THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY

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"Yes; she makes many apologies for troubling you, but Tom is to be
apprenticed to a grocer, and they want this fifteen pounds to make up
the fee."

"But I tell you, Grace, there can't have been fifteen pounds' worth
of things had in this month, and they were paid on the 1st."

"She says they have never been paid at all since the 1st of
December."

"I assure you, Grace, it is in the books. I made a point of having
all the accounts brought to me on the 1st of every month, and giving
out the money. I gave out £3. 10s. for the Rossiturs last Friday,
the 1st of February, when Mr. Mauleverer was over here. He said
coals were dearer, and they had to keep more fires."

"There must be some mistake," said Grace. "I'll show you the books.
Mr. Mauleverer keeps one himself, and leaves one with me. Oh,
botheration, there's the Grey carriage! Well, you go and receive
them, and I'll try to pacify Mrs. Rossitur, and then come down."

Neatly kept were these account books of the F. U. E. E,, and sure
enough for every month were entered the sums for coals, wood, and
potatoes, tallying exactly with Mrs. Rossitur's account, and each
month Mr. Mauleverer's signature attested the receipt of the sum paid
over to him by Rachel for household expenses. Rachel carried them
down to Mrs. Rossitur, but this evidence utterly failed to convince
that worthy personage that she had ever received a farthing after the
1st of December. She was profuse in her apologies for troubling Miss
Rachel, and had only been led to do so by the exigencies of her son's
apprentice fee, and she reposed full confidence in Rachel's eager
assurance that she should not be a loser, and that in another day the
matter should be investigated.

"And, Miss Rachel," added the old servant, "you'll excuse me, but
they do say very odd things of the matron at that place, and I doubt
you are deceived in her. Our lads went to the the-a-ter the other
night, and I checked them well for it; but mother, says they, we had
more call to be there than the governess up to Miss Rachel's schule
in Nichol Street, dressed out in pink feathers."

"Well, Mrs. Rossitur, I will make every inquiry, and I do not think
you will find anything wrong. There must be some one about very like
Mrs. Rawlins. I have heard of those pink feathers before, but I know
who the matron is, and all about her! Good-bye. I'll see you again
before you go, I suppose it won't be till the seven o'clock train."

Mrs. Rossitur remained expressing her opinion to the butler that dear
Miss Rachel was too innocent, and then proceeded to lose all past
cares in a happy return to "melting day," in the regions of her past
glories as cook and housekeeper.

Rachel repaired to her room to cool her glowing cheeks, and repeat to
herself, "A mistake, an error. It must be a blunder! That boy that
went to the theatre may have cheated them! Mrs. Rawlins may have
deceived Mr. Mauleverer. Anything must be true rather than--No, no!
such a tissue of deception is impossible in a man of such sentiments!
Persecuted as he has been, shall appearances make me--me, his only
friend--turn against him? Oh, me! here come the whole posse purring
upstairs to take off their things! I shall be invaded in a moment."

And in came Grace and the two younger ladies, and Rachel was no more
her own from that moment.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE FORLORN HOPE.

"She whipped two female 'prentices to death,
And hid them in the coal-hole. For her mind
Shaped strictest plans of discipline, sage schemes,
Such as Lycurgus taught."--Canning and Frere.

The favourite dentist of the neighbourhood dwelt in a grand mansion
at St. Norbert's, and thither were conducted Conrade and Francis, as
victims to the symmetry of their mouths. Their mother accompanied
them to supply the element of tenderness, Alison that of firmness;
and, in fact, Lady Temple was in a state of much greater trepidation
than either of her sons, who had been promised five shillings each as
the reward of fortitude, and did nothing but discuss what they should
buy with it.

They escaped with a reprieve to Conrade, and the loss of one tooth of
Francis's, and when the rewards had been laid out, and presents
chosen for all the stay-at-home children, including Rose, Lady Temple
became able to think about other matters. The whole party were in a
little den at the pastrycook's; the boys consuming mutton pies, and
the ladies ox-tail soup, while waiting to be taken up by the
waggonette which had of late been added to the Myrtlewood
establishment, when the little lady thus spoke--

"If you don't object, Miss Williams, we will go to Rachel's asylum on
our way home."

Miss Williams asked if she had made the appointment.

"No," said Lady Temple, "but you see I can't be satisfied about those
woodcuts; and that poor woman, Mrs. Kelland, came to me yesterday
about my lace shawl, and she is sadly distressed about the little
girl. She was not allowed to see her, you know, and she heard such
odd things about the place that I told her that I did not wonder she
was in trouble, and that I would try to bring the child home, or at
any rate see and talk to her."

