O, where have I been all this time? How 'friended
That I should lose myself thus desp'rately.
And none for pity show me how I wandered!
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
While it was yet too early for visitors, and before she had ordered
herself to be denied to every one, as she intended to do, she was
surprised by a double knock at the door, and she rang hastily to prevent
any one being admitted. The servants, with contradictory orders, found
it difficult to evade the earnest desire of the visitor to see their
lady; and at last they brought up a card, on which was written, "Miss
Derham wishes to be permitted to see Lady Lodore for Mrs. Villiers."
_From_ had first been written, erased, and _for_ substituted. Lady Lodore
was alarmed; and the ideas of danger and death instantly presenting
themselves, she desired Miss Derham to be shown up. She met her with a
face of anxiety, and with that frankness and kindness of manner which
was the irresistible sceptre she wielded to subdue all hearts. Fanny had
hitherto disliked Lady Lodore. She believed her to be cold, worldly, and
selfish--now, in a moment, she was convinced, by the powerful influence
of manner, that she was the contrary of all this; so that instead of the
chilling address she meditated, she was impelled to throw off her
reserve, and to tell her story with animation and detail. She spoke of
what Mrs. Villiers had gone through previous to the arrest of her
husband--and how constantly she had kept her resolve of remaining with
him--though her situation day by day becoming more critical, demanded
attentions and luxuries which she had no means of attaining. "Yet," said
Fanny, "I should not have intruded on you even now, but that they cannot
go on as they are; their resources are utterly exhausted,--and until
next June I see no prospect for them."
"Why does not Mr. Villiers apply to his father? even if letters were of
no avail, a personal appeal--"
"I am afraid that Colonel Villiers has
nothing to give," replied Fanny, "and at all events, Mr. Villiers's
imprisonment--"
"Prison!" cried Lady Lodore, "you do not mean--Ethel cannot be
living in prison!"
"They live within the rules, if you understand that term. They rent a
lodging close to the prison on the other side of the river."
"This must indeed be altered," said Lady Lodore, "this is far too
shocking--poor Ethel, she must come here! Dear Miss Derham, will you
tell her how much I desire to see her, and entreat her to make my house
her home."
Fanny shook head. "She will not leave her husband--I should make your
proposal in vain."
Lady Lodore looked incredulous. After a moment's thought she persuaded
herself that Ethel's having refused to return to the house of Mrs. Derham,
or having negatived some other proposed kindness originated this notion,
and she believed that she had only to make her invitation in the most
gracious possible way, not to have it refused. "I will go to Ethel
myself," she said; "I will myself bring her here, and so smooth all
difficulties."
Fanny did not object. Under her new favourable opinion of Lady Lodore, she
felt that all would be well if the mother and daughter were brought
together, though only for a few minutes. She wrote down Ethel's address,
and took her leave, while at the same moment Lady Lodore ordered her
carriage, and assured her that no time should be lost in removing Mrs.
Villiers to a more suitable abode.
Lady Lodore's feelings on this occasion were not so smiling as her looks.
She was grieved for her daughter, but she was exceedingly vexed for
herself. She had desired some interest, some employment in life, but she
recoiled from any that should link her with Ethel. She desired occupation,
and not slavery; but to bring the young wife to her own house, and make it
a home for her, was at once destructive of her own independence. She
looked forward with repugnance to the familiarity that must thence ensue
between her and Villiers. Even the first step was full of annoyance, and
she was displeased that Fanny had given her the task of going to her
daughter's habitation, and forced her to appear personally on so
degrading a scene; there was however no help--she had undertaken it, and
it must be done.
Every advance she made towards the wretched part of the town where Ethel
lived, added to her ill-humour. She felt almost personally affronted by
the necessity she was under of first coming in contact with her daughter
under such disastrous circumstances. Her spleen against Lord Lodore
revived: she viewed every evil that had ever befallen her, as arising from
his machinations. If Ethel had been entrusted to her guardianship, she
certainly had never become the wife of Edward Villiers--nor ever have
tasted the dregs of opprobrious poverty.
At length, her carriage drew near a row of low, shabby houses; and as
the name caught her eye she found that she had reached her destination.
She resolved not to see Villiers, if it could possibly be avoided; and
then making up her mind to perform her part with grace, and every show
of kindness, she made an effort to smooth her brow and recall her
smiles. The carriage stopped at a door--a servant-maid answered to the
knock. She ordered Mr. Villiers to be asked for; he was not at home. One
objection to her proceeding was removed by this answer. Mrs. Villiers
was in the house, and she alighted and desired to be shown to her.