Vanity Fair - Page 450/573

The mansion of Sir Pitt Crawley, in Great Gaunt Street, was just

beginning to dress itself for the day, as Rawdon, in his evening

costume, which he had now worn two days, passed by the scared female

who was scouring the steps and entered into his brother's study. Lady

Jane, in her morning-gown, was up and above stairs in the nursery

superintending the toilettes of her children and listening to the

morning prayers which the little creatures performed at her knee.

Every morning she and they performed this duty privately, and before

the public ceremonial at which Sir Pitt presided and at which all the

people of the household were expected to assemble. Rawdon sat down in

the study before the Baronet's table, set out with the orderly blue

books and the letters, the neatly docketed bills and symmetrical

pamphlets, the locked account-books, desks, and dispatch boxes, the

Bible, the Quarterly Review, and the Court Guide, which all stood as if

on parade awaiting the inspection of their chief.

A book of family sermons, one of which Sir Pitt was in the habit of

administering to his family on Sunday mornings, lay ready on the study

table, and awaiting his judicious selection. And by the sermon-book

was the Observer newspaper, damp and neatly folded, and for Sir Pitt's

own private use. His gentleman alone took the opportunity of perusing

the newspaper before he laid it by his master's desk. Before he had

brought it into the study that morning, he had read in the journal a

flaming account of "Festivities at Gaunt House," with the names of all

the distinguished personages invited by tho Marquis of Steyne to meet

his Royal Highness. Having made comments upon this entertainment to

the housekeeper and her niece as they were taking early tea and hot

buttered toast in the former lady's apartment, and wondered how the

Rawding Crawleys could git on, the valet had damped and folded the

paper once more, so that it looked quite fresh and innocent against the

arrival of the master of the house.

Poor Rawdon took up the paper and began to try and read it until his

brother should arrive. But the print fell blank upon his eyes, and he

did not know in the least what he was reading. The Government news and

appointments (which Sir Pitt as a public man was bound to peruse,

otherwise he would by no means permit the introduction of Sunday papers

into his household), the theatrical criticisms, the fight for a hundred

pounds a side between the Barking Butcher and the Tutbury Pet, the

Gaunt House chronicle itself, which contained a most complimentary

though guarded account of the famous charades of which Mrs. Becky had

been the heroine--all these passed as in a haze before Rawdon, as he

sat waiting the arrival of the chief of the family.