CHAPTER XCI

THE DUCAL DIFFICULTIES

ET us now take a glance at the domestic affairs at the castle. Getting up a ball is generally excitement enough for most people, but the Duke and Duchess of Tergiversation’s excitement was considerably increased by the difficulty there was in getting the necessary supplies. Country trades-people can seldom afford to give long credit, and Mr. Cucumber’s applications and orders were too generally met by the production of some long-standing bill which it would be a real convenience to the parties to have settled. The Duke was a great economist up to a sovereign. That sum exceeded he went right overhead in extravagance. He would criticise the board at a toll-bar from top to bottom, to be sure he wasn’t defrauded of a halfpenny, while he would think nothing of ordering a couple of hundred pounds’ worth of cut flowers for an evening party.

“Flat,” said his Grace to Mr. Hydrangia, the Bayswater florist, as he accompanied that genius on a tour of inspection of the receiving rooms, on the evening of a great London ball.

“Flat,” repeated he as they got into the drawing-room.

“Don’t know your Grace,” replied Mr. Hydrangia, “there are two hundred pounds’ worth of exotics here.”

“Then put two hundred pounds’ worth more,” replied the Duke, without a moment’s hesitation.

“How much?” exclaimed he, cantering up Purbeck Bar on his way home, from half a-day’s hunting at Sandforth Health.

“Tuppence!” replied old deaf Turner, the toll-keeper, holding out his hand for the money.

“Tuppence! it is but three half-pence surely,” replied the Duke, pulling up, and going attentively through the list on the board—broad wheels, narrow wheels, exemptions and all.

“Ah, well, twopence it is,” at length replied he, coming to the horse department—“There’s your money!” adding, as he cantered away, “The man who would rob me of a single halfpenny, would rob me of all I’m worth in the world.”

It was seeing the Duke at one of these wrangles, coupled with his own innate regard for the siller, that made Mr. Haggish so obstreperous about the “green silk whopcord,” that terrible outlay that had cost the Duke eighteenpence. But we are getting to the outdoor department, instead of confining ourselves to the internal arrangements of the Castle. Well, the Duke’s credit, we are sorry to say, was not very great, but he never would want for anything on that account; and on Cucumber devolved the responsibility of seeing the orders executed. The Duke was well cared for too, and many were the enquiries made after him by the Assurance Office people in London, the directors of some of which had proposed to club together to take him a-moor to keep him in health, thinking the battueing was not sufficiently severe exercise.

There is no doubt that London is fast absorbing the retail trade of the country, and will do so entirely it shopkeepers persist in making summer hideous by sending in their bills half-yearly and dunning accordingly; but in a case like the present, where the entertainment was given as much to procure votes as to promote gaiety, it would never do to throw the patronage away upon the metropolis, and come what would the necessary supplies must be procured on the spot. Still a country confectioner’s is a miserable affair, little in the shop, and nothing behind, though there is never any want of enterprise in the way of taking large orders, the parties relying on the assistance of all the drunken out-of-place creatures, and trusting to excuses, and “the cat,” for getting out of their difficulties. The cat got in at the last moment—the cat upset the cream—the cat eat the jelly—the cat destroyed the game; there never was such a cat.

In the Duke’s case it was not so much the cookery that was wanted—for that could be done in the Castle —as the material wherewith to cook. When Betty Barns could get three and sixpence for her fowls at Jollyfield market, she was not going to send them on any visionary prospect of some day receiving three and nine from Mr. Cucumber for them. So that gentleman issued his orders without much success, for country people hang together, and if one says no, they generally all say no. If, therefore, the pleasure of a ball is enhanced by the trouble it gives, this ought to have been a very enjoyable one. A ball at Willis’s Rooms is not considered equivalent to one in a private house, simply, we suppose, because all the paraphernalia is at hand, no taking doors off their hinges, no turning master’s study upside down, or making the library into a room for the ladies. So with the supper—supper for so many —bill for supper for so many—an order and a cheque— comprise the trouble—does the whole business. That however will only do for the division of labour peculiar to the unlimited means and appliances of the capital. The country must always be dependent upon separate purveyors, unless indeed parties choose to entrust the arrangements to some great London house; but then what a thing it would be if it should come a snow storm, and the supper be drifted up short of its destination! A ball without a supper would never do. The Duke of Tergiversation, however, had enough work with Hydrangia and people when in London, without troubling them to come into the country, so he drew his supplies from native industry.

First and foremost undoubtedly is the champagne. There must be plenty of champagne, at least, plenty of pop, fizz, banging, for as it is not all gold that glistens, so it is not all grand mousseux that sparkles. The wine, the Castle cellars supplied, and Mr. Cucumber and the butler understood the judicious mixture—when to interpolate a few bottles of grape, when to sow the pure supply stronger. Lights come next. There must be a perfect blaze of light, and in these glorious days when competing companies almost force their goods upon the public, sending their “cash prices” and their “booking prices,” as if determined to have an order, there can be little difficulty in procuring an abundant supply; and Cucumber gave magnificent orders for transparent wax, and China wax, and Ceylon wax, and the finest Colza oil, all of which came down carefully packed, with obsequious invoices, in some instances the railway-carriage paid—for weak-minded tradesmen are terribly obnoxious to the influence of rank. Next in importance to the wine and light is the music, and whether or not we have recently turned a military nation, there can be no doubt that we have greatly advanced as a musical one. There is scarcely a village of any size without its band, and where nothing but cock and dog fighting went on, and nothing but bacchanalian songs were heard, we have now notes of soft music wafted on the breeze. We cannot but think if our legislators were to increase the harmless enjoyments of the people—say throw open the Museums, the Picture Galleries, the Crystal Palace on a Sunday—they would do them far more real service than by burthening them with a troublesome franchise that they do not require.

Well, the wine, lights and music being procured, the delicacies of the season—the beef, mutton, and cheese, as the sailor described a sumptuous repast he had had— were next considered, and Haggish was charged to make predatory excursions among the poultry whenever he went out with the hounds. Eggs, butter, and cream, too, were sought far and wide. So what with contributions on the spot, and consignments from town, things at length assumed the dimensions of a grand entertainment, and the Castle looked as if it would stand a prolonged siege, or sustain a very heavy invasion.