Chapter XVII. Townlinson and Sheppard

The Shuttle

by Francis Hodgson Burnett

During the whole course of her interesting life--and she had
always found life interesting--Betty Vanderpoel decided that she had
known no experience more absorbing than this morning spent in going
over the long-closed and deserted portions of the neglected house.
She had never seen anything like the place, or as full of suggestion.
The greater part of it had simply been shut up and left to time and
weather, both of which had had their effects. The fine old red roof,
having lost tiles, had fallen into leaks that let in rain, which had
stained and rotted walls, plaster, and woodwork; wind and storm had
beaten through broken window panes and done their worst with such
furniture and hangings as they found to whip and toss and leave damp
and spotted with mould. They passed through corridors, and up and
down short or long stairways, with stained or faded walls, and
sometimes with cracked or fallen plastering and wainscotting. Here
and there the oak flooring itself was uncertain. The rooms, whether
large or small, all presented a like aspect of potential beauty and
comfort, utterly uncared for and forlorn. There were many rooms, but
none more than scantily furnished, and a number of them were stripped
bare. Betty found herself wondering how long a time it had taken the
belongings of the big place to dwindle and melt away into such
bareness.

"There was a time, I suppose, when it was all furnished," she
said.

"All these rooms were shut up when I came here," Rosy answered.
"I suppose things worth selling have been sold. When pieces of
furniture were broken in one part of the house, they were replaced by
things brought from another. No one cared. Nigel hates it all. He
calls it a rathole. He detests the country everywhere, but
particularly this part of it. After the first year I had learned
better than to speak to him of spending money on repairs."

"A good deal of money should be spent on repairs," reflected
Betty, looking about her.

She was standing in the middle of a room whose walls were hung
with the remains of what had been chintz, covered with a pattern of
loose clusters of moss rosebuds. The dampness had rotted it until,
in some places, it had fallen away in strips from its fastenings. A
quaint, embroidered couch stood in one corner, and as Betty looked at
it, a mouse crept from under the tattered valance, stared at her in
alarm and suddenly darted back again, in terror of intrusion so
unusual. A casement window swung open, on a broken hinge, and a
strong branch of ivy, having forced its way inside, had thrown a
covering of leaves over the deep ledge, and was beginning to climb
the inner woodwork. Through the casement was to be seen a heavenly
spread of country, whose rolling lands were clad softly in green
pastures and thick-branched trees.

"This is the Rosebud Boudoir," said Lady Anstruthers, smiling
faintly. "All the rooms have names. I thought them so delightful,
when I first heard them. The Damask Room-- the Tapestry Room--the
White Wainscot Room--My Lady's Chamber. It almost broke my heart
when I saw what they looked like."

"It would be very interesting," Betty commented slowly, "to make
them look as they ought to look."

A remote fear rose to the surface of the expression in Lady
Anstruthers' eyes. She could not detach herself from certain
recollections of Nigel--of his opinions of her family--of his
determination not to allow it to enter as a factor in either his life
or hers. And Betty had come to Stornham--Betty whom he had detested
as a child--and in the course of two days, she had seemed to become a
new part of the atmosphere, and to make the dead despair of the place
begin to stir with life. What other thing than this was happening as
she spoke of making such rooms as the Rosebud Boudoir "look as they
ought to look," and said the words not as if they were part of a
fantastic vision, but as if they expressed a perfectly possible
thing?

Betty saw the doubt in her eyes, and in a measure, guessed at
its meaning. The time to pause for argument had, however not
arrived. There was too much to be investigated, too much to be seen.
She swept her on her way. They wandered on through some forty
rooms, more or less; they opened doors and closed them; they unbarred
shutters and let the sun stream in on dust and dampness and cobwebs.
The comprehension of the situation which Betty gained was as valuable
as it was enlightening.

The descent into the lower part of the house was a new
experience. Betty had not before seen huge, flagged kitchens,
vaulted servants' halls, stone passages, butteries and dairies. The
substantial masonry of the walls and arched ceilings, the stone
stairway, and the seemingly endless offices, were interestingly
remote in idea from such domestic modernities as chance views of
up-to-date American household workings had provided her.

