Varney the Vampyre 93The Marriage in the Bannerworth Family Arranged
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 93
The Marriage in the Bannerworth Family Arranged
RymerEnglish
After the adventure of the doctor with regard to the picture about which such an air of mystery and interest has been thrown, the Bannerworth family began to give up all hopes of ever finding a clue to those circumstances concerning which they would certainly have liked to have known the truth, but of which it was not likely they would ever hear anything more.
Dr. Chillingworth now had no reserve, and when he had recovered sufficiently to feel that he could converse without an effort, he took an opportunity, while the whole of the family were present, to speak of what had been his hopes and his expectations.
“You are all aware,” he said, “now, of the story of Marmaduke Bannerworth, and what an excessively troublesome person he was, with all deference, to you, Henry; first of all, as to spending all his money at the gaming-table, and leaving his family destitute; and then, when he did get a lump of money which might have done some good to those he left behind him—hiding it somewhere where it could not be found at all, and so leaving you all in great difficulty and distress, when you might have been independent.”
“That’s true enough, doctor,” said Henry; “but you know the old proverb,—that ill-gotten wealth never thrives; so that I don’t regret not finding this money, for I am sure we should have been none the happier with it, and perhaps not so happy.”
“Oh, bother the old proverb; thirty or forty thousand pounds is no trifle to be talked lightly of, or the loss of which to be quietly put up with, on account of a musty proverb. It’s a large sum, and I should like to have placed it in your hands.”
“But as you cannot, doctor, there can be no good possibly done by regretting it.”
“No, certainly; I don’t mean that; utter regret is always a very foolish thing; but it’s questionable whether something might not be done in the matter, after all, for you, as it appears, by all the evidence we can collect, that it must have been Varney, after all, who jumped down upon me from the garden-wall in so sudden a manner; and, if the picture be valuable to him, it must be valuable to us.”
“But how are we to get it, and if we could, I do not see that it would be of much good to anybody, for, after all, it is but a painting.”
“There you go again,” said the doctor, “depreciating what you know nothing about; now, listen to me, Master Henry, and I will tell you. That picture evidently had some sort of lining at the back, over the original canvas; and do you think I would have taken such pains to bring it away with me if that lining had not made me suspect that between it and the original picture the money, in bank notes, was deposited?”
“Had you any special reason for supposing such was the case?”
“Yes; most unquestionably I had; for when I got the picture fairly down, I found various inequalities in the surface of the back, which led me to believe that rolls of notes were deposited, and that the great mistake we had all along made was in looking behind the picture, instead of at the picture itself. I meant immediately to have cut it to pieces when I reached here with it; but now it has got into the hands of somebody else, who knows, I suspect, as much I do.”
“It is rather provoking.”
“Rather provoking! is that the way to talk of the loss of Heaven knows how many thousands of pounds! I am quite aggravated myself at the idea of the thing, and it puts me in a perfect fever to think of it, I can assure you.”
“But what can we do?”
“Oh! I propose an immediate crusade against Varney, the vampyre, for who but he could have made such an attack upon me, and force me to deliver up such a valuable treasure?”
“Never heed it, doctor,” said Flora; “let it go; we have never had or enjoyed that money, so it cannot matter, and it is not to be considered as the loss of an actual possession, because we never did actually possess it.”
“Yes,” chimed in the admiral; “bother the money! what do we care about it; and, besides, Charley Holland is going to be very busy.”
“Busy!” said the doctor, “how do you mean?”
“Why, isn’t he going to be married directly to Flora, here, and am not I going to settle the whole of my property upon him on condition that he takes the name of Bell instead of Holland? for, you see, his mother was my sister, and of course her name was Bell. As for his father Holland, it can’t matter to him now what Charley is called; and if he don’t take the name of Bell I shall be the last in the family, for I am not likely to marry, and have any little Bells about me.”
“No,” said the doctor; “I should say not; and that’s the reason why you want to ring the changes upon Charles Holland’s name. Do you see the joke, admiral?”
