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Read Ebook: A Daughter of the Middle Border by Garland Hamlin
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Ebook has 1821 lines and 126044 words, and 37 pages
Transcriber's note:
THE SERPENT'S TOOTH
B. M. CROKER
New York Brentano'S 1913
Printed in Great Britain
THE SERPENT'S TOOTH
Colonel Fenchurch stood on his own hearthstone--that is to say, the smoking-room rug--with his back to the fire, and a cup of tea in his hand. He was a good-looking dapper little man, with a neat white moustache, a cheery voice, and an unfailing flow of talk.
"I say, Doodie," turning to a lady in a splashed habit, who was meditatively consuming buttered toast, "weren't the roads beastly? Just look at my boots and leathers!"
Doodie, his wife, nodded, but made no other reply.
"A clinking run," he continued, "and a lot of those thrusters got left--you went well--eh?--that was a nasty place out of the round plantation!--on the whole--a good hard day!"
Once more his better-half inclined her hatted head; evidently her mind was preoccupied. She was staring fixedly at a certain pattern in the carpet, with a remote and far-away gaze; a plain weather-beaten lady whose age--much discussed among her acquaintances--was probably five-and-forty; her habit displayed a slight square-shouldered figure; a pot hat pushed to the back of her head disclosed the inevitable red mark, a long but aristocratic nose, and a clever resolute countenance.
The couple had settled down in a ramshackle old house, in a ramshackle old village in the Midlands, inconveniently remote from the railway, but within easy reach of the principal Meets of a well-known sporting pack. The bride's relations--who had not favoured the alliance--shrugged their shoulders and commiserated 'poor Dorothy.' They little knew that 'poor Dorothy,' now thoroughly free and independent, was as happy as the day was long!
Here, in the sleepy hamlet of Thornby, the Honble. Mrs. Fenchurch soon made her presence felt. She, so to speak, 'took hold' with both hands; stirred up the villagers, the parson, and the doctor; improved the old manor out of all recognition--and that at no great expense.
But these envious folk never considered that its present tenant was endowed with an unusual supply of brains, enterprise, and courage. She was a born decorator, a skilled upholsteress, and had a positive genius for gardening. Before long, the attractions of The Holt were famous within a radius of ten miles--Mrs. Fenchurch seemed to know exactly where to find the prettiest chintzes, the most unique furniture, the newest roses; and her cleverness in picking up prizes in old curiosity shops had become a proverb. It was said, that in a back street of the county town she had actually bought a wonderful old Chippendale sideboard for fifteen shillings--but this would appear to be incredible.
For twelve years The Holt was acknowledged to be one of the pleasantest houses in the County, its inmates the most popular, important, and influential couple of the neighbourhood, and here Doodie Fenchurch reigned alone and supreme.
The only sister of Colonel Fenchurch had made a runaway match with a harum-scarum Irishman, who was killed in India, leaving his widow almost penniless. She died soon afterwards, and the unnecessary infant who ought to have accompanied her mother, survived to be supported by the Fenchurch family--themselves uncomfortably impecunious. Now this girl was seventeen, and in spite of Mrs. Fenchurch's lamentations, protestations, and suggestion that she should remain another year, Letty Glyn had left school, and was on her way to take up her abode with darling Uncle Tom, and dearest Aunt Dorothy.
"I say," began her husband, breaking in upon her reflections. She looked up at him quickly. "Isn't Letty due about now? Six-thirty?"
"Oh yes, if the train is pretty punctual; but you know what these cross lines are."
"Do you think she will be a little hurt at no one going to meet her--eh?"
"Hurt! My dear boy, what nonsense!"
"The brougham? Certainly not! I sent the governess-car--yes," in answer to his exclamation. "You see, dear, Collins has had three horses to do up--you know you had out two--you extravagant man, and I really couldn't ask him to leave them all to James, so the boy took the car with the garden pony, and her luggage will come up to-morrow by the market-cart."
"Am I not always what you call 'good' to my guests?" she demanded rather sharply.
Just at this moment the door opened, and a formal voice announced 'Mrs. Hesketh.'
Mrs. Hesketh, a middle-aged lady with a stately carriage and the remains of great beauty, entered just in time to witness the caressing attitude of Colonel Fenchurch.
Mrs. Hesketh, a widowed cousin who lived in the only other 'house' in the village, carefully removed her heavy sables before she replied.
"I should think, Tom, that you are used to that by this time. Had you had a good day?"
"Ripping!"
"Many out?"
"But what brings him over to this side?" enquired Mrs. Hesketh with languid curiosity.
"He's only staying at the 'Black Cock' at Ridgefield for a week or so--it's more central than Sharsley. Sharsley is a good bit out of the way for everything; seven miles from a railway station--monstrous, isn't it in these days?"
"Yes, but we need not boast. Sharsley is a lovely old place; I shouldn't mind living there myself!"
"No," he answered with a laugh; "and a heap of other ladies will say ditto to Mrs. Hesketh, eh, Doodie?" appealing to his wife.
"I can't think what's keeping her," was the irrelevant reply.
Mrs. Hesketh stared at her cousin with grave-eyed interrogation.
"Oh, I mean Letty Glyn, Tom's niece, you know, Maudie. Didn't I tell you that we expect her this evening, by the two o'clock from St. Pancras?"
"So you did; and she is coming to stay for some time?"
"To live with us altogether," eagerly amended Colonel Fenchurch. "She is an orphan, the daughter of my poor sister Kathleen."
Mrs. Hesketh glanced from him to his wife, but Mrs. Fenchurch's expression was blank and noncommittal; she rose, walked to the fire, and brushed the crumbs from her habit into the fender.
"We are her only relations," continued Colonel Fenchurch.
"Except her father's people, who are paupers," corrected a thin, high-pitched treble from the fire-place. "Irish paupers--with nothing to live on but family pride."
"If she is like my poor sister, she ought to be a beauty," urged her uncle, and his tone was anxious and conciliatory.
"She does," agreed Mrs. Hesketh, whose own beautiful face had been her fortune; "but if she hasn't something to back it up in the way of character, or brains, or charm,--it's not so much of a start, after all."
"Hullo--wheels!" announced Colonel Fenchurch. "Here she is!" and he dashed into the hall.
"I think I ought to go," murmured the visitor, reaching for her boa; "this is a family affair," she added with a smile.
"And you are one of the family, Maudie," declared Mrs. Fenchurch, laying a strong detaining hand upon her arm; "so you must stay." Then, removing her hat, which she tossed on the sofa, she was about to follow her husband, when the door was thrown wide, and Colonel Fenchurch advanced into the room, beaming with pride, and leading a tall girl in a fur-lined cloak, who looked both timid and tired.
"My dear Letty, how late you are!" exclaimed her aunt, taking both her hands in hers and pecking her on the cheek; "and how frozen!"
"There was a slight accident which delayed us," explained the girl nervously.
"Now, then, give me your cloak, and have some tea, and tell us all about it," said her uncle, fussing round her.
"I am afraid the tea is rather cold," said Mrs. Fenchurch, moving towards the tea equipage; "but we will have some more at once," and she rang the bell violently.
"Maudie, this is my niece Lettice," said Colonel Fenchurch, presenting her with ceremony. "Letty, Mrs. Hesketh is our nearest neighbour and your aunt's cousin, and I hope you may find a corner in her heart."
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