The Adelphi - THREE: Miss Murdstone Again

Many days the thought of Agnes and Uriah Heep obsessed Trotwood.

The day Agnes left the town Trotwood was at the coach office to see her off.  And there was Uriah returning to Canterbury by the same coach.  It was a small satisfaction to Trotwood that he was on the edge of the back seat on the roof in company with an umbrella like a small tent, while Agnes was inside.  Trotwood was not sure of himself - whether he was jealous of Uriah or troubled by the concern for Agnes.  At his first sight the lanky, red-haired Uriah Heep repulsed him.  

Trotwood could not get over his farewell glimpse of them for a long time.  When Agnes wrote to tell him of her safe arrival he was miserable as when he saw her going away. 

Trotwood was alone now between Commons and the Adelphi.  Steerforth was at Oxford.  Agnes's words about Steerforth had created a lurking distrust of Steerforth in his mind.  The influence of Agnes lingered in Trotwood in the absence of Steerforth.  He wrote affectionately to Steerforth, but no reference of Agnes's distrust of him was mentioned in it.  Agnes had told that her opinion of Steerforth was based on Trotwood's account of him.  It would have been better, Trotwood had asked Agnes how she concluded that Steerforth was a dangerous friend based upon his own account.  Instead he took comfort in his friend's absence.

Trotwood was articled to Spenlow and Jorkins. He had ninety pounds a year.  Besides, house-rent and sundries from Miss Betsey.  His rooms were engaged for twelve months certain.

On the day Trotwood was articled, no celebration was made except his taking sandwiches and sherry into his office for the clerks, and going alone to the theater at night.  Mr Spenlow remarked that he should have been happy to see Trotwood in his house at Norwood to celebrate his being connected to  Commons, but on account of his daughter's return home after education in Paris, it was postponed.

After a week he said that Trotwood would come down to his house next Saturday and stay till Monday.  He promised to drive him down in his phaeton, and bring him back. 

When the day came Trotwood's carpet-bag was a subject of veneration to the stipendary clerks, to whom the house at Norwood was a mystery.  After the day's business Mr Spenlow and Trotwood drove away in a phaeton.

The phaeton was a very handsome affair.  The horses arched their necks and lifted their legs as if they knew they belonged to Doctors' Commons. There was a good deal of competition in the Commons in all points of display, and in those times the great article of competition was starched garments.  Though solicitors employ proctors, they were an inferior class, said Mr Spenlow during the course of journey.  'Commons was superior to everything else, and touch the Commons, and down comes the country,' said he.

They talked about The Stranger and the Drama, and the pair of horses until they came to Mr Spenlow's gate.

The lovely garden, the lawn, the cluster of trees, walkways arched with trellis-work, on which the shrubs and flowers were grown.  They went into the house, which was cheerfully lighted up, and into a hall where there were all sorts of hats, caps, great-coats, plaids, gloves, and walking sticks.  'Where is Miss Dora?' said Mr Spenlow to his servant?'  what a beautiful name! thought Trotwood instantly.

'Mr Copperfield,' said Mr Spenlow, 'my daughter Dora and her confidential friend!'

After Miss Sharp and Miss Larkins, both during his Canterbury days, and now Dora, Trotwood's love instincts are spontaneous.  But more spontaneous was the dialogue of Miss Murdstone, the confidential assistant of Dora. 

'I,' observed Miss Murdstone, who stood by Dora, 'have seen Mr Copperfield before.'

'How do you do Miss Murdstone?, I hope you are well.'

'Very well,' she answered.

'How is Mr Murdstone?'

'My brother is robust.  I am obliged to you.'

Mr Spenlow who had been surprised to see them recognise each other said, 'I am glad to find, Copperfield, that you and Miss Murdstone are already acquainted.'

'Copperfield and myself,' said Miss Murdstone with severe composure, 'are connection.  We were once slightly acquainted.  It was in his childhood days.  Circumstances have separated us since.  I should not have known him.'

Trotwood would have known her anywhere.

Miss Murdstone has had the goodness,' said Mr Spenlow, 'to accept the office.  My daughter Dora having no mother, Miss Murdstone is obliging enough to become her companion and protector.'

Trotwood thought that Miss Murdstone was not so designed for protection as of assualt.

A bell rang, which Mr Spenlow said was the first dinner-bell, and so carried Trotwood off to dress.

