Originally published: 1880
Genres: Fiction
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/70474
Chapters: 51
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCING SOME OF THE CHARACTERS
The morning mail for Merrivale had just arrived, and the postmaster was distributing the letters. Col. Rossiter, who lived in the large stone house on the Knoll, had two; one from his wife, who, with his two daughters, was spending the summer at Martha’s Vineyard, and one from his son Philip, a young graduate from Harvard, who had been off on a yachting excursion, and was coming home for a few days before joining his mother and sisters at the sea-side. There was also one for Mrs. Lydia Ann Ferguson, who lived on Cottage Row, and was the fashionable dressmaker of the town. Mr. Arthur Beresford, the only practicing lawyer in Merrivale, had six, five of which he read hastily, as he stood in the post-office door, and then for a moment studied the superscription of the other, which was soiled and travel-worn, and bore a foreign postmark.
“From Mr. Hetherton,” he said, to himself. “What can he want, I wonder?” and opening the letter, he read as follows:
“Hotel Meurice, Paris, June 10th, 18—. “Mr. Beresford: “Dear Sir:—You will undoubtedly be surprised to hear that I am coming home. Once I expected to live and die abroad, but recently, with my failing health, there has come over me an intense longing to see America once more. “After an absence of nearly twenty-three years, it will seem almost as strange to me as to my daughter Reinette, who has never been in an English-speaking country. She is as anxious to come as I am, and we have engaged passage on the Russia, which sails from Liverpool on the 25th. I have no idea whether the old house is habitable or not. All important changes and repairs I prefer to make myself after Reinette has decided what she wants; but, if possible, I wish you to have a few rooms made comfortable for us. The large chamber which looks toward the town and the river I design for Reinette, and will you see that it is made pretty and attractive. If I remember rightly, there used to be in it a mahogany bedstead older than I am. Remove it, and substitute something light and airy in its place. Reinette does not like mahogany. Put simple muslin curtains at the windows, and have nothing but matting on the floors; Reinette detests carpets. And if you know of a pair of fine carriage horses and a lady’s saddle pony, have them ready for inspection, and if they suit Reinette I will take them. If you chance to hear of a trusty, middle-aged woman suitable for a housekeeper at Hetherton Place, retain her until Reinette can see her; and please have the conservatory and garden full of flowers. Reinette is passionately fond of flowers—fond, in fact, of everything bright and pretty. She has just come in and says tell you to be sure and get her some cats and dogs, so I suppose you must do it; but, for Heaven’s sake, don’t fill the house with them—two or three will answer. I can’t abide them myself. Reinette is waiting for me to go to dinner, and I must close. Shall telegraph to you from New York as soon as the vessel arrives, and shall follow on first train. “Truly, Frederick Hetherton. “Spare no money to make the place comfortable.”
Arthur Beresford’s face was a puzzle as he read this letter from one whose business agent and lawyer he merely was, and whom he scarcely remembered at all except as a dashing, handsome young man, whom everybody called fast, and whom some called a scamp.
“Cool, upon my word!” he thought, as he folded the letter and returned it to his pocket. “A nice little job he has given me to do. Clean the house; air Miss Reinette’s bed-chamber; move the old worm-eaten furniture, and substitute something light and cheerful which Reinette will like; put muslin curtains to her windows; get up a lot of horses for her inspection; fill the garden with flowers, where there’s nothing but nettles and weeds growing now; and, to crown all, hunt up a menagerie of dogs and cats, when, if there is one animal more than another of which I have a mortal terror, it is a cat. And this Reinette is passionately fond of them. Who is she, anyway? I never heard before that Mr. Hetherton had a daughter; neither, I am sure, did the Rossiters or Fergusons. Mrs. Peggy would be ready enough to talk of her Paris granddaughter if she had one. But we shall see. Mr. Hetherton’s letter has been delayed. He sails the 25th. That is the day after tomorrow, so I have no time to lose, if I get everything done, cats and all. I wish he had given the job to somebody else. Phil Rossiter, now, is just the chap to see it through. He’d know exactly how to loop the curtains back, while as for cats I have actually seen the fellow fondling one in his arms. Ugh!” and the young lawyer made an impatient gesture with his hands as if shaking off an imaginary cat.