“I can’t say I do—where is it? It’s all very well to talk of jokes, but if I was like Charles, going to be married, I shouldn’t be in any joking humour, I can tell you, but quite the reverse; and as for you and your picture, if you want it, doctor, just run after Varney yourself for it; or, stay—I have a better idea than that—get your wife to go and ask him for it, and if she makes half such a clamour about his ears that she did about ours, he will give it her in a minute, to get rid of her.”
“My wife!—you don’t mean to say she has been here?”
“Yes, but she has though. And now, doctor, I can tell you I have seen a good deal of service in all parts of the world, and, of course, picked up a little experience; and, if I were you, some of these days, when Mrs. Chillingworth ain’t very well, I’d give her a composing draught that would make her quiet enough.”
“Ah! that’s not my style of practice, admiral; but I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Chillingworth has annoyed you so much.”
“Pho, pho, man!—pho, pho! do you think she could annoy me? Why, I have encountered storms and squalls in all latitudes, and it isn’t a woman’s tongue now that can do anything of an annoying character, I can tell you; far from it—very far from it; so don’t distress yourself upon that head. But come, doctor, we are going to have the wedding the day after to-morrow.”
“No, no,” said Flora; “the week after next, you mean.”
“Is it the week after next? I’ll be hanged if I didn’t think it was the day after to-morrow; but of course you know best, as you have settled it all among you. I have nothing to do with it.”
“Of course, I shall, with great pleasure,” returned the doctor, “be present on the interesting occasion; but do you intend taking possession of Bannerworth Hall again?”
“No, certainly not,” said Henry; “we propose going to the Dearbrook estate, and there remaining for a time to see how we all like it. We may, perchance, enjoy it very much, for I have heard it spoken of as an attractive little property enough, and one that any one might fancy, after being resident a short time upon it.”
“Well,” said the admiral; “that is, I believe, settled among us, but I am sure we sha’n’t like it, on account of the want of the sea. Why, I tell you, I have not seen a ship myself for this eighteen months; there’s a state of things, you see, that won’t do to last, because one would get dry-mouldy; it’s a shocking thing to see nothing but land, land, wherever you go.”
From the preceding conversation may be gathered what were the designs of the Bannerworth family, and what progress had been made in carrying them out. From the moment they had discovered the title-deeds of the Dearbrook property, they had ceased to care about the large sum of money which Marmaduke Bannerworth had been supposed to have hidden in some portion of Bannerworth Hall.
They had already passed through quite enough of the busy turmoils of existence to be grateful for anything that promised ease and competence, and that serenity of mind which is the dearest possession which any one can compass.
Consequently was it, that, with one accord, they got rid of all yearning after the large sum which the doctor was so anxious to procure for them, and looked forward to a life of great happiness and contentment. On the whole, too, when they came to talk the matter over quietly among themselves, they were not sorry that Varney had taken himself off in the way he had, for really it was a great release; and, as he had couched his farewell in words which signified it was a final one, they were inclined to think that he must have left England, and that it was not likely they should ever again encounter him, under any circumstances whatever.
It was to be considered quite as a whim of the old admiral’s, the changing of Charles Holland’s name to Bell; but, as Charles himself said when the subject was broached to him,—“I am so well content to be called whatever those to whom I feel affection think proper, that I give up my name of Holland without a pang, willingly adopting in its stead one that has always been hallowed in my remembrance with the best and kindest recollections.”
And thus this affair was settled, much to the satisfaction of Flora, who was quite as well content to be called Mrs. Bell as to be called Mrs. Holland, since the object of her attachment remained the same. The wedding was really fixed for the week after that which followed the conversation we have recorded; but the admiral was not at all disposed to allow Flora and his nephew Charles to get through such an important period of their lives without some greater demonstration and show than could be made from the little cottage where they dwelt; and consequently he wished that they should leave that and proceed at once to a larger mansion, which he had his eye upon a few miles off, and which was to be had furnished for a time, at the pleasure of any one.
