Varney the Vampyre 137A New Character.—miss Twissel’s Visitor.—the Invitations
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 137
A New Character.—miss Twissel’s Visitor.—the Invitations
RymerEnglish
Nothing could exceed the smoothness and easiness of the course of things in the wooing of Margaret Meredith; all things appeared so well ordered. People were all of one mind; and it is needless to say that the young lady was elated. She was elated, and we might not be out of the way in saying she was elated overmuch, and knew not how to keep the exhibition of her joy within proper bounds; she could not help showing she was to be the lady of a colonel.
Mrs. Meredith, too, was well pleased. What could she do but feel proud at the change that was about to take place? She would go to watering places in the summer, and remain in town during the winter; they would lead a very fashionable life—they would be of the elite, and all their acquaintances they would be compelled to cut, or, at the most, only speak to them when they were unseen by any others.
It is astonishing how a change of circumstances produces a change in our habits and feelings; how it happens that those who were considered respectable acquaintances suddenly become the objects of our aversion, and we begin to devise all sorts of methods for evading recognition, or of speaking to them when we can avoid it.
This arises merely from the change in one’s circumstances, which causes us to look for something much beyond what we have been used to; but, unfortunately, it brings ingratitude often in the train of its consequences.
“My dear,” said Mrs. Meredith to her daughter Margaret, “we really cannot know the people at the corner house over the way, who invited us to their parties.”
“Oh, dear, no, we cannot think of it; but we must get rid of them the best way we can. You see they will not be quite the thing for us when we come to have our change of circumstances, you may depend upon it; it will become necessary to weed one’s acquaintance.”
“Yes, that must be done.” said Mrs. Meredith.
“And the sooner we set about it the better; for the more intimate we continue now, the more trouble will there be of getting rid of them afterwards.”
“Certainly; we need not accept of their invitation for to-night.”
“Oh, dear, no; I have dismissed the whole affair from my mind, and there is no need even of thinking of it any more. I shall not even think of sending them an answer; the consequence will be, they will be angry, and expect we shall go and apologise, and when they find we don’t, but that we try to get rid of them, they will be baffled, and the whole affair is settled.”
“That is a very good plan, my dear. Then, you know, there are the Morgans; we must positively get rid of them. It will never do to have those young men hanging about; the colonel would do something dreadful, to say the least of it. Why, he would shoot them, and perhaps have a separation, who knows?”
“But then I should be entitled to a maintenance.”
“You would, my dear; but unfortunately you well know you have no property, an that, added to an early separation, would put it in his power to offer you and compel your acceptance of a very small sum, which he may pay as he pleases—weekly, monthly, or quarterly.”
“I see, ma; but we will run no risk of that kind of thing. Moreover, there would be those girls, they would be a nuisance hanging about the colonel.”
“No doubt, and the cause of unhappiness in the extreme. Better to leave all such people; you are a great deal better without them. Why, I tell you what, you will be at no loss of company or acquaintances, you will find they will be sure to spring up; property is sure to enable you to choose those whom you will have, and whom you will not—the reason is obvious enough. Moreover, like loves like, you know, and people with means soon find out people who have none.”
“Yes, ma, and those who have plenty; besides, a colonel, and a man of rank and standing—and everybody knows that a colonel in the India service is a rich man—and that would bring us all into the best of society. Only think of my going to Bath, Bristol, and Brighton, in their seasons. Of course we couldn’t keep company with people who can’t afford to go to some fashionable place at least once in a year.”
“Oh, dear, no; certainly not, my dear; but there is no need of our troubling ourselves about that matter; we shall only go when the colonel goes, and we shan’t be seen without him, and he’ll be a constraint upon them; and, therefore, where they find themselves uncomfortable, they will not come again.”
“That will be a very good plan, for it will appear as their own faults; but, at the same time, I do not trust to that upon all occasions; it might fail, and then we should have to take some unpleasant steps to get rid of them, which is certainly easily done, but unpleasant.”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” replied the mother; and then suddenly, as a knock and ring came upon the door, Margaret said, “Dear me, who is that?—I hope none of these people whom I have been speaking about—it will be a dreadful nuisance to all; especially when I am to be married in three days more.”
“You needn’t be seen, Margaret; I’ll see them.”
