Chapter VII

THOUGH Shelverton, the future home of young Mrs. Crawford, was in itself less populous than some manufacturing villages, its inhabitants would have been highly indignant if such a name had been applied to it. It was an old market town, the centre of a wide agricultural district, and once in the week its irregular thoroughfares, by courtesy called streets, were thronged country folk bringing in garden and dairy produce. The sellers stood in the open air in all weathers, whilst the farmers, more highly favoured than the gentler sex, transacted business beneath the roof of an ungainly structure, called the Corn Exchange.

It was most amusing to pass through the market, and notice the costumes in which, especially in winter, the women attired themselves for standing in the market. Old riding-coats with many capes which had once covered masculine wearers, ancient pelisses made of sad-coloured but substantial cloths, large woollen shawls tied over bonnets of no particular fashion, even pattens to lift the feet from the cold pavement, were to be noticed by careful observers. Whatever would keep out cold and wet was pressed into service, and, quaint as was the headgear and varied, the rosy, wholesome faces of the buxom country girls and matrons might have made amends for less picturesque coverings.

The west end of Shelverton was called The Park, and within its enclosure resided most of those who belonged to the upper ten.

Steynes-Cote was not originally in The Park, for it was built before a great unoccupied plot of ground was parcelled out for building upon and so named. But Dr. Fereday good-naturedly took down a portion of his fences on one side, and made sundry alterations, so that the older house became part and parcel of The Park, though it continued to excel the newer dwellings, both in picturesqueness and in the extent of its grounds.

Steynes-Cote was equally pleasant and commodious; the rooms were large and well-proportioned with windows delightfully varied in shape and size, low wide bays, with cushioned seats suggestive of cosy chats, or of places to nestle in with a favourite book, while trellised roses, stirred by the summer breeze, courted attention by tapping at the pane.

"A gentleman's place, as it ought to be, for we should never tolerate a medical man amongst us who was not a gentleman," was the frequent remark.

Naturally, the tidings that Dr. Crawford was about to bring a new mistress to Steynes-Cote set Shelverton society in a flutter of pleasant expectation, and of anxiety to know all about the lady.

There being nothing to conceal, they soon ascertained that their doctor's wife was the only sister of a viscount, and was actually the Honourable Mrs. Crawford.

Shelverton had its good old county families at no great distance, and one baronet—a very new creation—within the parish itself. But of titled people, there were none, and the ladies were gratified at the prospect of having an "Honourable" in their midst, and especially as her position would enable them to visit her on equal terms.

"As the doctor's wife, the Honourable Mrs. Crawford must be one of us, you know," said Mrs. Prattely, a lady of about forty, who, having nobody to look after at home except a most indulgent husband of the easy-going type, devoted her energies to the regulation of sundry other Shelverton households.

Mrs. Prattely possessed ample means, a luxurious home, a generous disposition, and a kindly heart. But—what a pity there must be a but!—she was a little apt to think that, as she dipped her hand into her purse and freely gave of its contents for the benefit of her needy neighbours, she had a right to dip at least a finger into every domestic pie. She gave advice and money with equal liberality, which is by no means a common way of distributing the two.

People are often generous, not to say lavish, in bestowing advice alone, and then it matters little whether it is accepted or not. But when bestowed along with the money which is very badly wanted, it is different, as the recipient can hardly take the one and refuse to act upon the other.

There were numbers of poor people in Shelverton who liked the food, clothing, or money which came at the nick of time to help a sick husband on to his working legs again, to fit out the girl for service, or buy necessaries for the home. But amongst these were many who, being mothers of large families, thought they knew more about managing them than did Mrs. Prattely herself. So they lauded her generosity, but now and then, behind her back, made uncomplimentary allusions to an old proverb which states that "Bachelors' wives and old maids' children are sure to be perfect."

It was Mrs. Prattely who first called Dr. Crawford's wife "poor thing."

The expression dropped out, as it were, when a number of Shelverton ladies were discussing the imminent home-coming of the doctor and his bride, and the social position of the latter.

