Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart!
My dearest lord, blest, to be most accursed,
Rich, only to be wretched;--thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!
He’s flung in rage from this ungrateful seat
Of monstrous friends; nor has he with him to
Supply his life, or that which can command it.
I’ll follow and inquire him out;
And ever serve his mind with my best will.
SHAKSPEARE.
Lady Jane had no opportunity in the course of that evening of
explaining to her mother the interesting communication that had passed
between her and Germain upon the barouche-box, and the next morning
at breakfast Lady Flamborough took the subject into her own hands,
saying: “I really think Mr. Starling a very agreeable man, with a very
proper horror of gambling. I have asked him to dinner to-day; and I
hope, Jane, that you will be prepared to treat him more civilly than
you are in the habit of doing. I could hardly believe at first all he
told me last night about Mr. Germain, but every one I asked since has
confirmed it. He is, I should think, irretrievably ruined. He has, it
appears, been dreadfully involved all this year, and his last losses
will make his former creditors clamorous. I can’t help thinking how
lucky it is that you always showed a proper unwillingness to encourage
his attentions. I own in that you were more clear-sighted than I was
myself, and I applaud your prudence.”
“Your praise, my dear mamma, you will be sorry to hear, is singularly
ill-timed:” and she then proceeded to detail the proposal and
acceptance of the morning before; for which, however, Lady Flamborough
was well prepared, though she had thought it expedient to affect
ignorance.
“Singularly indiscreet, indeed, you foolish girl! but of course it was
all conditional--to depend upon my approbation--and to be at once at an
end if I withheld my consent.”
“There was no such stipulation. You had never given me to understand
that there could be any doubt about that which seemed to you the first
object in life.”
“But I tell you, he is a ruined man--won’t have it in his power to make
a settlement for years; and if he was to marry now, he would have a
grown-up family while his estate was still at nurse. Your own opinion,
I am sure, my dear Jane, must be altered by what you now hear, which of
course you could never have expected.”
“Excuse me; it so happened that in a round-about way, through an old
servant, I was perfectly aware that Mr. Germain was an embarrassed man,
and therefore was perfectly prepared for what has happened, when I
accepted him.”
Lady Flamborough looked at her daughter for a moment, perfectly
puzzled, and endeavouring to find out whether she could be in earnest.
“Well, you are the strangest child I ever knew: this must be mere
contradiction; and that you should prefer such a shatterbrained
spendthrift to Mr. Starling, who is just as agreeable a companion, and
of whom all the world speaks well----”
“You must be aware, my dear mamma, that even if I were disposed to
agree with all the world, the time is past when there could be any use
in discussing their comparative merits.”
“I don’t know that; you can’t mean to consider this engagement any
longer binding?”
“But indeed I do. I should as soon consider a change in worldly
circumstances as a reason for deserting my duty if actually married, as
for forfeiting my word when once pledged.”
“Well, I see there is no use in arguing with you at present: in a
little time you will think better of these things; but let me remind
you, that there is no use either in being rude to Mr. Starling, or in
proclaiming an engagement to which I will never consent.”
“It is not a subject that I am likely to mention, unless questioned
by some one that has a right to do so, particularly as I must of
course wait patiently for your consent; but as to not being rude to
Mr. Starling, if you mean by that, leading him to understand that his
attentions are welcome, that is what I never did, and am not likely now
to begin.”
“Upon my word, Jane, your conduct to me is worse than Louisa’s ever
was; for she never would have thought of making such a connexion as
this.” But this was a quarter from which also Lady Flamborough was
shortly to experience unexpected mortification.
Lady Latimer’s fête at the beginning of June was one to which the world
of fashion had for several days looked forward with expectations of
unrivalled pleasure. Nor were they disappointed--every body was there
who ought to have been present, and no one who ought not. The house
was one of the best in London, and the lovely Mistress of the Revels
never looked more beautiful, or seemed more happy. At last, even the
favoured few who had remained there to talk over those who had not
that privilege, had departed, and Lady Latimer, being left quite
alone, remembered, for the first time, that his lordship had not been
there all the evening. There had been, it is true, a House of Lords
that night; but this was an hour quite beyond peerage constitutions.
Upon inquiry, she found that Lord Latimer had been some time at home,
and had retired to his study below. Not a little inclined to reproach
him for his neglect, she hurried through the brilliant wilderness,
where countless candles shone but upon senseless hangings, and pushing
open his study door, found Lord Latimer sitting by the light from a
single flat candlestick, crunching a biscuit, sipping wine and water,
and surrounded by papers, of which the shape was too long, and the
handwriting too round, for any one to suppose them of an agreeable
nature.
Lady Latimer, hardly observing how he was occupied, cried out:
“Latimer, you stupid man! you have no idea what you have lost. It
was much the most perfect thing of the season. Fitzalbert positively
insists upon my giving another.”
“Then, I presume, Fitzalbert positively means to pay for it.”
“What do you mean?--are you dreaming?”
“Sit down, Louisa, I have much that I can no longer avoid telling you.
I am a very bad hand though, even at talking business, much more at
managing it; but the short of the matter is, that there must be an end
of ball-giving, and many other follies besides. The infernal tool who
lent me above two hundred thousand pounds, has been sent for by his
master before his time, obeyed the summons, died, and has left me to
pay his executor instantly. I could as soon pay the national debt.
To-morrow there will be an execution in the house.”
