Emma was not present when Lady Gordon made known her wishes on the
subject of acting to her husband; but in the dusk of the evening, as
she was sitting in the conservatory, she became aware, by a
conversation she had with Sir William Gordon, that the request had
been made. He came to her, and placing himself on a low stool at her
feet, he began by telling her, in an under tone,
"I wish you had not put that idea into Rosa's head, Miss Watson, about
acting: I don't like it at all."
"I am exceedingly sorry then," replied Emma; "but no doubt Lady Gordon
will readily give it up if you wish it."
"I hate to contradict her," said the husband; "ever since she has
taken to doing as I wish when I ask, I cannot bear to thwart her at
all."
"You seem to regret her complaisance, Sir William; would you prefer
having to reproach and quarrel with her?"
"I feel much more inclined to reproach and quarrel with you, Miss
Watson. I begin to think you are a dangerous companion for my wife.
Who would have expected such a wild scheme from you?"
"Really I hardly know what to say to your reproaches, because perhaps
you may think I am trying to throw the blame from myself; but my idea
and Lady Gordon's plans were so totally different, that they hardly
seem as if they had the same origin. It was quite a vague notion on my
part, suggested by the beauty of the forest scenery, and certainly
neither comprehending company nor marquees, publicity nor expense."
"You do not suppose, my dear Miss Watson, that I meant seriously to
blame you!" said Sir William half rising at her tone. "Rosa explained
to me all about it in reality. But now she has set her heart upon the
thing, I do not know what to do. She will never see any difficulties
in the way of her wishes, and her enthusiasm is the most difficult
thing in the world to resist. If she put herself in a passion about
it, I should mind opposing her a great deal less. What do you
recommend, Miss Watson?"
"Don't ask me," said Emma; "I should probably advise something wild
and unheard of—such as either letting her have her own way, or putting
a decided negative on the whole affair at once."
"I believe I must do that. It is so very unreasonable a plan; in this
country picnics and _fête-champêtres_ for ladies and gentlemen are
almost quite certain to end in rain, spoilt bonnets, wet feet, and bad
colds; besides, I do not approve of her acting, or yours, or any
lady's, and shall certainly not countenance it with my assistance. But
Rosa did wish it so very much, I am sure I shall not have the courage
to refuse her."
"You do injustice to your own strength of mind and firmness of
purpose, Sir William," said Emma laughingly; "you can be as positive
and decided as any one, when you please, though you take so much
credit to yourself for your amiable softness."
"And you recommend me to enforce my authority?"
"And you expect me to give an opinion between man and wife—one which
would make you both my enemies; I am not quite so wild as that!"
"Did you see Osborne out riding to-day? I presume he went off with
you, as he would not come with us."
"He overtook us," said Emma, "and rode a little way with us; what a
pretty horse he rides."
"He wants you to mount that—shall you have courage or strength
to-morrow?"
Emma rather demurred.
"It is very gentle, you need not be afraid, I know it well; but you
need not do it if you do not like. Have you been used to horse
exercise?"
"A year or two ago I rode a great deal; but I have not made up my mind
about accepting his offer yet, even if he makes it."
"Have you not?" said Sir William quickly; "you had better, for it will
certainly come, and it will be most convenient to know your own mind
on the subject."
"Then I shall take the night to think of it, and be ready by the
morning; give me your advice, Sir William—which do you recommend, aye
or no?"
"The affirmative, certainly; it will give me great pleasure to see you
added to our party, and to enjoy so much of your society."
"How long have you been studying such extremely complimentary
speeches?" laughed Emma; "but however, I cannot wait here for you to
explain to me, as really it is time to return to the drawing-room."
"Let me assist you," exclaimed Sir William placing her hand under his
arm; "you are hardly yet strong enough to walk quite alone, I am
sure."
"I must say, Rosa," said Miss Carr, to her friend the next day, "that
I think you are the most complaisant of wives—much more than I should
be."
"I am glad you approve of me, Fanny. What particular good quality has
excited your admiration to-day?"
"The calmness with which you look on and witness the flirtation of
your husband with that pretty Emma Watson. I wonder you like it," said
Miss Carr, balancing her eye-glass on her chain between her two hands
as she spoke.
"You give me more credit than I deserve a great deal, Fanny; I see
nothing of the sort, and, therefore, my complaisance and calmness are
not tried."
"Why surely with half an eye any one may see how much they are
together—you cannot deny it."
"No, or that you are likewise a great deal with him," said Lady
Gordon, calmly.
"Or how much she talks to him," persisted Fanny.
"Not more than you do, I think," retorted her friend.
"Were you aware of the long interview they had last night in the dark
in the conservatory? She was sitting in the corner, and he almost
leaning on her lap."
"I am glad you put in the _almost_, it makes an important difference,
Fanny."
