A CHELTENHAM BALL.--AN INTRODUCTION.--A CONQUEST.
A great deal of profound meditation was bestowed by Mrs. Barnaby on the
occurrences of that morning before the time arrived for the toilet,
preparatory to the ball of the succeeding night. All these will shew
themselves in their results as they arise; and for the present it will
be only necessary to mention, that, in providing for this toilet,
everything approaching to the sordid cares dictated by economy was
banished. The time was too short to admit of her ordering a new dress
for this occasion; though the powerful feeling at work within her caused
a white satin, decorated in every possible way with the richest blonde,
to be bespoken for the next. Every other article that Cheltenham could
furnish, (and it being the height of the season, Paris itself could
hardly do more for her,) every other species of expensive decoration,
short of diamonds and pearls, was purchased for this important ball, at
which something within her--speaking with the authority of an
oracle--declared that she should become acquainted with Lord Mucklebury.
Busy as were the afternoon and morning which intervened, she found time
for the very necessary business of ordering her broker (he had been her
father's broker too) to sell out five hundred pounds stock for her; and
this done, and her letter safely deposited in the boarding-house
letter-bag, she turned her thoughts towards Agnes.
She had certainly, to use her own language when reasoning the point with
herself, the very greatest mind in the world not to take her to the ball
at all. But this mind, great as it was, was not a settled mind, and was
presently shaken by a sort of instinctive consciousness that there was
in Agnes, independent of her beauty, a something that might help to give
consequence to her _entree_. "As to her dress," thought she, "I am
perfectly determined that it shall be the same she wore at Clifton, ...
not so much on account of the expense ... at the present moment it would
be madness to permit such a consideration to have any effect; ... but
because it gives her an air more distinguished, more remarkable than any
one else; ... and besides ... who knows but that the contrast of style,
beautiful as she is, may be favourable to me?... I have not forgotten
our fellow-traveller from Silverton ... she seemed to freeze him. And
let her freeze my adorable viscount too, so that I".... But here her
thoughts came too rapidly to dress themselves in words, and for a few
minutes her reverie was rather a tumult than a meditation.
"Yes, she shall go!" she exclaimed at last, rising from the sofa, and
collecting a variety of precious parcels, the result of her shopping;
"Yes, she shall go to the ball; and should any mischief be likely to
follow, I will make her go out to service before the end of the week."
Having thus at last come to a determination, and upon reasonings which
she felt were not likely to be shaken, she mounted to her sleeping
apartment, and after indulging herself by spreading forth various
articles of newly-purchased finery upon the bed, she turned to the
corner in which Agnes, her tiny table, her books, and writing apparatus,
were all packed away together in the smallest possible space, and said,
"Come here, Agnes ... you must have done lessons enough for to-day, and
I have great news for you. Where do you think I mean to take you
to-night?"
Agnes cast her eyes upon the bed, and immediately anticipating some
public display of which she was doomed to be a witness, replied in a
tone that was anything but joyful,--
"I don't know, aunt."
"I don't know, aunt!" retorted Mrs. Barnaby indignantly, mimicking her
tone. "What an owl of a girl you are, Agnes!... Oh! how unlike what I
was at the same age.... You don't know?... I suppose you don't, indeed.
There is not another woman under the sun besides myself who would do for
a dependant, penniless girl, all I am doing for you. I sacrifice
everything for you ... my feelings, my health, my money, and yet you
look exactly as if I was going to take you to school again, instead of
to a ball!"
Agnes sighed; she thought of her last ball, of all its pains and all its
pleasures; and feeling but too sure that it was as impossible she should
escape the former, as improbable that she should find the latter, she
replied mournfully enough, "I would rather not go, if you please,
aunt ... I do not like balls.'"
"Upon my honour, Agnes, if I had not a temper that was proof against
everything, I should be tempted to box your ears.... Is it possible to
see anything more disgustingly hypocritical, than a girl of seventeen
screwing herself up, and saying, '_I do not like balls_'.... I wonder
what you do like, Miss Prim? But, I promise you, I do not intend to ask
your leave for what I do; and as long as you eat my bread, you will do
as I bid you ... or else, turn out, and provide for yourself at once.
Let me hear no more such stuff, if you please; but take care to make
yourself decent, and be ready to get into the carriage exactly at nine
o'clock.... Do you hear?"
