書蟲6級《巴徹斯特教堂尖塔》8. 園會

8. The garden party

The day of the Ullathorne party arrived, and Miss Thorne was in great anxiety about the preparations. Mr Thorne also had a great deal to do. But the most hard-working, the most anxious and the most effective person at Ullathorne House was the steward, Mr Plomacy. In his youth he had lived through dangerous times, and had once been sent over to Paris with secret letters, hidden in his boot, for the King of France. He had been lucky enough to return safely, and since then had stayed quietly at home, but the adventure had gained him a reputation for political cleverness and complete reliability. Now he had been steward of Ullathorne for more than fifty years, and it had been a very easy life. Who could require much work from a man who had carried documents which, if discovered, would have cost him his head?

But on occasions such as this, Mr Plomacy proved his real worth. He had the honour of the family at heart, and he appreciated the duties of hospitality for such an ancient house. Therefore he always took the arrangements for such events into his own hands, and very well he managed them, too.

The day had been planned as follows: the guests would gather in the house and garden; sports would be played in the field; a generous meal would be served. Two enormous tents had been set up, one in the main part of the garden, near the house, and the other in the sports field, separated from the garden by a stream. High society – the lords, ladies, clergy, and gentlemen of the surrounding area – would have their lunch in the garden tent, while low society – the farmers, shopkeepers, and other ordinary working people – would eat in the field tent.

A difficult question presented itself immediately. Who, exactly, was to be fed in the garden and who in the field? It was easy to see that Bishop Proudie would belong in the garden, and Farmer Greenacre, with his red face and plain country manners, in the field. But what about Mrs Lookaloft, whose husband was only a farmer, but whose daughters attended a fashionable private school, and who had a piano in her sitting room? She would not be happy talking about butter and chickens to her neighbour Mrs Greenacre, and yet she was no fit companion for the Thornes and Grantlys. People like her would certainly want to leave the field and cross the stream to join high society in the garden tent, if they could. All Miss Thorne and Mr Plomacy could do was to make their arrangements and hope for the best.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and soon the farm workers and townspeople began to pour in through the gates. Mr Plomacy wanted to turn away all those who had no invitation, but Miss Thorne insisted on offering her hospitality to everybody.

Some ladies and gentlemen arrived, and were shown into the main sitting room in the house. Then, as Miss Thorne had feared, Mrs Lookaloft and her adult daughters marched confidently into the room. Miss Thorne's servants knew the Lookalofts had no right to be there, but did not like to prevent them entering. Miss Thorne herself, although shuddering slightly at the sight of their unsuitably low-cut dresses, greeted them politely, if a little coldly.

Mr Arabin had also arrived, just in time to see the Stanhopes' carriage stop in front of the house. He watched in disgust as Mr Slope handed Mrs Bold out of the carriage. The next to arrive were the Proudies, followed by all the important Barchester families, and soon the house and gardens were full of noise and movement.

Mr Arabin watched in disgust as Mr Slope handed Mrs Bold out of the carriage.

Eleanor left the Stanhopes as soon as possible, and went to look for her father. She was pleased to find him with Mr Arabin. There was something particular she wanted them both to hear.

I came with the Stanhopes, father,' she said. She saw Mr Arabin looking at her sternly. She knew his accusation was: 'You came with them in order to be accompanied by Mr Slope.'

She continued rather breathlessly, 'In our carriage were Dr Stanhope, Charlotte, myself, and Mr Slope.' As she spoke the last name, Mr Arabin turned and walked slowly away. 'Father,' she said desperately, 'I couldn't help coming with Mr Slope!'

Why would you wish to help it, my dear?'

Father, you must know all the things they said at Plumstead. How unjust the archdeacon was, and Mr Arabin too! He's a hateful man, but –'

Who's a hateful man, my dear? Mr Arabin?'

No, father, you know I mean Mr Slope. He's the most hateful man I ever met in my life. But how could I help coming in the same carriage as him?'

A great weight began to roll off Mr Harding's mind. So, after all, the Grantlys, with all their wisdom, were wrong! His Eleanor, the daughter of whom he was so proud, was not to become Mr Slope's wife! 'My darling girl, I am so delighted!'

But surely, father, you didn't suspect –'

I don't know what you mean by "suspect", Eleanor. There would be nothing disgraceful in such a marriage.'

And Mr Harding would have explained that Mr Slope was a very good sort of man and a very suitable second husband for a young widow, if he had not been interrupted by Eleanor's greater energy.

It would be disgraceful! It would be wrong! It would be horrible! I don't wonder at Dr Grantly and Susan, but father, I do wonder at you. How could you believe it of me?' And Eleanor, unable to hold back her tears, sobbed bitterly.

But she could not be angry for long with her father, who confessed his misjudgement of her character and promised never to make the same mistake again. He helped her dry her tears, and, arm in arm, in perfect happiness, they walked towards the house.

Miss Thorne was at her front door, welcoming latecomers. The signora, looking as beautiful and fascinating as ever, was carried inside and placed carefully on a sofa, where, as usual, she was the centre of male attention. But soon all eyes turned to the door again, and Lady de Courcy made her entrance.

Lady de Courcy had chosen to show that she was socially above everyone else by arriving three hours late, then complaining loudly of the poor quality of the country roads. But she found a companion to her liking in the bishop's wife, and soon the two ladies discovered they thought alike on many matters.

Charming person, Miss Thorne!' said Mrs Proudie.

Charming, indeed! And isn't her dress delightful?'

