Joan Carisbroke

Front matter

JOAN CAEISBEOKE. JOAN CAEISBEOKE. BT EMMA JANE WOKBOISE, Author of "A Woman's Patience," "The Brudenelh of Brude," " Husbands and Wives,' "Lady Clarissa," ** The Grey House at Endlestone," Ax., &c. " Thy love Shall chant itself its own beatitudes After its own life-working. A child's kiss Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad ; A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich ; A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest. Such a crown I set upon thy head. ' ' Mrs. Barrett Browning. Hontion : JAMES CLARKE & CO., 13 & 14, FLEET STREET HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27 & 31, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1880. LONDON : W. SPEArGHT AND SONS, PRINTERS, FETTER LANE. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. Not Wanted 1 II. The Watch by the Dead 13 III.

Women's Eights 24 IV. Meliora 36 V. "Poor Little Ruby" 46 VI. "Nothing but Debts" 59 VII. Meliora to the Rescue 70 VIII. "What Does Sequestration Mean?" 81 IX. The Rector's Wooing 92 X. The Churchwarden 103 XI. The Sword of Damocles 114 XII. "We Must be Strong" 126 XIII. The Impecunious Household 137 XIV. Mr. and Mrs. Baxter 149 XV. Rival Accounts 159 XVI. After Supper 170 XVII. The Family Council 181 XVIII. A Fresh Start 192 XIX. Ways and Means 201 XX. Last Days at Perrywood 210 . XXI. Going-Out and Coming-in 220 XXII. Five Years Later -. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXIII. Frank's News 240 XXIV. The Cook Family 252 XXV. Gentleman and Butterman 263 XXVI. A Moonlight Promenade 273 XXVII. Self-Reliance 284 XXVIII. Tourist Tickets 294 XXIX. At Argendale 305 XXX. The Unfathomable Lake 313 XXXI. "The Everlasting Hills" 325 XXXII.

Frank's Affairs 336 XXXIII. Brother and Sister 347 XXXIV. Rest 358 XXXV. Shadows of Death 369 XXXVI. Arthur's Confession 380 XXXVII. Lost in the Wood 391 XXXVin. A Summer Rose 402 XXXIX. The Earnseat Shore 413 XL. Margery's Prediction 424 XLI. A Weary Journey..... 436 XLII. Mrs. Carisbroke at Home 447 XLIII. "Cousin Joan" 459 XLIV. Ruby 472 XLV. At the Garden Gate 483 XLVI. Arthur's Second Confession 496 XLVn. "I Set You Free, Free as Air" 507 • XLVIII. Ruby's Disappointment 519 XLIX. The Victory Won 532 L. The Lady of Lindenfield

Chapter I. Not Wanted

" It is the day when she was born, A bitter day, that early sank Behind a purple frosty bank Of vapour, leaving night forlorn." It was the last day of a dreary December. The snowflakes were falling — falling thickly and ceaselessly from a low canopy of dense, grey clouds. Already fields and lawns and garden-paths were smoothly and whitely covered several inches deep ; the high roof of the church, seen against a solemn, purplish background, might have been taken for an Alpine ridge ; the windward side of the great, square, ivied tower was powdered all over, like the wig of a courtier of the times of the Grand Monarque — buttress, battlement, crocket, and gurgoyle had each its own spot less, ever-swelling cushion ; and under the shadow of the hoary walls the dead lay sleeping beneath their newlyspread, colourless, cold pall.

Mutely the pure flakes fell on the neglected hillocks where the paupers slept their last long sleep, heedless alike of penury and toil ; silently they gathered on the flowery, grassy mounds that were duly tended by loving, reverent hands ; softly they lay on crumbling headstones and mossy tablets and venerable, half -obliterated epitaphs, of a day L fast fading into oblivion; and gently they descended on marble slab and sculptured tracery and gilt lettering — the proud In Memoriam of yesterday. Heavily, too, they weighed down the drooping branches of the graceful birch ; lovingly they clung to the glossy leaves of the hardy evergreens ; weirdly they lay in masses on the gaunt arms of sturdy oaks and "immemorial elms;" and softly they alighted on the ancient yew that over shadowed the lych-gate.