"Do you know what they were talking of, Rosa?"
"No, do you?"
"A great deal of it was complaints of you, he was saying he could not
manage you, and she was giving him advice on the subject. Then they
said a great deal more about another subject, which I shall just tell
you. You are of course aware that she intends to marry your brother."
"No, indeed, I am no such thing."
"Well, she does, I assure you, I heard them coolly canvassing the
subject, he was recommending her to make up her mind as Osborne would
certainly make her an offer, and he said it would be inconvenient to
be in doubt when the proposal was made."
"I am sure you must have very much misunderstood, Fanny, for I cannot
believe Sir William, or Miss Watson either, were discussing any such
subject. Nor can I at all comprehend how you came to learn all that
you detail to me—were they talking before you?"
"No, not exactly—they were in the conservatory, and so was I, but very
likely they did not see me."
"I wonder you remained there then as a listener to their
conversation," said Lady Gordon, with an air of cool disdain.
"How could I suppose that your husband and your friend had any secrets
to discuss, I am sure such an idea never entered my head; and you take
it so coolly, I really quite admire you, Rosa."
"I do not see anything to agitate myself about, Fanny, unless you
could persuade me to distrust my husband, a thing which I should
conclude can be no more in your wish than it is in your power."
"I would not say anything if I did not know that Emma Watson to be a
dangerous flirt, one who is artful and unscrupulous, and who made
herself so conspicuous at Croydon that she was obliged to leave the
place."
"How can you talk in that way, Fanny, I am positively ashamed of you,"
exclaimed Lady Gordon, quite indignantly.
"I assure you, upon my word, I am saying nothing but the most positive
truth," asseverated Miss Carr, "I dare say she never told you anything
about it, but I heard it all when I was at Lady Allston's, and can
tell you the whole history about it."
"I really have no wish to hear country-town gossip," replied Lady
Gordon.
Whilst she was speaking Lord Osborne entered the room, and hearing her
last words, exclaimed,
"Ah, pray let us have it, Miss Carr: it would be a pity to defraud a
young lady of an opportunity of repeating a bit of scandal."
"I think it only fair to tell you, Rosa," continued Miss Carr, "fair
to you, and equally so to your friend, if it gives her the opportunity
of explaining away the evil surmises set afloat about her."
"Oh, it's about Emma Watson you are gossiping," observed Lord Osborne
turning away; and taking up a newspaper, he threw himself into a
chair, and concealing his face behind the folio pages, he added, "Pray
go on, and do not mind me."
"Well," said Miss Carr, "you know I dare say Miss Emma was left
without a farthing of her own, and quite dependent on her brother, who
is a shabby attorney at Croydon: this did not suit her—the wife was
cross and mean, like most attorneys' wives I suppose, and Emma is what
is called very high-spirited; and as they could not agree it was
settled that Emma should go as governess some where. Lady Fanny was
just parting with hers, and who should be recommended to her but my
old acquaintance Emma Watson; I remembered the name directly; was it
not odd?"
"Yes, rather," replied Lady Gordon, "because I know you seldom
remember what does not concern you. I cannot comprehend how all this
history became fixed in your mind, for really it seems of so little
interest to any but Emma's friends. I knew much of it before."
"It amused me so much, to think of the girl whom I remembered flirting
at Osborne Castle, making her appearance in a new character. But who
do you think recommended her; my cousin's doctor, Mr. Morgan!"
Here Lord Osborne's newspaper rustled very much as he changed the
position of his elbows, and Fanny looked round. His face was still
invisible, so she had nothing to do but continue her narrative.
"Now you must know my cousin is in delicate health, nervous and
excitable, and of course, like all such ladies, takes the English
substitute for a _cavalier-servante_, namely a doctor. _Her_ doctor,
this Mr. Morgan, is reckoned a very clever man, and so I think he must
be, for all ladies he attends, old and young, are, from half in love,
to the greatest extreme of the tender passion. I believe his character
is not quite _sans tache et sans reproche_, which decidedly renders
him a more interesting object; and his manners are so exceedingly
devoted and tender, that really I felt inclined to fall ill, that I
might be attended by him. He proposed Emma Watson as governess,
recommended her highly, and carried on the negotiation very
successfully, when somehow or other, my cousin took alarm about the
extraordinary interest of his manner, and having discovered that Emma
was reckoned handsome, began to think it would not do. However, as she
is very kind and candid, she would not condemn her without some
enquiry; she has some inferior acquaintance in the town—I used to
wonder why she kept them up—some old young ladies, great gossips; but
I have found out now the use of them: when she wants a cook, or a
nurse, or a governess, or a tiresome piece of work done, or a
charitable collection made in her name, she turns over all the trouble
to these Miss Jenkins or some such name, (one cannot recollect their
plebeian denominations,) and they are only too proud and happy to fuss
about for dear Lady Fanny, who in return invites them sometimes to
tea, and asks her governess to meet them. Well, these amiable and
obliging virgins were quite scandalized that the dear Lady Fanny
should have been so nearly led into a grievous scrape by hiring the
said Emma Watson, who besides sundry other offences, had been guilty
of carrying on a very discreditable acquaintance with this very Mr.