Just at this point in his soliloquy, Colonel Rossiter, who had been leisurely reading his two letters inside the office, came out, and remembering that he was a connection by marriage with the Hethertons, Mr. Beresford detained him for a moment by laying a hand on his arm, and thus making him stand still while he read the letter to him, and asked what he thought of it.
“Think?” returned the colonel, trying to get away from his companion, “I don’t think anything; I’m in too great a hurry to think—a very great hurry, Mr. Beresford, and you must excuse me from taking an active part in anything. I really have not the time. Fred. Hetherton has a right to come home if he wants to—a perfect right. I never liked him much—a stuck-up chap, who thought the Lord made the world for the special use of the Hethertons, and not a Rossiter in it. No, no; I’m in too great a hurry to think whether I ever heard of a daughter or not—impression that I didn’t; but he might have forty, you know. Go to the Fergusons; they are sure to be posted, and so is Phil, my son. By the way, he’s coming home on the next train. Consult him; he’s just the one, he’s nothing else to do, more’s the pity. And, now, really, Mr. Beresford, you must let me go. I’ve spent a most uncommon length of time talking with you and I bid you good morning.”
And so saying, the colonel, who among his many peculiarities numbered that of being always in a hurry, though he really had nothing to do, started toward home at a rapid pace, as if resolved to make up for the time he had lost in unnecessary talk.
Mr. Beresford looked after him a moment, and then, remembering what he had said of Philip, decided to defer his visit to Hetherton Place until he had seen the young man.
Two hours later, the Boston train stopped at the station, and Phil Rossiter came up the long hill at his usual rapid, swinging gait, attracting a good deal of attention in his handsome yachting dress, which became him so well. The first person to accost him was his aunt, Mrs. Ferguson, who insisted upon his stopping for a moment, as she had a favor to ask of him. Phil was the best-natured fellow in the world and accustomed to having favors asked of him, but he was tired, hot, and in a hurry to reach the quiet and coolness of his own home, which was far pleasanter, and more suited to his taste than the close, stuffy apartment into which Mrs. Ferguson led him, and where his cousin sat working on a customer’s dress.
Anna Ferguson, who had been called for her mother, but had long ago discarded Lydia as too old-fashioned, and adopted the name of Anna, was eighteen, and a blue-eyed, yellow-haired blonde, who would have been very pretty but for the constant smirk about her mouth, and the affected air she always assumed in the presence of her superiors. Even with Phil, she was never quite at her ease, and she began at once to apologize for her hair, which was in crimping pins, and for her appearance generally.
“Ma never ought to have asked you into the work-room, and me in such a plight,” she said. But Phil assured her that he did not mind the work-room, and did not care for crimping pins—he’d seen bushels of them, he presumed. But what did his aunt want? he was in something of a hurry to get home, as his father was expecting him, and would wonder at his delay.
Phil knew he was stretching the truth a little, for it was not at all likely his father would give him a thought until he saw him, but any excuse would answer to get away from the Fergusons, with whom at heart he had little sympathy.
What Mrs. Ferguson wanted was to know if he had ever heard his mother or sisters speak of a dressmaker at Martha’s Vineyard, a Miss Margery La Rue, who was a Frenchwoman, and who had written to Mrs. Ferguson, asking if she wished to sell out her business and if it would pay for a first-class dressmaker to come to Merrivale.
“Here’s her letter, read it for yourself if you can,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “Anny and I found it hard work to make it out, the writing is so finefied.”
Philip took the letter, which was written in that fine, peculiar hand common to the French, and which was a little difficult at first to decipher. But the language was in good English and well expressed, and the writer, Miss Margery La Rue, late from Paris, wished to know if there was an opening for a dressmaker in Merrivale and if Mrs. Ferguson wished to sell out, as Miss La Rue had been told she did.
“I wish to mercy Ma would get out of the hateful business and take that horrid sign out of her window. I’d split it up quickly for kindlings. I’m always ashamed when I see it,” Miss Anna said, petulantly, for she was foolish enough and weak enough to ascribe all her fancied slights to the fact that her mother was a dressmaker and had a sign in her window.
Mrs. Ferguson, however, did not share in this feeling, and reprimanded her ambitious daughter sharply, while Philip, who knew how sore she was upon the point, asked her if she really thought she would be any better with the obnoxious sign gone and her mother out of business.