Nor far from the church was the Rectory, its grounds on one side being divided from the churchyard by a broad belt of flourishing, trim shrubbery, and by an iron wicket gate. On the other side were the undulating glebe meadows, and several acres of rich, ploughed land — also glebe ; beyond were rising woods, full of shade and lovely greenery and song in the sweet summer-time, but now all dank and misty and silent, and lost in that peculiar pur plish haze which one never sees but in midwinter and when snow is in the air and on the ground. Smooth-shaven lawns and well-kept slopes and flower-beds were before the front windows of the Rectory, and at its sides were stretches of fair garden-ground — ornamental parterre and useful kitchen-plot ; and further back, verging on the meadows, a stretch of half-cultivated land, commonly known as The Wilderness.

Behind the house were kitchen, poultry, and stable-yards — even a small rick-yard ; also outhouses, sheds, and sties, which proclaimed the Rector to be, as rural rectors frequently are, a farmer, in a certain dignified, amateur sort of way. The Rectory itself was a large and handsome house, not old enough to be antique and probably uncomfortable, not new enough to distress its æsthetic owner with an air of impertinent, spick-span freshness. It was evidently well kept up ; the present owner need not fear a probable " dilapidation suit " brought against his heirs, for, indeed, the Rev. Francis Carisbroke would leave his rectory in better condition than he found it. He had papered and painted righteously, at proper intervals, as a life-tenant should ; he had replaced certain old casements with modern plate-glass sashes ; he had seen to the roof, and duly attended to the chimneys ; he had taken a pride in the gardens, added to the convenience of the kitchen and out-offices, and greatly improved the land.

Let us look at him, as he sits in his warm, well-furnished library, his feet on a Persian carpet, his elbows resting on the littered table before him, his face wearing an odd expression of mingled anxiety and annoyance. The room wore an air of snugness and comfort that contrasted pleasantly with the snowy world outside ; the blazing fire was reflected in the glass doors and mahogany fronts of well-filled bookcases ; the crimson curtains that draped the large bay-windows were rich and ample ; double doors shut out all the noise and bustle of the house ; and all around were strewn costly objects for common use, as walnut-wood paper-racks and envelopecases, ormolu and crystal inkstands, finely-carved brackets, a timepiece in malachite and black marble, jewelled spill-cups, a splendid Dresden vase, and two or three good pictures, that "would be always worth their money," according to experts.

The Rev. Francis Carisbroke must have been quite five-and-fifty years of age. He was a tall, straight, well-knit man, not at all stout, but of undeniably fine build; his hair, still plentiful and curly, was of a uniform iron grey ; his eyes were dark and piercing, his features classical, but stern, and he had a way of firmly compressing his lips, which gave him anything but a prepossessing aspect. He was presumably writing his Sunday's sermons, for his gold pen was behind his right ear ; a sheet of paper lay before him on the blotter; on one side was a large Reference Bible, flanked by a small Greek Testament ; on the other a volume of Cruden's Concordance, and the " Notes " of some eighteenth-century divine on the Epistles of St. Paul. Was it that his ideas would not flow — that the inclement weather had frozen the genial current of his thoughts ?

Or was it that something had occurred to disturb his wonted equanimity, to destroy the mental equilibrium so requisite to a well-studied composition, such as the Rector's sermons always claimed to be ? He was still frowning, and fidgeting with his pen, now dipping it into the ink and letting it dry again, now nibbling the handle of it like a hungry mouse, when there came a gentle tap at the door, and there entered a lady 1—2 " of a certain age," very plainly dressed, and very quiet in her movements, and so much like the Rector, that a stranger, seeing them together for the first time, would un hesitatingly have pronounced them to be brother and sister. "Well, Jane?" And the gold pen, just replenished, fell upon the open page of the daintily -bound Greek Testament. An exclamation of vexation escaped the Rector ; indeed, his tongue almost framed one naughty word, as he hastily took up a sheet of blotting-paper, applying it so unscientifically as to make matters worse instead of better.

