The party left at the Castle, was too ill-suited to be particularly
agreeable, and Sir William now and then privately complained to his
wife of the dead weight which Miss Carr was in society where there
were no young men present. She had so little conversation besides
scandal, and so little occupation of any kind, that Sir William was
extremely weary of her. She sometimes played a little on the harp, but
she never did that with perseverance, or anything else at all. Her
father had never allowed her to learn any species of needle-work,
which in some shape or other forms the universal occupation and
resource of women, because, he said, there were so many unfortunates
who were compelled to earn their bread in that way, that it was unfair
to take it out of their hands. With no taste for anything but the
lightest species of literature, a novel was her only quiet resource,
and in the country it was difficult in those days to procure a
sufficient supply of new novels. Lady Gordon could only listen
patiently to her husband's complaints; she did not know when Fanny and
her foibles would remove; nor could she at all foretell when Lord
Osborne and her spirits would return, though pretty well aware that
they would re-appear together.
The only resource she could suggest was arranging a small party for a
dance or some such amusement, as she had never said another word about
the acting, which at one time had so occupied her mind. This would
give her friend something to think of and amuse herself with, as she
might arrange a new dress for the occasion; nay, if Lady Gordon could
only unite a daylight and an evening party in one, she might have the
happiness of preparing two dresses at least.
The prospect of such a pleasure revived Miss Carr, and she awoke to a
full sense of the responsibilities of life, when so important a thing
as a _fête_ was in progress. Of what nature should it be, was the
question, and one which occasioned as much amusement as could be hoped
from the actual party. They had a great many different plans in their
heads; fancy dresses—historical characters—costumes from the old
family portraits in the picture-gallery, were all discussed with much
warmth and animation. But every one of these proposals had so many
objections attached to it. The difficulty of getting other individuals
to enter into their views, and the impossibility of those unaccustomed
to such scenes entering into them at all, were all suggested as
impediments by Sir William, who had no fancy for any of their plans,
and it ended in a much more simple arrangement. A collation in a
_marquée_, in some romantic part of the park, bands of music stationed
in favorable situations, to entertain them whilst eating; and the
beauties of the glen, the echo, and the waterfall within a distance
favorable for a walk, to amuse them afterwards. Then there might be
the return to the Castle in the evening, and a dance afterwards, which
would finish the day's pleasure, and afford a proper proportion of
fatigue to all.
To settle on a picturesque costume for this occasion, became now the
pre-eminent object of Fanny Carr's thoughts. Emma herself was under no
uneasiness on that point, as Lady Gordon had taken the occasion to
present her with a suitable and elegant dress, on the plea of making
some compensation for the awkwardness of her brother on the occasion
of the last ball at Osborne Castle.
Lord Osborne's return was delayed from day to day, by his finding more
difficulty in his undertaking than he had expected; but as the course
of his pursuit led him to London, he wrote from thence to his sister
and gave her reason to expect to see him again before the _fête_ day
arrived. This was a relief to Miss Carr's mind, for although desirous
of universal admiration, she was peculiarly anxious for his special
attention and regard.
Fortunately for her she was gratified; as she was sitting in Lady
Gordon's dressing-room the day preceding that for universal happiness,
busily engaged in twining a delicate wreath to deck her hair on the
festive night, Lord Osborne marched into the room, and suddenly laid
down before her a packet of papers, which he was carrying in his hand.
She gave a great jump and a little scream, exclaimed at his abrupt
entrance, and enquired playfully if he meant to frighten her out of
her senses. He replied quietly:
"Not in the least, but he knew there was no danger of that, as her
nerves were sufficiently strong to bear a much greater shock."
But what in the world were those papers he had placed before her? what
was she to do with them?
He told her to read them and they would gratify her exceedingly.
"What on earth are they?" said she, unfolding the
packet—"'Testimonials—Miss Emma Watson—Rev. John Bridge—Barbara
Bridge—Lucy Jenkins—Eliza Lamb—'good heavens! what is the meaning of
all this, my lord—are you trying to make a fool of me?"
