LADY ANNA'S LETTER.
In the mean time the week had gone round, and Lady Anna's letter to
the Earl had not yet been written. An army was arrayed against the
girl to induce her to write such a letter as might make it almost
impossible for her afterwards to deny that she was engaged to the
lord, but the army had not as yet succeeded. The Countess had not
seen her daughter,--had been persistent in her refusal to let her
daughter come to her till she had at any rate repudiated her other
suitor; but she had written a strongly worded but short letter,
urging it as a great duty that Lady Anna Lovel was bound to support
her family and to defend her rank. Mrs. Bluestone, from day to day,
with soft loving words taught the same lesson. Alice Bluestone in
their daily conversations spoke of the tailor, or rather of this
promise to the tailor, with a horror which at any rate was not
affected. The Serjeant, almost with tears in his eyes, implored her
to put an end to the lawsuit. Even the Solicitor-General sent her
tender messages,--expressing his great hope that she might enable
them to have this matter adjusted early in November. All the details
of the case as it now stood had been explained to her over and over
again. If, when the day fixed for the trial should come round, it
could be said that she and the young Earl were engaged to each
other, the Earl would altogether abandon his claim,--and no further
statement would be made. The fact of the marriage in Cumberland would
then be proved,--the circumstances of the trial for bigamy would be
given in evidence,--and all the persons concerned would be together
anxious that the demands of the two ladies should be admitted in
full. It was the opinion of the united lawyers that were this done,
the rank of the Countess would be allowed, and that the property left
behind him by the old lord would be at once given up to those who
would inherit it under the order of things as thus established. The
Countess would receive that to which she would be entitled as widow,
the daughter would be the heir-at-law to the bulk of the personal
property, and the Earl would merely claim any real estate, if,--as
was very doubtful,--any real estate had been left in question. In
this case the disposition of the property would be just what they
would all desire, and the question of rank would be settled for
ever. But if the young lady should not have then agreed to this very
pleasant compromise, the Earl indeed would make no further endeavours
to invalidate the Cumberland marriage, and would retire from the
suit. But it would then be stated that there was a claimant in
Sicily,--or at least evidence in Italy, which if sifted might
possibly bar the claim of the Countess. The Solicitor-General did
not hesitate to say that he believed the living woman to be a weak
impostor, who had been first used by the Earl and had then put
forward a falsehood to get an income out of the property; but he was
by no means convinced that the other foreign woman, whom the Earl had
undoubtedly made his first wife, might not have been alive when the
second marriage was contracted. If it were so, the Countess would
be no Countess, Anna Lovel would simply be Anna Murray, penniless,
baseborn, and a fit wife for the tailor, should the tailor think fit
to take her. "If it be so," said Lady Anna through her tears, "let it
be so; and he will take me."
It may have been that the army was too strong for its own
purpose,--too much of an army to gain a victory on that field,--that
a weaker combination of forces would have prevailed when all this
array failed. No one had a word to say for the tailor; no one
admitted that he had been a generous friend; no feeling was expressed
for him. It seemed to be taken for granted that he, from the
beginning, had laid his plans for obtaining possession of an enormous
income in the event of the Countess being proved to be a Countess.
There was no admission that he had done aught for love. Now, in all
these matters, Lady Anna was sure of but one thing alone, and that
was of the tailor's truth. Had they acknowledged that he was good and
noble, they might perhaps have persuaded her,--as the poet had almost
persuaded her lover,--that the fitness of things demanded that they
should be separated.
But she had promised that she would write the letter by the end of
the week, and when the end of a fortnight had come she knew that
it must be written. She had declared over and over again to Mrs.
Bluestone that she must go away from Bedford Square. She could not
live there always, she said. She knew that she was in the way of
everybody. Why should she not go back to her own mother? "Does
mamma mean to say that I am never to live with her any more?" Mrs.
Bluestone promised that if she would write her letter and tell her
cousin that she would try to love him, she should go back to her
mother at once. "But I cannot live here always," persisted Lady Anna.
Mrs. Bluestone would not admit that there was any reason why her
visitor should not continue to live in Bedford Square as long as the
arrangement suited Lady Lovel.
Various letters were written for her. The Countess wrote one which
was an unqualified acceptance of the Earl's offer, and which was
very short. Alice Bluestone wrote one which was full of poetry. Mrs.
Bluestone wrote a third, in which a great many ambiguous words were
used,--in which there was no definite promise, and no poetry. But
had this letter been sent it would have been almost impossible for
the girl afterwards to extricate herself from its obligations.
The Serjeant, perhaps, had lent a word or two, for the letter was
undoubtedly very clever. In this letter Lady Anna was made to say
that she would always have the greatest pleasure in receiving her
cousin's visits, and that she trusted that she might be able to
co-operate with her cousins in bringing the lawsuit to a close;--that
she certainly would not marry any one without her mother's consent,
but that she did not find herself able at the present to say more
than that. "It won't stop the Solicitor-General, you know," the
Serjeant had remarked, as he read it. "Bother the Solicitor-General!"