In the huge kitchen itself, an elderly woman, rolling pastry,
paused to curtsy to them, with stolid curiosity in her heavy-
featured face. In her character as "single-handed" cook, Mrs. Noakes
had sent up uninviting meals to Lady Anstruthers for several years,
but she had not seen her ladyship below stairs before. And this was
the unexpected arrival--the young lady there had been "talk of" from
the moment of her appearance. Mrs. Noakes admitted with the
grudgingness of a person of uncheerful temperament, that looks like
that always would make talk. A certain degree of vague mental
illumination led her to agree with Robert, the footman, that the
stranger's effectiveness was, perhaps, also, not altogether a matter
of good looks, and certainly it was not an affair of clothes. Her
brightish blue dress, of rough cloth, was nothing particular,
notwithstanding the fit of it. There was "something else about her."
She looked round the place, not with the casual indifference of a
fine young lady, carelessly curious to see what she had not seen
before, but with an alert, questioning interest.

"What a big place," she said to her ladyship. "What substantial
walls! What huge joints must have been roasted before such a
fireplace."

She drew near to the enormous, antiquated cooking place.

"People were not very practical when this was built," she said.
"It looks as if it must waste a great deal of coal. Is it----?" she
looked at Mrs. Noakes. "Do you like it?"

There was a practical directness in the question for which Mrs.
Noakes was not prepared. Until this moment, it had apparently
mattered little whether she liked things or not. The condition of
her implements of trade was one of her grievances--the ancient
fireplace and ovens the bitterest.

"It's out of order, miss," she answered. "And they don't use
'em like this in these days."

"I thought not," said Miss Vanderpoel.

She made other inquiries as direct and significant of the
observing eye, and her passage through the lower part of the
establishment left Mrs. Noakes and her companions in a strange but
not unpleasurable state of ferment.

"Think of a young lady that's never had nothing to do with
kitchens, going straight to that shameful old fireplace, and seeing
what it meant to the woman that's got to use it. `Do you like it?'
she says. If she'd been a cook herself, she couldn't have put it
straighter. She's got eyes."

"She's been using them all over the place, said Robert. "Her
and her ladyship's been into rooms that's not been opened for
years."

"More shame to them that should have opened 'em," remarked Mrs.
Noakes. "Her ladyship's a poor, listless thing-- but her spirit was
broken long ago.

"This one will mend it for her, perhaps," said the man servant.
"I wonder what's going to happen."

"Well, she's got a look with her--the new one--as if where she
was things would be likely to happen. You look out. The place won't
seem so dead and alive if we've got something to think of and
expect."

"Who are the solicitors Sir Nigel employs?" Betty had asked her
sister, when their pilgrimage through the house had been
completed.

Messrs. Townlinson & Sheppard, a firm which for several
generations had transacted the legal business of much more important
estates than Stornham, held its affairs in hand. Lady Anstruthers
knew nothing of them, but that they evidently did not approve of the
conduct of their client. Nigel was frequently angry when he spoke of
them. It could be gathered that they had refused to allow him to do
things he wished to do--sell things, or borrow money on them.

"I think we must go to London and see them," Betty suggested.

Rosy was agitated. Why should one see them? What was there to
be spoken of? Their going, Betty explained would be a sort of visit
of ceremony--in a measure a precaution. Since Sir Nigel was
apparently not to be reached, having given no clue as to where he
intended to go, it might be discreet to consult Messrs. Townlinson
& Sheppard with regard to the things it might be well to do--the
repairs it appeared necessary to make at once. If Messrs. Townlinson
& Sheppard approved of the doing of such work, Sir Nigel could
not resent their action, and say that in his absence liberties had
been taken. Such a course seemed businesslike and dignified.

It was what Betty felt that her father would do. Nothing could
be complained of, which was done with the knowledge and under the
sanction of the family solicitors.

"Then there are other things we must do. We must go to shops
and theatres. It will be good for you to go to shops and theatres,
Rosy."

"I have nothing but rags to wear," answered Lady Anstruthers,
reddening.

"Then before we go we will have things sent down. People can be
sent from the shops to arrange what we want."

