Vanity Fair - Page 508/573

Amelia had to receive and entertain these gentlemen and their ladies.

From these she heard how soon Smith would be in Council; how many lacs

Jones had brought home with him, how Thomson's House in London had

refused the bills drawn by Thomson, Kibobjee, and Co., the Bombay

House, and how it was thought the Calcutta House must go too; how very

imprudent, to say the least of it, Mrs. Brown's conduct (wife of Brown

of the Ahmednuggur Irregulars) had been with young Swankey of the Body

Guard, sitting up with him on deck until all hours, and losing

themselves as they were riding out at the Cape; how Mrs. Hardyman had

had out her thirteen sisters, daughters of a country curate, the Rev:

Felix Rabbits, and married eleven of them, seven high up in the

service; how Hornby was wild because his wife would stay in Europe, and

Trotter was appointed Collector at Ummerapoora. This and similar talk

took place at the grand dinners all round. They had the same

conversation; the same silver dishes; the same saddles of mutton,

boiled turkeys, and entrees. Politics set in a short time after

dessert, when the ladies retired upstairs and talked about their

complaints and their children.

Mutato nomine, it is all the same. Don't the barristers' wives talk

about Circuit? Don't the soldiers' ladies gossip about the Regiment?

Don't the clergymen's ladies discourse about Sunday-schools and who

takes whose duty? Don't the very greatest ladies of all talk about that

small clique of persons to whom they belong? And why should our Indian

friends not have their own conversation?--only I admit it is slow for

the laymen whose fate it sometimes is to sit by and listen.

Before long Emmy had a visiting-book, and was driving about regularly

in a carriage, calling upon Lady Bludyer (wife of Major-General Sir

Roger Bludyer, K.C.B., Bengal Army); Lady Huff, wife of Sir G. Huff,

Bombay ditto; Mrs. Pice, the Lady of Pice the Director, &c. We are not

long in using ourselves to changes in life. That carriage came round

to Gillespie Street every day; that buttony boy sprang up and down from

the box with Emmy's and Jos's visiting-cards; at stated hours Emmy and

the carriage went for Jos to the Club and took him an airing; or,

putting old Sedley into the vehicle, she drove the old man round the

Regent's Park. The lady's maid and the chariot, the visiting-book and

the buttony page, became soon as familiar to Amelia as the humble

routine of Brompton. She accommodated herself to one as to the other.

If Fate had ordained that she should be a Duchess, she would even have

done that duty too. She was voted, in Jos's female society, rather a

pleasing young person--not much in her, but pleasing, and that sort of

thing.