"_Sir_ John?" repeated Clare in surprise.

"Of course. Think you I would have wedded a plain Master? I caused my father to knight him first.--Which is it?"

"That am I," said Clare.

"Oh, you? Well, you be not o'er like him. But you look all like unto common country folk that had never been in good company."

Though Clare might be a common country girl, yet she was shocked by Gertrude's rudeness. She had been brought up by Rachel to believe that the quality of her dress was of less consequence than that of her manners. Clare thought that if Gertrude were a fair sample of "good company," she did not wish to mix in it.

"I have been alway bred up in the Court," Gertrude went on, removing her hood. "I never was away thence afore. Of course I do conceive that I am descended to a lower point than heretofore--you have no coach, I dare wager? yet I looked not to find my new kin donned in sorry camlet and mean dowlas. Have you any waiting-maid?--or is that piece of civility [civilisation] not yet crept up into this far corner of the world?"

Clare summoned Jennet, and took her own seat in the further window. The vulgar, purse-proud tone of Gertrude's remarks disgusted her exceedingly. She did not enter into all of them. Simple Clare could not see what keeping a carriage had to do with gentlemanliness.

Jennet came in, and dropped a "lout" to the bride, whom she was disposed to regard with great reverence as a real lady. At that time, "lady" was restricted to women of t.i.tle, the general designation being "gentlewoman."

"Here, woman!" was Gertrude's peremptory order. "Untwist my hair, and dress it o'er again."

Jennet quickly untwisted the hair, which was elaborately curled and frizzed; and when it was reduced to smoothness, asked,--"What mun [must]

I do wi' 't?"

"Eh?" said Gertrude.

"I'm ill set [I find it difficult] to make th.o.r.e twirls and twists,"

explained Jennet. "Mun I curl 't, or ye'll ha' 't bred?" [Braided, plaited.]

"What means the jade?" demanded Gertrude with an oath.

Clare was horrified. She had heard men swear when they were in a pa.s.sion, and one or two when they were not; but that a woman should deliberately preface her words with oaths was something new and shocking to her. Lady Enville's strongest adjurations were mild little a.s.severations "by this fair daylight," or words no nearer profanity.

However, startled as she was, Clare came out of her corner to mediate.

"How should it like you dressed?"

"Oh! with the crisping-pins. 'Twill take as short time as any way."

"Wi' whatten a thingc.u.m?" [with what sort of a thing] stared Jennet.

"I am afeared, Sister, we have no crisping-pins," said Clare.

"No crisping-pins!" cried Gertrude, with another oath. "Verily, I might have come to Barbary! Are you well a.s.sured?"

"Be there any manner of irons, Jennet, for crisping or curling the hair?"

"Nay, Mistress Clare, we're Christians here," said Jennet in her coolest manner, which was very cool indeed. "We known nought about French ways, nor foreigners nother. [In Lancashire, strangers to the locality, if only from the next county, are termed foreigners.] There's been no such gear i' this house sin' I come--and that's eighteen year come Lady Day."

"Good sonties! [Little saints!] do't as thou wilt," sneered Gertrude.

"I would I had brought all my gear withal. Whate'er possessed yon jade Audrey to fall sick, that I was like to leave her behind at Chester!-- Truly, I knew not what idiots I was coming amongst--very savages, that wist not the usages of decent folk!"

"Bi' th' ma.s.s!" [not yet obsolete] cried Jennet in burning wrath, resorting to her strongest language, "but I'm no more an idiot nor thee, my well-spoken dame,--nay, nor a savage nother. And afore I set up to dress thy hure again, thou may ask me o' thy bended knees--nor I'll none do't then, I warrant thee!"

And setting down the brush with no light hand, away stalked Miss Jennet, bristling with indignation. Gertrude called her back angrily in vain, looked after her for a moment with parted lips, and then broke forth into a torrent of mingled wrath and profanity. She averred that if one of her fathers servants had thus spoken, she would have had her horsewhipped within an inch of her life. Clare let her run on until she cooled down a little, and then quietly answered that in that part of the world the people were very independent; but if Gertrude would allow her, she would try to dress her hair as well as she could. That it would be of no use to ask Jennet again, Clare well knew; and she shrank from exposing her dear old Barbara to the insolent vulgarity of Gertrude.