The bell rang soon that Trotwood made a mere scramble of dressing, instead of careful operation and went downstairs.  There was some company.  Dora was talking to an old gentleman with grey head.  A great grandfather.  Trotwood was madly jealous of him.  He was jealous of everybody.  He didn't remember who was there except Dora.  It was all Dora around him, left and right, up and down it was Dora.  Miss Murdstone would disparage him.  The amiable creature with polished head told him something about garden.  But Trotwood was in the garden of Eden with Dora.

'David Copperfield,' said Miss Murdstone, beckoning him aside to a window, while they were in the drawing room, 'A word.'

He listened. 'I need not enlarge upon family circumstances.  They are not a tempting subject.'

'Far from it, ma'am,' returned Trotwood.

'I do not wish to revive the memory of past differences, or of past outrage.  I have received outrage from a person, a female. I cannot mention them without scorn and disgust. Therefore I would rather not mention her.'

Trotwood was not pleased with her comment on his aunt, and he told her so, but agreed to a ceasefire.

Miss Murdstone shut her eyes, and disdainfully inclined her head; then, slowly opening her eyes, resumed:

'David Copperfield, I shall not attempt to disguise the fact, that I formed an unfavorable opinion of you in your childhood. It may have been a mistaken one, or you may have ceased to justify it.  That is not in question between us now.  I belong to a family remarkable, I believe, for some firmness; and I am not the creature of circumstance or change.  I may have my opinion of you.  You may have your opinion of me.'

Trotwood inclined his head.

'But it is not necessary,' said Miss Murdstone, 'that these opinions should come into collision here.  As the chances of life have brought us together again, and may bring us together on other occasions, I would say, let us meet here as distant acquaintances.  Family circumstances are sufficient reasons for our only meeting on that footing, and it is quite unnecessary that either of us should make the other the subject of remark.  Do you approve of this?'

'Miss Murdstone,' returned Trotwood, 'I think you and Mr Murdstone used me very cruelly, and treated my mother with great unkindness.  I shall always think so, as long as I live.  But I quite agree in what you propose.'

Miss Murdstone shut her eyes again and bent her head.  Then just touching the back of his hand with the tips of her cold, stiff fingers, she walked away arranging the little fetters on her wrists and round her neck, of the same set in exactly the same state as when he had seen her last.

The rest of the evening Dora sang ballads in French, and the guests danced, Ta, ra, la! accompanying herself on an instrument resembling guitar.  Trotwood was lost in a blissful delirium.

When Miss Murdstone took her into custody and led her away, she smiled and gave her hand to Trotwood.  As his wont Trotwood fell in love with Dora.  He retired to his bed with a sentimental and idiotic feeling.

Early in the morning, Trotwood thought of a stroll down one of those wire arched walks, dwelling on her image.  On his way through the hall he encountered her dog, Gipsy aka Jip.  Even him Trotwood began to love, but he showed his whole set of teeth, got under a chair, and snarled at his enemy.

Trotwood was in hallucinations before he had a word with Dora.

'You - are -out early, Miss Spenlow,' he said when he met her in the garden.

'It is so stupid at home, and Miss Murdstone is so absurd!'  She knows nothing about being in the open air.  On a Sunday morning when I don't practice, I must do something.  So I told papa last night I must come out.'

Trotwood stammered that it was very bright now, though it was dark before she came.

'Did you mean a compliment? said Dora, 'or that the weather really changed.'

He was not sure whether he aired a compliment or a reality, he stammered again.  His immediate attention was her curls and the hat and blue ribbons on the top of the curls.

'You have just come home from Paris.' 

'Yes, have you ever been there?'

'No.'

'Oh! I hope you'll soon go there.'

Traces of deep seated anguish appeared in his countenance.  He never thought of it. He looked at her shaking curls, when Jip came running along the walk to his rescue.

He was jealous of Trotwood, and persisted at barking; she took him up in her arms, and caressed him.  But he still persisted upon barking.  At length he was quiet.

'You are not very intimate with Miss Murdstone, are you?' said Dora 

'No. Not at all.'

'She is a tiresome creature,' said Dora pouting.  'I can't think why papa chose such a vexatious thing to be my companion.  Who wants a protector?  Jip can protect me well. Can't you, Jip, dear?'

He only winked lazily, when she kissed his ball of a head.