And it was not till the mischief was remedied as far as it could be, and a good deal of regret expressed, that again the words were uttered, with the interrogative inflexion as before — " Well, Jane ? " " It's all over, and there's a little girl ! " "Bother!" exclaimed the Rector, fairly losing his temper. and feeling himself most unfairly done by. And he turned to his sister with an air of so much severity that it might have been imagined that she was in some way responsible for the objectionable sex of the unlucky infant whom nobody, not even its own father and mother, wanted. " It's most unfortunate," resumed the Rector, as Miss Carisbroke made no reply, but looked a little scandalised. She was a very prim old maid, and "bother" was such an unecclesiastical, not to say vidgar, expletive !

And it was spoken so savagely, that she fancied it might be taken as proxy for something worse than vulgar, and far more unecclesiastical. " It's bad enough having to reconstitute a nursery at all ! It's sufficiently annoying to be troubled in this way at our age, and after all these years ! but I could have borne it patiently had it been a boy ! A berth can always be found for a boy ; by the time he is sixteen or seventeen he can generally earn salt to his porridge, if he is good for anything ; though neither boys nor girls are nowadays what they used to be in our time, Jane. But a girl — another girl ! a sixth daughter ! As if I hadn't my quiver full twelve years ago, when that puling little Susie died." " It seems to me that you are arraigning Providence," said Miss Carisbroke quietly. " God sent this child to yon for good purposes, doubtless, and you are bound to give it a paternal welcome.

And as for its being a girl, so much the better. Boys, as I have good reason to know, cost an immensity before they can earn even a pinch of salt to the necessary porridge, about which they are, as a rule, dis gustingly fastidious. Remember your own expenses. I don't forget how Annie and I had to pinch to pay your debts at Oxford ; how we drank milk and water and weak tea, that you might give your wine-parties ; how we walked in the mup and dust and grudged even an omnibus fare, that the bill for your hired horses should not go unpaid ; how we wore common prints and cheap alpacas, that you might always appear, morning, noon, and night, dressed as a gentleman ! And we washed at home, too — and that's about the deepest depth to which a respectable family can sink — just to save " " For mercy's sake, do stop, Jane !

It cannot possibly interest me to hear of your being ill-dressed five-and-thirty years ago ; and as for such vulgar details as the family washing " But steadily Jane pursued, " And then, when we had paid the last farthing of those horrible, extortionate bills, Ralph began his career, and followed suit to the best of his ability; and now your own and only son seems likely to rival his father and uncle in the wild extravagance of his expenditure. Why, all your five girls put together, to say nothing of the poor little bundle of humanity upstairs, cost you less than Mr. Frank, I know." The Rector groaned ; his sister had touched upon a very sore subject. His son — his only one, as you have heard — was just then causing him a great deal of trouble. He was graduating at Oxford, with a view to "entering the Church ; " and the very ample allowance which his father had with some difficulty granted him had all melted away like butter in the sun.

It had just served, in fact, for impromptu menus plaisirs — for mere pocket-money. It had gone to pay for sundry items which could scarcely be included in " the account " — for boating expenses, college fines, tips to servants, articles of virtu, for he inherited the artistic tastes of his father ; so that when, after his first long vacation, he returned to his college, and found a heap of tradesmen's remembrancers on his table, there was literally nothing in the purse wherewith to meet them. And now the imprudent young man had contrived to get into the clutches of the money-lenders, and his debts were larger and more numerous than ever. Truly, the Rector had not much to say in answer to his sister. When she had been silent for about half a minute, he went on, in a less imperious tone, " Well, it is useless to discuss that point.

Boys and girls are both expensive, there is no denying it ; and as I have had a family, and you have not, it must be conceded that I am the better judge. It all comes to this, however ; if anything happened to me, you know Frank could turn to and get his own living somehow. Having sown his wild oats, he would pro bably do very well ; while the girls would have nothing but their mother's money, and what would that be among five of them ?— among six, I ought to say. I forget the claims of the new arrival." " They may marry ; some of them surely will." " Or they may not. There is not as much beauty among the lot of them as sometimes falls to the share of a single girl ; they are not particularly clever, and they won't have much money — perhaps none at all, if our in come keep to the rule of subtraction, and our expenses to that of multiplication.

