Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 1Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Dynevor Terrace; Or, The Clue of Life — Volume 1
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Cousins -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction
The object of her bitterest invectives was the fastidious butler, Mr.
Delaford, who by her account could do nothing for himself, grudged her
mistresses their very sitting-room, drank wine with the ladies' maids
like a gentleman, and ordered fish for the second table; talked of
having quitted a duke, and submitting to live with Lady Conway because
he compassionated unprotected females, and my Lady was dependent on him
for the care of Sir Walter in the holidays. To crown his offences, he
never cleaned his own plate, but drew sketches and played the guitar!
Moreover, Mrs. Martha had her notions that he was making that sickly
Frenchified maid of Miss Conway's much too fond of him; and as to his
calling himself Mr. Delaford--why, Mrs. Martha had a shrewd suspicion
that he was some kin to her first cousin's brother-in-law's shopman's
wife in Tottenham-court-road, whose name she knew was Ford, and who had
been picked out of a gutter! The establishment of such a fact appeared
as if it would be the triumph of Mrs. Martha's life. In the meantime,
she more than hinted that she would wear herself to the bone rather
than let Charlotte Arnold into the house; and Jane, generally
assenting, though seldom going all lengths, used to divert the
conversation by comparisons with Mr. Frampton's politeness and
consideration. He never came to No. 5 to give trouble, only to help.
The invectives produced on Charlotte's mind an effect the reverse of
what was intended. Mr. Delaford, a finer gentleman than Mr. Frampton
and Mr. Poynings, must be a wonder of nature. The guitar--redolent of
serenades and Spanish cloaks--oh! but once to see and hear it! The very
rudeness of Mrs. Martha's words, so often repeated, gave her a feeling
in favour of their object. She had known Mrs. Martha unjust before.
Poor Tom! if he had only been a Spaniard, he would have sung about the
white dove--his pretty thought--in a serenade, but then he might have
poignarded Mr. James in his passion, which would have been less
agreeable--she supposed he had forgotten her long ago--and so much the
better!
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