"It is most satisfactory to know that Mrs. Crawford is a thorough lady; we have been used to that in our doctor's wife, for no more well-bred woman need we wish to meet than Mrs. Fereday was. In places like Shelverton, everybody is more or less known to everybody else; but we have our own circles. We may be conscious of people's existence and be kind and friendly, without over-intimacy."

"Acquaintances may be countless, friends must always be comparatively few," said one of her hearers in reply.

And to this, there was a general assent.

It is perhaps needless to state that Mrs. Prattely lived in The Park. Land was plentiful at Shelverton, and each handsome house in the enclosure had its own grounds, Mrs. Prattely's, after Steynes-Cote, being reckoned the finest. She was, moreover, what is called house proud, and her home was a worthy example of what money could do when combined with good taste.

Mrs. Prattely was given to be eloquent on the subject of Shelverton Park.

"Our residences are houses," she would say; "not mushroom places, run up in a few days, and as unhealthy and poisonous as most fungi are. They are homes built to stand, to last, and, above all, to live in. We have no cracked panels, letting in daylight, through the use of unseasoned timber; no rattling windows, ill-fitting doors, or thin walls just held together with plaster. Not even a semi-detached house, so the risk of objectionable neighbours is reduced to the minimum."

Mrs. Prattely was always strong on the subject of neighbours thus connected. "For my part," she said, "I would rather live in the tiniest cottage, or even in a street, than in a semi-detached house, for in the case of persons whose dwelling is actually tacked on to your own, it is almost impossible to remain strangers. Semi-detached persons have so many opportunities of being disagreeable, to say nothing of the difficulty of keeping your fronts uniform in appearance. There are two houses of the kind—outside The Park, I am glad to say, but which I am compelled to pass each time I drive in. Would you believe it? One of the occupants mows his half of the front lawn in one week, and the other portion is cropped days later by the dweller to the right. One thinks his outdoor painting should be done in the autumn, while his neighbour considers spring the correct season, and acts upon this opinion. Even in the matter of blinds they manage to differ, though both have venetians, for they are of different colours, and, though harmonizing with the inside, the outside effect is something dreadful. And it is hardly credible, but these semi-detached people are excellent friends and neighbours. They are simply born without eyes as regards taste or reasonable uniformity."

Mrs. Prattely sighed, and continued pathetically, "I could not endure such a state of things, and I am truly thankful that in The Park each residence stands absolutely alone. We Park people are quite independent of each other, with plenty of room to turn round in, and we know just whom we please."

The Park people exercised this privilege to the full, and even succeeded in dividing the upper ten of Shelverton society into two lesser tens, or, as somebody wickedly expressed it, "into two bunches of fives."

Mrs. Prattely was the acknowledged leader of one set. The other, owing to a removal, was merely in opposition, but hoping to enlist the doctor's young wife when she would become resident among them, though Mrs. Prattely did not intend that this should be effected without a counter effort on her side.

It is convenient to quote this lady's sayings, as they give an idea of the state of feeling in one portion of Shelverton society.

"At any rate, Mrs. Crawford, poor thing, will have no cause to find fault with her future home. Plenty of titled people would give a little fortune if they could transplant the doctor's fine old house into May Fair for the season."

Mrs. Prattely was holding forth to a couple of young lady callers about Dr. Crawford, his home, and his marriage. So much was she interested that she talked almost continuously, and her visitors' share in the conversation was limited to mere words of assent. It was before the days of "afternoon teas," but the hostess, always hospitable, had offered refreshments of an even more acceptable character, in the shape of strawberries, thick cream, and sponge-cake. These occupied the young people very pleasantly, and rendered mere listening all the more agreeable.

The arrival of Dr. Crawford and his wife was imminent. They might enter The Park at any moment, and, while hospitably entertaining her visitors, Mrs. Prattely cast frequent glances towards the window, which commanded a view of the drive by which Steynes-Cote must be approached.

"I suppose you know the Crawfords are expected this afternoon. What a change it will be for her!" said the elder lady.

The younger ones smiled, and one replied, "The change from a single to a married life must always be a great one."