How's Louisa ? " "Vou might have asked that question before, Francis," replied Miss Carisbroke, in a reproving tone. "We are rather anxious about her." "Anxious! Dear me ! I hope nothing has gone wrong," said the Rector, rising torhis feet. He was by no means a devoted husband, having made what he called " a prudent marriage," in which love had no great share, and expediency much ; but he was not altogether heartless, and he cherished a mild affection for the mother of his seven children, and earnestly hoped she was in no kind of danger. Miss Carisbroke could give him no satisfactory informa tion ; she only knew that the doctor and the nnrse wore very grave countenances, and that she herself had been turned out of the room. "I'll go and see her at once," said the husband, suddenly awakened to anxiety.

" No, you mustn't ; she is to be kept perfectly quiet ; if the baby cries, it is tobe taken away." " And doesn't it cry ? " " It doesn't utter a sonnd. It's quite alive, but it lies as still and mute as a doll." " Dear me ! I hope it's not dumb ! " " I hope not. Don't be alarmed. I dare say it will make amends presently. We shall have plenty of opportunities of admiring the strength of its langs, I have no doubt. When once it begins, it will squall night and day." " Heaven forbid ! " said the Rector, quite piously. " But seriously, Jane, I am distressed not to hear a good account of Louisa. I must obtain further particulars." And the sermon had no more chance for that day — no, nor for several days to come ; for before many hours had passed the Curate had received directions to keep himself in readiness to preach both morning and evening on the ensuing Sunday.

The unwelcome baby became doubly and trebly unwelcome when it was discovered that the life of the mother was in jeopardy. Mr. Carisbroke had been one of those young men who are said to be " well-connected," and who " enter the Church," or take holy orders, or whatever you choose to call it, as a profession, and not at all as a vocation. He would very much have preferred the army ; but having distant rela tions from whom preferment might reasonably be expected, and no hope of military advancement, it was decided, when he was scarcely fifteen years of age, that he should be a clergyman. So, after the usual preparation, he was ordained a deacon, " according to the order of the United Church of England and Ireland," and he affirmed before God that he trusted he was " inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost " to take upon himself that office and ministration, and that he thought he was " truly called according to the will of our Lord Jesus Cnrist and the due order of this realm to the ministry of the Church."

A friend of his late father's gave him "a title for orders," and he comported himself, as this gentleman's curate, so as to gain the respect of his superiors m office. A year elapsed, and again he was presented to the Bishop, this time ostensibly to receive the Holy Ghost, "for the office and work of a priest in the Church of God." Francis Carisbroke was by no means tbe sort of person to bring disgrace " npon the cloth ; " on the contrary, he was — in the world's estimation, at least — a credit to his profession. His college debts hampered bim for a good while ; but he took pupils, was allowed to inhabit his incumbent's vicarage, and came in for a good many privileges which do not generally fall to the lot of curates. Lastly, some one left him a welcome legacy, and he got free of his debts — very much to his honour — for when every creditor was satisfied, very little remained of the bequest.

He had more than average abilities, and he might certainly have made a figure in the world, had he not been constitutionally indolent, and far too fond of ease to push his way, even when what is called chance seemed to make things comparatively easy to him. But success, as regards earthly prosperity, appears to come to some men, whether they seek it or not. Certainly, Mr. Carisbroke never strove for anything, and yet everything tumbled, as it were, into his lap ! He was born under a lucky star, said some people ; he had a fairy god mother, remarked others, as one piece of good fortune after another fell to his share. And really it did seem as if the blind goddess treated him with most exceptional indulgence. He had a certain gift of eloquence ; he was affable in his manners to his inferiors ; he had the credit of extensive learning ; there was no slur on his character, and he was, as a young man, remarkably handsome.

