Fishpingle

“ Fishpingle replaced it, and came back. “Sit you down man,” Fishpingle obeyed. “I take you unreservedly into my confidence.” Fishpingle bowed solemnly. “I want to bring about this match. As I told my lady—no pressure. It must come about naturally. I haven’t asked anybody to meet Lady Margot here. The young people will be thrown together, and there you are!”
Fishpingle remained obstinately silent. The Squire glared at him.
“You don’t share my wish, you crusty old dog? What’s in your mind. Speak out freely!”
“I was thinking, Sir Geoffrey, of young Lord Fordingbridge.” ”

“ But Fishpingle eluded her. She could find him at any time in his room; he received her courteously; he talked delightfully about old plate, and birds, and Nether-Applewhite, but never, never of himself.
As the Squire and his faithful henchman walked off together, Margot said lightly:
“You have many precious possessions in your dear old house, but it seems to me that of all of them Fishpingle is the most priceless.”
Lady Pomfret became alert. At moments, Margot’s cleverness frightened her. Not her sprightliness in small talk. Lady Pomfret could discount that, and did. ”

“ Lionel smoked an after-breakfast pipe alone. Tobacco, however, failed to soothe him.
At half-past ten, Fishpingle and he took the path leading to the river. Fishpingle, in a very sporting coat and knickerbockers (which had been discarded by the Squire) , might have been mistaken at a short distance for that potentate. He was doubtful about the prospects. The sun had risen high above the clouds and the breeze was dying down. To his astonishment, Lionel displayed indifference, saying incisively:
“I want to have a long yarn with you, old chap. If the trout aren’t on the rise, so much the better.” ”

“ Alone, once more, Fishpingle moved restlessly about the room. He was sensible of some premonition of trouble, some lurking doubt of his power to smooth the path of these simple lovers, some fear that interference on his part might be obstinately resented. Work might have distracted him, but for the moment there was not work enough for two able-bodied footmen, not to mention the odd man, who laboured more abundantly than them all.
He sat down at the Sheraton bureau, and took from a drawer a much battered tin box, which he opened with a small key attached to his watch chain. ”

“ Lady Margot’s family is almost extinct. A great-uncle died in a private asylum.”
“I see you’ve been nosin’ about. Just like you. All old families have their skeletons.”
Fishpingle, carried out of himself for a moment, like the hapless Alfred, forgot his place, as he muttered:
“Yes, yes, her ladyship is very thin.”
The Squire jumped up.
“Damn you, Ben, that is the last straw. I have sat here listening to your mumbling with a patience and good temper wasted upon a very thankless fellow. You know best what you owe me and mine.”
He paused. Fishpingle bowed superbly.
“I do, Sir Geoffrey.” ”

“ He spoke very slowly, as a man speaks who has some long-considered message to deliver.
“Master Lionel, before he went to India, did not expect to survive you.”
The Squire moved uneasily. Fishpingle had recalled cruel anxieties never quite forgotten, what may be termed the unpaid bills of life pigeon-holed, put aside for Fate and Fortune to settle. He replied, however, with decision:
“He has grown into a strong man.”
“Has he? Are you quite sure of that? I would give my life to be sure. He may live long if he marries the right woman. Is Lady Margot the right woman, Sir Geoffrey?” ”

“ She will help, if she can. Her advice—and, mind you, she’s a dasher—is: Creep—crane—go canny! Father’s absurd position can’t be carried by storm. I shall undermine the fortress. That will take time.”
“Yes; but I warn you father won’t wait too long.”
“I count on Fishpingle. If you could have seen his dear old face when I told him! We shall collogue, I promise you.”
He returned home, champing the curb which circumstances imposed.
After tea, when the Squire betook himself to the river, Margot sat, as usual, upon the lawn, with Lady Pomfret. Lionel slipped away to Fishpingle’s room. ”

“ Fishpingle smiled pleasantly at her.
Having satisfied himself that the luncheon table was in order, he opened one of the casement windows and gazed placidly at the park, which sloped with charming undulations to the Avon. His glance lingered with affection upon the ancient yews thriving amazingly upon a thin, chalky soil. They had been here before the Pomfrets! There was a particular yew in Nether Applewhite churchyard mentioned in Doomsday Book. Out of some of these yews had been fashioned the bows of Crécy and Agincourt. ”

