Emily threw a look of pleasure on Denbigh, as he handed her from the
carriage, which would have said, if looks could talk, "In the principles
you have displayed on more than one occasion, I have a pledge of your
worth." As he led her into the house, he laughingly informed her that he
had that morning received a letter which would make his absence from L--
-- necessary for a short time, and that he must remonstrate against
these long and repeated visits to a cottage where all attendants of the
male sex were excluded, as they encroached greatly on his pleasures and
improvements, bowing, as he spoke, to Mrs. Wilson. To this Emily
replied, gaily, that possibly, if he conducted himself to their
satisfaction; they would intercede for his admission. Expressing his
pleasure at this promise, as Mrs. Wilson thought rather awkwardly,
Denbigh changed the conversation. At dinner he repeated to the family
what he had mentioned to Emily of his departure, and also his
expectation of meeting with Lord Chatterton during his journey.
"Have you heard from Chatterton lately, John?" inquired Sir Edward
Moseley.
"Yes, sir, to-day: he had left Denbigh Castle a fortnight since, and
writes he is to meet his friend, the duke, at Bath."
"Are you connected with his grace, Mr. Denbigh?" asked Lady Moseley.
A smile of indefinite meaning played on the expressive face of Denbigh,
as he answered slightly--
"On the side of my father, madam."
"He has a sister," continued Lady Moseley, willing to know more of
Chatterton's friends and Denbigh's relatives.
"He has," was the brief reply.
"Her name is Harriet," observed Mrs. Wilson. Denbigh bowed his assent in
silence, and Emily timidly added--
"Lady Harriet Denbigh?"
"Lady Harriet Denbigh--will you do me the favor to take wine?"
The manner of the gentleman during this dialogue had not been in the
least unpleasant, but it was peculiar; it prohibited anything further on
the subject; and Emily was obliged to be content without knowing who
Marian was, or whether her name was to be found in the Denbigh family or
not. Emily was not in the least jealous, but she wished to know all to
whom her lover was dear.
"Do the Dowager and the young ladies accompany Chatterton?" asked Sir
Edward, as he turned to John, who was eating his fruit in silence.
"Yes, sir--I hope--that is, I believe she will," was the answer.
"She! Who is she, my son?"
"Grace Chatterton," said John, starting from his meditations. "Did you
not ask me about Grace, Sir Edward?"
"Not particularly, I believe," said the baronet, dryly.
Denbigh again smiled: it was a smile different from any Mrs. Wilson had
ever seen on his countenance, and gave an entirely novel expression to
his face; it was full of meaning, it was knowing--spoke more of the man
of the world than anything she had before noticed in him, and left on
her mind one of those vague impressions she was often troubled with,
that there was something about Denbigh in character or condition, or
both, that was mysterious.
The spirit of Jane was too great to leave her a pining or pensive
maiden; yet her feelings had sustained a shock that time alone could
cure. She appeared again amongst her friends; but the consciousness of
her expectations with respect to the colonel being known to them, threw
around her a hauteur and distance very foreign to her natural manner.
Emily alone, whose every movement sprang from the spontaneous feelings
of her heart, and whose words and actions were influenced by the finest
and most affectionate delicacy, such as she was not conscious of
possessing herself, won upon the better feelings of her sister so far,
as to restore between them the usual exchange of kindness and sympathy.
But Jane admitted no confidence; she found nothing consoling, nothing
solid, to justify her attachment to Egerton; nothing indeed, excepting
such external advantages as she was now ashamed to admit had ever the
power over her they in reality had possessed. The marriage of the
fugitives in Scotland had been announced; and as the impression that
Egerton was to be connected with the Moseleys was destroyed of course,
their every-day acquaintances, feeling the restraints removed that such
an opinion had once imposed, were free in their comments on his
character. Sir Edward and Lady Moseley were astonished to find how many
things to his disadvantage were generally known; that he gambled--
intrigued--and was in debt--were no secrets apparently to anybody, but
to those who were most interested in knowing the truth; while Mrs.
Wilson saw in these facts additional reasons for examining and judging
for ourselves; the world uniformly concealing from the party and his
friends their honest opinions of his character. Some of these
insinuations reached the ears of Jane: her aunt having rightly judged,
that the surest way to destroy Egerton's power over the imagination of
her niece was to strip him of his fictitious qualities, suggested this
expedient to Lady Moseley; and some of their visitors had though as the
colonel had certainly been attentive to Miss Moseley, it would give her
pleasure to know that her rival had not made the most eligible match in
the kingdom. The project of Mrs. Wilson succeeded in a great measure;
but although Egerton fell, Jane did not find she rose in her own
estimation; and her friends wisely concluded that time was the only
remedy that could restore her former serenity.