Agnes meekly turned to her travelling magazine of sable suits, and was
considerably surprised by being told that she must instantly get ready
to go out for the purpose of buying satin shoes, white gloves, and one
or two other trifles, which the newly-enlarged views of her aunt now
rendered necessary. All this was done. Miss Morrison engaged to join
their party, the labours of the hair-dresser were completed, and a
toilet of two hours' duration was brought to a most satisfactory
conclusion within ten minutes of the early hour she had named, and to
the ball-room they repaired considerably before any other person entered
it.
"I told you it would be so, my dear Mrs. Barnaby," said Miss Morrison,
looking rather disconsolately round her: "_noo sum tro toe_; ... but
never mind: let us sit down comfortably on this sofa, and I dare say I
shall be able to tell you the names of most of the principal people.
Cheltenham is so very delightful, that almost everybody comes over and
over again: _say too ta fey law mode_."
A few straggling strangers began to enter almost immediately, and in
about half an hour, the well-pleased Miss Morrison was enabled to redeem
her promise by pointing out some scores of well-dressed individuals by
name. But still Lord Mucklebury came not, and the widow's heart grew
sad, till, happily, she heard a young partnerless lady say as she swept
by,--"What a bore it is that all the best men come so late!" In a moment
hope was rekindled in Mrs. Barnaby's eye, and with renewed interest she
listened to the catalogue of names which her friend poured into her ear.
"Oh! here comes the bride, Lady Stephenson.... What a handsome man her
husband is!... I have seen her here often with her aunt, Lady Elizabeth
Norris, before she was married.... The old lady dotes upon Cheltenham,
they say.... I wish you knew some more people ... but, _name port_, it
will all come by and by, I dare say, and I will introduce you to Lady
Elizabeth if I can; ... but I must ask her first, or she may take
miff.... _Ell hay ung pew fear._"
"Stephenson?..." said Mrs. Barnaby,--"is it Sir Edward Stephenson?"
"Yes, Sir Edward, that's his name: do you know him, Mrs. Barnaby?"
"We were most intimately acquainted with his brother at Clifton, ... and
with Colonel Hubert too; that's her brother, you know. Pray, is he here
too?"
How Agnes trembled as she waited for the answer!
"I don't know ... I have not seen him yet," replied Miss Morrison, "and
it is impossible to overlook him--_set hun um seuperb_!... but _comb
heel hay fear_!... Perhaps he will come in presently: he is always _ung
pew tar_ at the balls, for he never dances."
"Oh! I know that," said Mrs. Barnaby.... "I know him perfectly well, I
assure you ... he is a most elegant person; but I suspect he is rather
of a violent and jealous temper.... However, I'm sure I wish he was
here, and his friend Frederick Stephenson too.... He's a charming young
man, and used to walk to Bristol with us, and dance three times a night
with Agnes."
"Dear me! you don't say so!" exclaimed Miss Morrison, to whom the
intelligence was extremely agreeable, as it removed at once all doubts
and fears respecting Mrs. Barnaby's real station in society.... "Well,
then, I'm sure you ought to know Lady Elizabeth Norris; and I really
must, somehow or other, contrive to let her hear of your acquaintance
with her nephew Colonel Hubert. They say she dotes upon him, and that he
is to be her heir ... and that's almost a pity, for he has a noble
fortune of his own already. Do you happen to know how much his sister
had, Mrs. Barnaby?... Some say twenty, some thirty, some fifty
thousand."
"Young Stephenson never happened to say anything about it that I
recollect," replied the widow.... "But, look! Lady Elizabeth is coming
this way.... You had better step forward, Miss Morrison, that she may
see you."
But there was no occasion for any contrivance on the part of Miss
Morrison in order to obtain the notice of Lady Elizabeth; for that lady
having descried and recognised the party, she immediately decided that
Miss Morrison, whose acquaintance she had cultivated for several
successive seasons on account of her admirable French, should be for
her the medium of introduction to the pompous widow, who was clever
enough to make her niece drink the waters instead of herself.
It was, therefore, by a straight and direct line that, supported by the
arm of Sir Edward Stephenson, and followed by his lady, she crossed the
room from her own place to that occupied by those whom (in her own
particular manner) she delighted to honour.
