The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town by L. T. Meade (best smutty novels .txt) 📖

It was the fashion to be punctual at Northbury, and when Catherine, Mabel and Loftus Bertram arrived about ten minutes past seven at the Gray House they found the pleasant old drawing-room already full of eager and expectant guests.

Beatrice would have preferred meeting her new friends without any ceremony in the garden, but Mrs. Meadowsweet was nothing if she was not mistress of her own house, and she decided that it would be more becoming and comme il faut to wait in the drawing-room for the young visitors.

Accordingly Mrs. Meadowsweet sat in her chair of state. She wore a rose-colored silk dress, and a quantity of puffed white lace round her neck and wrists; and a cap which was tall and stiff, and had little tufts of yellow ribbon and little rosettes of Maltese lace adorning it, surmounted her large, full-blown face. That face was all beams and kindliness and good-temper, and had somehow the effect of making people forget whether Mrs. Meadowsweet was vulgar or not.

She sat in her chair of state facing the garden, and her visitors, all on the tip-toe of expectation, stationed themselves round her. The Bells had taken possession of the Chesterfield sofa. By sitting rather widely apart they managed to fill it; they always looked alike. To-night they so exactly resembled peas in a pod that one had a sense of ache and almost fatigue in watching them. This fatigue and irritation rose to desperation when they spoke. The Bells were poor, and their dresses bore decided signs of stint and poverty. They wore white muslin jackets, and pale green skirts of a shining substance known as mohair. Their mother fondly imagined that the shine and glitter of this fabric could not be known from silk. It was harsh, however, and did not lie in graceful folds, and besides, the poor little skirts lacked quantity.

The Bells had thin hair, and no knack whatever with regard to its arrangement. They looked unprepossessing girls, but no matter. Beatrice thought well of them. Mrs. Meadowsweet bestowed one or two broad glances of approval upon the inseparable little trio, and their own small hearts were dancing with expectation.

Would Bee, their darling, delightful, beautiful Bee, introduce them to Captain Bertram? Would he speak to them and smile upon them? Would he tell them stories of some of his gallant exploits? The Bells' round faces seemed to grow plumper, and their saucer eyes fuller, as they contemplated this contingency. What supreme bliss would be theirs if Captain Bertram singled them out for attention? Already they were in love with his name, and were quite ready to fall down in a phalanx of three, and worship the hero of many imaginary fights.

Standing by the open window, and with no shyness or stiffness whatever about them, Daisy and Polly Jenkins were to be seen. Daisy was a full-blown girl with a rather loud voice, and a manner which was by some considered very fascinating; for it had the effect of instantly taking you, as it were, behind the scenes, and into her innermost confidence.

Daisy was rather good-looking, and was the adored of Albert Bell, the little round-faced girls' brother. She was dressed in voluminous muslin draperies, and was a decidedly large and comfortable-looking young woman.

Polly was a second edition of her sister, only not so good-looking. She had made up her mind to marry Mr. Jones, the curate, who for his part was deeply in love with Beatrice.

"They are frightfully late, aren't they?" exclaimed Daisy Jenkins, giving a slight yawn, and looking longingly out at the tennis courts as she spoke. "I suppose it's the way with fashionable folk. For my part, I call it rude. Mrs. Meadowsweet, may I run across the garden, and pick a piece of sweet brier to put in the front of my dress? Somehow I pine for it."

"I'll get it for you," said Albert Bell, blushing crimson as he spoke.

He was a very awkward young man, but his heart was as warm as his manners were uncouth.

"I'll get it for you, Daisy," he said. His dull eyes had not the power of shining or looking eloquent. He stepped from behind the sofa where his sisters sat, and stumbled over Mrs. Meadowsweet's footstool.

"I think, my dears, we'll just wait for our guests," said the old lady. "We'll all just be present, please, when they come. It's my old-fashioned ideas, my loves, just for us all to be ready to give them a right-down, good welcome."

"Bother!" exclaimed Miss Daisy. She flounced her full skirts, cast a withering glance at young Bell, and once more looked out of the open window.

"Come here, Beatrice," exclaimed Polly.

Mr. Jones was talking to Beatrice, and Polly hoped they would both approach the window together.

"Come and tell us about that Adonis you went rowing with to-day," called the girl in her shrill, half-jealous voice.

It was just at that moment that the door was flung open by Jane, and the Bertrams made their appearance.

Catherine and Mabel wore the simplest white washing-dresses. Their girlish waists were encircled by sashes of pale gold. Catherine's thick dark hair was coiled tightly round her head—Mabel's more frizzy and paler locks fell in wavy curls round her forehead and on her shoulders. Nobody else looked the least like the Bertrams. Their dresses were as cheap as any other girl's dresses in the room. Daisy and Polly Jenkins had really much handsomer and finer hair, but somehow the effect produced by the Bertrams was altogether different.

Mrs. Meadowsweet addressed them in a deferential tone as "Miss," and it went like an electric flash through the minds of all the other visitors that the old lady was quite right when she thought it her duty to receive them in state.

