The Hampstead mystery: a novel. Volume 1 (of 3)

‘Once for all,’ exclaimed Mr Crampton, bringing down his broad fist heavily upon the table, ‘once for all, I tell you, I will not have it.’

At this terrible assertion, Mrs Crampton shivered as if she had been struck, and Aunt Clem silently dissolved into tears. Henry Hindes, of all the party, alone preserved his composure. He leaned back in his chair, carefully trimming his filbert nails with a penknife, as if the affair under discussion were not of the slightest moment.

‘Of course you will not have it,’ he said after a pause to Mr Crampton, ‘no man in his senses would. Mr Frederick Walcheren has money and good looks, but there his claims to admiration end. The first you do not require for your daughter, and the second would have no weight with anyone but a woman. To place against these supposed advantages, Mr Walcheren is a young man of dissolute habits, and lavish expenditure. You should hear what his cousin, Philip Walcheren, says of him.’

‘I want no one’s opinion but my own,’ replied Mr Crampton vehemently. ‘Jenny will have all my money by-and-by, and she shall marry no man that will make ducks and drakes of it. Besides, he isn’t good enough for her in any way. He thinks, I suppose, because his family have been a set of idle scoundrels for centuries past, while my progenitors have been working to support their children, that his is the better of the two, but I don’t see it. Besides, if he were the heir to the Crown, he shouldn’t have my daughter. He’s a Roman, that’s more than enough for me. I’ll have no Papists in my family. I hate the whole crew, with their cunning, underhand ways. If Jenny won’t give this Walcheren fellow over, I’ll lock her up on bread and water till she comes to her senses again.’

As neither of the ladies made any answer to this threat, Mr Hindes interfered again.

‘Surely,’ he said with an incredulous smile, ‘Miss Crampton will not dream of opposing your wishes in this particular, when so much depends upon her obedience. What can she see in this young man to attract her, above others of his kind; she who has a crowd of admirers wherever she goes, and is the acknowledged beauty of Hampstead? I believe, Crampton, that you are alarming yourself without cause. Miss Crampton means nothing serious. She is merely amusing herself with the sight of young Walcheren’s infatuation for her.’

‘It’s more than that,’ returned the older man; ‘I’ve forbidden the girl to dance with him when she meets him out, or to receive him here during my absence. And now, her mother tells me, she met them riding together yesterday afternoon, and has intercepted a letter from him to Jenny, in which he writes as though they were promised to each other. What am I to do? I can’t be always at my daughter’s elbow, and her mother can’t go galloping all over the country after her. It is disgraceful to think that a young lady of twenty can’t be trusted to behave herself properly as soon as she is out of her parents’ sight!’

‘Don’t you think you are making rather a mountain out of a molehill?’ inquired Henry Hindes, in the same calm way. ‘Doubtless, Miss Crampton is young and thoughtless, and, if I may venture to say so--perhaps just a wee bit spoilt; but is that any reason that you should suspect her of impropriety? And, after all, is there anything wrong or unusual in a lovely girl being followed and persecuted by her admirers? Perhaps, if the truth were known, Miss Crampton might be as well pleased to get rid of Mr Walcheren as you would be.’

At this juncture, Mrs Crampton took heart of grace to put in her oar.

‘Oh, thank you, dear Mr Hindes!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am sure you are right. That is, I feel certain that Jenny cares no more for Mr Walcheren than for anyone else. She is a trifle wilful and does not brook contradiction well--I acknowledge that--and perhaps papa and I have spoilt her a little; she is such a darling, you know, that it is very difficult not to spoil her--but she would never really oppose our wishes. Papa has only to speak to her--’

‘Nonsense!’ interposed Mr Crampton gruffly. ‘I have spoken to her a dozen times already, and she laughs in my face and disobeys me as soon as my back is turned. But this business has gone far enough, and I mean to put a stop to it. Where is the girl?’ he continued, turning to his wife; ‘go and tell her I wish to speak to her at once!’

‘My dear, she has not risen yet. I do not suppose she is awake!’

‘And it is past eleven,’ said her husband.

‘Yes; but remember how late she was up last night. I don’t think we were home till past two o’clock.’

‘Whilst she was dancing with this young jackanapes, I conclude, and letting him make eyes at her! Well! it is for the last time, I can tell Miss Jenny that! If she disobeys me again, I’ll take her right away from Hampstead, and she shall never see it till the fellow’s dead, or married. No Papistical grandchildren for me! I can tell her that!’

‘Oh, Mr Crampton!’ cried his wife, with affected horror.

‘Yes, it is “Oh! Mr Crampton,”’ repeated the old man angrily, mimicking her thin tones, ‘and it’ll be “Oh! Mrs Crampton,” if you don’t take care. It’s more than half your fault! You should look better after your daughter, and then these unpleasantries wouldn’t happen. But you let her have her own way in everything. She just rules you and Miss Bostock, and then you leave me to rectify your errors. It isn’t fair on either me or the child!’