“Of course, I wouldn’t be any better. I’m just as good as anybody now,” Miss Anna retorted, with a toss of her head. “But you know as well as I, that folks don’t think so, and Ma and I are not invited a quarter of the time just because we work for a living. Even your sisters Ethel and Grace would not notice me if I wasn’t their cousin. As it is, they feel obliged to pay me some attention. I hate the whole thing, and I hope I shall live to see the day when I can go to the seaside, wear handsome dresses and diamonds, and have a girl to wash the dishes and wait on me. There’s the bell, now: somebody to get some work done, of course,” and Anna flounced out of the room to wait upon a customer, while her mother asked Philip again if he had ever heard his sisters speak of Miss La Rue.
Philip never had, but promised to inquire when he went to the Vineyard, as he intended to do in a few days. Then, not caring for a second encounter with his cousin, he went out of the side door and escaped into the street, breathing freer in the open air and wondering why Anna need always to bother him about being slighted because she was poor as if that made any difference.
Mr. Beresford was the next to accost Phil, and as the Hetherton business was uppermost in his mind, he walked home with the young man and opened the subject at once by telling him of the letter and asking if he had ever heard of Reinette Hetherton.
“Reinette Hetherton—Reinette,” Philip repeated. “No, never; but that’s a pretty name, and means ‘little queen.’ I wonder what kind of a craft she is? Frenchy, of course, and I hate the French. She must be my cousin, too, as I have never heard that Mr. Hetherton married a second time. When will she be here?”
Phil was interested in the girl at once, but Mr. Beresford, who was several years older, was more interested in the numerous arrangements he was to make for her reception. They had reached the Knoll by this time and were met in the hall by the colonel, who did not manifest the least annoyance because of Mr. Beresford’s presence, but on the contrary seemed glad to have him there, as it relieved him from any prolonged stay with his son.
“Eh, Phil, glad to see you,” he said. “Hope you had a pleasant time;” then, in an absent kind of way, with a wave of his hand, “Make yourself at home. You are quite welcome, I am sure; both of you,” bowing to Mr. Beresford. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I will leave you. Shall see you at lunchtime, good morning, gentlemen;” and with another very courtly bow, he walked rapidly away to the greenhouse, where he was watching the development of a new kind of bean found in Florida the previous winter.
Left to themselves the two young men resumed their conversation concerning Reinette Hetherton, and Mr. Beresford showed Phil her father’s letter.
“Upon my word,” said Phil, “one would suppose this Reinette to be a very queen, the way her father defers to her. Everything must bend to her wishes; bedstead, matting, flowers, housekeeper, horses, and cats and dogs; that’s rich; but I’ll take the last job off your hands. I know of a whole litter of young puppies which I’ll have in readiness for her, besides half a dozen or more cats.”
“Yes, thank you. I am sure I shall be glad to be rid of the cat business,” said Mr. Beresford, “but tell me, please, about Mrs. Hetherton, Reinette’s mother, I was too much of a boy when she went away, and you, of course, were a mere child, but you must have heard of her from your mother. They were sisters, I think.”
“Half sisters,” Philip replied. “My grandfather Ferguson was twice married, and Mother was the child of his first wife. Grandma Ferguson, as most everybody calls her, is only my step-grandmother, and Mrs. Hetherton was her daughter Margaret, and, as I’ve heard, the most beautiful girl in Merrivale. It was her beauty which attracted Mr. Hetherton, and I imagine it was a love match, for he was proud as Lucifer and very rich, while she was poor and—and—well, she was a Ferguson,” and Philip changed color a little as he said this: then, as Mr. Beresford looked curiously at him he added, laughingly, “Not that I am in the least ashamed of my relatives. They do not affect me one whit. I am just what I am, and a cartload of Fergusons can’t hurt me, though I’ll confess that grandma and Aunt Lydia do try me at times, but wait and see what Miss Reinette thinks of them. When are you going over to investigate the place, and would you like me to go with you?”
Nothing could suit Mr. Beresford better, for though he was several years older than Phil, the two were fast friends, and later in the day, when it was beginning to grow cool, they rode together toward “Hetherton Place,” which had been tenantless since the death of General Hetherton, ten or twelve years before.
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