The seniors of the party at Benfield Lodge were all assembled one
morning in a parlor, when its master and the baronet were occupied in
the perusal of the London papers. Clara had persuaded her sisters to
accompany her and Francis in an excursion as far as the village.
Jane yet continued reserved and distant to most of her friends; while
Emily's conduct would have escaped unnoticed, did not her blanched cheek
and wandering looks at times speak a language not to be misunderstood.
With all her relatives she maintained the affectionate intercourse she
had always supported; though not even to her aunt did the name of
Denbigh pass her lips. But in her most private and humble petitions to
God, she never forgot to mingle with her requests for spiritual
blessings on herself, fervent prayers for the conversion of the
preserver of her life.
Mrs. Wilson, as she sat by the side of her sister at their needles,
first discovered an unusual uneasiness in their venerable host, while he
turned his paper over and over, as if unwilling or unable to comprehend
some part of its contents, until he rang the bell violently, and bid the
servant to send Johnson to him without a moment's delay.
"Peter," said Mr. Benfield doubtingly, "read that--your eyes are young,
Peter; read that."
Peter took the paper, and after having adjusted his spectacles to his
satisfaction, he proceeded to obey his master's injunctions; but the
same defect of vision as suddenly seized the steward as it had affected
his master. He turned the paper sideways, and appeared to be spelling
the matter of the paragraph to himself. Peter would have given his three
hundred a year to have had the impatient John Moseley at hand, to
relieve him from his task; but the anxiety of Mr. Benfield overcoming
his fear of the worst, he inquired in tremulous tone--
"Peter? hem! Peter, what do you think?"
"Why, your honor," replied the steward, stealing a look at his master,
"it does seem so indeed."
"I remember," said the master, "when Lord Gosford saw the marriage of
the countess announced he--"
Here the old gentleman was obliged to stop, and rising with dignity, and
leaning on the arm of his faithful servant, he left the room.
Mrs. Wilson immediately took up the paper, and her eye catching the
paragraph at a glance, she read aloud as follows to her expecting
friends:
"Married by special license, at the seat of the Most Noble the Marquess
of Eltringham, in Devonshire, by the Right Rev. Lord Bishop of ----,
George Denbigh Esq., Lieutenant Colonel of his Majesty's ---- regiment
of dragoons, to the Right Honorable Lady Laura Stapleton, eldest sister
of the Marquess. Eltringham was honored on the present happy occasion
with the presence of his grace of Derwent, and the gallant Lord
Pendennyss, kinsmen of the bridegroom, and Captain Lord Henry Stapleton
of the Royal Navy. We understand that the happy couple proceed to
Denbigh Castle immediately after the honey-moon."
Although Mrs. Wilson had given up the expectation of ever seeing her
niece the wife of Denbigh, she felt an indescribable shock as she read
this paragraph. The strongest feeling was horror at the danger Emily had
been in of contracting an alliance with such a man. His avoiding the
ball, at which he knew Lord Henry was expected, was explained to her by
this marriage; for with John, she could not believe a woman like Lady
Laura Stapleton was to be won in the short space of one fortnight, or
indeed less. There was too evidently a mystery yet to be developed, and
she felt certain one that would not elevate his character in her
opinion.
Neither Sir Edward nor Lady Moseley had given up the expectation of
seeing Denbigh again, as a suitor for Emily's hand, and to both of them
this certainty of his loss was a heavy blow. The baronet took up the
paper, and after perusing the article, he muttered in a low tone, as he
wiped the tears from his eyes, "Heaven bless him: I sincerely hope she
is worthy of him." Worthy of him, thought Mrs. Wilson, with a feeling of
indignation, as, taking up the paper, she retired to her own room,
whither Emily, at that moment returned from her walk, had proceeded. As
her niece must hear this news, she thought the sooner the better. The
exercise, and the unreserved conversation of Francis and Clara, had
restored in some degree the bloom to the cheek of Emily; and Mrs. Wilson
felt it necessary to struggle with herself, before she could summon
sufficient resolution to invade the returning peace of her charge.
However, having already decided on her course, she proceeded to the
discharge of what she thought to be a duty.
"Emily, my child," she whispered, pressing her affectionately to her
bosom, "you have been all I could wish, and more than I expected, under
your arduous struggles. But one more pang, and I trust your
recollections on this painful subject will be done away."
Emily looked at her aunt in anxious expectation of what was coming, and
quietly taking the paper, followed the direction of Mrs. Wilson's finger
to the article on the marriage of Denbigh.
There was a momentary struggle in Emily for self-command. She was
obliged to find support in a chair. The returning richness of color,
excited by her walk, vanished; but recovering herself, she pressed the
hand of her anxious guardian, and, gently waving her back, proceeded to
her own room.