He had no particular opinions ; he had æsthetic tastes, but he was not at all Ritualistic ; he belonged to no particular party, and kept himself aloof from any kind of declaration of his principles. He read the Athanasian Creed without any scruples of conscience ; but he cared nothing about the "Eastward position," or daily services, or intoning tbe prayers, or anything of that sort; he believed in short, well-delivered sermons, he liked a well-conducted service, and he had a great idea of the respect due to his position. He soon obtained "a living" of moderate value, and after a few years of placid contentment, he was, rather to his own surprise, presented with the wealthy benefice of Perrywood, not many miles from the fashionable town of Cotswoldbury. How it all came about he never could exactly tell ; he had certainly done nothing to deserve it, and there were others who by good rights should have been preferred before him.

The fact was, the nobleman in whose gift was this nice, fat, comfortable "living," had just returned from a lengthened residence abroad, and being called suddenly to dispense his patronage, gave it to the first person who seemed eligible. He liked Mr. Carisbroke's pleasing manners and gentlemanly appearance ; his sermons were good, without rousing any unpleasant trains of thought ; he had refined tastes ; his views were " sound," — whatever that might mean — and he was generally approved by society. So Francis Carisbroke resigned his suburban charge near London, and became a country rector, and presently a rural dean, in a good neighbourhood, where there was " excellent sport," with a substantial rectory in the best repair, a moderate amount of work, £1,200 a-year, and next to no Dissenters.

He was now over thirty, and it behoved him to marry. And here again, his lucky star was in the ascendency. He met with a young lady who was the happy possessor of £700 per annum in her own right. She was an orphan, and an only child ; she had distant relations, who were both tradespeople and Dissenters, and whom she consequently ignored. She was not pretty, and she was certainly not clever ; she played a little, she sang a little, she sketched a little, and she pattered a little bad French and some worse Italian, as was the fashion with boarding-school misses of that period. She had never been in love with anybody except herself, but she scorned the idea of being an "old maid ;" she was twenty-one and her own mistress, and she had always made up her mind that she would marry a clergyman, provided one could be found who was neither poor nor fond of work, and who was sufficiently good-looking!

Francis Carisbroke fulfilled all these conditions ; he was delicately advised that if he proposed to Louisa Patterson, he would not be refused, and he began to think he could not possibly do better. It was high time he married, and he had been weak enough to fall in love with a lovely girl, the sister of one of his curates, who was of a good but extremely impoverished family. He was sorely tempted to take this fair young creature to his heart and home ; but prudence forbade ! She had no fortune, and would never have any, and, really, £1,200 a-year was not so much for a married clergyman in aristocratic society — a clergy man, too, always had so many claims upon his benevolence ! Lily Craven had nothing but her sweet face and her still sweeter disposition ; Louisa Patterson had an income of her own, and would pay her share of household and family expenses.

Francis looked to the future, when sons and daughters might have claims upon his pocket, when in creasing years should call for increasing luxuries, and prudence won the day. There was a short engagement, which both parties found extremely uninteresting, and then a marriage, which was pronounced by " society " at large to be a most satisfactory alliance. Well, I cannot say it was wm-satisfactory, for neither husband nor wife demanded what the other could not give. They never quarrelled ; on the contrary, they passed for "an attached couple." Probably they cared for each other as much as persons of their calibre could care. A family came quickly — too quickly for a couple who professed not to like children. When a seventh child was born, Mr. Carisbroke thought he had his quiver quite too full ; and when the little girl died of suppressed measles, both parents were wonderfully resigned.

After baby Susie's demise, came a quiet interval of twelve years, during which time no cradle was rocked at Perrywood Rectory. The confidential nurse left for a home of her own, and her place was not filled up ; gradually the nursery was merged into the schoolroom ; the eldest son, Frank, grew up and went to Oxford, and, as you have heard, sowed a fine crop of wild oats without any delay. The two elder girls were supposed to be " out," though they still took occasional lessons from Miss Martin, the governess who had undertaken to educate the three younger Misses Carisbroke. When the youngest of all, Joan, was just turned of thirteen, people were very much mystified by certain changes at the Rectory. The nursery was, to some extent, " recon stituted," as Mr. Carisbroke said ; and on the last day of the year, when the snow was on the ground, and the wind was howling and wailing like a despairing banshee, the child, whom nobody wanted, came into the world ; and the wife and mother, who was in some sort wanted, went out of it.

