Dressed in Black

Chapter 20

Taking up a story after many years have passed in the characters' lives is almost like beginning an entirely new one. There are the probabilities: that the characters have changed, and the possibilities: that their situations have changed. Let me begin thus. It was spring. The ladies of Heron Hall were promenading up and down the terrace arm in arm, because the shade of the trees overhead shielded their complexions from the harsh glare of the midday sun. One of these ladies was a tall, slender young woman of about twenty, whose contrasting complexion enhanced the interest of her aspect, though she was not singularly beautiful. Her movements were graceful and animated, and her dark eyes were keen and penetrating. Her companion had less of a striking image, for her hair was of that neutral shade of brown and her eyes of a cool shade of green.

They were chatting together in low tones, when a gaunt gentleman ran out of the house, across the court, and ran up the terrace they were pacing. He spoke to them. Their reactions were not very marked, but once he had gone, they clasped each other's hands, and the dark-haired lady exclaimed in a tone of gentle excitement, "Dearest Sarah! He will propose to you, I am sure. No man in his right mind could resist you – you are so much improved."

"Do you really think so, Cathy?" she asked doubtfully.

"Of course I think so! Only you must take care not to expose yourself too much to the sun – for instance, try not to forget your parasol or your bonnet whenever you go out, for these past weeks have been so sunny, that I worry for the sake of your complexion."

"It is a silly thing to fret over," she said rather sharply. "However, I suppose you are right. If I do not wish to repel Mr. Northam, I must take care not to look like a tree trunk."

"Precisely!" And then they continued pacing the shady terrace arm in arm, commenting on Mr. Edwin Northam and Mrs. Plympton's garden party now and then, because there was nothing for the present that could occupy their minds so much as these two subjects.

*

Mrs. Joseph Plympton was a happy, vibrant woman. She was the only daughter of a country squire, but was to inherit none of his property or fortune, for everything was entailed on the male successor, who was one Scottish gentleman, a Mr. Elliot Crimp. She had garden parties every year at the beginning of the month of May, and the Misses Crane and Borne had attended them since she had been named Mrs. Plympton, which was two years hence. She was a merry, rather pretty young woman of tall stature and round limbs, whose face shone with as much health as her husband.

She boasted on having the finest gardens in England, and well she might, for she dedicated so many of her hours to the improvement of her gardens that she was as good as the head gardener. She was almost certainly the only lady in Hampshire – for Mr. Plympton had two manors, the one in Hampshire being his wife's favourite – who spent more time meditating over her flowers than her dress. As a result, she was almost as fresh and blooming as her blossoms, and could rarely be seen indoors on a gentle-weathered day. The first guests had already arrived – that is, the natives of Hampshire – and Mr. Borne and his two charges, after settling hurriedly in his second estate, Creston Manor, which was of more recent years than Heron Hall, arrived in their barouche-landau, more to feel the fresh air than to draw attention to themselves.

"Miss Crane, Miss Borne, and Mr. Borne," said Mr. Plympton, as they alighted from the carriage and stood gazing dreamily about them. "You all look exceedingly well. Miss Crane, though you do not appear to need it, won't you have my arm?" She consented, and was escorted by him around the side of the manor and into the vast backyard, where the glass-house was scarcely visible owing to the abundant flowers bursting from the earth.