The Maidens Lodge | Page 8

openly proclaimed to the world, even
though coupled with good birth and quality, and redounding to the
fame of Mistress Perpetua Furnival. But Phoebe had not much time to
meditate; for the door of the first little house opened, and down the

gravel walk, towards the carriage, came the neatest and nicest of little
old ladies, attired, like everybody that day, in black, and carrying a
silver-headed cane, on which she leaned as if it really were needed to
support her. She was one of those rare persons, a pretty old woman.
Her complexion was still as fair and delicate as a painting on china, her
blue eyes clear and expressive. Of course, in days when everyone wore
powder, hair was of one colour--white.
"This is Mrs Dolly Jennings," whispered Rhoda to Phoebe; "she is the
eldest of the maidens, and she is about seventy. I believe she is some
manner of cousin to the Duke--not very near, you know."
The Duke, in 1712, of course, meant the Duke of Marlborough.
"Good morning, Madam," said Mrs Jennings, in a cheerful yet gentle
voice, when she reached the carriage.
"Good morning, Mrs Dorothy. I am glad I see you well enough to
accompany me to church."
"You are very good, Madam," was the reply, as Mrs Dorothy
clambered up into the lumbering vehicle; "I thank God my rheumatic
pains are as few and easy to-day as an old woman of threescore and ten
need look for."
"You are a great age, Mrs Dorothy," observed Madam.
"Yes, Madam, I thank God," returned Mrs Dorothy, as cheerfully as
before.
While Phoebe was meditating on this last answer, the second Maiden
appeared from Number Two. She was an entire contrast to the first,
being tall, sharp, featured, florid, high-nosed, and generally angular.
"Mrs Jane Talbot," whispered Rhoda.
Mrs Jane, having offered her civilities to Madam, climbed also into the
coach, and placed herself beside Mrs Dorothy.

"Marcella begs you will allow her excuses, Madam, for she is
indisposed this morning," said Mrs Jane, in a quick, sharp voice, which
made Phoebe doubt if all her angularity were outside.
While Madam was expressing her regret at this news, the doors of
Numbers Five and Six opened simultaneously, and two ladies emerged,
who were, in their way, as much a contrast as Mrs Jane and Mrs
Dorothy. Number Six reached the carriage first. She was a pleasant,
comfortable looking woman of about fifty years of age, with a round
face and healthy complexion, and a manner which, while kindly, was
dignified and self-possessed.
"Good morning, my Lady Betty!" said the three voices.
Phoebe then perceived that the seat of honour, beside Madam, had been
reserved for Lady Betty. But Number Five followed, and she was so
singular a figure that Phoebe's attention was at once diverted to her.
She looked about the age of Lady Betty, but having evidently been a
beauty in her younger days she was greatly indisposed to resign that
character. Though it was a sharp January morning, her neck was
unprotected by the warm tippet which all the other ladies wore. There
was nothing to keep her warm in that quarter except a necklace. Large
ear-rings depended from her ears, half a dozen rings were worn outside
her gloves, a long chatelaine hung from her neck to her waist, to which
were attached a bunch of trinkets of all shapes and sizes. She was laced
very tight, and her poor nose was conscious of it, as it showed by
blushing at the enormity. Under her left arm was a very small, very fat,
very blunt-nosed Dutch pug. Phoebe at once guessed that the lady was
Mrs Vane, and that the pug was Cupid.
"Well, Clarissa!" said Mrs Jane, as the new-comer took her seat at the
door opposite Rhoda; "pity you hadn't a nose-ring!"
Mrs Vane made no answer beyond an affected smile, but Cupid
growled at Mrs Jane, whom he did not seem to hold in high esteem.
The coach, with a good effort on the part of the horses, got under way,
and rumbled off towards Tewkesbury.

"And how does Sir Richard, my Lady Betty?" inquired Madam, with
much cordiality.
"Oh, extremely well, I thank you," answered Lady Betty. "So well,
indeed, now, that he talks of a journey to London, and a month at the
Bath on his way thence."
"What takes him to London?" asked Mrs Jane.
"'Tis for the maids he thinks to go. He would have Betty and Gatty
have a season's polishing; and for Molly--poor little soul!--he is wishful
to have her touched."
"Is she as ill for the evil as ever, poor child?"
"Oh, indeed, yes! 'Tis a thousand pities; and such sprightly parts as she
discovers!"
[Note: So clever as she is.]
"'Tis a mercy for