"No, Miss Carr, I am only trying to prevent your making a fool of
yourself," answered he with perfect self-possession.
"I really am excessively obliged to you. I did not know I was in
danger of such a catastrophe, or that I was likely to be indebted in
that respect to your lordship's deep intellect, and brilliant genius.
Pray may I ask the meaning of all this, for really at present my folly
is too profound to allow me to reach the pinnacle of comprehension."
"You remember, Miss Carr," said Lord Osborne gravely, "those
slanderous tales against Miss Watson, which you were pleased to repeat
the day before I left this place."
"Yes, I remember saying something which indeed I am certain could be
proved to a fraction. If you think I repeat things without a
foundation, you are very much mistaken indeed. I assure you I am
excessively careful of what I say, and never dream of giving
circulation to unfounded reports, or—"
"I am excessively glad to hear it—I hope you never will—I listened to
you then without speaking, I must beg you will do so now to me.
Feeling perfectly sure, as I did, that your tale was untrue; I have
been to Croydon—and, without troubling you with a long detail of the
trouble I have taken, I shall just make a short story of it at once,
by saying that the result is, that Emma Watson's character is
perfectly clear."
"I am sure then, my lord, that Emma Watson herself must be excessively
obliged to you; but really, excuse me for asking what is all this to
me!"
"It's no use your attempting to deny it, Miss Carr, it convicts you at
once of the very unpleasant and disagreeable fault of repeating
slanderous reports. I hope it will serve as a warning to you to
prevent such wickedness again."
"Upon my word, my lord, your Quixotism surpasses all ordinary
bounds—do tell me what you will do next? Riding about the country one
day to exculpate a girl who can be nothing to you, beyond a common
acquaintance, and then sitting down to preach lectures to me, without
fee or reward for it; I do not know how sufficiently to honour such
exemplary greatness of mind."
"You are welcome to your wit and your eloquence, Miss Carr; I have
neither wish nor pretension to equal you in the flow of words; but you
cannot, even if you take the most round about form of expression
possible, deny that you have been quite wrong in the whole affair."
"I am amazingly flattered by the extremely complimentary turn which
your conversation takes, Lord Osborne. You seem to have benefitted by
the superior style of society with which you must have associated at
Croydon; really, your sister will hardly know you again. May I venture
to enquire whether you have confided to the fair Emma—the heroic
devotion and the extraordinary exertions to which she has inspired
you?"
Lord Osborne, who was looking over the packet of papers which Miss
Carr had tossed contemptuously back on the table, neither answered nor
looked up; and the sudden entrance of Lady Gordon, prevented any
further acrimony on the part of the young lady—who, as soon as she
recovered her temper, became very sorry that she had spoken as she
did, whilst under the influence of vexation and shame.
Lady Gordon appeared very glad to see her brother; though she declared
she had always felt certain that he would return in time for her
_fête_—she always had such good luck at her _fête_. Her astonishment
was extreme when she learnt the end and object of his journey; and she
certainly felt, besides astonishment, a considerable portion of secret
annoyance, that he should have been sufficiently under the influence
of partiality for Emma, to be roused to such an exertion. She, who
knew him well, was aware how very strong must have been the feeling of
interest which could incite him to undertake and carry through a task
repulsive to all his former habits and tastes. It marked a very
decided love indeed; and Rosa lamented the existence of such a
partiality, even whilst rejoicing that its results were so favorable
to the reputation of her friend. But, on the whole, she was growing
more reasonable than formerly—like all women who love their husbands,
she was adopting her husband's opinions, and beginning to think that
Emma would be no disgrace to the peerage, were she ever to become a
member of it; but that her brother's chance of winning her being
small, his affection would not be conducive to his happiness. The
astonishing degree of warmth he had manifested on the present
occasion, shewed the state of his mind; but as for Emma herself, if
she had read her feelings rightly, they were in favor of another
object. Lord Osborne detailed to his sister the whole history of his
exertions. He had gone to Croydon quite incognito—had established
himself very quietly at the principal inn, and after bespeaking a
dinner, walked down to call on the Vicar. To him he had detailed his
object, and asked his advice, giving, as a reason for the interference
of an unconnected individual like himself, the peculiar intimacy which
existed between his sister and the young lady in question. Mr. Bridge
had entered most kindly and warmly into his views, had pointed out the
course he thought best, and made Robert Watson and his wife own that
Emma had remonstrated against being exposed to meeting Mr. Morgan out
walking, and that she had made no secret of the occurrence. It was not
without great difficulty and adroit arguments that he had brought Jane
to acknowledge the truth on this subject; only by representations of
the necessity of clearing her own character, which she could do, by
admitting, as Mr. Bridge knew was the case, that she had yielded to
her sister's persuasions, and in consequence of them had abstained
from sending Emma out with her little girl.