In the morning, Mrs. Wilson, unwilling to have Emily present at a
conversation she intended to hold with Denbigh, with a view to satisfy
her annoying doubts as to some minor points in his character, after
excusing herself to her niece, invited that gentleman to a morning
drive. He accepted her invitation cheerfully; and Mrs. Wilson saw, it
was only as they drove from the door without Emily, that he betrayed the
faintest reluctance to the jaunt. When they had got a short distance
from the lodge she acquainted him with her intention of presenting him
to Mrs. Fitzgerald, whither she had ordered the coachman to proceed.
Denbigh started as she mentioned the name, and after a few moments'
silence, desired Mrs. Wilson to allow him to stop the carriage; he was
not very well--was sorry to be so rude--but with her permission, he
would alight and return to the house. As he requested in an earnest
manner that she would proceed without him, and by no means disappoint
her friend, Mrs. Wilson complied; yet, somewhat at a loss to account for
his sudden illness, she turned her head to see how the sick man fared, a
short time after he had left her, and was not a little surprised to see
him talking very composedly with John who had met him on his way to the
fields with his gun. Lovesick--thought Mrs. Wilson with a smile; and as
she rode on she came to the conclusion, that as Denbigh was to leave
them soon, Emily would have an important communication to make on her
return.
"Well," thought Mrs. Wilson with a sigh, "if it is to happen, it may as
well be done at once."
Mrs. Fitzgerald was expecting her, and appeared rather pleased than
otherwise that she had come alone. After some introductory conversation,
the ladies withdrew by themselves, and Julia acquainted Mrs. Wilson with
a new source of uneasiness. The day the ladies had promised to visit
her, but had been prevented by the arrangements for the ball, the Donna
Lorenza had driven to the village to make some purchases, attended as
usual by their only man-servant, and Mrs. Fitzgerald was sitting in the
little parlor in momentary expectation of her friends by herself. The
sound of footsteps drew her to the door, which she opened for the
admission of the wretch whose treachery to her dying husband's requests
had given her so much uneasiness. Horror--fear--surprise--altogether,
prevented her from, making any alarm at the moment, and she sank into a
chair. He stood between her and the door, as he endeavored to draw her
into a conversation; he assured her she had nothing to fear; that he
loved her, and her alone; that he was about to be married to a daughter
of Sir Edward Moseley, but would give her up, fortune, everything, if
she would consent to become his wife--that the views of her protector,
he doubted not, were dishonorable--that he himself was willing to atone
for his former excess of passion, by a life devoted to her.
How much longer he would have gone on, and what further he would have
offered, is unknown; for Mrs. Fitzgerald, having recovered herself a
little, darted to the bell on the other side of the room; he tried to
prevent her ringing it, but was too late; a short struggle followed,
when the sound of the footsteps of the maid compelled him to retreat
precipitately. Mrs. Fitzgerald added, that his assertion concerning Miss
Moseley had given her incredible uneasiness, and prevented her making
the communication yesterday; but she understood this morning through her
maid, that a Colonel Egerton, who had been supposed to be engaged to one
of Sir Edward's daughters, had eloped with another lady. That Egerton
was her persecutor, she did not now entertain a doubt; but that it was
in the power of Mrs. Wilson probably to make the discovery, as in the
struggle between them for the bell, a pocket-book had fallen from the
breast-pocket of his coat, and his retreat was too sudden to recover it.
As she put the book into the hands of Mrs. Wilson, she desired she would
take means to return it to its owner; its contents might be of value,
though she had not thought it correct to examine it. Mrs. Wilson took
the book, and as she dropped it into her work-bag, smiled at the Spanish
punctilio of her friend in not looking into her prize under the peculiar
circumstances.
A few questions as to the place and year of his first attempts, soon
convinced her it was Egerton whose unlicensed passions had given so much
trouble to Mrs. Fitzgerald. He had served but one campaign in Spain, and
in that year, and that division of the army; and surely his principles
were no restraint upon his conduct. Mrs. Fitzgerald begged the advice of
her more experienced friend as to the steps she ought to take; to which
the former asked if she had made Lord Pendennyss acquainted with the
occurrence. The young widow's cheek glowed as she answered, that, at the
same time she felt assured the base insinuation of Egerton was
unfounded, it had created a repugnance in her to troubling the earl any
more than was necessary in her affairs; and as she kissed the hand of
Mrs. Wilson she added--"besides, your goodness, my dear madam, renders
any other adviser unnecessary now." Mrs. Wilson pressed her hand
affectionately, and assured her of her good wishes and unaltered esteem.
She commended her delicacy, and plainly told the young widow, that how
ever unexceptionable the character of Pendennyss might be, a female
friend was the only one a woman in her situation could repose confidence
in, without justly incurring the sarcasms of the world.
As Egerton was now married, and would not probably offer, for the
present at least, any further molestation to Mrs. Fitzgerald, it was
concluded to be unnecessary to take any immediate measures of
precaution; and Mrs. Wilson thought the purse of Mr. Jarvis might be
made the means of keeping him within proper bounds in future. The
merchant was prompt, and not easily intimidated; and the slightest
intimation of the truth would, she knew, be sufficient to engage him on
their side, heart and hand.
