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.