"I hope we may be able to see her, but you know Colonel Keith could
not get in without making an appointment."

"I pay for her," said Lady Temple, "and I cannot bear its going on in
this way without some one seeing about it. The Colonel was quite
sure those woodcuts were mere fabrications to deceive Rachel; and
there must be something very wrong about those people."

"Did she know that you were going?"

"No; I did not see her before we went. I do not think she will mind
it much; and I promised." Lady Temple faltered a little, but
gathered courage the next moment. "And indeed, after what Mrs.
Kelland said, I could not sleep while I thought I had been the means
of putting any poor child into such hands."

"Yes," said Alison, "it is very shocking to leave them there without
inquiry, and it is an excellent thing to make the attempt."

And so the order was given to drive to the asylum, Alison marvelling
at the courage which prompted this most unexpected assault upon the
fortress that had repulsed two such warriors as Colonel Keith and
Mrs. Kelland. But timid and tender as she might be, it was not for
nothing that Fanny Temple had been a vice-queen, so much accustomed
to be welcomed wherever she penetrated, that the notion of a rebuff
never suggested itself.

Coombe rang, and his lady made him let herself and Miss Williams out,
so that she was on the step when the rough charwoman opened the door,
and made the usual reply that Mr. Mauleverer was not within. Lady
Temple answered that it was Mrs. Rawlins, the matron, that she wished
to see, and with more audacity than Alison thought her capable of,
inserted herself within the doorway, so as to prevent herself from
being shut out as the girl took her message. The next moment the
girl came back saying, "This way, ma'am," opened the door of a small
dreary, dusty, cold parlour, where she shut them in, and disappeared
before a word could be said.

There they remained so long, that in spite of such encouragement as
could be derived from peeping over the blinds at Coombe standing
sentinel over his two young masters at the carriage window, Lady
Temple began to feel some dismay, though no repentance, and with
anxious iteration conjured Miss Williams to guess what could be the
cause of delay.

"Making ready for our reception," was Alison's answer in various
forms; and Lady Temple repeated by turns, "I do not like it," and "it
is very unsatisfactory. No, I don't like it at all," the at all
always growing more emphatic.

The climax was, "Things must be very sad, or they would never take so
much preparation. I'll tell you, Miss Williams," she added in a low
confidential tone; "there are two of us, and the woman cannot be in
two places at once. Now, if you go up and see the rooms and all,
which I saw long ago, I could stay and talk to the poor children."

Alison was the more surprised at the simple statecraft of the
General's widow, but it was prompted by the pitiful heart yearning
over the mysterious wrongs of the poor little ones.

At last Mrs. Rawlins sailed in, crape, streamers, and all, with the
lowest of curtsies and fullest of apologies for having detained her
Ladyship, but she had been sending out in pursuit of Mr. Mauleverer,
he would be so disappointed! Lady Temple begged to see the children,
and especially Lovedy, whom she said she should like to take home for
a holiday.

"Why, my lady, you see Mr. Mauleverer is very particular. I hardly
know that I could answer it to him to have one of his little darlings
out of his sight. It unsettles a child so to be going home, and
Lovedy has a bad cold, my lady, and I am afraid it will run through
the house. My little Alice is beginning of it."

However, Lady Temple kept to her desire of seeing Lovedy, and of
letting her companion see the rest of the establishment, and they
were at last ushered into the room already known to the visitors of
the F. U. E. E., where the two children sat as usual in white
pinafores, but it struck the ladies that all looked ill, and Lovedy
was wrapped in a shawl, and sat cowering in a dull, stupified way,
unlike the bright responsive manner for which she had been noted even
in her lace-school days. Mary Morris gazed for a moment at Alison
with a wistful appealing glance, then, with a start as of fright, put
on a sullen stolid look, and kept her eyes on her book. The little
Alice, looking very heavy and feverish, leant against her, and Mrs.
Rawlins went on talking of the colds, the gruel she had made, and her
care for her pupils' ailments, and Lady Temple listened so graciously
that Alison feared she was succumbing to the palaver; and by way of
reminder, asked to see the dormitory.

"Oh, yes, ma'am, certainly, though we are rather in confusion," and
she tried to make both ladies precede her, but Lady Temple, for once
assuming the uncomprehending nonchalance of a fine lady, seated
herself languidly and motioned Alison on. The matron was evidently
perplexed, she looked daggers at the children, or Ailie fancied so,
but she was forced to follow the governess. Lady Temple breathed
more freely, and rose. "My poor child," she said to Lovedy, "you
seem very poorly. Have you any message to your aunt?"