Bertram was in flannels, and these were cut not exactly after the pattern of those worn by young Bell, who looked with a sort of despair at his true love, Daisy, whose eyes, in company with the three pairs of eyes of the Bells, were directed full upon the aristocratic face of Captain Bertram.

"Come into the garden," said Beatrice, stepping forward in her usual bright way, forgetting herself completely, and in consequence putting every one else at their ease. "We are very punctual people at Northbury," she continued, "and we are all wild to begin our game Captain Bertram, these are my friends, the Bells. May I introduce you? This is Miss Matty, and this is Miss Alice, and this is Miss Sophy. Matty, I put Captain Bertram into your charge. Albert," she continued, looking at young Bell, "will you and Daisy arrange a set for tennis?"

How Albert Bell did bless Beatrice! In a moment or two all the visitors were perambulating about the garden. Mr. Jones was escorted on one side by Polly Jenkins, on the other, he, in his turn, tried to escort Mabel Bertram, who did not talk a great deal and seemed somewhat out of her element. Catherine and Beatrice walked together, and Mrs. Meadowsweet, still sitting in her arm-chair, smiled as she saw them.

"That's a nice girl, and a fine looking girl," she murmured, "and very good company for my Bee. Very good company for her. Yes, the Bertrams are stylish but not of our set. My word, not a bit of our set. Bee, of course, might talk to anybody, but the rest of us—no, no, I'm the first to see the fitness of things, and the Bertrams don't belong to us nor we to them. Bee takes after her father, poor man, but the rest of us, we have no right to know the Bertrams. Now, do look at that young captain. Why, he's making the little Bells laugh themselves into fits. Dear me, I'd better go out. These girls don't know manners, and their heads will be turned by that fine young spark. They are certain to believe any rubbish he talks to them."

Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with difficulty, stepped out of the open window, and sailed in her rose-colored satin across the grass.

"Now, what's up?" she said. "Fie, fie, Matty, your laugh is for all the world like a hen cackling."

"He, he!" exclaimed the younger girls.

"Now, there you are off again, and all three of you this time!"

"It's Captain Bertram, ma'am," began Matty.

"Captain Bertram!" echoed Alice.

"Bertram," sighed Sophy.

"He says," continued Matty, "that we are all alike, and he doesn't know one from the other, and we are trying to puzzle him. It is such delicious fun."

"Delicious fun!" said Alice.

"Fun!" gasped Sophy, through her peals of mirth.

"Now," continued Alice, "he shall begin again. He shall go through his catechism. Here we three stand in a row. Which is Matty, which is Alice, which is Sophy?"

Captain Bertram pulled his mustache, swept his dark eyes over the little eager palpitating group, and in a languid tone pronounced the wrong one to be Matty.

The cackling rose to a shriek.

"You shall pay a forfeit, you bad man," said the real Matty. She shook her little fat finger at him. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Meadowsweet, he really shall—he must. This really is too sweetly delicious,—fancy his not knowing me from Alice—I call it ungallant. Now what shall the forfeit be, Alice and Sophy. Let's put our fingers on our lips and think."

"He shall tell us," exclaims Alice, "he shall describe at full length his—"

She looked at her sisters.

"His first battle," prompted Matty.

"No, no, better than that, better than that—" came from Sophy's girlish lips. "Captain Bertram shall tell us about his—his first love."

It may have been rude, but at this remark Captain Bertram not only changed color but turned in a very marked way from the Misses Bell, and devoted himself to his hostess.

He was attacked by a complaint somewhat in vogue in high life—he had a sudden fit of convenient deafness. He said a few words in a cold voice to Mrs. Meadowsweet, crushed the little Bells by his icy manner, and took the first opportunity of finding more congenial society.

An eager game of tennis was going on, and Beatrice, who did not play, stood by to watch. Northbury was accustomed to Beatrice, and did not therefore observe, what was very patent to Captain Bertram, that this girl was as perfectly well-bred as his own sisters. She wore a long, gray cashmere dress, slightly open at her throat, with ruffles of soft, real lace.

As she watched the game, her sensitive and speaking face showed interest, sympathy, keen appreciation. She heard Captain Bertram's step, and turned to welcome him with a smile.

"Would not you like to play?"

"Will you be my partner?"

"When they make up a fresh set I will, with pleasure; although," she added, looking down at her long dress, "I did not expect to play to-night, and did not dress for it."

"Thank goodness. I hate tennis dresses. All girls should wear trains."

Beatrice raised her bright eyes to his face. Their open expression said plainly, "It is a matter of indifference to me what you think about my dress." Aloud she said:

"What have you done with my friends, the Bells?"

"I am afraid, Miss Meadowsweet, that long intercourse with those young ladies would be too severe a strain on my intellect."

"Captain Bertram, you don't mean what you are saying."

"I do, on my honor. They are too intellectual for me."

"They are not! You are laughing at them."

Beatrice stepped back a pace, and looked at him with a heightened color coming into her face.

Captain Bertram began to explain. Before he could get in a word she said, abruptly:

"Pardon me," and flew from his side.

Her movement was so fleet and sudden that he had not realized her departure before the