Clara Vaughan, Volume 1 (of 3) Page 9

  CHAPTER IX.

  At this particular time of my life, many things began to puzzle me, butnothing was a greater puzzle than the character of my guardian. Moroseor moody he was not, though a stranger might have thought him so; norcould I end with the conviction that his heart was cold. It ratherseemed to me as if he felt that it ought to be so, and tried his best tosettle down as the inmate of an icehouse. But any casual flush of love,any glow of native warmth from the hearts around him, and taken bysurprise he wavered for one traitor moment, and in his eyes gleamed someremembrance, like firelight upon frozen windows. But let any oneattempt to approach him then with softness, to stir kind interest andfeeling into benevolent expression, and Mr. Vaughan would promptly shuthimself in again, with a bar of irony, or a bolt of sarcasm. Only to mymother was his behaviour different; towards her his manner was sogentle, and his tone so kind, that but for my conviction that remorselay under it, I must have come to like him. True, they did not oftenmeet, for dear mother confined herself (in spite of Mrs. Daldy) more andmore closely to her own part of the house, and rarely had the spiritsnow to share in the meals of the family. Therefore, I began at once totake her place, and would not listen to Mrs. Daldy's kind offer torelieve me. This had led quite recently to a little outbreak. One dayI had been rather late for dinner, and, entering the room with a proudapology, found to my amazement Mrs. Daldy at the head of the table. Forme a seat was placed, as for a good little girl, by the side of MasterClement. At first I had not the presence of mind to speak, but stood bymy rival's chair, waiting for her to rise. She affected not tounderstand me, and began, with her hand on the ladle, and looking mefull in the face: "I fear, darling Clara, the soup is cold; but youruncle can give you a very nice slice of salmon. Have you offered thanksfor these mercies?"

  "Thank you, I will take soup. Allow me to help myself. I am sorry tohave troubled you."

  And I placed my hand on the back of her chair, presuming that she wouldget up; but she never stirred one inch, and actually called for a plateto help me. My guardian was looking at both of us, with a dry smile ofamusement, and Clement began to simper and play with his fork.--Now forit, or never, thought I. "Mrs. Daldy, you quite mistake me, or pretendto do so. Have the goodness to quit _my_ chair."

  She had presumed on my dread of an altercation before the servants, butonly Thomas Henwood happened to be in the room. Had there been a dozenpresent, I would still have asserted my right. At last she rose in herstateliest manner, but with an awkward smile, and a still more awkwardsneer.

  "Your use, my poor child, of the possessive pronoun is far more emphaticthan your good breeding is."

  "Who cares for your opinion?" Not a hospitable inquiry; but then shewas not _my_ visitor.

  In grand style she marched to the door, but soon thought better of it,and came to her proper place with the sigh of a contrite spirit.

  "Poor creature! It is a rebuke to me, for my want of true faith in theefficacy of prayer."

  And after all this, she made a most excellent dinner.

  About that woman there was something of a slimy pride, no more like toupright prickly self-respect than macerated bird-lime is to the stiffbright holly. Yet no one I ever knew possessed such wiry powers ofirritation. Whenever my mother and my guardian met, she took care to bein the way, and watched them both, and appealed to me with all herodious pantomime of sorrow, sympathy, wonder, loving superiority, andspiritual yearnings. And all the time her noisome smile, like the smellof a snake, came over us. She knew, and rejoiced in the knowledge, howhard set I was to endure it, and every quick flash of my eyes only litup her unctuous glory.

  For all I know, it was natural that my antipathy to that woman should,by reaction, thaw sometimes my coldness towards my uncle. Thoughself-respect had at length compelled him to abandon his overtures to myfriendship, now and then I detected him looking at me with a pityingregard. In self-defence, I began to pity him, and ceased to make facesor sneer when the maids--those romantic beings--declared that he musthave been crossed in love. At this conclusion, long ago, all theservants' hall had arrived; and even little Tilly Jenkins, not admittedas yet to that high conclave, remarkable only for living in dust-bins,and too dirty to cause uneasiness to the under-shoeboy's mother--eventhat Tilly, I say, ran up to me one morning (when I went to see my dearpony) and beat out her dust, and then whispered:

  "Oh, please, Miss Clara, to give my very best wishes to Master. What aterrible blight to the heart be unrequited love!" And Tilly sighed agreat cloud of brick-dust.

  "Terrible, Tilly: I hope you have not fallen in love with the weedingboy!"--a smart young lad, ten stairs at least above her.

  "Me, miss? Do you think I would so demean myself?" And Tilly caught upher dust-pan arrogantly.

  This little anecdote proves a fact which I never could explain, viz.that none of the servants were ever afraid of me.