"Please, please!" began Lovedy, with a hoarse sob.

"Lovedy, don't, don't be a bad girl, or you know--" interposed the
little one, in a warning whisper.

"She is not naughty," said Lady Temple gently, "only not well."

"Please, my lady, look," eagerly, though with a fugitive action of
terror, Lovedy cried, unpinning the thin coarse shawl on her neck,
and revealing the terrible stripes and weals of recent beating, such
as nearly sickened Lady Temple.

"Oh, Lovedy," entreated Alice, "she'll take the big stick."

"She could not do her work," interposed Mary with furtive eagerness,
"she is so poorly, and Missus said she would have the twenty sprigs
if she sat up all night."

"Sprigs!"

"Yes, ma'am, we makes lace more than ever we did to home, day and
night; and if we don't she takes the stick."

"Oh, Mary," implored the child, "she said if you said one word."

"Mary," said Lady Temple, trembling all over, "where are your
bonnets?"

"We haven't none, ma'am," returned Mary, "she pawned them. But, oh,
ma'am, please take us away. We are used dreadful bad, and no one
knows it."

Lady Temple took Lovedy in one hand, and Mary in the other; then
looked at the other little girl, who stood as if petrified. She
handed the pair to the astonished Coombe, bidding him put them into
the carriage, and let Master Temple go outside, and then faced about
to defend the rear, her rustling black silk and velvet filling up the
passage, just as Alison and the matron were coming down stairs.

"Mrs. Rawlins," she said, in her gentle dignity, "I think Lovedy is
so poorly that she ought to go home to her aunt to be nursed, and I
have taken little Mary that she may not be left behind alone. Please
to tell Mr. Mauleverer that I take it all upon myself. The other
little girl is not at all to blame, and I hope you will take care of
her, for she looks very ill."

So much for being a Governor's widow! A woman of thrice Fanny's
energy and capacity would not have effected her purpose so simply,
and made the virago in the matron so entirely quail. She swept forth
with such a consciousness of power and ease that few could have had
assurance enough to gainsay her, but no sooner was she in the
carriage than she seized Mary's hand, exclaiming, "My poor, poor
little dear! Francis, dear boy, the wicked people have been beating
her! Oh, Miss Williams, look at her poor neck!"

Alison lifting Lovedy on her knee, glanced under the shawl, and saw
indeed a sad spectacle, and she felt such a sharpness of bone as
proved that there was far from being the proper amount of clothing or
of flesh to protect them. Lady Temple looked at Mary's attenuated
hand, and fairly sobbed, "Oh, you have been cruelly treated!"

"Please don't let her get us," cried the frightened Mary.

"Never, never, my dear. We are taking you home to your mother."

Mary Morris was the spokeswoman, and volunteered the exhibition of
bruises rather older, but no less severe than those of her companion.
All had been inflicted by the woman; Mr. Mauleverer had seldom or
never been seen by the children, except Alice, who used often to be
called into Mrs. Rawlins's parlour when he was there, to be played
with and petted. A charwoman was occasionally called in, but
otherwise the entire work of the house was exacted from the two
girls, and they had been besides kept perpetually to their lace
pillows, and severely beaten if they failed in the required amount of
work; the ample wardrobe with which their patronesses had provided
them had been gradually taken from them, and their fare had latterly
become exceedingly coarse, and very scanty. It was a sad story, and
this last clause evoked from Francis's pocket a large currant bun,
which Mary devoured with a famished appetite, but Lovedy held her
portion untasted in her hand, and presently gave it to Mary, saying
that her throat was so bad that she could not make use of anything.
She had already been wrapped in Lady Temple's cloak, and Francis was
desired to watch for a chemist's shop that something might be done
for her relief, but the region of shops was already left behind, and
even the villas were becoming scantier, so that nothing was to be
done but to drive on, obtaining from time to time further doleful
narratives from Mary, and perceiving more and more how ill and
suffering was the other poor child.

Moreover, Lady Temple's mind became extremely uneasy as to the manner
in which Rachel might accept her exploit. All her valour departed as
she figured to herself that young lady discrediting the alarm, and
resenting her interference. She did not repent, she knew she could
not have helped it, and she had rather have been tortured by Rachel
than have left the victims another hour to the F. U. E. E., but she
was full of nervous anxiety, little as she yet guessed at the full
price of her courage; and she uttered more than once the fervent wish
that the Colonel had been there, for he would have known what to do.
And Alison each time replied, "I wish it with all my heart!"