“ Fishpingle opened his mouth and closed it.
“You know that, Ben, as well as I do. There are many nice girls with money. Sir Geoffrey, poor dear man, is picking and choosing half a dozen such, but our son can be trusted to make his own choice.”
“Yes,” said Fishpingle.
“If you had to choose, Ben, between the selling of that Reynolds and the building land and Lionel’s future happiness would you hesitate a moment?” ”

“ I needn’t ask him. Quality is everything with the old fellow. He will bore me stiff raving about her. She was uncommonly civil to him. A witch, my dear, a witch.”
“You burn her alive with this excess of praise.”
Fishpingle, however, who went fishing with the Squire that same Monday afternoon, did not rave about Lady Margot Maltravers. The Squire did so for him, and believed that what he said had been said by his faithful henchman. He caught more trout than Fishpingle, and returned home in exuberant spirits.
Whether by accident or design, Joyce Hamlin was not asked to meet the “dasher.” ”

“ The dining-room faced due east, and to the west, beyond the woods which fringed the park, stretched the New Forest. Sir Geoffrey hunted with both fox-hounds and buck-hounds, and Fishpingle could well remember the days, not long passed, when the house at this spring season was hospitably full of “thrusters” from the shires, keen to kill a May fox in the most beautiful woodlands in England. Economy prohibited such lavish entertainment now that rents were falling with the price of corn and the rate of living steadily rising. ”

“ Fishpingle made a gesture of repudiation. Lady Pomfret laughed.
“I can guess that Nature was the matchmaker, not you. It is unfortunate that they are cousins.”
“Why so, my lady? There is no danger in such matches, where the strain on both sides is clean and sound. That is Sir Geoffrey’s own view.”
Lady Pomfret held up a protesting finger.
“My dear Ben, I cannot talk eugenics with you, because I should be confounded by your superior knowledge. What I want to ask you is this: are the young people deeply attached to each other, or is it a mere passing flirtation?” ”

“ Fishpingle.... Mr. Henry Ainley. Sir Geoffrey Pomfret. Mr. Allan Aynesworth.
Now the opening of the play had put me into a mood which was not the right one for the reception of this extract from a deplorable past. Some comedies would be all the better for a little tragic relief; but this was too much. Mr. Vachell had no business to give his play a title like Fishpingle. He should have called it "Nature's Nobleman, or The Tragical Romance of a Faithful Butler's Birth," and then I might have known what to expect. ”

“ The Squire cocked his chin at a more obtuse angle.
“By God! It’s I that am wrong, is it?”
Fishpingle answered very slowly:
“You have been very generous about Prudence and Alfred. But—there’s Mr. Lionel. He’s your only son, Sir Geoffrey. If he dies unmarried, strangers will come here. Strangers”—he glanced round the beautiful room—“will live here. Is it wrong of me to think so much of that? Wasn’t I brought up at Nether-Applewhite? Didn’t I play with you as a child—an only child, too?”
“That will do, Ben. What you say moves me, as it moves you. ”

“ He moved to the desk and handed them to the Squire, continuing in the same quiet voice:
“They were written by Sir Rupert to my mother. If you glance at one you will recognise the handwriting.”
Sir Geoffrey untied the silk riband, and took the first letter. He put on his pince-nez. As he did so, Fishpingle saw that his fingers were trembling. He took off the pince-nez and rubbed the lenses, but they were clean and clear. ”

“ He had not distinguished himself very greatly at Eton, either in the classrooms or in the playing fields, but he had enjoyed himself and held his own. At Sandhurst, later on, he had been even happier, although his health had provoked anxieties.
He glanced out of the window. A capital morning for fishing! He knew that the Squire had duties, never neglected, upon the bench of magistrates. Old Fishpingle would be available as a companion. They would make a day of it. His mother would come down to the river for luncheon. Then his thoughts flitted to the Vicarage. ”

“ Lady Pomfret approached her husband, and laid her hand upon his sleeve.
“Prudence is Ben’s kinswoman, very dear to him. If Ben approves this match, what business is it of ours?”
Sir Geoffrey answered obstinately:
“They were born and bred in my parish, this impudent couple. They can do what they like—out of it.”
Lady Pomfret kept her temper admirably. If she travelled along lines of least resistance, she reached her goal eventually. She turned to Fishpingle with a little rippling laugh:
“Ah, well, I leave the Squire with you, Ben. We know—don’t we?—how kind he can be.” ”