Having thus cleared Emma from the imputation of there being anything
clandestine or intentional in her meetings with the doctor, a fact
which the eldest Miss Watson could also corroborate, his next step was
to see Lady Fanny Allston and learn from her who had been her
authority for the slander to which she had yielded. Her ladyship was
in town, but Lord Osborne, not to be baffled by such a circumstance,
set off after her, and without waste of time presented himself in her
drawing-room in London.
On his first application her ladyship denied all recollection of the
circumstance, there were so many young women who applied for the
situation of governess to Miss Allston, that she could not be expected
to remember any of them after the lapse of so long a time as three or
four months. But he was not to be so put off, and took so much trouble
to remind her of the circumstances, that she was at last forced to
admit that she could recal something about it. When in consequence he
pressed for her authorities on the occasion, she laughed excessively
at his heroic exertions in a cause which could not concern him in the
least. What possible motive could he have she observed, for
interesting himself in a girl whose state and circumstances were so
obscure. A girl who was forced to go out as governess, what could he
know about her—what ought he to know about her—a mere country-parson's
daughter, without fortune or connections, it was ridiculous of him to
be tearing about the country to vindicate her from a little
country-gossip. His lordship must excuse her laughing at him for his
knight errantry, but what mattered it whether the said Emma Watson had
flirted with the doctor of Croydon or not, or who had said that she
had, if she had not.
It appeared as if Lord Osborne's character had been totally changed
under the influence of Emma's charms, or the excitement of his
pursuit; indeed he owned to his sister it was as animating as a
fox-chase, and that he enjoyed hunting up scandal-mongers excessively.
Lady Fanny's ridicule, from which formerly he might have shrunk, could
not now move him from his object. He answered her quietly, that the
character of every individual was of value to them, and the more so in
proportion to the less of wealth or importance they had. Her ladyship
might, without scruple, forfeit her reputation for integrity, honour
and justice, if she chose, by refusing what he asked, and thus robbing
Miss Watson; and that the world, seeing she _was_ Lady Fanny still,
might consider it no great matter; but the case was very different
with his sister's friend, who as Lady Fanny justly observed, had
neither friends, rank nor fortune to gloss over the calumny, or
support her through right and wrong, and who it was possible might
depend on her character for her subsistence. But seeing that she _was_
his sister's friend, and at this moment her guest, he was determined
to see justice done to her, both for her own and his sister's sake; he
therefore called on Lady Fanny, if she did not wish to be considered
the fabricator of the false report herself, to acknowledge who was the
author of it—for false it certainly was, as he had other means of
proving.
After some attempts at prevarication, she at length owned that she had
learnt the circumstances from Miss Jenkins, and she even at last
produced and gave up to him the identical letter to herself which
contained the whole tale, with a variety of circumstances which it was
evident to any unprejudiced observer must have been entirely
invention, as no one could have been witness to them, by the writer's
own showing.
Armed with this document, Lord Osborne had returned to Croydon and
laid the paper before Mr. Bridge. That gentleman, delighted at having
reduced the accusations to a form so easily combated, had agreed that
they should go together, and compel Miss Jenkins to retract her
assertions.