Wrought up at last to the pitch of nervousness that must rush on the
crisis at once, and take the bull by the horns, this valiant piece of
cowardice declared that she could not even return the girls to their
homes till Rachel knew all about it, and gave the word to drive to
the Homestead, further cheered by the recollection that Colonel Keith
would probably be there, having been asked to luncheon, as he could
not dine out, to meet Mr. Grey. Moreover, Mr. Grey was a magistrate
and would know what was to be done.

Thus the whole party at the Homestead were assembled near the door,
when, discerning them too late to avoid them, Lady Temple's equipage
drew up in the peculiarly ungraceful fashion of waggonettes, when
they prepare to shoot their passengers out behind.

Conrade, the only person who had the advantage of a previous view,
stood up on the box, and before making his descent, shouted out, "Oh,
Aunt Rachel, your F. U. thing is as bad as the Sepoys. But we have
saved the two little girls that they were whipping to death, and have
got them in the carriage."

While this announcement was being delivered, Alison Williams, the
nearest to the door, had emerged. She lifted out the little muffled
figure of Lovedy, set her on her feet, and then looking neither to
the right nor left, as if she saw and thought of no one else, made
but one bound towards Colonel Keith, clasped both hands round his
arm, turned him away from the rest, and with her black brows drawn
close together, gasped under her breath, "O, Colin, Colin, it is
Maria Hatherton."

"What! the matron?"

"Yes, the woman that has used these poor children like a savage.
O, Colin, it is frightful."

"You should sit down, you are almost ready to faint."

"Nothing! nothing! But the poor girls are in such a state. And that
Maria whom we taught, and--" Alison stopped.

"Did she know you?"

"I can't tell. Perhaps; but I did not know her till the last
moment."

"I have long believed that the man that Rose recognised was
Mauleverer, but I thought the uncertainty would be bad for Ermine.
What is all this?"

"You will hear. There! Listen, I can't tell you; Lady Temple did it
all," said Alison, trying to draw away her arm from him, and to
assume the staid governess. But he felt her trembling, and did not
release her from his support as they fanned back to the astonished
group, to which, while these few words were passing, Francis, the
little bareheaded white-aproned Mary Morris, and lastly Lady Temple,
had by this time been added; and Fanny, with quick but courteous
acknowledgment of all, was singling out her cousin.

"Oh, Rachel, dear, I did not mean it to have been so sudden or before
them all, but indeed I could not help it," she said in her gentle,
imploring voice, "if you only saw that poor dear child's neck."

Rachel had little choice what she should say or do. What Fanny was
saying tenderly and privately, the two boys were communicating open-
mouthed, and Mrs. Curtis came at once with her nervous, "What is it,
my dear; is it something very sad? Those poor children look very
cold, and half starved."

"Indeed," said Fanny, "they have been starved, and beaten, and
cruelly used. I am very sorry, Rachel, but indeed that was a
dreadful woman, and I thought Colonel Keith and Mr. Grey would tell
us what ought to be done."

"Mr. Grey!" and Mrs. Curtis turned round eagerly, with the comfort of
having some one to support her, "will you tell us what is to be done?
Here has poor dear Rachel been taken in by this wicked scheme, and
these poor--"

"Mother, mother," muttered Rachel, lashed up to desperation; "please
not out here, before the servants and every one."

This appeal and Grace's opening of the door had the effect of
directing every one into the hall, Mr. Grey asking Mrs. Curtis by the
way, "Eh? Then this is Rachel's new female asylum, is it?"

"Yes, I always feared there was something odd about it. I never
liked that man, and now--Fanny, my love, what is the matter?"

In a few simple words Fanny answered that she had contrived to be
left alone with the children, and had then found signs of such
shocking ill-treatment of them, that she had thought it right to
bring them away at once.

"And you will commit those wretches. You will send them to prison at
once, Mr. Grey. They have been deceiving my poor Rachel ever so
long, and getting sums upon sums of money out of her," said Mrs.
Curtis, becoming quite blood-thirsty.

"If there is sufficient occasion I will summon the persons concerned
to the Bench on Wednesday," said Mr. Grey, a practical, active
squire.

"Not till Wednesday!" said Mrs. Curtis, as if she thought the course
of justice very tardy. But the remembrance of Mr. Curtis's
magisterial days came to her aid, and she continued, "but you can
take all the examinations here at once, you know; and Grace can find
you a summons paper, if you will just go into the study."