“ Alfred laid down the tankard and held aloft a handsome silver inkstand.
“It is here, Prue.” Then he read aloud an inscription. “‘Presented to Benoni Fishpingle, after fifty years’ service, by his affectionate friends, Sir Geoffrey and Lady Pomfret.’ Affectionate! Ah-h-h-h! They do think the world o’ Benoni Fishpingle, they do. Now, Prue, you coax your Uncle Ben, and then he’ll downscramble Squire. Tell un that we be a fine up-standin’ couple, a credit to Nether Applewhite.” ”

“ Fishpingle polished the lenses of his spectacles. He couldn’t quite see this young man who enfiladed him right and left with questions which had baffled the wisest in England for five and twenty years. This sprig from a fine tree was shooting too fast for him. He evaded a direct reply.
“Evidently, Master Lionel, you’ve made up your mind not to go backwards.”
“I have. But standing still won’t help much, and I don’t know how to get ‘forward.’”
“One lives and learns. It’s slow work. All over the country the land system, generally, is the nation’s weak spot. ”

“ Sheep and pigs pay well where there is no wastage of food.”
“Is there much wastage on our farms?”
He shot his questions at Fishpingle with a slight air of defiance. Would this old chap take him seriously?
“There is too much wastage.”
“How can it be checked?”
“The labourers are very careless. One can’t watch them all the time. And they love the old slipshod ways. What are you getting at, Master Lionel?”
He replied impatiently, with a toss of his head.
“You. I’m a fool, and luckily I know it. The Squire laughs at my idea of leaving the army. He likes to think that I’m treading in his steps. ”

“ Fishpingle, he did tell me that you fancied a cheerful, upliftin’ countenance.”
“You take your orders from me for the future.”
Charles disappeared. The Squire said entreatingly to Lady Pomfret:
“Don’t go, Mary. I’ll get rid of Bonsor in two minutes. The fellow has no initiative, none. I have much to say to you. Who engages servants?”
“What servants? I suppose that the master of the house engages his butler. I engage the upper women servants. Mrs. Randall engages the young maids.” ”

“ By the luck of things, Lady Margot is an only child. What of it? What of it?”
“Nothing. Master Lionel is an only child.”
“Don’t rub that in! Why did Providence send my parson four sons? I ask such questions, but, b’ Jove, I can’t answer them. Can you?”
It will never be known whether Fishpingle could have answered the Squire’s question, because, at this moment, Lady Pomfret floated into the room, followed by Joyce Hamlin. The two men rose. Instantly the Squire became the gentleman of the old school. He greeted Joyce as if she were a duchess. He smiled charmingly at his wife. ”

“ They love each other dearly.”
“Good God! They’re first-cousins, boy. Not a word! Stay here! You shall see me deal with ’em.”
“But——”
“Not a word,” roared the Squire.
Lionel lit a cigarette, frowning, conscious that he was being treated as a child, resenting it, anxious to plead for the lovers, anticipating “ructions,” and condemned to be present, a silenced witness. Fishpingle came back, followed by Prudence and Alfred, looking very sheepish and red. Alfred was in livery. Prudence had not changed a very dainty little frock.
“Stand there!” commanded the autocrat. ”

“ You’re a match-makin’ old woman, you are. You’ve encouraged Prudence to become engaged to her double first cousin.”
Fishpingle smiled disarmingly.
“Double first cousins, Sir Geoffrey, if you’ll pardon me, are the children, let us say, of two brothers who happen to have married two sisters.”
The Squire fumed, tapping his gaiters with the riding switch which he carried.
“There you go again! Trying to crow over me with knowledge gleaned, b’ Jove! from me. You tell Prudence to find another young man.” He stumped to the door and opened it. “You make that perfectly plain to the little baggage. ”

“ She recovered her sprightliness, which had vanished at mention of her son. He was with his regiment in India. He had exchanged from an English battalion because his lungs were none too strong. The dreadful word was never spoken, but Fishpingle knew that a slight but unmistakable tendency to consumption had manifested itself. There was reason to believe that the young fellow had grown more robust in the Punjab. But the taint, the predisposition, had been inherited from his mother’s family, the Belwethers.
Lady Pomfret’s eyes twinkled.
“He has not been allured by any girl in India. ”