On her return to the company, the same control of her feelings which had
distinguished her conduct of late, was again visible; and, although her
aunt most narrowly watched her movements, looks, and speeches, she could
discern no visible alteration by this confirmation of misconduct. The
truth was, that in Emily Moseley the obligations of duty were so
imperative, her sense of her dependence on Providence so humbling and
yet so confiding, that, as soon as she was taught to believe her lover
unworthy of her esteem, that moment an insuperable barrier separated
them. His marriage could add nothing to the distance between them. It
was impossible they could be united; and although a secret lingering of
the affections over his fallen character might and did exist, it existed
without any romantic expectations of miracles in his favor, or vain
wishes of reformation, in which self was the prominent feeling. She
might be said to be keenly alive to all that concerned his welfare or
movements, if she did not harbor the passion of love; but it showed
itself in prayers for his amendment of life, and the most ardent
petitions for his future and eternal happiness. She had set about,
seriously and with much energy, the task of erasing from her heart
sentiments which, however delightful she had found it to entertain in
times past, were now in direct variance with her duty. She knew that a
weak indulgence of such passions would tend to draw her mind from, and
disqualify her to discharge, those various calls on her time and her
exertions, which could alone enable her to assist others, or effect in
her own person the great purposes of her creation. It was never lost
sight of by Emily Moseley, that her existence here was preparatory to an
immensely more important state hereafter. She was consequently in
charity with all mankind; and if grown a little more distrustful of the
intentions of her fellow-creatures, it was a mistrust bottomed in a
clear view of the frailties of our nature; and self-examination was
amongst the not unfrequent speculations she made on this hasty marriage
of her former lover.
Mrs. Wilson saw all this, and was soon made acquainted by her niece in
terms, with her views of her own condition; and although she had to, and
did, deeply regret, that all her caution had not been able to guard
against deception, where it was most important for her to guide aright,
yet she was cheered with the reflection that her previous care, with the
blessings of Providence, had admirably fitted her charge to combat and
overcome the consequences of their mistaken confidence.
The gloom which this little paragraph excited, extended to every
individual in the family; for all had placed Denbigh by the side of
John, in their affections, ever since his weighty services to Emily.
A letter from John announcing his intention of meeting them at Bath, as
well as his new relation with Grace, relieved in some measure this
general depression of spirit. Mr. Benfield alone found no consolation in
the approaching nuptials. John he regarded as his nephew, and Grace he
thought a very good sort of young woman; but neither of them were beings
of the same genus with Emily and Denbigh.
"Peter," said he one day, after they had both been expending their
ingenuity in vain efforts to discover the cause of this so-much-desired
marriage's being so unexpectedly frustrated, "have I not often told you,
that fate governed these things, in order that men might be humble in
this life? Now, Peter, had the Lady Juliana wedded with a mind congenial
to her own, she might have been mistress of Benfield Lodge to this very
hour."
"Yes, your honor--but there's Miss Emmy's legacy."
And Peter withdrew, thinking what would have been the consequences had
Patty Steele been more willing, when he wished to make her Mrs. Peter
Johnson--an association by no means uncommon in the mind of the steward;
for if Patty had ever a rival in his affections, it was in the person of
Emily Moseley, though, indeed, with very different degrees and coloring
of esteem.
The excursions to the cottage had been continued by Mrs. Wilson and
Emily, and as no gentleman was now in the family to interfere with their
communications, a general visit to the young widow had been made by the
Moseleys, including Sir Edward and Mr. Ives.
The Jarvises had gone to London to receive their children, now penitent
in more senses than one; and Sir Edward learnt with pleasure that
Egerton and his wife had been admitted into the family of the merchant.
Sir Edgar had died suddenly, and the entailed estates had fallen to his
successor the colonel, now Sir Harry; but the bulk of his wealth, being
in convertible property, he had given by will to his other nephew, a
young clergyman, and a son of a younger brother. Mary, as well as her
mother, were greatly disappointed, by this deprivation, of what they
considered their lawful splendor; but they found great consolation in
the new dignity of Lady Egerton, whose greatest wish now was to meet the
Moseleys, in order that she might precede them in or out of some place
where such ceremonials are observed. The sound of "Lady Egerton's
carriage stops the way," was delightful, and it never failed to be used
on all occasions, although her ladyship was mistress of only a hired
vehicle.
A slight insight into the situation of things amongst them may be found
in the following narrative of their views, as revealed in a discussion
which took place about a fortnight after the reunion of the family under
one roof.
