England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories, English
It was no light charge, having a third person in the house to live upon
their small income, especially one who studied his appetite. For a very
short time Lavinia, in her indignation at affairs generally, turned the
housekeeping over to Mrs. Fennel. But she had to take to it again. Ann
was naturally an incautious manager; she ordered in delicacies to please
her husband's palate without regard to cost, and nothing could have come
of that but debt and disaster.
That the gallant ex-Captain Fennel had married Ann Preen just to
have a roof over his head, Lavinia felt as sure of as that the moon
occasionally shone in the heavens. She did not suppose he had any other
refuge in the wide world. And through something told her by Ann she
judged that he had believed he was doing better for himself in marrying
than he had done.
The day after the marriage Mr. and Mrs. Fennel were sitting on a bench
at Dover, romantically gazing at the sea, honeymoon fashion, and talking
of course of hearts and darts. Suddenly the bridegroom turned his
thoughts to more practical things.
"Nancy, how do you receive your money--half-yearly or quarterly?" asked
he.
"Oh, quarterly," said Nancy. "It is paid punctually to us by the
acting-trustee, Colonel Selby."
"Ah, yes. Then you have thirty-five pounds every quarter?"
"Between us, we do," assented Nancy. "Lavinia has seventeen pounds ten,
and I have the same; and the colonel makes us each give a receipt for
our own share."
Captain Fennel turned his head and gazed at her with a hard stare.
"You told me your income was a hundred and forty pounds a-year."
"Yes, it is that exactly," said she quietly; "mine and Lavinia's
together. We do not each have that, Edwin; I never meant to imply----"
Mrs. Fennel broke off, frightened. On the captain's face, cruel enough
just then, there sat an expression which she might have thought
diabolical had it been any one else's face. Any way, it scared her.
"What is it?" she gasped.
Rising rapidly, Captain Fennel walked forward, caught up some pebbles,
flung them from him and waited, apparently watching to see where they
fell. Then he strolled back again.
"Were you angry with me?" faltered Nancy. "Had I done anything?"
"My dear, what should you have done? Angry?" repeated he, in a light
tone, as if intensely amused. "You must not take up fancies, Mrs.
Fennel."
"I suppose Mrs. Selby thought it would be sufficient income for us, both
living together," remarked Nancy. "If either of us should die it all
lapses to the other. We found it quite enough last year, I assure you,
Edwin; Sainteville is so cheap a place."
"Oh, delightfully cheap!" agreed the captain.
It was this conversation that Nancy repeated to Lavinia; but she did not
speak of the queer look which had frightened her. Lavinia saw that Mr.
Edwin Fennel had taken up a wrong idea of their income. Of course the
disappointment angered him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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