Mrs Crampton and her sister, Miss Bostock, familiarly known as Aunt Clem, were now weeping in concert.

‘I am sure,’ sobbed the mother, ‘I’ve done everything in my power, short of turning Mr Walcheren out of doors, to prevent his calling here so often, because I knew you didn’t wish it, John. Last time he came I would not order up tea, until Jenny made such a point of it that I could not refuse. And when the dear child rides, or drives, you know it is impossible for me to supervise her actions.’

‘You should go with her,’ grumbled her husband.

‘Oh! dear! I wouldn’t sit behind those cobs of hers for all the world! It frightens me to see her drive them. And she won’t come out in the barouche with Aunt Clem and me. She laughs at the very idea. She is so very high-spirited, you see. She must have her own way in everything!’

‘Well, go and fetch her here,’ said Mr Crampton shortly; ‘I must speak to her before I go to town.’

‘But if she is not dressed, my dear,’ remonstrated his wife.

‘Tell her to dress at once and come to me! Now, no nonsense, or I’ll pull her out of bed myself.’

The two women flew from the room to prevent so awful a contingency, and the men were left alone. They were partners in the well-known firm of Messrs Hindes & Crampton, wool-staplers in the city.

Henry Hindes, although much the younger of the two, was head of the business, having inherited his share through the death of his father. He was a man of about five or seven and thirty, smooth and solid looking, but much more polished in manners and appearance than his partner. His fair, thin hair was parted in the middle, and combed close to his head. He possessed a powerful brain and a good knowledge of business. His blue eyes, straight thick nose, and smiling mouth, gave him a benevolent and cordial look, which made him a favourite in society. He was always perfectly dressed, and was proud of his white hands and filbert nails.

People who wished to do business with the firm, always preferred to see the senior partner to the junior, because the former was so suave and courteous, and the latter so rough and curt.

But Mr Crampton was the tenderer-hearted man of the two, though he did not show it so much. His private purse-strings were always open to help a disabled workman, or to head a subscription for the widows and orphans of those who were removed by death. He was a man of strong views, however, and a somewhat obstinate temperament, and this business of his daughter and Mr Frederick Walcheren had disturbed him very much. A Scotchman by birth, and brought up as a Nonconformist, he had a righteous horror of Popery, and everything connected with it. On this account alone he had, from the first, discountenanced the acquaintanceship of Mr Walcheren with his family; and to find that his daughter had, in express opposition to his wishes, made an intimate friend of the young man, wounded him in his tenderest point. He sat very gloomy and silent after his wife and sister-in-law had left the room, and Mr Hindes tried his utmost to make him regard the matter in a more hopeful light. For years he had been as intimate in the domestic circle of the Crampton family, as he was with his partner in the city, and was regarded as their nearest friend by them all.

‘This is a matter that only requires a few words of explanation to set it right, Crampton,’ he remarked, ‘so it’s no use looking so black about it. You must allow that you and your wife have rather given Miss Jenny her own way, and naturally she clings to it. But she loves you both too much to wilfully oppose you.’

‘I hope so, I hope so!’ replied the old man. ‘But spoilt children are not always the most grateful, Hindes. I trust that Jenny may listen, as you say, to reason, but I would rather appeal to the young man himself. Perhaps, if he knew that we will never give our consent to her marrying a Papist, he might see the advisability of giving up the pursuit.’

‘I will speak to him, if you empower me to do so,’ said Hindes, eagerly. ‘He is sure to be at the Bouchers’ dance to-night. I did not intend to go, but I believe Hannah wishes to do so, and the opportunity will be an excellent one, particularly if Miss Crampton is to be there, and carries out your prohibition with respect to dancing with him. He will sulk and sit out, and I shall be able to give him a hint as to your disapproval of his suit.’

‘Do so, Hindes, and I shall be exceedingly obliged to you,’ replied Mr Crampton. ‘And, if that fails, we must take Jenny away, for, by hook or by crook, I am determined to shake that young fellow off.’

‘Hannah is going with the little ones to Broadstairs next week. What do you say to Miss Crampton accompanying her? You know how fond my wife is of your daughter, and she would watch over her like a mother. At all events, it is worth thinking of.’

‘It would be a capital plan,’ said Mr Crampton; ‘but why are you going?’

‘Because it is time one of us was at the office, my dear fellow; and, since you are about to speak to your daughter on this subject, it is just as well I should be out of the way. I shall see you later in the afternoon, but don’t hurry on my account. And I shall not forget to speak to Mr Walcheren this evening. I shall not spare him, I promise you, but lay it on as thick as I know how, and, if he doesn’t like it, he must do the other thing. By the way, I know the cousin, Philip Walcheren, as well as their mutual director, Father Tasker, so, if the young man won’t hear reason, I will appeal to them. There is one convenience about these Papists, you can generally wield them through their directors.’

‘Yes, the silly fools!’ said Crampton contemptuously. ‘They’re afraid to say their lives are their own if the priests say they’re not. Pooh! call them men. They’re more like a flock of silly sheep, who run baa-ing after their shepherd.’