Richard Blackmore - Kit and Kitty - A Story of West Middlesex

It is not to be denied, however, that I had taken pretty sharp advantage of being well mounted from time to time on the upper rungs of a ladder, which gave me command of the Halliford Road – the higher road, I mean, for the lower now was stopped and except to carts and carriages – in such a manner that none could come from that part of the world, without my knowledge. Seeing only a pedlar and some few women (highly interesting to themselves no doubt, but not concerning my state of mind), I went in to dine with Uncle Corny, and took care to eat none of his onions.

“What cheeks you have got, Kit!” he cried with a laugh; “and it is not from eating too much dinner. You have stolen the colour of my Quarantines. Eat, boy, eat; or how will you pull through it? No more visits from young ladies, if you are to go off your head like this. You have put the new mustard-spoon into the salt. A pretty muddle, I’m afraid, among my apples.”

Being always very dutiful, I let him have his grumble; and presently he lit his pipe, and made off for the packing-shed, though the load was not going till to-morrow night. Then I put myself into a little better trim, feeling that the best I did could never make me fit to look round the corner of a wall at somebody. Although I was considered in our village a smart and tidy and well-built young fellow, and one of the girls at the linendraper’s had sent me a Valentine last spring, said to be of her own composition, beginning – “Thou noble and majestic youth, Thy curls and thy ruddy cheeks proclaim the truth, That whenever I think of thee, I have a sigh, And if thou provest false, I shall jump into the Thames and die!” But it was in vain for me to think of this at present; it gave me no support at all worth having; and even a book of poetry, which I put into my pocket, might just as well have been the list of pots and pans from Turnham Green.

Before I could get into any real courage, there came a gentle double knock, as if from the handle of a parasol, at the green door near the corner of the wall, and then a little laugh; and then a sweet voice said, “Oh, Jenny, don’t you think we had better go back? Are you sure that Auntie said that I might come?” In dread of further doubts, I ran up promptly, and opened the door, and brought them in, and locked it.

“This young lady,” began Mrs. Marker, as if they were come for her sake only, “has never seen any fruit-garden, fruit-orchard, fruit-establishment, or whatever the proper name is. And I thought perhaps before she goes back to London, this would enlarge her store of knowledge; and her father, who is a very learned man, might like to hear her account of it. Now keep your eyes open, Miss Kitty, and see all. You would fancy that she noticed nothing, Mr. Orchardson, by the way she goes on, and her quietness. And yet when you come to talk afterwards, it turns out that nothing has escaped her blue eyes; and she can tell ten times as much as I can, and I am considered pretty accurate too. But we must pay our respects to your Uncle, Mr. Cornelius Orchardson. I always like to do the proper thing. Business first, and pleasure afterwards.”

“He will smile, when he hears how you have put it. He is very busy now at the packing-shed. But he told me to take you wherever you liked; and he will come down, when he has made out his list. On the left you have the peach-wall, and on the right the plums; and the figs are getting very ripe down this alley. We very seldom eat much fruit ourselves, because we have such a lot of it. But we always long to get ladies’ opinions, because of the delicacy of their taste.”

“It is a perfect shame,” said Mrs. Marker, while making up her mind what to begin with, “that, in such a Paradise, there should be no lady, to give you the knowledge of good and evil. I brought a silver knife with me, in case of being tempted. Not that I mean to taste anything of course, unless my opinion should be absolutely required. My constitution is not strong, Mr. Kit; and I am compelled to be very careful.”

I knew what was meant by that, having heard it often. “You shall have nothing, madam, but the very best,” I answered; “for we never throw away an opportunity like this. What shall we offer first for your judgment?”

“Kitty, what do you say?” She turned as if in doubt. “You know, my dear, how careful we must be. This young lady, Mr. Kit, allows me to call her ‘Kitty,’ in our private moments. Kit and Kitty – what a very strange coincidence!”

I could not help looking at the beautiful Miss Fairthorn; and to my eyes she became more beautiful than ever. For a deep blush spread upon her lovely cheeks, and she turned away, and said, “I leave it quite to you.”

If Mrs. Marker had been planning all the morning how to get the best of the tasting to herself, and to render her judgment supreme, she could hardly have hit upon a better device than this. For her young companion became so nervous and so much confused, and I myself so diffident and deeply occupied, that our only object was to fill the lady housekeeper’s mouth, and keep it running over with nothing worse than fruit. Now and then I ventured to steal a glance at the one with whom my heart was filled, as if to ask whether she would ever forgive me for my sad name of Kit. But her eyes were afraid to encounter mine; or if by any chance they did so, the light that was in them wavered like a timid gleam pursued by cloud. To relieve this trouble, I began to chatter vague nonsense to the other visitor, who was falling to in earnest.

“Everything is out of time this year, and nothing up to character. There has been no sunshine on this wall, until you ladies shone upon it; and what amazes me most is to find that anything has any colour at all. Here is a Grosse Mignonne now, a week ago as green as a leek, and covered now with downy crimson, except just where a leaf has made a pale curve across it, like the pressure of a finger on your cheek. Taste it, Mrs. Marker; you are not getting on at all.”

“Let me see, that makes seven, I think. I shall have lost my taste before we get among the gages. Thank you, I am sure. Oh, how lovely, and delicious! Luscious perhaps is the better expression. There goes ever so much more juice on my dress. I ought to have brought a bib, Mr. Kit; and I will, if I ever come again. But would not you say it was just the least thought woolly?” She had never heard of such a thing before, but I had taught her, and she was growing critical. “Kitty dear, you are tasting nothing. Don’t you consider that just an atom woolly?”

“Very likely it is. I don’t know enough to say. But I never remember tasting wool, with so fine a flavour in it.”

Perhaps I was not in a proper mood to judge; but verily this appeared to me to show an inborn aptitude for taking the management of the fruit, and the government of the grower. To exaggerate is altogether out of my nature, and I find it a great mistake to be ecstatic; but in spite of all that, I would have given every sixpence allowed me by my Uncle Corny – who was always afraid of allowing me too much – if only I could have conveyed to this exquisite judge my opinion of her sentence. But that blessed discovery of Mrs. Marker’s about the everlasting fitness of our names, – upon which I had been dwelling in my heart, long before her stupid slowness blurted it – this, I say, had acted in a very awkward manner upon a mind infinitely higher than hers; and yet I hoped humbly that it might suggest something, which might be for the best, if let alone.

Things being so, it was not at all amiss that a loud voice reached us from the clipped yew-hedge, which was set across to break the north winds here – “Kit, where the deuce are you gone mooning? I thought you would have come up with the ladies, long ago.”

“Here we are, looking from a distance at your peaches. Oh, Mr. Orchardson, how lovely they do seem!” Mrs. Marker lost her dignity by giving me a wink, believing as she did – and many others thought the same – that I was next to nobody in these gardens, and my Uncle a tiger over every fruit he grew.