Morgan. Clandestine meetings, and private conversations in dark rooms,
long walks in solitary lanes, and all that sort of thing. Now he is
certainly not a man to be trusted in any other capacity than a
doctor—nobody has a word to say against him in that particular—but
certainly not the man to be safe in a _tête-à-tête_ with a girl he
admired—at least so far as her character was concerned; and Lady
Fanny, quite scandalized, settled the matter at once by an instant
rupture of the negotiation. I dare say," added the narrator laughing,
"she did not want a rival so near her own person."
"And that is your narrative, is it?" said Lady Gordon; "it seems to me
to reflect much more discredit on your cousin than on my friend."
"Upon my word, Rosa, you are rather free in your remarks on my
relatives," exclaimed Fanny very indignantly.
"I beg your pardon; _I_ have not complained of what you have been
saying of my friend and guest."
"But what is there remarkable in Lady Fanny's proceedings to strike
you with wonder? I think it was quite natural; setting aside any
jealousy of Emma, she was surely right not to bring into her house, as
governess to her daughter, a girl who had anything like a slur on her
character."
"Excuse my saying that if Lady Fanny did not object to employing the
man in question as a physician, she had no right to take umbrage if
another permitted him as a companion."
"But I understood there was something quite improper in the way in
which she commenced and carried on the acquaintance—quite clandestine
and against her sister's known opinion. In fact, the whole affair was
so shocking that no one would speak to Emma at Croydon, and she was
obliged to leave the town in disgrace. In short, her reputation there
was completely _mise en pièce_."
"I am perfectly persuaded," replied Lady Gordon, "that you have been
exceedingly deceived in this affair. As to believing Emma Watson
guilty of anything deserving censure, I cannot until it is proved."
"I should have thought my authority good enough," said Miss Carr.
"You speak only on hear-say evidence, Fanny: you heard from Lady Fanny
what was told her by certain professed gossips, who must either have
been acting as spies themselves, or have been the collectors and
bearers of the slanders of other individuals. No, there is no
authority for your assertions—no testimony which would stand in a
court of justice."
"You are determined neither to see nor understand, Rosa, or you could
not talk in that, way," retorted Fanny quite angrily.
"We shall never agree, so we had better not discuss the subject
further," replied Lady Gordon, "suppose we go to luncheon."
The riding party had again been under discussion, and it was decided
that they should all five take an excursion on horse-back, Emma being
to mount the quiet and gentle animal so strongly recommended by Sir
William Gordon.
Just as they were starting, their party was joined by another young
man, a neighbour, who was coming to pay a morning visit, and whom Lady
Gordon invited to accompany them. Whether for the sake of a fresh
object, or in hopes of pique by contrast, or from some other cause
unknown, Miss Carr fastened on him as a victim, and wherever the width
of the road required a division, they two kept side by side. This was
a peculiarly agreeable arrangement to the others, as allowing of two
conversations deeply interesting to some of the parties at least. Lady
Gordon wanted to have a private conference with her husband, on the
subject which Miss Carr had been discussing, and she took this
opportunity of belonging to a party of six to commence it. She told
him everything straight-forward, from the accusation of a flirtation
with him, down to the asserted loss of character. Sir William heard
her gravely, and with fixed attention, without interrupting her
eloquent narrative by a remark or a question. She concluded her story
before he opened his lips, and then turning full towards her, he
enquired:
"Well, and have you determined to turn her out of the house?"
"I really feel much inclined to do so, I assure you, the attempt to
make dissension between us is so unpardonable."
"You should first be quite convinced that the attempt has been made,"
said Sir William very coolly.
"My dear William, what else can you call her accusation that Emma
flirted with you? She could not make me jealous, but it was most
ill-natured of her to say so; for were the scandal to come to Emma's
ears, it would of course make her very uncomfortable."
"I beg your pardon, Rosa," replied her husband with a smile, "we were
speaking of different individuals; you, I presume, understood my
question as applying to Miss Carr, whilst I really referred to Miss
Watson, and I own your answer rather surprised me."
"So it well might. Could you suppose me capable of resenting to Emma
what Fanny might say. I thought you would have known me better. I
shall take no notice of all the Croydon scandal, except by being
kinder to poor Emma, and as to yourself, I must beg you will do so
too. Talk to her, walk with her as much as you like, I am not afraid
for either of you."