They had called on her, and at first met only with impertinence and
prevarication. She did not know who Lord Osborne was, and would not
allow his right, or that of Mr. Bridge, to question her conduct.
Supposing his lordship to be only one of Emma's relations, and as such
deserving no particular consideration or courtesy, she did not scruple
to behave with the insolence and neglect with which underbred people
consider themselves entitled to treat their inferiors. Of course her
confusion was extreme when she found, to her astonishment, that it was
a baron whom she had scornfully answered, and whom she had scarcely
condescended to ask to seat himself.
She fell, on this discovery, into a prodigious fit of agitation and
flutter, protested that she was perfectly ashamed of herself—quite
shocked his lordship should have been treated so—would not his
lordship move nearer the fire—would he not take a more comfortable
chair. She hoped his lordship would not refuse a glass of wine or a
little cake; was he quite sure that he did not sit in a draft—the
corner of the sofa and a foot-stool would be much better for him. Lord
Osborne very positively, and rather abruptly, declined all her
attentions, declaring that he wished for nothing better than his
present situation, nor desired anything else from Miss Jenkins than
the fulfilment of the particular object of their visit—the declaration
what authority she had for her assertions regarding Emma Watson.
She now attempted to deny that she had ever said anything at all
injurious to Miss Emma Watson's character; it was quite impossible
that she should—she had the highest regard for the young lady in
question, and must have for any one whom she knew to be the intimate
friend of Lady Gordon, and about whom his lordship was so kind as to
interest himself. She never could have been guilty of any unjust
reflections on such a person, and it must be an entire mistake of Lady
Fanny Allston's if she imagined anything to the contrary.
With the greatest self-possession Lord Osborne listened to her
assertions, and then producing the letter and laying it before her,
said he was exceedingly concerned to be compelled to disprove the
assertions of a lady, but really her present words were so contrary to
her former opinions as recorded on that paper, that he must beg to
revive her memory on the subject. Would she be so kind as to look over
the accusations which that letter brought against Miss Watson, and let
them know how much of it was false, and what part, if any, was true;
and how she became possessed of the knowledge which she had there set
down.
Miss Jenkins looked a little confused on seeing her own writing
brought to witness against her, but not nearly so much so, as she
had done when she found she had allowed a peer of the realm to seat
himself so near the door. However, she set herself to work
resolutely to deny all she had written; she could not imagine how
she had ever made such assertions, she could recollect nothing about
it; it was most strange, most extraordinary, most wonderful, most
incomprehensible that she should have written such things, she could
not believe it possible: she even seemed to expect that they would
be so complaisant as to disbelieve it likewise. Miss Lamb had been
with her when she wrote the letter, it must have been on her
authority that she had made these extraordinary statements. In short
she was perfectly ready to contradict them entirely now, and to sign
any statement which Lord Osborne would please to suggest; such was
her respect for Miss Emma Watson, she was sure she could never speak
of her in terms too high.
With great satisfaction, but unutterable contempt, Lord Osborne
compelled her to retract every particular which she had formerly
stated, and after agreeing that one copy of her present deposition
should be sent to Lady Fanny Allston, they decided to continue their
investigation by a reference to Miss Lamb, who was accused of being
her fellow-conspirator on the past occasion.
Miss Lamb was a very different person from Miss Jenkins; cold and
repulsive in her manners, and sparing of her words, she hardly deigned
even to justify herself. She did condescend, however, so far as to
say, that she had had nothing at all to do in the most distant degree
with the affair in question, either by word or deed; though on being
cross-questioned she admitted she had seen the letter which Miss
Jenkins had sent to Lady Fanny; she had indeed been sitting by whilst
it was in the course of composition; but she denied entirely having
assisted her companion in any way, excepting in spelling and grammar,
points in which she sarcastically observed her friend occasionally
needed help. As to her requiring assistance or suggestion beyond her
own imagination, where anything ill-natured was in question, that was
quite unnecessary as everybody acquainted with Miss Jenkins's taste
for gossip must be aware. She had such a superfluity of invention on
all such matters as could be equalled by few ladies in Croydon. She,
Miss Lamb, knew she had watched Emma closely, and discovered that Mr.