Miss Morrison's surprise was as great as her satisfaction when she
perceived this to be the case; and she felt her triumph doubled by her
fine new acquaintance being the witness of it.
"_Bon jour_, Miss Morrison," said the old lady, holding out her hand;
"_toujours en bonne sante j'espere_?"
Amidst smiles and bows, and blushes and courtesies, Miss Morrison
replied in her favourite jargon,--
"_Mey we, me ladee_ ... and I hope your ladyship is the same."
"A good many old faces here, Miss Morrison, and a good many new ones
too. You have friends with you whom I do not remember to have seen
before.... You must introduce me."
This request threw the good-natured spinster into a twitter of delight
which almost deprived her of the power of obeying it: first she made a
little movement with one hand, and then with the other; while the ample
Mrs. Barnaby stood in happy smiling expectation, and the tall,
stiff-looking old lady continued gazing at the group through her
half-closed eyes, and determined on no account to hasten a process from
which she derived so great amusement.
At length the respective names were pronounced in their proper order,
that of the blushing Agnes being included. The old lady gave her a look
in which something of surprise was mingled with curiosity, and suddenly
turning round to Lady Stephenson who stood behind her, she said,--
"Come, Emily, you must be introduced too.... Miss Willoughby ... Lady
Stephenson."
Mrs. Barnaby had prepared another smile, and another majestic bend for
the presentation of herself to the fair bride; but it did not follow; a
disappointment for which she was soon consoled by Lady Elizabeth's
sitting down, and graciously intimating, by an action of her hand, that
the widow might sit beside her.
Agnes meanwhile stood trembling from head to foot with her eyes timidly
fixed on the beautiful countenance of Colonel Hubert's sister. As it was
quite impossible her ladyship could understand the cause of the
agitation she inspired, so neither was she at all aware of its strength;
but she saw that the beautiful girl before her, notwithstanding the
quiet, unstudied grace of her appearance, was not at her ease, and could
only account for it by supposing that she was suffering from extreme
shyness. Lady Stephenson had not yet forgotten the time when she, too,
had hardly dared to look up unless her paternal brother, as she was wont
to call him, stood very near to sustain her carriage, and sympathising
with a weakness that was in some degree constitutional in herself, she
felt disposed to take more notice of the fair stranger than she usually
bestowed upon persons introduced to her by the whimsical caprices of
her aunt.
Lady Stephenson was, however, altogether mistaken.... Agnes was not at
that moment suffering from shyness; there was timidity certainly in the
pleasure with which she listened to the voice and gazed at the features
of Colonel Hubert's sister; but still it was pleasure, and very nearly
the most lively she had ever experienced.
"You are at Cheltenham for the first time, Miss Willoughby?" said the
bride.
"Yes," replied Agnes; "we only arrived two days ago."
There was not much opportunity of indicating feeling of any kind by
these words; nevertheless, the manner in which they were spoken, and the
sweet expression of the beautiful eyes that were raised to hers,
convinced Lady Stephenson that however shy her new acquaintance might
be, she greatly liked to be spoken to, and accordingly continued the
conversation, which, to her own surprise, warmed so much as it
proceeded, that at length her aunt being evidently settled down for an
elaborate development of the absurdities, whatever they might be, of her
new acquaintance, she offered her arm, inviting her to take a turn round
the room.
Could this be real?... Was it possible that she was walking round the
Cheltenham ball-room on the arm of Colonel Hubert's sister? But though
the happy Agnes asked herself this question again and again, neither the
asking nor the answering it prevented her bearing her part in a
conversation that made her so exquisitely happy with all the pretty
earnestness of one interested in every word that was said to her, and
too young and fresh-minded to conceal the pleasure she felt.
Lady Stephenson was unexpectedly pleased with her young companion; there
was no mixture of _niaiserie_ in the simplicity of Agnes; and though her
ladyship in no degree shared her aunt's extravagant passion for
originals, she had in her own quiet way a reasonably strong liking for
whatever appeared to her untainted by affectation. The beauty of Agnes
might perhaps have had some share in the pleasure she gave; but certain
it is, that, after taking two or three turns together instead of one,
and perceiving Lady Elizabeth about to move her quarters in search of
fresh amusement, she shook hands with Agnes before parting with her so
cordially, that she felt called upon to offer some reason for it to her
husband, who had quitted her during her promenade, but was now returned.