Sir William's eyes expressed far more than his brief answer seemed to
convey, she could read their language, and therefore—"Thank you, I
hope we shall neither of us abuse your confidence!"—was quite
satisfactory to her.
In the meantime Lord Osborne was compelling Emma to undergo a
catechism, the purpose of which she could not comprehend. He began by
enquiring where she had been staying previous to her visit to his
sister, made himself quite master of the connection of Miss Bridge
with Croydon, and ascertained that Mr. Bridge was a friend of hers. He
then informed himself whether she had any relatives still in the town,
learnt with evident satisfaction that her eldest sister, whom he
remembered, was still there, and also that her brother was settled in
the place. Emma even told him that her sister was speedily to be
married to a very respectable brewer in the town, quite heedless
whether such a piece of information was likely to invalidate her
claims on his regard. He seemed exceedingly well pleased with the
result of his investigation, but no explanation followed as to the
object of all his enquiries. As she thought one was certainly her due,
she at length took the step of asking to what all these questions
tended, if she might make so bold as to demand it.
He hesitated a good deal, and then said flatly he should not tell her,
so it was no use her asking him; at least now, though she would very
likely know it by and bye; he then added in a confidential tone, that
he was going to leave home for a short time; but that he hoped in a
few days to return to her with pleasure. She could not compliment him
by pretending to be sorry at his departure, as she really cared very
little about it; but she enquired, by way of making some kind of
answer, whether his sister was acquainted with his plans. He told her
she was not yet, but that he intended to tell her the first
opportunity, as he had not yet had time to tell her, his project had
been so suddenly formed; it originated solely in some news he had
heard that morning.
Emma was too indifferent about him, to feel any curiosity as to the
reason of his journey or its object—for she little suspected that it
nearly concerned herself; the fact being that, in consequence of the
scandal that Fanny Carr had repeated in the morning, he had resolved
to go over to Croydon and exert himself to trace and confute, what he
was certain were only base calumnies, and when he had succeeded in
triumphantly proving her innocence, he meant to lay at her feet his
title and his fortune. He was perfectly delighted at the prospect of
proving his devotion to her by this piece of knight-errantry,—which,
he flattered himself, would render him quite irresistible in her eyes;
indeed, he had serious thoughts, if the original fabricator of these
lies was a man, of challenging him—a step which he firmly believed
would not fail to secure the heart of any woman, for whom the duel was
fought.
His ideas on this subject were rather derived from the old-fashioned
novels, where the hero invariably fights at least three duels, to
clear the character of his lady-love.
Very soon after imparting this information to Emma, there came a
division in the party; Lady Gordon having persuaded her husband to
change places with her brother for several reasons. One of the motives
that actuated her, was a wish to converse with Lord Osborne on the
reports relative to Emma, and learn what he thought of Miss Carr's
stories. But she rather wished likewise to separate him from Emma—with
whom she thought he had been enjoying too long a _tête-à-tête_; and
she was, moreover, determined to prove the entire absence of all
jealousy as a wife, notwithstanding the insinuations of her friend.
Emma was always pleased with Sir William's company and conversation,
and enjoyed this part of her ride much more than the first. She had
the pleasant conviction in her mind that Sir William liked her; a
feeling which made their intercourse very agreeable—and, as to the
scandal which Miss Carr had tried to insinuate on that subject—she was
so perfectly ignorant of it, that it never occurred to her that an
exception to their being together could possibly be taken.
All Lady Gordon's eloquence and persuasive powers—seconded by the
strongest curiosity, failed to draw from her brother an
acknowledgement of his purpose in leaving home, or a definite opinion
as to his belief, or otherwise, in Miss Carr's stories. On this
subject, indeed, he was particularly impracticable, only exclaiming—
"Pshaw! don't ask me, Rosa, about any thing she says—you know I never
listen to her."
One thing which greatly excited her curiosity, was the manner of her
brother's journey; she had questioned him as to how he intended to
travel, and he only told her to guess. In vain she attempted to do so.
His carriages were all enumerated in vain—his horses, his servants,
were not to accompany him; she concluded that he must be going on
foot, and the object of his journey became more mysterious than ever.
He piqued himself on his discretion, and was delighted to torment her,
until she was obliged to own herself fairly puzzled, and then he told
her to console her—"Time would show."
In fact Lord Osborne left the Castle the next morning in a gig, with a
single attendant, who only accompanied him a couple of miles, and then
returned home, leaving his lordship and his portmanteau at a small
road-side public house. Further than this, nothing was to be extracted
by the most adroit questioning of Lady Gordon's woman, who well knew
how curious her mistress was on the subject. But although his
expedition was a secret to his relatives and friends, it is none to
the reader, and we shall, therefore, without ceremony leave him at the
public-house in question, until the stage-coach through Croydon
passed, and picking him up transported him the rest of the journey.