“Do, ma; and I’ll go up stairs. But let’s hear who it is first, who comes to-day.”
At that moment she heard the door open, and her own name pronounced, and at once knew the speaker, and she said to her mother,—
“Oh, ma, ’tis Miss Twissel, my bridesmaid; what an infliction! but, then, I must see her. She has come, I suppose, to consult me about some new gown, or the way in which she and her friend will have their hair done up on the occasion—nothing more important, I dare say.”
“Very well, my dear; they had better come in—send them in pray,” she added to the servant. “Oh, Miss Twissel, how glad we are to see you.”
“Now, really,” said Miss Twissel; “how kind you are, for I am sure you speak the truth. Oh, Margaret, don’t you feel all of a flutter?”
“I don’t, indeed; I am very comfortable. I hope you are all quite well—don’t put yourself out of the way on this occasion; you need not, I assure you.”
“Oh, I have got my pa to give us new gowns, and some lace; but I did not mean to tell you that—I and Martha had agreed that that should be a secret between us; that we should not say anything about it to any one; but surprise you on your wedding morning.”
“Ah, you have been at a great deal of trouble and expense about this affair, I am sure. You really must not think I wish you to do all this; I really don’t know how to scold you enough, for I shall be dressed very plainly indeed.”
“Oh, but then you are the bride—we ain’t, you know, and that makes the difference; besides which, we have a visitor come up to London to see us.”
“Indeed! some young gentleman, I suppose, whose heart you want to run away with, and so have another wedding, and upon your own account this time; and, perhaps, you are helping Miss Martha to a husband. What is he—a physician or a divine?”
“Neither—but, I will tell you, he is only an old man.”
“An old man! What a sweetheart you have chosen, to be sure! but, I dare say you have your reason as well as other people. But have you known him long?”
“No, we haven’t done so; but, the fact is, pa’ and he have had some business together, and they are very much in each others company. He’s a man, however, of great rank, though a very odd man to talk to, I assure you, but a man of rank and property.”
“Indeed! Oh, tell me what he is—a lord?”
“Well, he is not much short of it; and he is higher than a great many lords, I assure you. Why, he’s no less than an admiral—only, I wasn’t to say anything about it.”
“Oh, will he be with you when my marriage takes place?”
“Yes, he will; and I wanted to know, as he will be much with my father, and as a visitor, shall we be intruding to bring him here to grace your wedding?”
“Oh, yes; by all means,” said Margaret, who thought the presence of an old man could in no way interfere with any of her schemes; besides, a man of rank, such as an admiral, would greatly increase the noise of her marriage. Indeed, here was probably a new acquaintance with whom she could be intimate; besides, it was some one of consequence on her side that the great man was to come, and would, she thought, add some lustre to herself.
“Well, then, I would not ask him until I had seen you, because it might turn out you would be displeased; and, as I have not done so, I cannot tell you whether he will come or not. He’s a strange man, and I won’t ask him until the night before.”
“Very well; we shall be quite happy to see him. I dare say he’ll come, if you tell him who’s going to be married. Indeed, if he’s likely to come, I’ll invite a few friends to meet him; but I won’t say anything to anybody about it.”
“No; let it be a surprise to them all; and let nobody know whom they are going to meet.”
“That will be delightful, certainly—very delightful. What a surprise it will be to them to be introduced to colonel this and admiral that. I declare I long for the day on account of the confusion that some persons will be in.”
“I must now bid you good bye; for I’ve got to call upon my dressmaker, to give her some orders.”
“You will stop and take tea with us? Surely you won’t run away.”
“Oh, but I must,” said Miss Twissel, and so said Miss Martha, and after much pressing and refusing, they parted, and left Margaret filled by other thoughts than those she had so recently held.
“Ma’,” said she, after a long pause, “do you know what I have been thinking of?”
“No, my dear, I do not.”
“Well, then, it is this, that after all, we may as well make a bit of a figure for the last time. That we will have some friends who will figure upon that occasion and no other.”
“What makes you think so, my dear Margaret?”
“Why, you see, ma’, we are likely to have a distinguished visitor, and we may as well have as many as we can; their number and dresses will look well, and as we shall leave town immediately, I don’t see that we shall be at any future time annoyed by their visits. Indeed, it will be retiring from their society after giving them a feast.”