"That is by far the most enchanting girl, Edward, in person, mind, and
manners, that I ever remember to have met with.... How very strange that
she should belong to one of my aunt's collection."
"She is vastly beautiful, Emily," replied Sir Edward, "and I suspect
that covers a multitude of sins in your eyes; for I observe you never
fail to pick out the beauties, go where you will: I declare I think your
eyes are infinitely sharper than mine in this way.... Having once found
out the fairest of the fair, I do not feel so much interest as I used to
do in looking about me."
"A very pretty speech, Sir Edward," returned the lady, laughing; "but
that sweet girl's beauty is not her greatest fascination. I must ask
Lady Elizabeth whether she found the magnificent lady to whom she has
been devoting herself answer her expectations."
When this question was put to the old lady, however, she bluntly
answered, "No, not at all.... She is as dull as a prize-ox decorated
with ribbons at a fair."
"I am sorry to hear it," observed Lady Stephenson, "for I have lost my
heart to the fair girl in black whom she seems to lead about as a
contrast to her radiant self.... I marvel what the connexion can be....
It is plain they are not related, from the deep mourning of the one and
the rainbow brilliance of the other."
"Your inference is altogether wrong, my Lady Stephenson; ... one of this
Madam Barnaby's long stories was about this melancholy miss, who is her
niece, and who will wear mourning in spite of her.... I must watch them
at the pump, just to see if the girl makes up for her disobedience in
this respect by swallowing the waters which Pringle says the aunt is
determined she shall take, ... and after that I shall trouble myself no
more about them.... The great woman does not answer; she is a vulgar,
pompous, everyday bore."
"Pray do not give her quite up, aunt, for my sake," said Lady
Stephenson; "for I have set my fancy upon seeing a great deal more of
her niece ... who, by the way, for so pertinacious a mourner, is
wonderfully sprightly; ... but I must flatter myself she found
consolation in my society. I must beg you to cultivate the acquaintance
a little farther."
"This is something quite new, Emily," replied the old lady. "It is the
first time, I believe, that you ever condescended to take any interest
in my menagerie.... Far be it from me, my dear, to check so happy a
symptom of an improving intellect.... I have already asked the expansive
widow and her delicate shadow for Wednesday; and if your fever for
cementing a friendship with the latter should happen to continue, yield
to it by all means.... You know, Emily, I never wish to control
anybody's set of favourites, provided always that nobody interferes with
my own."
The only pleasure which the rest of the evening afforded Agnes arose
from studying the features, and still more the countenance, of Lady
Stephenson, whenever she was fortunate enough to be within sight of her.
No one asked her to dance, and no word was uttered within her hearing
that gave her the least amusement. One single circumstance cheered the
tedious hours during which she was doomed to sit, with her aunt Barnaby
before her eyes, in a terror which increased every moment lest she
should draw the eyes of every one else in the room upon her. This single
circumstance was, that the sister of Colonel Hubert, when standing at
three feet of distance from her, turned her head and said, with a smile
of strong family affinity to his own,--
"I find that I am to have the pleasure of seeing you on Wednesday at my
aunt's, Miss Willoughby ... I am very glad of it.... Good night!"... and
soon afterwards the party left the room.
Far different was the fate of Mrs. Barnaby. The evening began for her
very gloriously, for she had been spoken to by a Lady Elizabeth; but it
ended in rapture, ... for, before its close, Lord Mucklebury made his
appearance, stared at her again with the most marked impertinence,
inquired and learned her name from Mr. Pringle, by whom he was at his
express desire presented, and finally he placed himself beside her on
the sofa, where he remained for at least twenty minutes, talking to her
in a style that might be said without the slightest exaggeration to have
thrown her into a state of temporary delirium.
Nor had it failed to produce some emotion in the noble lord; nay, it is
probable it might have lasted longer, had it amused him less; for when
he look his leave of the widow, expressing his hope that he should be
happy enough to meet her again, he moved with a step rather quicker than
ordinary to ensconce himself among a knot of men who were amusing
themselves by communicating to each other the most ludicrous remarks on
the company, in a distant corner of the room.
"Have you really torn yourself away from that magnificent specimen of
womanhood, Mucklebury?" said one of the group as he approached them....