"It might save the having the children over to-morrow, certainly,"
said Mr. Grey, and he was inducted almost passively into the leathern
chair before the library table, where Mr. Curtis had been wont to
administer justice, and Grace was diving deep into a bureau for the
printed forms long treasured there, her mother directing her, though
Mr. Grey vainly protested that any foolscap would do as well. It was
a curious scene. Mrs. Grey with her daughters had the discretion to
remove themselves, but every one else was in a state of excitement,
and pressed into the room, the two boys disputing under their breath
whether the civilians called it a court martial, and, with some
confusion between mutineers and Englishwomen, hoping the woman would
be blown from the mouth of a cannon, for hadn't she gone and worn a
cap like mamma's? They would have referred the question to Miss
Williams, but she had been deposited by the Colonel on one of the
chairs in the furthest corner of the room, and he stood sheltering
her agitation and watching the proceedings. Lady Temple still held a
hand of each of her rescued victims, as if she feared they were still
in danger, and all the time Rachel stood and looked like a statue,
unable to collect her convictions in the hubbub, and the trust, that
would have enabled her to defy all this, swept away from her by the
morning's transactions. Yet still there was a hope that appearances
might be delusive, and an habitual low estimate of Mr. Grey's powers
that made her set on looking with her own eyes, not with his.

His first question was about the children's names and their friends,
and this led to the despatching of a message to the mother and aunt.
He then inquired about the terms on which they had been placed at St.
Norbert's, and Rachel, who was obliged to reply, felt under his
clear, stringent questions, keeping close to the point, a good deal
more respect for his powers than she had hitherto entertained. That
dry way of his was rather overwhelming. When it came to the children
themselves, Rachel watched, not without a hope that the clear
masculine intellect would detect Fanny in a more frightened woman's
fancy, and bring the F. U. E. E. off with flying colours.

Little Mary Morris stood forth valiant and excited. She was eleven
years old, and intelligent enough to make it evident that she knew
what she was about. The replies were full. The blows were
described, with terrible detail of the occasions and implements.
Still Rachel remembered the accusation of Mary's truth. She tried to
doubt.

"I saw her with a bruised eye," said the Colonel's unexpected voice
in a pause. "How was that?"

"Please, sir, Mrs. Rawlins hit me with her fist because I had only
done seven sprigs. She knocked me down, and I did not come to for
ever so long."

And not only this, and the like sad narratives, but each child bore
the marks in corroboration of the words, which were more reluctant
and more hoarse from Lovedy, but even more effective. Rachel doubted
no more after the piteous sight of those scarred shoulders, and the
pinched feeble face; but one thing was plain, namely, that Mr.
Mauleverer had no share in the cruelties. Even such severities as
had been perpetrated while he was in the house, had, Mary thought,
been protested against by him, but she had seldom seen him, he paid
all his visits in the little parlour, and took no notice of the
children except to prepare the tableau for public inspection. Mr.
Grey, looking at his notes, said that there was full evidence to
justify issuing a summons against the woman for assaulting the
children, and proceeded to ask her name. Then while there was a
question whether her Christian name was known, the Colonel again
said, "I believe her name to be Maria Hatherton. Miss Williams has
recognised her as a servant who once lived in her family, and who
came from her father's parish at Beauchamp."

Alison on inquiry corroborated the statement, and the charge was made
against Maria Rawlins, alias Hatherton. The depositions were read
over to the children, and signed by them; with very trembling fingers
by poor little Lovedy, and Mr. Grey said he would send a policeman
with the summons early next day.

"But, Mr. Grey," burst out Mrs. Curtis, "you don't mean that you are
not going to do anything to that man! Why he has been worse than the
woman! It was he that entrapped the poor children, and my poor
Rachel here, with his stories of magazines and illustrations, and I
don't know what all!"

"Very true, Mrs. Curtis," said the magistrate, "but where's the
charge against him?"

It may be conceived how pleasant it was to the clever woman of the
family to hear her mother declaiming on the arts by which she had
been duped by this adventurer, appealing continually to Grace and
Fanny, and sometimes to herself, and all before Mr. Grey, on whose
old-world prejudices she had bestowed much more antagonism than he
had thought it worth while to bestow on her new lights. Yet, at the
moment, this operation of being written down an ass, was less acutely
painful to her than the perception that was simultaneously growing on
her of the miserable condition of poor little Lovedy, whose burning
hand she held, and whose gasping breath she heard, as the child
rested feebly in the chair in which she had been placed. Rachel had
nothing vindictive or selfish in her mood, and her longing was, above
all, to get away, and minister to the poor child's present
sufferings; but she found herself hemmed in, and pinned down by the
investigation pushed on by her mother, involving answers and
explanations that she alone could make.

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