Mrs. Jarvis was mistress of a very handsome coach, the gift of her
husband for her own private use. After having satisfied herself the
baronet (a dignity he had enjoyed just twenty-four hours) did not
possess the ability to furnish his lady, as she termed her daughter,
with such a luxury, she magnanimously determined to relinquish her own,
in support of the new-found elevation of her daughter. Accordingly, a
consultation on the alterations which were necessary took place between
the ladies--"The arms must be altered, of course," Lady Egerton
observed, "and Sir Harry's, with the bloody hand and six quarterings,
put in their place; then the liveries, they must be changed."
"Oh, mercy! my lady, if the arms are altered, Mr. Jarvis will be sure to
notice it, and he would never forgive me; and perhaps--"
"Perhaps what?" exclaimed the new-made lady, with a disdainful toss of
her head.
"Why," replied the mother, warmly, "not give me the hundred pounds he
promised, to have it new-lined and painted."
"Fiddlesticks with the painting, Mrs. Jarvis," cried the lady with
dignity: "no carriage shall be called mine that does not bear my arms
and the bloody hand."
"Why, your ladyship is unreasonable, indeed you are," said Mrs. Jarvis,
coaxingly; and then after a moment's thought she continued, "is it the
arms or the baronetcy you want, my dear?"
"Oh, I care nothing for the arms, but I am determined, now I am a
baronet's lady, Mrs. Jarvis, to have the proper emblem of my rank."
"Certainly, my lady, that's true dignity: well, then, we will put the
bloody hand on your father's arms, and he will never notice it, for he
never sees such things."
The arrangement was happily completed, and for a few days the coach of
Mr. Jarvis bore about the titled dame, until one unlucky day the
merchant, who still went on 'change when any great bargain in the stocks
was to be made, arrived at his own door suddenly, to procure a
calculation he had made on the leaf of his prayer-book the last Sunday
during sermon. This he obtained after some search. In his haste he drove
to his broker's in the carriage of his wife, to save time, it happening
to be in waiting at the moment, and the distance not great. Mr. Jarvis
forgot to order the man to return, and for an hour the vehicle stood in
one of the most public places in the city. The consequence was, that
when Mr. Jarvis undertook to examine into his gains, with the account
rendered of the transaction by his broker, he was astonished to read,
"Sir Timothy Jarvis, Bart., in account with John Smith, Dr." Sir Timothy
examined the account in as many different ways as Mr. Benfield had
examined the marriage of Denbigh, before he would believe his eyes; and
when assured of the fact, he immediately caught up his hat, and went to
find the man who had dared to insult him, as it were, in defiance of the
formality of business. He had not proceeded one square in the city
before he met a friend, who spoke to him by the title; an explanation of
the mistake followed, and the quasi baronet proceeded to his stables.
Here by actual examination he detected the fraud. An explanation with
his consort followed; and the painter's brush soon effaced the emblem of
dignity from the panels of the coach. All this was easy but with his
waggish companions on 'Change and in the city (where, notwithstanding
his wife's fashionable propensities, he loved to resort) he was Sir
Timothy still.
Mr. Jarvis, though a man of much modesty, was one of great decision, and
he determined to have the laugh on his side. A newly purchased borough
of his sent up an address flaming with patriotism, and it was presented
by his own hands. The merchant seldom kneeled to his Creator, but on
this occasion he humbled himself dutifully before his prince, and left
the presence with a legal right to the appellation which his old
companions had affixed to him sarcastically.
The rapture of Lady Jarvis may be more easily imagined than faithfully
described, the Christian name of her husband alone throwing any alloy
into the enjoyment of her elevation: but by a license of speech she
ordered, and addressed in her own practice, the softer and more familiar
appellation of Sir Timo. Two servants were discharged the first week,
because, unused to titles, they had addressed her as mistress; and her
son, the captain, then at a watering-place, was made acquainted by
express with the joyful intelligence.
All this time Sir Henry Egerton was but little seen amongst his new
relatives. He had his own engagements and haunts, and spent most of his
time at a fashionable gaming house in the West End. As, however, the
town was deserted, Lady Jarvis and her daughters, having condescended to
pay a round of city visits, to show off her airs and dignity to her old
friends, persuaded Sir Timo that the hour for their visit to Bath had
arrived, and they were soon comfortably settled in that city.
Lady Chatterton and her youngest daughter had arrived at the seat of her
son, and John Moseley, as happy as the certainty of love returned and
the approbation of his friends could make him, was in lodgings in the
town. Sir Edward notified his son of his approaching visit to Bath, and
John took proper accommodations for the family, which he occupied for a
few days by himself as locum tenens.
