On that afternoon she went up to Mrs. Askerton"s; and succeeded in getting advice from her also, though she did not show Will"s letter to that lady. "Of course, I know what he says," said Mrs. Askerton.
"Unless I have mistaken the man, he wants to be married to-morrow."
"He is not so bad as that," said Clara.
"Then the next day, or the day after. Of course he is impatient, and does not see any earthly reason why his impatience should not be gratified."
"He is impatient."
"And I suppose you hesitate because of your father"s death."
"It seems but the other day;--does it not?" said Clara.
"Everything seems but the other day to me. It was but the other day that I myself was married."
"And, of course, though I would do anything I could that he would ask me to do--"
"But would you do anything?"
"Anything that was not wrong I would. Why should I not, when he is so good to me?"
"Then write to him, my dear, and tell him that it shall be as he wishes it. Believe me, the days of Jacob are over. Men don"t understand waiting now, and it"s always as well to catch your fish when you can."
"You don"t suppose I have any thought of that kind?"
"I am sure you have not;--and I"m sure that he deserves no such thought;--but the higher that are his deserts, the greater should be his reward. If I were you, I should think of nothing but him, and I should do exactly as he would have me." Clara kissed her friend as she parted from her, and again resolved that all that woman"s sins should be forgiven her. A woman who could give such excellent advice deserved that every sin should be forgiven her. "They"ll be married yet before the summer is over," Mrs. Askerton said to her husband that afternoon. "I believe a man may have anything he chooses to ask for, if he"ll only ask hard enough."
And they were married in the autumn, if not actually in the summer.
With what precise words Clara answered her lover"s letter I will not say; but her answer was of such a nature that he found himself compelled to leave Plaistow, even before the wheat was garnered.
Great confidence was placed in Bunce on that occasion, and I have reason to believe that it was not misplaced. They were married in September;--yes, in September, although that letter of Will"s was written in August, and by the beginning of October they had returned from their wedding trip to Plaistow. Clara insisted that she should be taken to Plaistow, and was very anxious when there to learn all the particulars of the farm. She put down in a little book how many acres there were in each field, and what was the average produce of the land. She made inquiry about four-crop rotation, and endeavoured, with Bunce, to go into the great subject of stall-feeding. But Belton did not give her as much encouragement as he might have done. "We"ll come here for the shooting next year," he said; "that is, if there is nothing to prevent us."
"I hope there"ll be nothing to prevent us."
"There might be, perhaps; but we"ll always come if there is not. For the rest of it, I"ll leave it to Bunce, and just run over once or twice in the year. It would not be a nice place for you to live at long."
"I like it of all things. I am quite interested about the farm."
"You"d get very sick of it if you were here in the winter. The truth is that if you farm well, you must farm ugly. The picturesque nooks and corners have all to be turned inside out, and the hedgerows must be abolished, because we want the sunshine. Now, down at Belton, just about the house, we won"t mind farming well, but will stick to the picturesque."
The new house was immediately commenced at Belton, and was made to proceed with all imaginable alacrity. It was supposed at one time,--at least Belton himself said that he so supposed,--that the building would be ready for occupation at the end of the first summer; but this was not found to be possible. "We must put it off till May, after all," said Belton, as he was walking round the unfinished building with Colonel Askerton. "It"s an awful bore, but there"s no getting people really to pull out in this country."
"I think they"ve pulled out pretty well. Of course you couldn"t have gone into a damp house for the winter."
"Other people can get a house built within twelve months. Look what they do in London."
"And other people with their wives and children die in consequence of colds and sore throats and other evils of that nature. I wouldn"t go into a new house, I know, till I was quite sure it was dry."
As Will at this time was hardly ten months married, he was not as yet justified in thinking about his own wife and children; but he had already found it expedient to make arrangements for the autumn, which would prevent that annual visit to Plaistow which Clara had contemplated, and which he had regarded with his characteristic prudence as being subject to possible impediments. He was to be absent himself for the first week in September, but was to return immediately after that. This he did; and before the end of that month he was justified in talking of his wife and family. "I suppose it wouldn"t have done to have been moving now,--under all the circ.u.mstances," he said to his friend, Mrs. Askerton, as he still grumbled about the unfinished house.
"I don"t think it would have done at all, under all the circ.u.mstances," said Mrs. Askerton.
But in the following spring or early summer they did get into the new house;--and a very nice house it was, as will, I think, be believed by those who have known Mr. William Belton. And when they were well settled, at which time little Will Belton was some seven or eight months old,--little Will, for whom great bonfires had been lit, as though his birth in those parts was a matter not to be regarded lightly; for was he not the first Belton of Belton who had been born there for more than a century?--when that time came visitors appeared at the new Belton Castle, visitors of importance, who were ent.i.tled to, and who received, great consideration. These were no less than Captain Aylmer, member for Perivale, and his newly-married bride, Lady Emily Aylmer, _nee_ Tagmaggert. They were then just married, and had come down to Belton Castle immediately after their honeymoon trip. How it had come to pa.s.s that such friendship had sprung up,--or rather how it had been revived,--it would be bootless here to say.
But old alliances, such as that which had existed between the Aylmer and the Amedroz families, do not allow themselves to die out easily, and it is well for us all that they should be long-lived. So Captain Aylmer brought his bride to Belton Park, and a small fatted calf was killed, and the Askertons came to dinner,--on which occasion Captain Aylmer behaved very well, though we may imagine that he must have had some misgivings on the score of his young wife. The Askertons came to dinner, and the old rector, and the squire from a neighbouring parish, and everything was very handsome and very dull. Captain Aylmer was much pleased with his visit, and declared to Lady Emily that marriage had greatly improved Mr. William Belton. Now Will had been very dull the whole evening, and very unlike the fiery, violent, unreasonable man whom Captain Aylmer remembered to have met at the station hotel of the Great Northern Railway.
"I was as sure of it as possible," Clara said to her husband that night.
"Sure of what, my dear?"
"That she would have a red nose."
"Who has got a red nose?"
"Don"t be stupid, Will. Who should have it but Lady Emily?"
"Upon my word I didn"t observe it."
"You never observe anything, Will; do you? But don"t you think she is very plain?"
"Upon my word I don"t know. She isn"t as handsome as some people."
"Don"t be a fool, Will. How old do you suppose her to be?"
"How old? Let me see. Thirty, perhaps."
"If she"s not over forty, I"ll consent to change noses with her."
"No;--we won"t do that; not if I know it."
"I cannot conceive why any man should marry such a woman as that. Not but what she"s a very good woman, I dare say; only what can a man get by it? To be sure there"s the t.i.tle, if that"s worth anything."
But Will Belton was never good for much conversation at this hour, and was too fast asleep to make any rejoinder to the last remark.