Quite delightful. I wonder if she paints – there's something about the colour that makes me think –'

I have no doubt she does. But tell me, Mrs Proudie, who is that woman on the sofa by the window?' And Lady de Courcy looked meaningfully over at the signora.

She's the dreadful Italian woman, Lady de Courcy. You must have heard of her.'

What Italian woman? Tell me more, I beg you!'

She's not absolutely Italian. She calls herself Signora Neroni, but in fact she's Dr Stanhope's younger daughter.'

Ah-h-h-h! I've heard my son George mention her. He heard a lot of stories about her in Rome.'

She made her way into my house once, before I knew anything about her, and I cannot tell you how disgraceful her behaviour was – it was quite wicked!'

Was it?' said Lady de Courcy delightedly. 'But why does she lie on a sofa?'

She has only one leg. I believe her husband beat her, and somehow her leg was injured, so she lost the use of it.'

Unfortunate creature!' Lady de Courcy herself knew something of the difficulties of married life.

Yes, one would pity her, if she only had better manners. But she stares so rudely! And she behaves so badly with men!'

Oh dear!' said Lady de Courcy.

You see that clergyman with red hair, standing near her? Through my efforts he became the bishop's chaplain, but that woman has absolutely ruined him. I shall be forced to require him to leave the palace, and he may even have to leave the Church!'

What a fool the man must be!'

But this enjoyable conversation was interrupted by the squire, who came to take Lady de Courcy to her seat in the garden tent, and another gentleman, who was to accompany Mrs Proudie.

As the meal started, Eleanor found herself sitting between Bertie Stanhope and Mr Slope. From her seat near the entrance to the tent, she could see, through the open door of the sitting room, Mr Arabin hanging over the signora's sofa.

Mr Arabin had passed the previous night alone in the vicar's house at St Ewold's. It was his first night there, and a dull evening it had been. Mrs Grantly had been right in saying that a priestess was needed there. He had sat there alone, with his glass in front of him, and then his teapot, thinking about Eleanor Bold. He did little but blame her – blame her for liking Mr Slope, blame her for not liking him, blame her for being independent and passionate. And yet the more he thought of her, the more he loved her. Then he was annoyed with her again. Why had she refused to answer a plain question, and put an end to his misery? Mr Arabin slept little that night.

When he arrived next morning at Ullathorne, he was in a state of confused uncertainty and hope, until the moment when he saw Mr Slope hand Eleanor out of her carriage. At once he assumed that she had invited him to accompany her, and that news of their engagement would follow, as night follows day. Soon afterwards he heard from Eleanor's own lips that she had come with Mr Slope; Mr Arabin's agony of suffering prevented him from understanding that she and Mr Slope had both been guests of the Stanhopes.

He wandered aimlessly into the house, avoiding conversation with anyone. And when the signora was carried in, he was feeling too weak to resist the temptation of her beauty, so, hardly knowing what he was doing, he went to sit beside her.

It is impossible to discover how she gained this knowledge, but the signora knew Mr Arabin was in love with Mrs Bold. It was therefore quite natural for her to wish to trap him, to prove to herself that her charms were greater than the widow's. She had had almost enough of Mr Slope, although it was fun to drive a very self-important chaplain to madness by a desperate and ruinous passion. But Mr Arabin was a bigger and better fly; unlike Mr Slope, he was a highly intelligent, well-educated gentleman.

What is the matter, Mr Arabin?' she asked playfully. 'Your friend Mr Slope was here a moment ago, full of good humour. Why don't you rival him?'

Mr Arabin shuddered visibly, and Madeline knew at once he was jealous of Mr Slope. 'You and he are complete opposites,' she continued. 'He loves to be praised, you foolishly do not. He is proud and confident; he will allow nothing to stop him achieving his ambitions. You are modest and self-doubting; you are too easily persuaded to give up your dearest hopes and dreams.'

Mr Arabin was very surprised. How did this woman he hardly knew understand the secrets of his heart?

Mr Slope is born to be successful,' Madeline went on. 'When you see him raised to a high position, with wealth, a charming wife and family, you will begin to envy him and wish you had done the same.'

Perhaps that is true,' Mr Arabin admitted honestly.

Remember, Mr Arabin, the good things of this world are always worth winning. That includes beautiful women. But you must fight for them! I can see Mrs Bold looking at you from the garden tent. What do you think of her as a companion for life?'

Mr Arabin glanced towards the garden and caught Eleanor looking at him. She looked quickly away. 'I am afraid Mrs Bold is engaged to another,' he said. 'She is a very beautiful, intelligent woman. It is impossible to know her without admiring her.'

And you dare to tell me this, when you know I claim to be a beauty myself!' The signora pretended to be angry.

You are more beautiful, perhaps more clever. But –'

Thank you, Mr Arabin. I knew we would be friends.'

But Mrs Bold is the one who –'

I won't hear another word. As long as she is in second place to me, I am happy. Now Mr Arabin, I am dying of hunger. Just fetch me a plate of food and a glass of wine, and then go to have your own lunch.'

In a sort of dream, Mr Arabin did as he was told. And as she watched him go into the garden tent, Madeline knew she had read his heart, and was amazed at his honesty. He was the first man who had not tried to court or flatter her, and whose words she felt she could trust. This endeared him to her. And as it seemed unlikely that Eleanor would agree to marry Bertie, Madeline decided to do good for once in her life, and give up Mr Arabin to the woman whom he loved. Not only that, she would do everything in her power to assist his courtship.