now discussing, gave it as his professional opinion that if you went to law with me on the point you would not have a leg to stand upon, however large your feet may be.

It seems highly probable, he says, that it was the project of our excedent father that such of his daughters as remained single should con tinue to reside together in the family man sion at Westhampton; but, inasmuch as his last wdl and testament makes no mention c2 whatever of such an arrangement as making a condition, upon which alone the single daughters can claim the benefit of the be quest, it becomes evident that we must, in some way or other, divide it." Miss Barbara Jenkyns paid precisely such a degree of attention to this statement as proved that her intellectual faculties deserved the praise which her sister had bestowed upon them. She remained silent for a minute or two ; then bowed her head, and said, " You, too, have stated your case clearly, Elfreda. I agree with you, entirely, in your opinion that there would be great folly in our quarrelling ; and in my judgment, there would be great sin also : we will hope, therefore, that there is no likelihood that we should quarrel.

But, as you have had the advantage of a friend's advice and I have not, we do not at this moment stand upon equal ground; for which reason I shad beg to be allowed two or three days, — let us say a week, if you please, — before I give you my final answer. You cannot object to this?" " Nothing can be more reasonable," returned Miss Elfreda. This was her only reply, as she rose to leave the room in which this conference had taken place; but ere she closed the door, after passing through it, she gave a little Parthian hint in these words, accompanied by a smile which, if it did not absolutely tip the dart with venom, very decidedly added to the sharpness of its point. " I hope it will not be very long before I hear of Dr. Wroughtley's being admitted to the study, Miss Barbara, for, to say truth, I am anxious to have this question settled at once."

Had there been no truth in the insinuation conveyed by these words, and the smile which accompanied them, Miss Barbara Jenkyns would not have coloured so vehemently; neither would she have tossed back the sable streamers of her cap with a movement expressive at once of so much indignation and contempt; however, she very soon recovered herself, for there was too much of conscious superiority about her (to say nothing of her conscious rectitude) for any such idly quizzing looks and words to annoy her much. Her somewhat long visage speedily recovered its ordinary hue, and her crape lappets were sedately and deliberately deposited behind her shoulders, as she sat down and wrote the fol lowing note : — " My dear Doctor, " Perhaps, if not better engaged, you will give us the pleasure of your company this evening?

I think I shall be able to get Mr. and Mrs. Eccles to join our rubber, and partake of a brace of birds afterwards, which have just reached us in very good order. But, if you do us the favour of coming, I must beg of you to let William show you into the study before you make your appearance in the drawing room. I will not detain you there long, but I greatly wish for your opinion upon a subject of some importance. " Yours, very sincerely, " Barbara Jenkyns." The doctor thus addressed, not being better engaged, obeyed the summons, and was ushered, by the well-instructed William, into the study exactly half an hour before the time at which the little whist parties of Westhampton were accustomed to assemble.

Chapter III

Dr. Wroughtley had begun his professional life as curate of a small parish in the north of England, But though a small parish, it was a rich rectory, and had, moreover, a very good house upon it ; but the rector, who was honour able as wed as reverend, found the air too keen for his lungs, and he was, therefore, in dulged with a pretty nearly unlimited licence to reside abroad. Young Mr. Wroughtley, however, supplied his place extremely well, having a good-natured nod and smile for every poor body in the parish, and a very tolerable stock of college stories for the Lord of the Manor, with whom he faithfully dined, shot, played whist, and smoked a cigar, whenever he was invited to do so during the thirty years that he continued to hold the curacy. At the end of that time, the honourable and reverend rector fell a victim at last to the deli cate state of his lungs, and a new incumbent arrived, with the intention of serving his own church, and living in his own house.

Moreover, the new rector, after a few inqui ries made, became of opinion, that the parish being so very small a one, he could do the whole duty of it himself, and the more easily as he never shot, was but a rare diner-out, and had never smoked a cigar in his life. The curate, therefore, was dismissed at rather short notice, but with a year's salary. But the Lord of the Manor was very greatly displeased at his being dismissed at all; the change indeed was disagreeable to him in many ways. The late curate had some particularly clever high-bred dogs, which were always at the Squire's service, but now the dogs were dismissed as well as the curate; nor did the opening the church for the performance of divine service three days in the week, instead of one, appear to afford any consolation to the Squire for the closing the dog-kennel.

In short, the Lord of the Manor was very angry, and, luckily for Mr. Wroughtley, he deter mined to revenge himself upon the new rector, by proving that he had influence enough to prevent a friend he valued from being " rolled in the mire," (it was thus he described the curate's dismissal,) by any fanatical high priest in the world. This threat was put in execution by bis using his interest with a near relation, who was in the Cabinet, for the appointment of his old compauion to a stall ; and within six months afterwards, the dismissed curate had become Dr. Wroughtley, and Prebend of West hampton. It is not necessary to trace minutely the history of the friendship M'hich existed between this amiable dignitary and his estimable neigh bour, Miss Barbara Jenkyns. From the very first year of his appointment, Miss Barbara had felt that his arrival was an important and most agreeable addition to the society of " the Close."

This impression had never worn out, but, on the contrary, had rather gone on increasing from year to year, till he had become in her estimation* not only the most valuable member of the reverend, and every way admirable, circle, to which he belonged, but decidedly worth at least any three others that could have been named among their most intimate friends. And here let me beg leave to observe, that if any light jesting be indulged in at the ex pense of Miss Barbara, under the supposition that she was, or ever had been, in love (as it is called) with the Rev. Dr. Wroughtley, Pre bend of Westhampton, the jester so jesting will only expose herself, or himself, to the im putation of utter incapacity in the study of human nature through ad its vast and beautiful varieties. Miss Barbara Jenkyns was not in love with Dr. Wroughtley ; she had no such stuff in her thoughts.

She felt as certain, or very nearly as certain, that Dr. Wroughtley never would marry, as that her sister, Elfreda, never would marry; and it would have been scarcely possible in her estimation to have made assurance more sure than that. No ; Miss Barbara was not in love with Dr. Wroughtley; for she did not believe in the least degree, or at any rate in any degree of which she was herself conscious, that she should ever have it in her power to marry him, — and this, in a mind so thoroughly well regulated as hers, very fully justifies the assertion that she was not in love with him. Nevertheless, there is another fact equally indisputable, and it is one that deserves attention, inasmuch as it throws a curious light upon the workings of the human mind. Dr. Wroughtley was still a bachelor, and had he not been a bachelor, Miss Barbara Jenkyns' feelings towards him would never have been of the exclusive nature that they certainly were.

The young and giddy, the unthinking, or the unphilosophical, may perhaps fancy that they discover a discrepancy between these two statements; but it is not so. In a society consti tuted like that of Westhampton, or in truth in any other where the same set continue lonotogether in frequent social intercourse, a gentleman so circumstanced, that is to say, a bachelor of easy fortune, social habits, and agreeable manners, is sure of becoming, in the eyes of all the ladies of his circle, a person of more importance than any other who is not a bachelor, even though they may, one and all, conform to and proclaim the belief that " he is not the least in the world likely to marry." There are so many little things in which a bachelor's freedom from all domestic ties and restraints enables him to be so " perfect a treasure" to all the ladies of his acquaintance! — And the man who knows how to make the most of this, may keep up his value in every party in which he mixes, till he really re nounces his success because he is weary of it.