The magic of the name, standing for great wealth, could, it was
true, bring to them, not only the contents of shops, but the people
who showed them, and were ready to carry out any orders. The name of
Vanderpoel already stood, in London, for inexhaustible resource.
Yes, it was simple enough to send for politely subservient saleswomen
to bring what one wanted.

The being reminded in every-day matters of the still real
existence of the power of this magic was the first step in the
rebuilding of Lady Anstruthers. To realise that the wonderful and
yet simple necromancy was gradually encircling her again, had its
parallel in the taking of a tonic, whose effect was cumulative. She
herself did not realise the working of it. But Betty regarded it
with interest. She saw it was good for her, merely to look on at the
unpacking of the New York boxes, which the maid, sent for from
London, brought down with her.

As the woman removed, from tray after tray, the tissue-
paper-enfolded layers of garments, Lady Anstruthers sat and watched
her with normal, simply feminine interest growing in her eyes. The
things were made with the absence of any limit in expenditure, the
freedom with delicate stuffs and priceless laces which belonged only
to her faint memories of a lost past.

Nothing had limited the time spent in the embroidering of this
apparently simple linen frock and coat; nothing had restrained the
hand holding the scissors which had cut into the lace which adorned
in appliques and filmy frills this exquisitely charming ball
dress.

"It is looking back so far," she said, waving her hand towards
them with an odd gesture. "To think that it was once all like--like
that."

She got up and went to the things, turning them over, and
touching them with a softness, almost expressing a caress. The names
of the makers stamped on bands and collars, the names of the streets
in which their shops stood, moved her. She heard again the once
familiar rattle of wheels, and the rush and roar of New York
traffic.

Betty carried on the whole matter with lightness. She talked
easily and casually, giving local colour to what she said. She
described the abnormally rapid growth of the places her sister had
known in her teens, the new buildings, new theatres, new shops, new
people, the later mode of living, much of it learned from England,
through the unceasing weaving of the Shuttle.

"Changing--changing--changing. That is what it is always
doing--America. We have not reached repose yet. One wonders how
long it will be before we shall. Now we are always hurrying
breathlessly after the next thing--the new one--which we always think
will be the better one. Other countries built themselves slowly. In
the days of their building, the pace of life was a march. When
America was born, the march had already begun to hasten, and as a
nation we began, in our first hour, at the quickening speed. Now the
pace is a race. New York is a kaleidoscope. I myself can remember
it a wholly different thing. One passes down a street one day, and
the next there is a great gap where some building is being torn
down--a few days later, a tall structure of some sort is touching the
sky. It is wonderful, but it does not tend to calm the mind. That
is why we cross the Atlantic so much. The sober, quiet-loving blood
our forbears brought from older countries goes in search of rest.
Mixed with other things, I feel in my own being a resentment against
newness and disorder, and an insistence on the atmosphere of
long-established things."

But for years Lady Anstruthers had been living in the atmosphere
of long-established things, and felt no insistence upon it. She
yearned to hear of the great, changing Western world--of the great,
changing city. Betty must tell her what the changes were. What were
the differences in the streets-- where had the new buildings been
placed? How had Fifth Avenue and Madison Avenue and Broadway
altered? Were not Gramercy Park and Madison Square still green with
grass and trees? Was it all different? Would she not know the old
places herself? Though it seemed a lifetime since she had seen them,
the years which had passed were really not so many.

It was good for her to talk and be talked to in this manner
Betty saw. Still handling her subject lightly, she presented picture
after picture. Some of them were of the wonderful, feverish city
itself--the place quite passionately loved by some, as passionately
disliked by others. She herself had fallen into the habit, as she
left childhood behind her, of looking at it with interested
wonder--at its riot of life and power, of huge schemes, and almost
superhuman labours, of fortunes so colossal that they seemed
monstrosities in their relation to the world. People who in
Rosalie's girlhood had lived in big ugly brownstone fronts, had built
for themselves or for their children, houses such as, in other
countries, would have belonged to nobles and princes, spending
fortunes upon their building, filling them with treasures brought
from foreign lands, from palaces, from art galleries, from
collectors. Sometimes strange people built such houses and lived
strange lavish, ostentatious lives in them, forming an overstrained,
abnormal, pleasure-chasing world of their own. The passing of even
ten years in New York counted itself almost as a generation; the
fashions, customs, belongings of twenty years ago wore an air of
almost picturesque antiquity.