  To return to the straight line of history. My guardian came home ratherlate that evening, and some hours after the hasty exit of Mrs. andMaster Daldy. While I was waiting in some uneasiness, it struck me thathe had kept out of the way on purpose, lest he should seem too anxiousabout the plot. Mrs. Daldy, as I found afterwards, had written to himfrom the inn, describing my "frenzied violence, and foaming Satanicfury"--perhaps I turned pale, no more--and announcing her intention toremain at Malvern, until she should be apprised whether uncle or niecewere the master. In the latter case she demanded--not that she caredfor mammon, but as a humble means for the advancement of theKingdom--the sum of 300*l.*; that being the lowest salary conscienceallowed her to specify for treading the furnace of affliction, to savethe lost sheep of the house of Israel. I forgot to say that, before sheleft the house, she had tried to obtain an interview with my mother,hoping, no doubt, to leave her in the cataleptic state. But this hadbeen sternly prevented by Thomas Kenwood, who performed quite a labourof love in ministering the expulsion. All the servants hated her as acanting sneak and a spy.

  That night when I received Mr. Edgar Vaughan's short missive--"Clara, Iwish to see you immediately in my study," my heart began to flutterprovokingly, and the long speech I had prepared flew away in shreds ofrhetoric. Not that I meant for an instant to bate one tittle of what Ihad done and would do: but I had never asserted my rights as yet indirect opposition to him, nor taken upon my own shoulders theguardianship of myself. But the dreary years of dark preparation andsilent welding of character had braced a sensitive, nervous nature withsome little self-reliance.

  With all the indifference I could muster, I entered the gloomy room, andfound him leaning upon the high desk where he kept the accounts of hisstewardship. The position was chosen well. It served at once to remindme of his official relation, and to appeal to the feelings as betokeningan onerous wardship. Of late his health had been failing him, and afterevery long absence from home, he returned more jaded and melancholy.Now a few silver hairs--no more than a wife would have quickly pulledout--were glistening among his black locks; but though he was weary andlonesome, he seemed to want none to love him, and his face wore thewonted sarcastic and travelled look.

  As our glances met, we both saw that the issue was joined which shouldsettle for life the mastery. He began in a light and jocund manner, asif I were quite a small thing.

  "Well done, Miss Clara, you _are_ asserting yourself. Why, you havedismissed our visitors with very scant ceremony."

  "To be sure I have; and will again, if they dare to come back."

  "And don't you think that you might have consulted your mother or me?'

  "Most likely I should have done so, in an ordinary case."

  "Then your guardian was meant for small matters! But what was the wonderto-day?"

  "No wonder at all. Mrs. Daldy insulted my father, and I sent her out ofhis house."

  "What made her insult my brother?"

  "My refusal to marry her puppet and puppy."

  "Clement Daldy! Did she propose such a thing? She must
think veryhighly of you!'

  "Then I think very lowly."

  "And you declined, did you, Clara?"

  "No. I refused."

  "Very good. No one shall force you; there is plenty of time to considerthe subject."

  "One moment is too much."

  "Clara, I have long noticed in you a rude, disrespectful, and I will say(in spite of your birth) a low and vulgar manner towards me, your uncleand guardian. Once for all, I will not permit it, child."

  "_Child_ you call me, do you? Me, who am just seventeen, and have livedseven such years as I have, and no one else!"

  He answered quite calmly, and looking coldly at me:

  "I never argue with women. Much less with girls. Mrs. Daldy comes backto-morrow. You will beg her pardon, as becomes a young lady who hasforgotten herself. The other question may wait."

  "I thought, sir, that you had travelled far, and in many countries."

  The abrupt inquiry startled him, and his thoughts seemed to follow thememory.

  "What if I have?" he asked, at length, and with a painful effort.

  "Have you always found women do just what you chose?"

  He seemed not to listen to me; as if he were out of hearing: thenlaughed because I was looking at him.

  "Clara," he said, "you are an odd girl, and a Vaughan all over. I wouldrather be your friend than your enemy. If you cannot like me, at leastforget your dislike of me, and remember that I am your uncle, and havetried to make you love me."

  "And what if I do not?"

  "Then I must keep you awhile from the management of this property. Mydear brother would have wished it, until you recover your senses; andnot an acre of it is legally yours."

  This he said so slowly, and distinctly, and entirely without menace,that, knowing his manner, I saw it was the truth, at least in hisopinion. Strange as it may seem, I began at once to revolve, not theresults of dispossession and poverty on myself, or even on my mother,but the influence which the knowledge of this new fact must have on myold suspicions, surmises, and belief.

  "Will the property pass to you?" I asked.

  "Yes, if I choose: or at any rate the bulk of it."

  "What part will be yours? Do you mean to say the house?--"

  "Never mind now. I would rather leave things as they are, if you willonly be more sensible."

  "I will not disguise my opinions for a hundred Vaughan Parks, or athousand Vaughan Palaces; no, nor even to be near my father's bones."

  "Very well," he said, "just as you like. But for your mother's sake, Igive you till Christmas to consider."

  "If you bring back Mrs. Daldy, I shall leave the door as she enters it."

  "I have no wish to hurry you," he replied, "and therefore she shall notreturn at present. Now take these papers with you. You may lay thembefore any lawyer you please. They are only copies, but may be comparedwith the originals, which I have. They will quickly prove how totallyyou are at my discretion."

  "The money and the land may be so, but not I. Before I go, answer me onequestion. Did you know of these things, whatever they may be, before myfather's death?"

  He looked at me clearly and calmly, with no withdrawal, or consciousdepth in his eyes, and answered:

  "No. As a gentleman, I did not."

  I felt myself more at a loss than ever, and for the moment could notthink.