Mrs. Bluestone had answered, and had then gone on to show that it
would lead to that which would stop the learned gentleman. The
Serjeant had added a word or two, and great persuasion was used to
induce Lady Anna to use this epistle.
But she would have none of it. "Oh, I couldn't, Mrs. Bluestone;--he
would know that I hadn't written all that."
"You have promised to write, and you are bound to keep your promise,"
said Mrs. Bluestone.
"I believe I am bound to keep all my promises," said Lady Anna,
thinking of those which she had made to Daniel Thwaite.
But at last she sat down and did write a letter for herself,
specially premising that no one should see it. When she had made her
promise, she certainly had not intended to write that which should be
shown to all the world. Mrs. Bluestone had begged that at any rate
the Countess might see it. "If mamma will let me go to her, of course
I will show it her," said Lady Anna. At last it was thought best to
allow her to write her own letter and to send it unseen. After many
struggles and with many tears she wrote her letter as follows;--
Bedford Square, Tuesday.
MY DEAR COUSIN,
I am sorry that I have been so long in doing what I said
I would do. I don't think I ought to have promised, for I
find it very difficult to say anything, and I think that
it is wrong that I should write at all. It is not my fault
that there should be a lawsuit. I do not want to take
anything away from anybody, or to get anything for myself.
I think papa was very wicked when he said that mamma was
not his wife, and of course I wish it may all go as she
wishes. But I don't think anybody ought to ask me to do
what I feel to be wrong.
Mr. Daniel Thwaite is not at all such a person as they
say. He and his father have been mamma's best friends, and
I shall never forget that. Old Mr. Thwaite is dead, and I
am very sorry to hear it. If you had known them as we did
you would understand what I feel. Of course he is not your
friend; but he is my friend, and I dare say that makes me
unfit to be friends with you. You are a nobleman and he
is a tradesman; but when we knew him first he was quite
as good as we, and I believe we owe him a great deal of
money, which mamma can't pay him. I have heard mamma say
before she was angry with him, that she would have been in
the workhouse, but for them, and that Mr. Daniel Thwaite
might now be very well off, and not a working tailor at
all as Mrs. Bluestone calls him, if they hadn't given all
they had to help us. I cannot bear after that to hear them
speak of him as they do.
Of course I should like to do what mamma wants; but how
would you feel if you had promised somebody else? I do so
wish that all this might be stopped altogether. My dear
mamma will not allow me to see her; and though everybody
is very kind, I feel that I ought not to be here with Mrs.
Bluestone. Mamma talked of going abroad somewhere. I wish
she would, and take me away. I should see nobody then, and
there would be no trouble. But I suppose she hasn't got
enough money. This is a very poor letter, but I do not
know what else I can say.
Believe me to be,
My dear cousin,
Yours affectionately,
ANNA LOVEL.
Then came, in a postscript, the one thing that she had to say,--"I
think that I ought to be allowed to see Mr. Daniel Thwaite."
Lord Lovel after receiving this letter called in Bedford Square and
saw Mrs. Bluestone,--but he did not show the letter. His cousin was
out with the girls and he did not wait to see her. He merely said
that he had received a letter which had not given him much comfort.
"But I shall answer it," he said,--and the reader who has seen the
one letter shall see also the other.
Brown's Hotel, Albemarle Street,
4th November, 183--.
DEAREST ANNA,
I have received your letter and am obliged to you for it,
though there is so little in it to flatter or to satisfy
me. I will begin by assuring you that, as far as I am
concerned, I do not wish to keep you from seeing Mr.
Daniel Thwaite. I believe in my heart of hearts that if
you were now to see him often you would feel aware that
a union between you and him could not make either of you
happy. You do not even say that you think it would do so.
You defend him, as though I had accused him. I grant all
that you say in his favour. I do not doubt that his father
behaved to you and to your mother with true friendship.
But that will not make him fit to be the husband of Anna
Lovel. You do not even say that you think that he would be
fit. I fancy I understand it all, and I love you better
for the pride with which you cling to so firm a friend.
But, dearest, it is different when we talk of marriage. I
imagine that you hardly dare now to think of becoming his
wife. I doubt whether you say even to yourself that you
love him with that kind of love. Do not suppose me vain
enough to believe that therefore you must love me. It is
not that. But if you would once tell yourself that he is
unfit to be your husband, then you might come to love me,
and would not be the less willing to do so, because all
your friends wish it. It must be something to you that you
should be able to put an end to all this trouble.
Yours, dearest Anna,
Most affectionately,
L.
I called in Bedford Square this morning, but you were not
at home!
"But I do dare," she said to herself, when she had read the letter.
"Why should I not dare? And I do say to myself that I love him.
Why should I not love him now, when I was not ashamed to love him
before?" She was being persecuted; and as the step of the wayfarer
brings out the sweet scent of the herb which he crushes with his
heel, so did persecution with her extract from her heart that
strength of character which had hitherto been latent. Had they left
her at Yoxham, and said never a word to her about the tailor; had the
rector and the two aunts showered soft courtesies on her head,--they
might have vanquished her. But now the spirit of opposition was
stronger within her than ever.