Whilst Lady Latimer, breathing thick and painfully with the surprise,
listened to this concise but sufficiently explanatory statement, a
confused chaos of the favourite images of all she was about to lose,
crowded into her mind. The matchless splendour of her universally
admired equipage--the studied comforts of her crowded boudoir--the
numberless varieties of her unrivalled wardrobe--the recent éclat of
her much-praised fête--and all the other incidental expenses which
had always furnished so many opportunities for the exercise of her
acknowledged taste--were for ever gone.
Lord Latimer continued: “If I had even had any ready money to keep
them at bay--but this unlucky Derby has left me without a shilling at
present.”
When she heard this, her resolution was taken, and removing, one after
another, her splendid diamonds from her neck and hair, she said,
eagerly, “Would this, and this, and this, be of any use? If so, take
them, and use them as you like.”
“No, my dear, generous Louisa, upon no account would I think of that,”
said Lord Latimer, much touched with her liberal proposal; “besides,
if for no other reason, it would avail nothing--they would be known
at once, and the rumour of our distress would bring a hundred other
harpies upon us. No, there is nothing for it, but to retire into the
country together for a time.”
“To Peatburn, I hope!” said Lady Latimer,--“dear Peatburn; if you would
but go there with me again, I think I could almost reconcile myself to
any thing. Say it shall be Peatburn,” said she, hanging over him, and
kissing his forehead.
“I think it would be rather cold at Peatburn as yet,” said he, “but we
will see about it. For the present, a friend has lent me his villa at
Wimbledon, where I mean to go to-morrow.”
Accustomed, as Lord Latimer had long been, to think with indifference
of his wife, it was impossible to view, entirely without emotion, that
beautiful figure bending anxiously over him, and eagerly pressing upon
his acceptance those splendid jewels which, within an hour, she had so
highly prized as exciting the admiration of hundreds. Though the long
dormant feeling which this sight revived, was not strong enough to make
him jump at the idea of an immediate retreat to Peatburn Lodge, at
the very commencement of a cold June, it nevertheless opened to him an
unexpected source of consolation in his distresses.
Lord Latimer had been but too accurate in his prognostics of the coming
storm. His embarrassments once known, a torrent of unexpected claims
broke in upon him. It was a few days after the conversation mentioned
above, that Germain returned to town. He had been engaged, almost ever
since his last losses, upon a remote property of his, endeavouring
to sell some land, and making the best arrangement he could of his
affairs, and the most prompt settlement of the more pressing demands;
for, though he never doubted the sincerity of Oakley’s offer to
accommodate him with any money he might want, yet he was very unwilling
to lay himself under an obligation which he could not help fearing
would not tend to the permanence of their friendship.
Upon arriving in London, as it was not till the evening that he could
meet his man of business at his chambers, Germain strolled, as a
matter of course, to Lord Latimer’s house, not having heard what had
happened. Raising his eyes instinctively to the windows, he was much
amazed to see them stuck all over with bills, and the truth at once
rushed upon his mind. The door was open: he entered without asking
any question, and was met by a demand of a shilling for a catalogue.
The sad reverse conveyed by this little incident struck him forcibly.
The entrance within those walls had always been one of the few things
which money could not purchase. Fashion, caprice, or prejudice, might
all occasionally have exercised an undue influence in the choice of
its inmates; but in vain would the man of mere wealth have attempted
to edge in more than his card--and now a shilling’s worth of catalogue
laid it open to every one.
The doors were all placed ajar, and he made his way, without
impediment, straight to Lady Latimer’s boudoir. “And here,” thought he,
“where hardly any were allowed to penetrate, and the favoured few who
were, yielded so entirely to her powers of fascination, that criticism
would have been impossible, and admiration unavoidable--here now must
all her little whims and fancies be exposed to the stupid stare, or
contemptuous wonderment of the vulgar!”
The course of his meditations was interrupted by the free entrance,
among others, of Captain and Mrs. Wilcox, who were both very busy
with catalogues, and pencils, marking intended purchases. The captain
addressed him.
“Pretty pickings here, sir, for those that have the ready. I am sorry
though, that my lord should have smashed.”
“I thought at first,” said Mrs. Wilcox, “that they had huddled all the
furniture of the house into this room, but I find that it was always so
crowded.”
“Her ladyship ought to have been the wife of an upholsterer,” continued
the captain.
“Poor lady! she certainly must have been very silly,” exclaimed Mrs.
Wilcox.
“And is it come to this,” thought Germain, “that Lady Latimer should be
the object of the contemptuous pity of Mrs. Captain Wilcox!”
“Oh, look here, Wilcox!” said the lady, “I must have this ‘_chaise
long_,’ as the French call it.”
“Why, my dear, once down you’d never be able to get up again:” an
apprehension which seemed not improbable, judging by the figure of his
wife, at present not improved by temporary circumstances of a family
nature.
“However,” said Mrs. Wilcox, “I’ll soon show you.”
But Germain could not bear to remain to witness the experiment. It
seemed little less than sacrilege to him, that Lady Latimer’s own chair
in her favourite corner, where her delicate form had so lately reposed,
should be condemned to groan beneath the weight of Mrs. Wilcox.
Not a little distressed at the sad reverse he had just unexpectedly
witnessed, and to the misery of which his own difficulties made him
peculiarly sensible, he hastened to quit the house, and hurried
towards that part of the town where he was to find his lawyer.