‘Oh, no! that’s all right. But I’ve caught a fresh cold, and papa says he thinks I had better not go to the wedding.’
‘Poor little one! And it’s the first visit to London too!’
‘Yes. But what I most care for is the not being with Cynthia to the last; and then, papa’—she stopped, for she could hardly go on without open crying, and she did not want to do that. Then she cleared her voice. ‘Papa!’ she continued, ‘has so looked forward to this holiday,—and seeing—and—and going—oh! I can’t tell you where; but he has quite a list of people and sights to be seen,—and now he says he should not be comfortable to leave me all alone for more than three days,—two for travelling, and one for the wedding.’ Just then Mrs. Gibson came in, ruffled too after her fashion, though the presence of Lady Harriet was wonderfully smoothing.
‘My dear Lady Harriet—how kind of you! Ah, yes, I see this poor unfortunate child has been telling you of her ill-luck; just when everything was going on so beautifully; I’m sure it was that open window at your back, Molly,—you know you would persist that it could do you no harm, and now you see the mischief! I’m sure I shan’t be able to enjoy myself—and at my only child’s wedding too—without you; for I can’t think of leaving you without Maria. I would rather sacrifice anything myself than think of you, uncared for, and dismal at home.’
‘I’m sure Molly is as sorry as any one,’ said Lady Harriet.
‘No. I don’t think she is,’ said Mrs. Gibson, with happy disregard of the chronology of events, ‘or she would not have sat with her back to an open window the day before yesterday, when I told her not. But it can’t be helped now. Papa too—but it is my duty to make the best of everything, and look at the cheerful side of life. I wish I could persuade her to. do the same’ (turning and addressing Lady Harriet). ‘But, you see, it is a great mortification to a girl of her age to lose her first visit to London.’
‘It is not that,’ began Molly; but Lady Harriet made her a little sign to be silent while she herself spoke.
‘Now, Clare! you and I can manage it all, I think, if you will but help me in a plan I’ve got in my head. Mr. Gibson shall stay as long as ever he can in London; and Molly shall be well cared for, and have some change of air and scene too, which is really what she needs as much as anything, in my poor opinion. I can’t spirit her to the wedding and give her a sight of London; but I can carry her off to the Towers, and invite her myself; and send daily bulletins up to London, so that Mr. Gibson may feel quite at ease, and stay with you as long as you like. What do you say to it, Clare?’
‘Oh, I could not go,’ said Molly; ‘I should only be a trouble to everybody.’
‘Nobody asked you for your opinion, little one. If we wise elders decide that you are to go, you must submit in silence.’
Meanwhile Mrs. Gibson was rapidly balancing advantages and disadvantages. Amongst the former,—it would sound well; Maria could then accompany Cynthia and herself as ‘their maid,‘—Mr. Gibson would stay longer with her, and it was always desirable to have a man at her beck and call in such a place as London; besides that, this identical man was gentlemanly and good-looking, and a favourite with her prosperous brother-in-law; the ayes had it.
‘What a charming plan! I cannot think of anything kinder or pleasanter for this poor darling. Only—what will Lady Cumnor say? I am modest for my family as much as for myself,’ she continued.
‘You know mamma’s sense of hospitality is never more gratified than when the house is quite full; and papa is just like her. Besides, she is fond of you, and grateful to our good Mr. Gibson, and will be fond of you, little one, when she knows you as I do.’
Molly’s heart sank within her at the prospect. Excepting on the one evening of her father’s wedding-day, she had never even seen the outside of the Towers since that unlucky day in her childhood when she had fallen asleep on Clare’s bed. She had a dread of the countess, a dislike to her house; only it seemed as if it was a solution to the problem of what to do with her, which had been perplexing every one all the morning, and so evidently that it had caused her much distress. She kept silence, though her lips quivered from time to time. Oh, if Miss Brownings had not chosen this very time of all others to pay their monthly visit to Miss Hornblower! If she could only have gone there, and lived with them in their quaint, quiet, primitive way, instead of having to listen, without remonstrance, to hearing plans discussed about her, as if she was an inanimate chattel.
‘She shall have the south pink room, opening out of mine by one door, you remember; and the dressing-room shall be made into a cosy little sitting-room for her, in case she likes to be by herself Parkes shall attend upon her, and I’m sure Mr. Gibson must know Parkes’s powers as a nurse by this time. We shall have all manner of agreeable people in the house to amuse her downstairs; and when she has got rid of this access of cold, I will drive her out every day, and write daily bulletins as I said. Pray tell Mr. Gibson all that, and let it be considered as settled. I will come for her in the close carriage to-morrow, at eleven. And now may I see the lovely bride-elect, and give her mamma’s present, and my own good wishes?’
So Cynthia came in, and demurely received the very proper present, and the equally coveted congratulations, without testifying any very great delight or gratitude at either for she was quite quick enough to detect there was no great afflux of affection accompanying either. But when she heard her mother quickly recapitulating all the details of the plan for Molly, Cynthia’s eyes did sparkle with gladness; and, almost to Lady Harriet’s surprise, she thanked her as if she had conferred a personal favour upon her. Lady Harriet saw, too, that, in a very quiet way, she had taken Molly’s hand, and was holding it all the time, as if loth to think of their approaching separation—somehow, she and Lady Harriet were brought nearer together by this little action than they had ever been before.
Molly had hoped that her father might have raised some obstacles to the project; in this she was disappointed. But she was satisfied when she perceived how he seemed to feel that, by placing her under the care of Lady Harriet and Parkes, he should be relieved from anxiety. And now he spoke of this change of air and scene as being the very thing he had been wishing to secure for her; country air, and absence of excitement as this would be; for the only other place where he could have secured her these advantages, and at the same time sent her as an invalid, was to Hamley Hall; and he dreaded the associations there with the beginning of her present illness.
So Molly was driven off in state the next day, leaving her own home all in confusion with the assemblage of boxes and trunks in the hall, and all the other symptoms of the approaching departure of the family for London and the wedding. All the morning Cynthia had been with her in her room, attending to the arrangement of Molly’s clothes, instructing her what to wear with what, and rejoicing over the pretty smartnesses which, having been prepared for her as bridesmaid, were now to serve as adornments for her visit to the Towers. Both Molly and Cynthia spoke about dress as if it was the very object of their lives; for each dreaded the introduction of more serious subjects; Cynthia more for Molly than herself Only when the carriage was announced, and Molly was preparing to go downstairs, Cynthia said—
‘I’m not going to thank you, Molly, or to tell you how I love you.’
‘Don’t,’ said Molly, ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘Only you know you are to be my first visitor, and if you wear brown ribbons to a green gown, I’ll turn you out of the house!’ So they parted. Mr. Gibson was there in the hall to hand Molly in. He had ridden hard; and was now giving her two or three last injunctions as to her health.