"True, my dear, but in this case it is particularly so. It is not every day that a nobleman's sister marries a country doctor. I am told Mrs. Crawford is very beautiful, and would have made a great sensation in society if her friends had not allowed her to throw herself away."

"Dr. Crawford is very fine-looking, and everyone says he is a brave and a good man. He has mixed on equal terms with the same class of people as Mrs. Crawford has," returned the elder Miss Isherwood. At the bottom of her heart, she considered Andrew Crawford worthy of any girl living. She and her younger sister, Mary, were comparatively new-comers, who were keeping house for their brother, the rector of Shelverton, yet they had already seen something of Dr. Crawford, and knew how the poor and suffering spoke of his ready skill and his tenderness, and faces brightened at the mention of his name.

"Andrew Crawford is most excellent, my dears. I have known him ever since he first came, a boy, to Shelverton. But what he is, has never been questioned. I was only speaking of the change his wife will experience."

"She will have a delightful home, and a husband whom every one respects."

"The home will be only a professional man's place—a business house, one may call it, after all else is said. Though the surgery and consulting-rooms are well placed in the rear, there must be the jingling of door bells day and night. A doctor never knows, when he goes weary to bed, whether he will have a chance of resting there till daylight or not. And remember she will be quite alone, except for servants, when Dr. Crawford is called out. Poor thing! I quite pity her."

As the Isherwood girls could not honestly echo this last sentiment, they said nothing, except that no doubt Mrs. Crawford would find pleasant neighbours, and soon be on excellent terms with some of The Park people. They looked towards their hostess, as if to indicate her as a probable friend, and Mrs. Prattely answered promptly—

"I only hope, my dears, that Mrs. Crawford may get into right hands to begin with. I shall not be wanting as a neighbour, but whether my advances may be received in the same spirit, I cannot judge. In Shelverton, the lady will be the doctor's wife, for she takes her husband's rank; but she may think of herself as the sister of Viscount Carnelly, and then—"

Whatever Mrs. Prattely might have intended to add to her sentence was cut short by her catching a glimpse of Dr. Crawford's carriage turning into The Park.

The girls were in the act of leave-taking, so bidding them a rather hasty farewell, the elder lady rushed to an upper window, whence, by means of a well-directed opera-glass, she obtained "a good look" at Dr. and Mrs. Crawford without being herself seen.

Ida's beautiful face was beaming with pleasure as her husband pointed out Steynes-Cote, and she bent forward to catch a view of it through intervening trees.

The doctor looked so well, and such a fitting mate for the young creature beside him, that Mary Isherwood indignantly exclaimed, after the carriage was well past, "What could Mrs. Prattely mean by calling Mrs. Crawford 'poor thing'? I felt so angry. I wish I durst ask her to pity somebody who needed to be pitied, and not a woman who had everything that a reasonable being could desire."

The elder assented, and I am afraid that even the memory of the good things they had just received at Mrs. Prattely's hands did not prevent them from saying further hard ones about that lady.

If the girls could have looked again in the face of their late entertainer, they would have seen a very tender expression upon it, and a suspicious moisture about the eyes. Mrs. Prattely owned a kind heart as well as a busy tongue, and her thoughts were travelling back twenty years to just such a home-coming, when she was the girl-bride. She had known no hardships, for she had fair surroundings and a husband who never said her nay. But the home had been too quiet, that was all.

"If my one little girl had lived, she would have been within a year of Mrs. Crawford's age," she thought. "How delighted I should have been to plan for her! Well, I can pray, may God bless these two, and give them many a happy year together, and may she, poor thing, never know the loneliness I have so often felt, when I daresay one half of the people who know me think I am one of the most enviable of women! And so I am," she added, with a remorseful feeling, as she remembered how completely she was surrounded with good things.

And she breathed a prayer that she might be forgiven for cherishing a repining thought even for a moment.

As to Mrs. Crawford, this mother, who was without a living child to love, determined, so far as lay in her power, to be a kindly neighbour and faithful friend to the new mistress of Steynes-Cote.