“And we won’t shut ourselves up,” said the admiral; “but we will find out all the Christian-like people in the neighbourhood, and invite them to the wedding, and we will have a jolly good breakfast together, and lots of music, and a famous lunch; and, after that, a dinner, and then a dance, and all that sort of thing; so that there shall be no want of fun.”
As may be well supposed, both Charles and Flora shrunk from so public an affair; but, as the old man had evidently set his heart upon it, they did not like to say they positively would not; so, after a vain attempt to dissuade him from removing at all from the cottage until they removed for good, they gave up the point to him, and he had it all his own way.
He took the house, for one month, which had so taken his fancy, and certainly a pretty enough place it was, although they found out afterwards, that why it was he was so charmed with it consisted in the fact that it bore the name of a vessel which he had once commanded; but this they did not know until a long time afterwards, when it slipped out by mere accident.
They stipulated with the admiral that there should not be more than twenty guests at the breakfast which was to succeed the marriage ceremony; and to that he acceded; but Henry whispered to Charles Holland,—
“I know this public wedding to be distasteful to you, and most particularly do I know it is distasteful to Flora; so, if you do not mind playing a trick upon the old man, I can very easily put you in the way of cheating him entirely.”
“Indeed; I should like to hear, and, what is more, I should like to practise, if you think it will not so entirely offend him as to make him implacable.”
“Not at all, not at all; he will laugh himself, when he comes to know it, as much as any of us; the present difficulty will be to procure Flora’s connivance; but that we must do the best way we can by persuasion.”
What this scheme was will ultimately appear; but, certain it is, that the old admiral had no suspicion of what was going on, and proceeded to make all his arrangements accordingly.
From his first arrival in the market town—in the neighbourhood of which was Bannerworth Hall—it will be recollected that he had taken a great fancy to the lawyer, in whose name a forged letter had been sent him, informing him of the fact that his nephew, Charles Holland, intended marrying into a family of vampyres.
It was this letter, as the reader is aware, which brought the old admiral and Jack Pringle into the neighbourhood of the Hall; and, although it was a manœuvre to get rid of Charles Holland, which failed most signally, there can be no doubt but that such a letter was the production of Sir Francis Varney, and that he wrote it for the express purpose of getting rid of Charles from the Hall, who had begun materially to interfere with his plans and projects there.
After some conversation with himself, the admiral thought that this lawyer would be just the man to recommend the proper sort of people to be invited to the wedding of Charles and Flora; so he wrote to him, inviting himself to dinner, and received back a very gracious reply from the lawyer, who declared that the honour of entertaining a gentleman whom he so much respected as Admiral Bell, was greater than he had a right to expect by a great deal, and that he should feel most grateful for his company, and await his coming with the greatest impatience.
“A devilish civil fellow, that attorney,” said the admiral, as he put the letter in his pocket, “and almost enough to put one in conceit of lawyers.”
“Yes,” said Jack Pringle, who had overheard the admiral read the letter. “Yes, we will honour him; and I only hope he will have plenty of grog; because, you see, if he don’t——D—n it! what’s that? Can’t you keep things to yourself?”
This latter exclamation arose from the fact that the admiral was so indignant at Jack for listening to what he had been saying, as to throw a leaden inkstand, that happened to be upon the table, at his head.
“You mutinous swab!” he said, “cannot a gentleman ask me to dinner, or cannot I ask myself, without you putting your spoke in the windlass, you vagabond?”
“Oh! well,” said Jack, “if you are out of temper about it, I had better send my mark to the lawyer, and tell him that we won’t come, as it has made some family differences.”
“Family, you thief!” said the admiral. “What do you mean? What family do you think would own you? D—n me, if I don’t think you came over in some strange ship. But, I tell you what it is, if you interfere in this matter, I’ll be hanged if I don’t blow your brains out.”
“And you’ll be hanged if you do,” said Jack, as he walked out of the room; “so it’s all one either way, old fizgig.”
