Charlotte Yonge - The Young Step-Mother; Or, A Chronicle of Mistakes

They had a very happy christening party, chiefly juvenile, in honour of little Willie and of Francis and Emily Nugent. Albinia was so radiantly lively and good-natured, and her assistants, Winifred, Maurice, and Mr. Dusautoy, so kind, so droll, so inventive, that even Aunt Maria forgot herself in enjoyment and novelty, and was like a different person. Mr. Kendal looked at her with a pleased sad wonder, and told his wife it reminded him of what she had been when she was nearly the prettiest girl at Bayford. Gilbert devoted himself as usual to making Genevieve feel welcome; and she had likewise Willie Ferrars and Francis Nugent at her feet. Neither urchin would sit two inches away from her all the evening, and in all games she was obliged to obviate jealousies by being partner to both at once. Where there was no one to oppress her, she came out with all her natural grace and vivacity, and people of a larger growth than her little admirers were charmed with her.

Lucy was obliging, ready, and useful, and looked very pretty, the only blot was the heavy dulness of poor Sophy, who seemed resolved to take pleasure in nothing. Winifred varied in opinion whether her moodiness arose from ill-health, or from jealousy of her little brother. This latter Albinia would not believe, especially as she saw that little Maurice’s blue eyes were magnets that held the silent Sophy fast, but surly denials silenced her interrogations as to illness, and made her content to acquiesce in Lucy’s explanation that Sophy was only cross because the Osborns and Drurys were not asked.

Albinia did her duty handsomely by the two families a day or two after, for whatever reports might come round, they were always ready to receive her advances, and she only took notice of what she saw, instead of what she heard. Her brother helped Mr. Kendal through the party, and Winifred made a discovery that excited her more than Albinia thought warranted by any fact relating to the horde of Irish cousins.

‘Only think, Albinia, I have found out that poor Ellen O’More is Mr. Goldsmith’s sister!’

‘Indeed! But I am afraid I don’t remember which Ellen O’More is. You know I never undertake to recollect any but your real cousins out of the thirty-six.’

‘For shame, Albinia, I have so often told you about Ellen. I’m sure you can’t forget. Her husband is my sister’s brother-in-law’s cousin.’

‘Oh, Winifred, Winifred!’

‘But I tell you, her husband is the third son of old Mr. O’More of Ballymakilty, and was in the army.’

‘Oh! the half-pay officer with the twelve children in the cottage on the estate.’

‘There now, I did think you would care when I told you of a soldier, a Waterloo man too, and you only call him a half-pay officer!’

‘I do remember,’ said Albinia, taking a little pity, ‘that you used to be sorry for his good little English wife.’

‘Of course. I knew she had married him very imprudently, but she has struggled gallantly with ill-health, and poverty, and Irish recklessness. I quite venerate her, and it seems these Goldsmiths had so far cast her off that they had no notion of the extent of her troubles.’

‘Just like them,’ said Albinia. ‘Is that the reason you wish me to make the most of the connexion? Let me see, my sister-in-law’s sister’s wife—no, husband’s brother’s uncle, eh?’

‘I don’t want you to do anything,’ said Winifred, a little hurt, ‘only if you had seen Ellen’s patient face you would be interested in her.’

‘Well, I am interested, you know I am, Winifred. I hope you interested our respected banker, which would be more to the purpose.’

‘I think I did,’ said Winifred; ‘at least he said “poor Ellen” once or twice. I don’t want him to do anything for the captain, you might give him a thousand pounds and he would never be the better for it: but that fourth, boy, Ulick, is without exception the nicest fellow I ever saw in my life—so devoted to his mother, so much more considerate and self-denying than any of the others, and very clever. Maurice examined him and was quite astonished. We did get him sent to St. Columba for the present, but whether they will keep him there no one can guess, and it is the greatest pity he should run to waste. I told Mr. Goldsmith all this, and I really think he seemed to attend. I wonder if it will work.’

Albinia was by this time anxious that it should take effect, and they agreed that an old bachelor banker and his sister, both past sixty, were the very people to adopt a promising nephew.

What had become of the multitude of things which Albinia had to discuss with her brother? The floodtide of bliss had floated her over all the stumbling-blocks and shoals that the ebb had disclosed, and she had absolutely forgotten all the perplexities that had seemed so trying. Even when she sought a private interview to talk to him about Gilbert, it was in full security of hearing the praises of her darling.

‘A nice boy, a very nice boy,’ returned Maurice; ‘most amiable and intelligent, and particularly engaging, from his feeling being so much on the surface.’

‘Nothing can be more sincere and genuine,’ she cried, as if this fell a little flat.

‘Certainly not, at the time.’

‘Always!’ exclaimed Albinia. ‘You must not distrust him because he is not like you or Fred, and has never been hardened and taught reserve by rude boys. Nothing was ever more real than his affection, poor dear boy,’ and the tears thrilled to her eyes.

‘No, and it is much to his credit. His love and gratitude to you are quite touching, poor fellow; but the worst of it is that I am afraid he is very timid, both physically and morally.’

Often as she had experienced this truth, the soldier’s daughter could not bear to avow it, and she answered hastily, ‘He has never been braced or trained; he was always ill till within the last few years—coddling at first, neglect afterwards, he has it all to learn, and it is too late for school.’

‘Yes, he is too old to be laughed at or bullied out of cowardice. Indeed, I doubt whether there ever would have been substance enough for much wear and tear.’

‘I know you have a turn for riotous, obstinate boys! You want Willie to be another Fred,’ said Albinia, like an old hen, ruffling up her feathers. ‘You think a boy can’t be good for anything unless he is a universal plague!’

‘I wonder what you will do with your own son,’ said Maurice, amused, ‘since you take Gilbert’s part so fiercely.’

‘I trust my boy will never be as much to be pitied as his brother,’ said Albinia, with tenderness that accused her petulance. ‘At least he can never be a lonely twin with that sore spot in his heart. Oh, Maurice, how can any one help dealing gently with my poor Gibbie?’

‘Gentle dealing is the very thing he wants,’ said Mr. Ferrars; ‘and I am thinking how to find it for him. How did his going to Traversham fail?’

‘I don’t know; Edmund did not like to send him without having seen Traversham, and I could not go. But I don’t think there is any need for his going away. His father has been quite enough tormented about it, and I can manage him very well now. He is always good and happy with me. I mean to try to ride with him, and I have promised to teach him music, and we shall garden. Never fear, I will employ him and keep him out of mischief—it is all pleasure to me.’

‘And pray what are your daughters and baby to do, while you are galloping after Gilbert?’

‘Oh! I’ll manage. We can all do things together. Come, Maurice, I wont have Edmund teased, and I can’t bear parting with any of them, or think that any strange man can treat Gibbie as I should.’

Maurice was edified by his sister’s warm-hearted weakness, but not at all inclined to let ‘Edmund’ escape a ‘teasing.’