'Papa calls her confidential friend.  But I am not going to confide in such a cross woman, Jip and I.  We mean to bestow our confidence where we like - don't we Jip?'

Jip made a comfortable noise in answer, little like a tea-kettle when it sings.

'Instead of a kind mama, we have this gloomy Miss Murdstone, always following us.  We'll tease her and not please her.- won't we, Jip?'

By this time they reached the green house.  It contained quite a show of beautiful geraniums.  They loitered along in front of them, and Dora often stopped to admire this one or that one, and Trotwood stopped to admire the same one.  Dora laughing, held the dog up childishly, to smell the flowers.

Miss Murdstone has been looking for them. When she found them she presented her uncongenial cheek, the little wrinkles in it filled with hair powder to Dora to be kissed.  Then she took Dora's arm and marched into breakfast as if they were soldiers.

The tea, the church, the dinner, the books and pictures.  Miss Murdstone with a homily before her, but her eyes upon the couple. 

Monday morning.  Dora was at breakfast table to make tea.  She stood on the doorstep with jip in her arms while Trotwood sat in the phaeton waving off his hat to her.

The entire day Trotwood lived in his dreams, but moved in Commons.  His daydreams continued next day, and day after day and week after week.  He bought four lavish waistcoats, straw coloured kid gloves and many other things unwanted.  All these antics were the result of his new lovesickness.

He did not stop with these purchases.  He walked miles and miles in the hope of seeing Dora.  Soon he was well-known on the Norwood Road as the postman of the beat.  Likewise he walked other London roads - roads where stood best shops for ladies. Wandered in the parks.  Sometimes he saw her, perhaps in a carriage window, waving her gloved hands.  By chance, sometimes he met her with Miss Murdstone, walked a little way with her.  Later he found he had said nothing of the purpose.  He had been looking for another invitation to Mr Spenlow's house.  But it didn't come.

Mrs Crupp was the first person to note the lovesick Trotwood.  After a few weeks of his expedition to Norwood, Mrs Crupp came for a remedy against her spasm - tincture of cardamom mixed rhubarb and flavoured with essence of clove.  If not such a thing, a little brandy.  He had never heard of the first remedy, but always had the second, Trotwood gave the second.  After taking it in his own presence, she returned the glass looking him intently, and said, 'cheer up, sir, I can't bear to see you so, sir; I'm a mother myself.' 

Trotwood stood blinking at her.

'Come sir,' said Mrs Crupp.  'Excuse me, I know what it is, sir.  There's a lady in the case.'

'Mrs Crupp,' Trotwood returned, reddening.

'Oh bless you! Keep a good heart, sir!' said Mrs Crupp, nodding encouragement.  'Never say die, sir! If she doesn't smile upon you, there's many. You are a young gentleman, and you must know your value.'

'When you came and took possession of the house I told your aunt, "I have now found someone I could care for!" - you don't eat enough, sir, not yet drink.'

'Is that what you found, Mrs Crupp?' asked Trotwood.

'Sir,' said Mrs Crupp, 'I have laundressed other young gentlemen besides yourself.  A gentleman may be overcareful of himself, or he may be under careful. He may brush his hair regularly, or too irregular.  He may wear his boots much too large for him, or much too small.  That's according to his original preferences.  But when he goes beyond his usual ways, there's a young lady in them.'

Trotwood had no defence.

'The gentleman here who lived before you,' said Mrs Crupp, 'was lovesick of a barmaid in whom he fell in love with.  He took to drinking when she turned him down.  And he hung up himself on his waist coat.'

'Mrs Crupp," said Trotwood, 'don't connect my lady with the barmaid, or anything of that sort.'

'Mr Copperfield, said Mrs Crupp, 'I am a mother myself.  I ask your pardon if I intrude.  I never intrude where I am not welcomed.  But you are young and my advice to you is, to cheer up.  Keep a good heart and know your value.  If you were to take up something, say for example, skittles, you might find it divert your attention, and do you good.'

With these words, Mrs Crupp thanked David for the brandy, and retired.  As she disappeared, Trotwood thought that her advice is warning to keep his secret to himself.

_________________________________________









Comments

Popular posts from this blog

( 16 )CHARLES DICKENS: DAVID COPPERFIELD: CHAPTER 16: I AM A NEW BOY IN MORE SENSES THAN ONE

Sailing Around Erythraean Sea: Five

Sailing Around Erythraean Sea: Seven