“What!” roared the admiral, as he sprang up and ran after Jack. “Have I lived all these years to be called names in my own ship—I mean my own house? What does the infernal rascal mean by it?”
The admiral, no doubt, would have pursued Jack very closely, had not Flora intercepted him, and, by gentle violence, got him back to the room. No one else could have ventured to have stopped him, but the affection he had for her was so great that she could really accomplish almost anything with him; and, by listening quietly to his complaints of Jack Pringle—which, however, involved a disclosure of the fact which he had intended to keep to himself, that he had sought the lawyer’s advice—she succeeded in soothing him completely, so that he forgot his anger in a very short time.
But the old man’s anger, although easily aroused, never lasted very long; and, upon the whole, it was really astonishing what he put up with from Jack Pringle, in the way of taunts and sneers, of all sorts and descriptions, and now and then not a little real abuse.
And, probably, he thought likewise that Jack Pringle did not mean what he said, on the same principle that he (the admiral), when he called Jack a mutinous swab and a marine, certainly did not mean that Jack was those things, but merely used them as expletives to express a great amount of indignation at the moment, because, as may be well supposed, nothing in the world could be worse, in Admiral Bell’s estimation, than to be a mutinous swab or a marine.
It was rather a wonder, though, that, in his anger some day, he did not do Jack some mischief; for, as we have had occasion to notice in one or two cases, the admiral was not extremely particular as to what sorts of missiles he used when he considered it necessary to throw something at Jack’s head.
It would not have been a surprising thing if Jack had really made some communication to the lawyer; but he did stop short at that amount of pleasantry, and, as he himself expressed it, for once in a way he let the old man please himself.
The admiral soon forgot this little dispute, and then pleased himself with the idea that he should pass a pleasant day with the attorney.
“Ah! well,” he said; “who would have thought that ever I should have gone and taken dinner with a lawyer—and not only done that, but invited myself too! It shows us all that there may be some good in all sorts of men, lawyers included; and I am sure, after this, I ought to begin to think what I never thought before, and that is, that a marine may actually be a useful person. It shows that, as one gets older, one gets wiser.”
It was an immense piece of liberality for a man brought up, as Admiral Bell had been, in decidedly one of the most prejudiced branches of the public service, to make any such admissions as these. A very great thing it was, and showed a liberality of mind such as, even at the present time, is not readily found.
It is astonishing, as well as amusing, to find how the mind assimilates itself to the circumstances in which it is placed, and how society, being cut up into small sections, imagines different things merely as a consequence of their peculiar application. We shall find that even people, living at different ends of a city, will look with a sort of pity and contempt upon each other; and it is much to be regretted that public writers are found who use what little ability they may possess in pandering to their feelings.
It was as contemptible and silly as it was reprehensible for a late celebrated novelist to pretend that he believed there was a place called Bloomsbury-square, but he really did not know; because that was merely done for the purpose of raising a silly laugh among persons who were neither respectable on account of their abilities or their conduct.
But to return from this digression. The admiral, attired in his best suit, which always consisted of a blue coat, the exact colour of the navy uniform, an immense pale primrose coloured waistcoat, and white kerseymere continuations, went to the lawyer’s as had been arranged.
If anything at all could flatter the old man’s vanity successfully, it certainly would be the manner in which he was received at the lawyer’s house, where everything was done that could give him satisfaction.
A very handsome repast was laid before him, and, when the cloth was removed, the admiral broached the subject upon which he wished to ask the advice of his professional friend. After telling him of the wedding that was to come off, he said,—
“Now, I have bargained to invite twenty people; and, of course, as that is exclusive of any of the family, and as I don’t know any people about this neighbourhood except yourself, I want you and your family to come to start with, and then I want you to find me out some more decent people to make up the party.”
“I feel highly flattered,” said the attorney, “that, in such a case as this, you should have come to me, and my only great fear is, that I should not be able to give you satisfaction.”
“Oh! you needn’t be afraid of that; there is no fear on that head; so I shall leave it all to you to invite the folks that you think proper.”