“Well, to be sure, I never thought of that,” said her mother—“I never thought of it. What shall we do now—how can we provide for so many?”
“Send an order to a pastry cook to provide breakfast for so many, whether they come or not, and then we need trouble ourselves very little about giving them time. If we tell them about the day before, they will have all in readiness for us.”
“Well, well—and as for the expense, it will be of no consequence.”
“None,” said Margaret. “I shall be able to pay that and others, if we owe any. But now comes the job of inviting visitors, and we must only invite those who will make up a show, dress well, and pass off on the occasion for fashionable people.”
“Oh, as for that, there are many people who never had a penny in their lives to call their own, may be very fashionable-looking people, and pass for men of a thousand a year, to say nothing of a lord looking like a workman, and the like, which is common enough.”
“Then we’ll settle it at that point, ma’, and you had better superintend the invitations and the other affair—the breakfast, I mean.”
“Very well, my dear; you know that I have no objection. I have seen such occasions before, and I well know what they ought to be; therefore you may safely rely upon my judgment in such an affair as that at least.”
“And about the selection of friends—visitors, I mean.”
“That you may also leave to me,” said Mrs. Meredith; “and, depend upon it, I will not invite one party whom we shall have cause to say we are sorry they came; though, you know, every allowance would be made for them by the colonel or admiral, if he come. By the way, I would not tell the colonel a word about it, for sometimes the land service hates the sea service, and the latter often laugh at the former; so it will be safest to say nothing.”
“No, ma, I won’t—I didn’t intend to do so.”
Thus both mother and daughter had suddenly changed their views of what was to take place on the day of the intended marriage. They were now resolved they would have as many of their old friends as they could get together upon the occasion, to cause the affair to go off with all the eclat that it was possible; it would be the last ball of the season—that is, it would be the last she ever intended to give them, and that would be the last occasion upon which they would meet.
Her respect for Miss Twissel was augmented by the knowledge that she had an admiral for a friend or a visitor, it didn’t matter which. Who could tell what might happen? Mightn’t Miss Twissel marry an admiral, as ugly as she was, as well as she should a colonel? but there were many reasons why she should. She, too, might have had some means of entangling his heart; perhaps, after all, she only came there with him for the purpose of showing him off.
“At all events,” said Margaret, to herself; “at all events, he is one that we can keep on terms with; and it will look well to be acquainted with some person of rank. I am, at all events, well pleased it has happened as it has.”
Mrs. Meredith, on the other hand, appeared to think her daughter’s marriage with a colonel, ought to be celebrated by no common rejoicings; that, indeed, the marriage ought to go off with as much disturbance to the whole neighbourhood, as it was possible to make.
This could not be better effected than in the manner we have referred to; namely, inviting a number of persons to come and be present at the ceremony, and to take a late breakfast, and to wish the bride joy, to see her depart, and then to lose sight of her, as she hoped, for ever.
This purpose Mrs. Meredith ably carried out, and she succeeded in inviting about two or three-and-twenty persons together; and any person who had a carriage and would come in it, was sure of an invitation—that was a passport to the marriage feast.
“Well,” she muttered to herself, as she reckoned up the number of persons whom she expected to be present upon the occasion—“well, I don’t think I have omitted any one who ought to be present, nor have I invited any one who ought not to be here. I shall have a busy day of it—very busy day; but the result is everything; so long as the marriage takes place, and we are really married to an East Indian colonel, why we shall do, there can be no doubt of it.”
This was a consolatory reflection. There was but little else, indeed, that could be done—little, indeed. The cook had the orders for the entertainment the next day; they had but little to do in the household with that; indeed, they had extra hands, lest there should be any need of them, as she would not have anything go wrong upon such an occasion, for worlds.
But there was one thing that gave her some satisfaction, and that was, Mr. Twissel had not been to them lately to give any doubtful counsels; ever since she had announced her intention of permitting the marriage to take place, he had not been to express any doubts about the matter; but had been a mere spectator, doing all that was necessary. He had forgotten all objection, and never made one. He was perfectly quiescent; but would now and then look very hard at the colonel, but that was all; he never discovered anything, and all was smooth and pleasant.