Morgan had joined her occasionally when out walking, and this was
quite enough to form the foundation of any little scandalous romance
which she thought might look well, or be agreeable and amusing to Lady
Fanny. For her own part, she knew no harm at all of Emma Watson, and
she hoped that after this statement she should have no further trouble
in the matter, as she was going out, and did not wish to be detained.
Thus their interview terminated; and Lord Osborne perfectly satisfied
with his success so far, having shown the declarations of these two
young ladies to Mr. Watson, and his wife, once more repaired to
London, to learn what Lady Fanny thought of the paper he had sent her.
Her ladyship this time was ill-used and hysterical, sobbing over the
depravity of human nature, which had led Miss Jenkins wickedly to
invent such tales, and thereby greatly to deceive and incommode her
ladyship; preventing her obtaining a desirable governess to her great
inconvenience, and exposing her moreover to much trouble, anxiety, and
other evils, endangering her reputation for veracity, and threatening
to place her in a ridiculous position.
Lord Osborne could not help perceiving the absurdity and selfishness
of her lamentations, but he let her go on as she would, so long as she
agreed to sign an admission that she had been misled. He would not,
however, make her the promise which she requested from him, that he
would use his influence with this very charming young person to
undertake the situation from which she had previously been so
scornfully repulsed; he gravely observed he did not think it was any
business of his, and that he could not interfere in her private
arrangements. Lady Fanny, smitten with a vehement desire to become the
patroness of the slandered Emma, determined, she said, to write and
renew her proposals. He made no objection, though perfectly determined
that proposals from himself, and of a different nature should if
possible precede hers.
This resolution of his own he did not detail to his sister, nor did he
communicate another circumstance which had occurred, namely that he
had, whilst in London, sought an interview with his mother, whom he
found deeply engrossed in a flirtation with a young colonel of the
guards. He did not like the young fellow's appearance at all, nor the
air of being at home which he assumed, but on his taking leave a still
more unpleasant scene had occurred. His mother had enquired if Howard
were still at the Castle, and on her son mentioning where he was, but
adding that he hoped soon to remove him to a better living, her
ladyship had broken out into the most violent opposition to this plan.
Lord Osborne had just learnt that the incumbent of another living, to
which he had the right of presentation, a very old man, was in a state
of health, which would in all probability speedily terminate in death,
and he was perfectly determined to give it, immediately it fell
vacant, to his former tutor. He felt that in every respect this would
be a most desirable circumstance, and had not the present incumbent so
opportunely fallen sick, he should certainly have attempted to
negotiate some other exchange which would have promised a speedy
removal. Why Lady Osborne should so resolutely set herself against it,
he could not imagine; her feelings towards Howard he could not
understand, unless in case of a suspicion which occurred to him
proving correct, that the clergyman had refused the baron's widow. She
who used to be so friendly and favourable to him, now indulged in
feelings apparently of hatred and enmity. She evidently wished to
injure him, wished to hinder any improvement in his circumstances,
wished to prejudice her son against him. He thought his mother hardly
in her senses on this subject, so extremely bitter and unreasonable
her sentiments appeared. Her indignation passed all bounds when she
found him perfectly unpersuadable on this point. His object in wishing
to remove Mr. Howard was quite as potent as hers in wishing to torment
him, and his obstinacy in following his own opinion at least as great;
there was therefore no chance of their coming to any agreement, and
they parted on very bad terms.
Now when his tale was done, he was ready to sit and listen to his
sister's plans and designs for to-morrow, ready to encourage her with
hopes of a fine day, and still more ready to anticipate much
intercourse with Emma Watson. He determined to seize some opportunity
during the approaching fête to make known his sentiments, and ask her
hand. His courage felt quite high: he had been so successful in this
undertaking at Croydon that he began to think he must have quite a
winning way with women, and thoughts, complimentary to himself, which
had never before entered his brain, began now to bud and grow, and
rapidly increase within him.