Gothic Tales by Elizabeth Gaskell Page A

which was beginning to be enclosed 17 by a few of the more wealthy townspeople, who were desirous of building themselves houses rather more in the country than those they had hitherto lived in.Among these, the principal was a Mr Dudgeon, the attorney of Barford, and the agent for all the county families about. The firm of Dudgeon had managed the leases, the marriage settlements and the wills, of the neighbourhood for generations. Mr Dudgeon’s father had the responsibility of collecting the land-owners’ rents just as the present Mr Dudgeon had at the time of which I speak; and as his son and his son’s son have done since. Their business was an hereditary estate to them; and with something of the old feudal feeling, was mixed a kind of proud humility at their position towards the squires whose family secrets they had mastered, and the mysteries of whose fortunes and estates were better known to the Messrs Dudgeon than to themselves.
    Mr John Dudgeon had built himself a house on Wildbury Heath – a mere cottage, as he called it; but though only two storeys high, it spread out far and wide, and work-people from Derby had been sent for on purpose to make the inside as complete as possible. The gardens, too, were exquisite in arrangement, if not very extensive; and not a flower was grown in them, but of the rarest species. It must have been somewhat of a mortification to the owner of this dainty place when, on the day of which I speak, the fox after a long race, during which he had described a circle of many miles, took refuge in the garden; but Mr Dudgeon put a good face on the matter when a gentleman hunter, with the careless insolence of the squires of those days and that place, rode across the velvet lawn, and tapping at the window of the dining-room with his whip-handle, asked permission – no! that is not it – rather, informed Mr Dudgeon of their intention – to enter his garden in a body, and have the fox unearthed. Mr Dudgeon compelled himself to smile assent, with the grace of a masculine Griselda; 18 and then he hastily gave orders to have all that the house afforded of provision set out for luncheon, guessing rightly enough that a six hours’ run would give even homely fare an acceptable welcome. He bore without wincing the entrance of the dirty boots into his exquisitely clean rooms; he only felt grateful for the care with which Mr Higgins strode about, laboriously and noiselessly moving on the tip of his toes, as he reconnoitred the rooms with a curious eye.
    â€˜I’m going to build a house myself, Dudgeon; and, upon my word, I don’t think I could take a better model than yours.’
    â€˜Oh! my poor cottage would be too small to afford any hints for such a house as you would wish to build, Mr Higgins,’ replied Mr Dudgeon, gently rubbing his hands nevertheless at the compliment.
    â€˜Not at all! not at all! Let me see. You have dining-room, drawing-room, –’ he hesitated, and Mr Dudgeon filled up the blank as he expected.
    â€˜Four sitting-rooms and the bed-rooms. But allow me to show you over the house. I confess I took some pains in arranging it, and, though far smaller than what you would require, it may, nevertheless, afford you some hints.’
    So they left the eating gentlemen with their mouths and their plates quite full, and the scent of the fox overpowering that of the hasty rashers of ham; and they carefully inspected all the ground-floor rooms. Then Mr Dudgeon said, –
    â€˜If you are not tired, Mr Higgins – it is rather my hobby, so you must pull me up if you are – we will go upstairs, and I will show you my sanctum.’
    Mr Dudgeon’s sanctum was the centre room, over the porch, which formed a balcony, and which was carefully filled with choice flowers in pots. Inside, there were all kinds of elegant contrivances for hiding the real strength of all the boxes and chests required by the particular nature of Mr