"It does not take long to make an `old New Yorker,' " she said.
"Each day brings so many new ones."

There were, indeed, many new ones, Lady Anstruthers found.
People who had been poor had become hugely rich, a few who had been
rich had become poor, possessions which had been large had swelled to
unnatural proportions. Out of the West had risen fortunes more
monstrous than all others. As she told one story after another,
Bettina realised, as she had done often before, that it was
impossible to enter into description of the life and movements of the
place, without its curiously involving some connection with the huge
wealth of it--with its influence, its rise, its swelling, or
waning.

"Somehow one cannot free one's self from it. This is the age of
wealth and invention--but of wealth before all else. Sometimes one
is tired--tired of it."

"You would not be tired of it if--well, if you were I, said Lady
Anstruthers rather pathetically.

"Perhaps not," Betty answered. "Perhaps not."

She herself had seen people who were not tired of it in the
sense in which she was--the men and women, with worn or intently
anxious faces, hastening with the crowds upon the pavements, all
hastening somewhere, in chase of that small portion of the wealth
which they earned by their labour as their daily share; the same men
and women surging towards elevated railroad stations, to seize on
places in the homeward- bound trains; or standing in tired-looking
groups, waiting for the approach of an already overfull street car,
in which they must be packed together, and swing to the hanging
straps, to keep upon their feet. Their way of being weary of it
would be different from hers, they would be weary only of hearing of
the mountains of it which rolled themselves up, as it seemed, in
obedience to some irresistible, occult force.

On the day after Stornham village had learned that her ladyship
and Miss Vanderpoel had actually gone to London, the dignified firm
of Townlinson & Sheppard received a visit which created some
slight sensation in their establishment, though it had not been
entirely unexpected. It had, indeed, been heralded by a note from
Miss Vanderpoel herself, who had asked that the appointment be made.
Men of Messrs. Townlinson & Sheppard's indubitable rank in their
profession could not fail to know the significance of the Vanderpoel
name. They knew and understood its weight perfectly well. When
their client had married one of Reuben Vanderpoel's daughters, they
had felt that extraordinary good fortune had befallen him and his
estate. Their private opinion had been that Mr. Vanderpoel's
knowledge of his son-in-law must have been limited, or that he had
curiously lax American views of paternal duty. The firm was highly
reputable, long established strictly conservative, and somewhat
insular in its point of view. It did not understand, or seek to
understand, America. It had excellent reasons for thoroughly
understanding Sir Nigel Anstruthers. Its opinions of him it reserved
to itself. If Messrs. Townlinson & Sheppard had been asked to
give a daughter into their client's keeping, they would have flatly
refused to accept the honour proposed. Mr. Townlinson had, indeed,
at the time of the marriage, admitted in strict confidence to his
partner that for his part he would have somewhat preferred to follow
a daughter of his own to her tomb. After the marriage the firm had
found the situation confusing and un-English. There had been trouble
with Sir Nigel, who had plainly been disappointed. At first it had
appeared that the American magnate had shown astuteness in refraining
from leaving his son-in-law a free hand. Lady Anstruthers' fortune
was her own and not her husband's. Mr. Townlinson, paying a visit to
Stornham and finding the bride a gentle, childish-looking girl, whose
most marked expression was one of growing timorousness, had returned
with a grave face. He foresaw the result, if her family did not
stand by her with firmness, which he also foresaw her husband would
prevent if possible. It became apparent that the family did not
stand by her--or were cleverly kept at a distance. There was a long
illness, which seemed to end in the seclusion from the world, brought
about by broken health. Then it was certain that what Mr. Townlinson
had foreseen had occurred. The inexperienced girl had been bullied
into submission. Sir Nigel had gained the free hand, whatever the
means he had chosen to employ. Most improper--most improper, the
whole affair. He had a great deal of money, but none of it was used
for the benefit of the estate--his deformed boy's estate. Advice,
dignified remonstrance, resulted only in most disagreeable scenes.
Messrs. Townlinson & Sheppard could not exceed certain limits.
The manner in which the money was spent was discreditable. There
were avenues a respectable firm knew only by rumour, there were
insane gambling speculations, which could only end in disaster, there
were things one could not decently concern one's self with. Lady
Anstruthers' family had doubtless become indignant and disgusted, and
had dropped the whole affair. Sad for the poor woman, but not
unnatural.