"You may as well," said Gertrude coolly, and without a word of thanks.

"You be meet for little else, I dare say."

And reseating herself before the mirror, she submitted her hair to Clare's inexperienced handling. For a first attempt, however, the result was tolerably satisfactory, though Clare had never before dressed any hair but her own; and Gertrude showed her grat.i.tude by merely a.s.serting, without anger or swearing, that she was right thankful no ladies nor gentlemen should behold her thus disfigured, as she would not for all the treasures of the Indies that they should. With this delicate compliment to her new relatives, she rustled down into the hall, Clare following meekly. Gertrude had not changed her dress; perhaps she did not think it worth while to honour people who dressed in say and camlet. Sir Thomas received her with scrupulous deference, set her on his right hand, and paid all kindly attention to her comfort.

For some time, however, it appeared doubtful whether anything on the supper-table was good enough for the exacting young lady. Those around her came at last to the conclusion that Gertrude's protestations required considerable discount; since, after declaring that she "had no stomach," and "could not pick a lark's bones," she finished by eating more than Clare and Blanche put together. Jack, meanwhile, was attending to his own personal wants, and took no notice of his bride, beyond a cynical remark now and then, to which Gertrude returned a sharp answer. It was evident that no love was lost between them.

As soon as supper was over, the bride went up to her own room, declaring as she went that "if yon savage creature had the handling of her gowns"--by which epithet Clare guessed that she meant Jennet--"there would not be a rag left meet to put on"--and commanding, rather than requesting, that Clare and Blanche would come and help her. Sir Thomas looked surprised.

"Be these the manners of the great?" said he, too low for Jack to hear.

"Oh ay!" responded his wife, who was prepared to fall down at the feet of her daughter-in-law, because she was _Lady_ Gertrude. "So commanding is she!--as a very queen, I do protest. She hath no doubt been used to great store of serving-maidens."

"That maketh not our daughters serving-maids," said Sir Thomas in an annoyed tone.

"I would have thought her mother should have kept her in order," said Rachel with acerbity. "If that woman were my daughter, she had need look out."

Rachel did not know that Gertrude had no mother, and had been allowed to do just as she pleased ever since she was ten years old.

Meanwhile, up-stairs, from trunk after trunk, under Gertrude's directions--she did not help personally--Clare and Blanche were lifting dresses in such quant.i.ties that Blanche wondered what they could have cost, and innocent Clare imagined that their owner must have brought all she expected to want for the term of her natural life.

"There!" said Gertrude, when the last trunk which held dresses was emptied. "How many be they? Count. Seventeen--only seventeen? What hath yon lither hilding [wicked girl] Audrey been about? There should be nineteen; twenty, counting that I bear. I would I might be hanged if she hath not left out, my cramoisie! [crimson velvet!] the fairest gown I have! And"--with an oath--"if she hath put in my blue taffata, broidered with seed-pearl, I would I might serve as a kitchener!"

Rachel walked in while Gertrude was speaking.

"Surely you lack no more!" said Blanche. "Here be seven velvet gowns, and four of satin!"

"Enow for you, belike!" answered Gertrude, with a sneer.

"Enow for any Christian woman, Niece, and at the least ten too many,"

said Rachel severely.

"Lack-a-daisy!--you have dwelt so long hereaway in this wilderness, you wit not what lacketh for decency in apparel," returned Gertrude irreverently, greatly scandalising both her sisters-in-law by her disrespect to Aunt Rachel. "How should I make seventeen gowns serve for a month?"

"If you don a new every second day," said Rachel, "there shall be two left over at the end thereof."

Gertrude stared at her for a moment, then broke into loud laughter.

"Good heart, if she think not they be all of a sort! Why, look you here--this is a riding gown, and this a junketing gown, and this a night-gown [evening dress]. Two left over, quotha!"

"I would fain, Niece," said Rachel gravely, "you had paid as much note unto the adorning of your soul as you have to that of your body. You know 'tis writ--but may be 'tis not the fashion to read G.o.d's Word now o' days?"

"In church, of course," replied Gertrude. "Only Puritans read it out of church."

"You be no Puritan, trow?"

"Gramercy! G.o.d defend me therefrom!"