The girls in the schoolroom sat round the fire and cried, and talked in whispers about " poor mamma." Miss Caris broke — " Aunt Jane," as everybody called her — took com mand of the nursery ; and " poor papa " shut himself up in the library, and would admit no one. The bell in the ivied tower began to toll, and the snow fell thicker and faster than ever, and the cold grew more and more severe. " So miserable," cried the shivering Lavinia, the eldest of the sisters. " Netta, poke the fire, do ! I shouldn't wonder if that wretched little baby doesn't die of the cold ! " " Serve it right for coming when it was not wanted," said Maggie, tartly. "A baby with grown-up brothers and sisters is just absurd." " An inconsistency, an anomaly ! " assented Lavinia. " Dear me, I hope no one will expect me, as eldest ex emplary daughter, to be mother to this child !

I shall find quite enough to do without interfering with the nursery. I shall have all the duties of the mistress of a household on my shoulders ; I shall have to order dinner, and you know how particular papa is ! He and poor mamma never fell out except it was over the menu, and the cook's deficiencies. And we shall all have to comfort papa, you know, especially you and I, Maggie ; for Netta and Brenda and Joan will be busy with their lessons ; they must take every advantage of their good fortune in having a governess like Miss Martin, at the same time so competent and so expensive ! " " We never had a governess who cost more than £40 a year," grumbled Maggie, who was always cross and spite ful in very bad weather. She was the second Miss Caris broke, aged seventeen ; Lavinia was two years her senior ; Frank, who was on a visit, keeping Christmas with some gay friends of his, had lately attained his majority.

Nettie and Brenda were twins, and were not quite fifteen. Joan was almost thirteen and a half. The baby, as yet nameless, counted her age by hours. Netta and Brenda both began to sob. They always did everything together, and were so much alike, that for the convenience of others they were generally dressed — like Girofle and Girofla— the one in blue, and the other in pink. They were like the rest of the family, fond of their ease ; and the idea of working hard for at least a couple of years under this superior, energetic governess, who on principle waged war on their indolent habits and inborn manner of shirking difficulties, distressed them exceedingly. Joan never spoke ; she sat knitting her brows, and toasting her feet on the fender. She was tall, very tall, for her age, and thin ; consequently awkward.

The twins were short and plump and fair, with large, expressionless blue eyes and sandy hair — which was flatteringly described as " golden. " They inherited their mother's charms, such as they were ; she had been very much like a stumpy wax doll in the days of her youth ; of late years the pink and white of her complexion, the light blue of her eyes, and her "golden" hair, had all assumed a duD, washed-out appearance ; she had grown extremely stout, and languid and lazy in the extreme ; the smallest exertion had come to be a nuisance to her ; she had not even the energy to amuse herself. The torpor of her existence was a marvel to those who were not accustomed to her ways, and Netta and Brenda partook largely of their mother's constitution and temperament. " Don't scowl so, Joan," said Lavinia, sharply ; " and how you are poking; what would Miss Martin say ?

" " It's quite time Joan went to bed," put in Maggie, in her most peremptory tone. " She has got into shocking habits since the holidays commenced. Children, be off to bed immediately — all three of you ! it's past ten o'clock." The twins shrugged their shoulders and sat still. Joan got up, and without a word or glance left the room. She was accustomed to be snubbed and " sat upon " by every one in the house, and she never seemed to mind it. " What a queer child Joan is ! " said Lavinia, when the door had closed upon her. " She hasn't shed a tear the whole evening, and I don't believe she has spoken one word ! So unnatural at her age." " She has not a bit of feeling, that is what it is," retorted Maggie. " I can't think where she gets her dis position from ; we are none of us sulky as she is."