And now appears a Miss Vanderpoel, who wishes to appoint an
interview with Messrs. Townlinson & Sheppard. What does she wish
to say? The family is apparently taking the matter up. Is this lady
an elder or a younger sister of Lady Anstruthers? Is she an older
woman of that strong and rather trying American type one hears of, or
is she younger than her ladyship, a pretty, indignant, totally
unpractical girl, outraged by the state of affairs she has
discovered, foolishly coming to demand of Messrs. Townlinson &
Sheppard an explanation of things they are not responsible for? Will
she, perhaps, lose her temper, and accuse and reproach, or even--most
unpleasant to contemplate--shed hysterical tears?

It fell to Mr. Townlinson to receive her in the absence of Mr.
Sheppard, who had been called to Northamptonshire to attend to great
affairs. He was a stout, grave man with a heavy, well-cut face, and,
when Bettina entered his room, his courteous reception of her
reserved his view of the situation entirely.

She was not of the mature and rather alarming American type he
had imagined possible, he felt some relief in marking at once. She
was also not the pretty, fashionable young lady who might have come
to scold him, and ask silly, irrational questions.

His ordinarily rather unillumined countenance changed somewhat
in expression when she sat down and began to speak. Mr. Townlinson
was impressed by the fact that it was at once unmistakably evident
that whatsoever her reason for coming, she had not presented herself
to ask irrelevant or unreasonable questions. Lady Anstruthers, she
explained without superfluous phrase, had no definite knowledge of
her husband's whereabouts, and it had seemed possible that Messrs.
Townlinson & Sheppard might have received some information more
recent that her own. The impersonal framing of this inquiry struck
Mr. Townlinson as being in remarkably good taste, since it conveyed
no condemnation of Sir Nigel, and no desire to involve Mr. Townlinson
in expressing any. It refrained even from implying that the
situation was an unusual one, which might be open to criticism.
Excellent reserve and great cleverness, Mr. Townlinson commented
inwardly. There were certainly few young ladies who would have
clearly realised that a solicitor cannot be called upon to commit
himself, until he has had time to weigh matters and decide upon them.
His long and varied experience had included interviews in which
charming, emotional women had expected him at once to "take sides."
Miss Vanderpoel exhibited no signs of expecting anything of this
kind, even when she went on with what she had come to say. Stornham
Court and its surroundings were depreciating seriously in value
through need of radical repairs etc. Her sister's comfort was
naturally involved, and, as Mr. Townlinson would fully understand,
her nephew's future. The sooner the process of dilapidation was
arrested, the better and with the less difficulty. The present time
was without doubt better than an indefinite future. Miss Vanderpoel,
having fortunately been able to come to Stornham, was greatly
interested, and naturally desirous of seeing the work begun. Her
father also would be interested. Since it was not possible to
consult Sir Nigel, it had seemed proper to consult his solicitors in
whose hands the estate had been for so long a time. She was aware,
it seemed, that not only Mr. Townlinson, but Mr. Townlinson's father,
and also his grandfather, had legally represented the Anstruthers, as
well as many other families. As there seemed no necessity for any
structural changes, and the work done was such as could only rescue
and increase the value of the estate, could there be any objection to
its being begun without delay?

Certainly an unusual young lady. It would be interesting to
discover how well she knew Sir Nigel, since it seemed that only a
knowledge of him--his temper, his bitter, irritable vanity, could
have revealed to her the necessity of the precaution she was taking
without even intimating that it was a precaution. Extraordinarily
clever girl.

Mr. Townlinson wore an air of quiet, business-like
reflection.

"You are aware, Miss Vanderpoel, that the present income from
the estate is not such as would justify anything approaching the
required expenditure?"

"Yes, I am aware of that. The expense would be provided for by
my father."