"She is evidently magnetic, by the manner in which you have been
revolving round her for some time; and if magnetic, and the power at all
proportioned to the volume, it is a miracle that you ever left her side
again."
"I never would leave her side again," replied Lord Mucklebury, laughing
immoderately, "did I not fear that I should fall at her feet in a
fit.... Oh! she is glorious!"
"Who and what is she, in God's name?" said another.
"Who is she?... Barnaby!... Bless her!--Mistress Barnaby!... What is
she?... A widow.... Darling creature!... a widow, fair, fat, and
forty ... most fat!--most fair!... and, oh! a pigeon, a dove,--a very
turtle-dove for kindness!"
"She is really handsome, though ... isn't she, Mucklebury?" said one.
"Yes, upon my soul she is!" replied the Viscount more seriously, "and
bears looking at too remarkably well, notwithstanding the pot-full of
coarse rouge that it pleases her to carry about on each of her beautiful
cheeks."
"And by what blessed chance has your lordship been favoured with an
introduction?... Or did your lordship so far overcome your
constitutional timidity as to introduce yourself?"
"Alarm not your spirit on that score, Digby," replied Lord Mucklebury.
"The medium of introduction was illustrious, ... but my passion was
anterior to it, ... for the history of our loves was in this wise. It is
said of me ... I know not how truly ... that my taste in beauty tends
somewhat towards the Blowzabella order.... Be this as it may, it is
certain that yesterday morning between the hours of two and three, being
actively employed for the good of myself and my country in Johnson's
sale-room, I felt myself penetrated, perforated, pierced, and transfixed
by the very bright eyes of this remarkable lady; ... whereupon,
overpowering my constitutional timidity, Digby, I fixed my regards,
eye-glass and all, upon her; ... but the result was astonishing.... Did
any of you, gentlemen, ever happen to watch the effect of the sun's rays
when thrown upon some soft substance (a pound of butter for example)
through the medium of a burning-glass?... Such and so great was that
produced by the rays of my right eye when sent through my eye-glass
upon this charming creature.... She warmed, trembled, yea, visibly
melted under it. I inquired her name on the spot, but in vain. This
evening I have been more successful, and now I have the inexpressible
felicity of being enrolled as an acquaintance of this inimitable widow."
"A very interesting narrative," said one of his auditors; "and may I ask
your lordship what it can be that has now induced you to leave her fair
side all unguarded?"
"Ecstasy, Tom!... I had not strength to witness the emotions I
inspired.... I tell you, I must have fallen at her feet had I continued
near her."
* * * * *
The conversation of these merry gentlemen went on for some time longer
in the same strain, forming a contrast, perhaps not very uncommon, to
the solemn and serious meditations of Mrs. Barnaby on the very same
circumstances which caused their mirth. Far, however, from exaggerating
the effect he had produced, Lord Mucklebury had little or no idea of
its strength and reality. He fancied the lady inflammable, and easily
touched by any appearance of admiration; but it never entered his head
to suppose that his flourishing speeches and audacious eyes had given
birth in her mind to the most sanguine hope, and the most deliberate
intention, of becoming Viscountess Mucklebury.
Sudden as the formation of these hopes and intentions may appear, it
would be doing injustice to Mrs. Barnaby were the reader suffered to
believe that they were permitted to take possession of her heedlessly.
She remembered Major Allen ... she remembered the agony of the moment in
which she beheld his friend Maintry appear in the character of a thief;
and sweet to her ears as was the title of her new conquest, she did not
suffer it to charm away her resolution of discovering whether he were
poor or rich. Every inquiry tended to prove that she was safe in the
direction which her ambition and her love had now taken. Lord Mucklebury
was a widower, with an only son very nobly provided for, and as capable
of making a good jointure, if he married again, as a widow's heart could
wish.
Now then all that remained to be done was to foster the admiration she
had inspired into a passion strong enough to induce the noble Viscount
to settle that jointure upon her. Nothing could be more just than her
reasoning--nothing more resolute than her purpose. She knew she was
handsome, she felt it to be advisable that she should appear rich; and
with the devoted feeling of a warrior who throws away his scabbard as he
rushes to the onslaught, Mrs. Barnaby heroically set herself to win her
way to victory--_coute qui coute_.