The ladies parted, with a promise of meeting soon again, and an
additional interest in each other by the communications of that and the
preceding day.
Mrs. Wilson had ridden half the distance between the cottage and the
lodge, before it occurred to her they had not absolutely ascertained, by
the best means in their possession, the identity of Colonel Egerton with
Julia's persecutor. She accordingly took the pocket-book from her bag,
and opened it for examination: a couple of letters fell from it into her
lap, and conceiving their direction would establish all she wished to
know, as they had been read, she turned to the superscription of one of
them, and saw--"George Denbigh, Esq." in the well known hand-writing of
Dr. Ives.--Mrs. Wilson felt herself overcome to a degree that compelled
her to lower a glass of the carriage for air. She sat gazing on the
letters until the characters swam before her eyes in undistinguished
confusion; and with difficulty she rallied her thoughts to the point
necessary for investigation. As soon as she found herself equal to the
task, she examined the letters with the closest scrutiny, and opened
them both to be sure there was no mistake. She saw the dates, the "dear
George" at the commencements, and the doctor's name subscribed, before
she would believe they were real; it was then the truth appeared to
break upon her in a flood of light. The aversion of Denbigh to speak of
Spain, or of his services in that country--his avoiding Sir Herbert
Nicholson, and that gentleman's observations respecting him--Colonel
Egerton's and his own manners--his absence from the ball, and startling
looks on the following morning, and at different times before and since-
-his displeasure at the name of Pendennyss on various occasions--and his
cheerful acceptance of her invitation to ride until he knew her
destination, and singular manner of leaving her--were all accounted for
by this dreadful discovery, and Mrs. Wilson found the solution of her
doubts rushing on her mind with a force and rapidity that sickened her.
The misfortunes of Mrs. Fitzgerald, the unfortunate issue to the passion
of Jane, were trifles in the estimation of Mrs. Wilson, compared to the
discovery of Denbigh's unworthiness. She revolved in her mind his
conduct on various occasions, and wondered how one who could behave so
well in common, could thus yield to temptation on a particular occasion.
His recent attempts, his hypocrisy, however, proved that his villany was
systematic, and she was not weak enough to hide from herself the
evidence of his guilt, or of its enormity. His interposition between
Emily and death, she attributed now to natural courage, and perhaps in
some measure to chance; but his profound and unvarying reverence for
holy things, his consistent charity, his refusing to fight, to what were
they owing? And Mrs. Wilson mourned the weakness of human nature, while
she acknowledged to her self, there might be men, qualified by nature,
and even disposed by reason and grace, to prove ornaments to religion
and the world, who fell beneath the maddening influence of their
besetting sins. The superficial and interested vices of Egerton vanished
before these awful and deeply seated offences of Denbigh, and the
correct widow saw at a glance, that he was the last man to be intrusted
with the happiness of her niece; but how to break this heartrending
discovery to Emily was a new source of uneasiness to her, and the
carriage stopped at the door of the lodge, ere she had determined on the
first step required of her by duty.
Her brother handed her out, and, filled with the dread that Denbigh had
availed himself of the opportunity of her absence to press his suit with
Emily, she eagerly inquired after him. She was rejoiced to hear he had
returned with John for a fowling-piece, and together they had gone in
pursuit of game, although she saw in it a convincing proof that a desire
to avoid Mrs. Fitzgerald, and not indisposition, had induced him to
leave her.--As a last alternative, she resolved to have the pocket-book
returned to him in her presence, in order to see if he acknowledged it
to be his property; and, accordingly, she instructed her own man to hand
it to him while at dinner, simply saying he had lost it.
The open and unsuspecting air with which her niece met Denbigh on his
return gave Mrs. Wilson an additional shock, and she could hardly
command herself sufficiently to extend the common courtesies of good
breeding to Mr. Benfield's guest.
While sitting at the dessert, her servant handed the pocket book, as
directed by his mistress, to its owner, saying, "Your pocket-book, I
believe, Mr. Denbigh." Denbigh took the book, and held it in his hand
for a moment in surprise, and then fixed his eye keenly on the man, as
he inquired where he found it, and how he knew it was his. These were
interrogatories Francis was not prepared to answer, and in his confusion
he naturally turned his eyes on his mistress. Denbigh followed their
direction with his own, and in encountering the looks of the lady, he
asked in a stammering manner, and with a face of scarlet,
"Am I indebted to you, madam, for my property?"
"No, sir; it was given me by one who found it, to restore to you," said
Mrs. Wilson, gravely, and the subject was dropped, both appearing
willing to say no more. Yet Denbigh was abstracted and absent during the
remainder of the repast, and Emily spoke to him once or twice without
obtaining an answer. Mrs. Wilson caught his eye several times fixed on
her with an inquiring and doubtful expression, that convinced her he was
alarmed. If any confirmation of his guilt had been wanting, the
consciousness he betrayed during this scene afforded it; and she set
seriously about considering the shortest and best method of interrupting
his intercourse with Emily, before he had drawn from her an
acknowledgment of her love.