"Most generous on Mr. Vanderpoel's part," Mr. Townlinson
commented. "The estate would, of course, increase greatly in
value."

Circumstances had prevented her father from visiting Stornham,
Miss Vanderpoel explained, and this had led to his being ignorant of
a condition of things which he might have remedied. She did not
explain what the particular circumstances which had separated the
families had been, but Mr. Townlinson thought he understood. The
condition existing could be remedied now, if Messrs. Townlinson &
Sheppard saw no obstacles other than scarcity of money.

Mr. Townlinson's summing up of the matter expressed in effect
that he saw none. The estate had been a fine one in its day. During
the last sixty years it had become much impoverished. With
conservative decorum of manner, he admitted that there had not been,
since Sir Nigel's marriage, sufficient reason for the neglect of
dilapidations. The firm had strongly represented to Sir Nigel that
certain resources should not be diverted from the proper object of
restoring the property, which was entailed upon his son. The son's
future should beyond all have been considered in the dispensing of
his mother's fortune.

He, by this time, comprehended fully that he need restrain no
dignified expression of opinion in his speech with this young lady.
She had come to consult with him with as clear a view of the
proprieties and discretions demanded by his position as he had
himself. And yet each, before the close of the interview, understood
the point of view of the other. What he recognised was that, though
she had not seen Sir Nigel since her childhood, she had in some
astonishing way obtained an extraordinary insight into his character,
and it was this which had led her to take her present step. She
might not realise all she might have to contend with, but her
conservative and formal action had surrounded her and her sister with
a certain barrier of conventional protection, at once
self-controlled, dignified, and astutely intelligent.

"Since, as you say, no structural changes are proposed, such as
an owner might resent, and as Lady Anstruthers is the mother of the
heir, and as Lady Anstruthers' father undertakes to defray all
expenditure, no sane man could object to the restoration of the
property. To do so would be to cause public opinion to express
itself strongly against him. Such action would place him grossly in
the wrong." Then he added with deliberation, realising that he was
committing himself, and feeling firmly willing to do so for reasons
of his own, "Sir Nigel is a man who objects strongly to putting
himself --publicly--in the wrong."

"Thank you," said Miss Vanderpoel.

He had said this of intention for her enlightenment, and she was
aware that he had done so.

"This will not be the first time that American fortunes have
restored English estates," Mr. Townlinson continued amiably. "There
have been many notable cases of late years. We shall be happy to
place ourselves at your disposal at all times, Miss Vanderpoel. We
are obliged to you for your consideration in the matter."

"Thank you," said Miss Vanderpoel again. "I wished to be sure
that I should not be infringing any English rule I had no knowledge
of."

"You will be infringing none. You have been most correct and
courteous."

Before she went away Mr. Townlinson felt that he had been
greatly enlightened as to what a young lady might know and be. She
gave him singularly clear details as to what was proposed. There was
so much to be done that he found himself opening his eyes slightly
once or twice. But, of course, if Mr. Vanderpoel was prepared to
spend money in a lavish manner, it was all to the good so far as the
estate was concerned. They were stupendous, these people, and after
all the heir was his grandson. And how striking it was that with all
this power and readiness to use it, was evidently combined, even in
this beautiful young person, the clearest business sense of the
situation. What was done would be for the comfort of Lady
Anstruthers and the future of her son. Sir Nigel, being unable to
sell either house or lands, could not undo it.

When Mr. Townlinson accompanied his visitor to her carriage with
dignified politeness he felt somewhat like an elderly solicitor who
had found himself drawn into the atmosphere of a sort of intensely
modern fairy tale. He saw two of his under clerks, with the
impropriety of middle-class youth, looking out of an office window at
the dark blue brougham and the tall young lady, whose beauty bloomed
in the sunshine. He did not, on the whole, wonder at, though he
deplored, the conduct of the young men. But they, of course, saw
only what they colloquially described to each other as a "rippin'
handsome girl." They knew nothing of the interesting interview.

He himself returned to his private room in a musing mood and
thought it all over, his mind dwelling on various features of the
international situation, and more than once he said aloud:

"Most remarkable. Very remarkable, indeed."