“I will endeavour, certainly, admiral, to do my best. Of course, living in the town, as I have for many years, I know some very nice people as well as some very queer ones.”
“Oh! we don’t want any of the queer ones; but let those who are invited be frank, hearty, good-tempered people, such as one will be glad to meet over and over again without any ceremony—none of your simpering people, who are afraid to laugh for fear of opening their mouths too wide, but who are so mighty genteel that they are afraid to enjoy anything for fear it should be vulgar.”
“I understand you, admiral, perfectly, and shall endeavour to obey your instructions to the very letter; but, if I should unfortunately invite anybody you don’t like, you must excuse me for making such a mistake.”
“Oh, of course—of course. Never mind that; and, if any disagreeable fellow comes, we will smother him in some way.”
“It would serve him right, for no one ought to make himself disagreeable, after being honoured with an invitation from you; but I will be most especially careful, and I hope that such a circumstance will not occur.”
“Never mind. If it should, I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll set Jack Pringle upon him, and if he don’t worry his life out it will be a strange thing to me.”
“Oh,” said the lawyer, “I am glad you have mentioned him, for it gives me an opportunity of saying that I have done all in my power to make him comfortable.”
“All in your power to make him comfortable! What do you mean?”
“I mean that I have placed such a dinner before him as will please him; I told him to ask for just whatever he likes.”
The admiral looked at the lawyer with amazement, for a few moments, in silence, and then he said,
“D—n it! why, you don’t mean to tell me, that that rascal is here.”
“Oh, yes; he came about ten minutes I before you arrived, and said you were coming, and he has been down stairs feasting all the while since.”
“Stop a bit. Do you happen to have any loaded fire arms in the house?”
“We have got an old blunderbuss; but what for, admiral?”
“To shoot that scoundrel, Pringle. I’ll blow his brains out, as sure as fate. The impudence of his coming here, directly against my orders, too.”
“My dear sir, calm yourself, and think nothing of it; it’s of no consequence whatever.”
“No consequence; where is that blunderbuss of yours? Do you mean to tell me that mutiny is of no consequence? Give me the blunderbuss.”
“But, my dear sir, we only keep it in terrorem, and have no bullets.”
“Never mind that, we can cram in a handful of nails, or brass buttons, or hammer up a few halfpence—anything of that sort will do to settle his business with.”
“How do you get on, old Tarbarrel?” said Jack, putting his head in at the door. “Are you making yourself comfortable? I’ll be hanged if I don’t think you have a drop too much already, you look so precious red about the gills. I have been getting on famous, and I thought I’d just hop up for a minute to make your mind easy about me, and tell you so.”
It was quite evident that Jack had done justice to the good cheer of the lawyer, for he was rather unsteady, and had to hold by the door-post to support himself, while there was such a look of contentment upon his countenance as contrasted with the indignation that was manifest upon the admiral’s face that, as the saying is, it would have made a cat laugh to see them.
“Be off with ye, Jack,” said the lawyer; “be off with ye. Go down stairs again and enjoy yourself. Don’t you see that the admiral is angry with you.”
“Oh, he be bothered,” said Jack; “I’ll soon settle him if he comes any of his nonsense; and mind, Mr. Lawyer, whatever you do, don’t you give him too much to drink.”
The lawyer ran to the door, and pushed Jack out, for he rightly enough suspected that the quietness of the admiral was only that calm which precedes a storm of more than usual amount and magnitude, so he was anxious to part them at once.
He then set about appeasing, as well as he could, the admiral’s anger, by attributing the perseverance of Jack, in following him wherever he went, to his great affection for him, which, combined with his ignorance, might make him often troublesome when he had really no intention of being so.
This was certainly the best way of appeasing the old man; and, indeed, the only way in which it could be done successfully, and the proof that it was so, consisted in the fact, that the admiral did consent, at the suggestion of the attorney, to forgive Jack once more for the offence he had committed.