Lord and Lady Herriefield had departed for the south of France; and
Kate, removed from the scenes of her earliest enjoyments and the bosom
of her own family, and under the protection of a man she neither loved
nor respected, began to feel the insufficiency of a name or of a fortune
to constitute felicity. Lord Herriefield was of a suspicious and harsh
temper, the first propensity being greatly increased by his former
associations, and the latter not being removed by the humility of his
eastern dependants. But the situation of her child gave no uneasiness to
the managing mother, who thought her in the high-road to happiness, and
was gratified at the result of her labors. Once or twice, indeed, her
habits had overcome her caution so much as to endeavor to promote, a day
or two sooner than had been arranged, the wedding of Grace; but her
imprudence was checked instantly by the recoiling of Moseley from her
insinuations in disgust; and the absence of the young man for twenty-
four hours gave her timely warning of the danger of such an interference
with one of such fastidious feelings. John punished himself as much as
the dowager on these occasions; but the smiling face of Grace, with her
hand frankly placed in his own at his return, never failed to do away
the unpleasant sensations created by her mother's care.
The Chatterton and Jarvis families met in the rooms, soon after the
arrival of the latter, when the lady of the knight, followed by both her
daughters, approached the dowager with a most friendly salute of
recognition. Lady Chatterton, really forgetful of the persons of her B--
-- acquaintance, and disliking the vulgarity of her air, drew up into an
appearance of great dignity, as she hoped the lady was well. The
merchant's wife felt the consciousness of rank too much to be repulsed
in this manner, and believing that the dowager had merely forgotten her
face, she added, with a simpering smile, in imitation of what she had
seen better bred people practise with success--
"Lady Jarvis--my lady--your ladyship don't remember me--Lady Jarvis of
the Deanery, B----, Northamptonshire, and my daughters, Lady Egerton and
Miss Jarvis." Lady Egerton bowed stiffly to the recognising smile the
dowager now condescended to bestow; but Sarah, remembering a certain
handsome lord in the family, was more urbane, determining at the moment
to make the promotion of her mother and sister stepping-stones to
greater elevation for herself.
"I hope my lord is well," continued the city lady. "I regret that Sir
Timo, and Sir Harry, and Captain Jarvis, are not here this morning to
pay their respects to your ladyship; but as we shall see naturally a
good deal of each other, it must be deferred to a more fitting
opportunity."
"Certainly, madam," replied the dowager, as, passing her compliments
with those of Grace, she drew back from so open a conversation with
creatures of such doubtful standing in the fashionable world.
Chapter
XXXIII.
On taking leave of Mrs. Fitzgerald, Emily and her aunt settled a plan of
correspondence; the deserted situation of this young woman having
created great interest in the breasts of her new friends. General
M'Carthy had returned to Spain without receding from his original
proposal, and his niece was left to mourn her early departure from one
of the most solemn duties of life.
Mr. Benfield, thwarted in one of his most favorite schemes of happiness
for the residue of his life, obstinately refused to make one of the
party at Bath; and Ives and Clara having returned to Bolton, the
remainder of the Moseleys arrived at the lodgings of John a very few
days after the interview of the preceding chapter, with hearts ill
qualified to enter into the gaieties of the place, though, in obedience
to the wishes of Lady Moseley, to see and to be seen once more on that
great theatre of fashionable amusement.
The friends of the family who had known them in times past were
numerous, and were glad to renew their acquaintance with those they had
always esteemed; so that they found themselves immediately surrounded by
a circle of smiling faces and dashing equipages.
Sir William Harris, the proprietor of the deanery, and a former
neighbor, with his showy daughter, were amongst the first to visit them.
Sir William was a man of handsome estate and unexceptionable character,
but entirely governed by the whims and desires of his only child.
Caroline Harris wanted neither sense nor beauty, but expecting a
fortune, she had placed her views too high. She at first aimed at the
peerage; and while she felt herself entitled to suit her taste as well
as her ambition, had failed of her object by ill-concealed efforts to
attain it. She had justly acquired the reputation of the reverse of a
coquette or yet of a prude; still she had never received an offer, and
at the age of twenty-six, had now begun to lower her thoughts to the
commonalty. Her fortune would have easily obtained her husband here, but
she was determined to pick amongst the lower supporters of the
aristocracy of the nation. With the Moseleys she had been early
acquainted, though some years their senior; a circumstance, however, to
which she took care never to allude unnecessarily.
The meeting between Grace and the Moseleys was tender and sincere.
John's countenance glowed with delight, as he saw his future wife folded
successively in the arms of those he loved, and Grace's tears and
blushes added twofold charms to her native beauty. Jane relaxed from her
reserve to receive her future sister, and determined with herself to
appear in the world, in order to show Sir Henry Egerton that she did not
feel the blow he had inflicted as severely as the truth might have
proved.
The Dowager found some little occupation, for a few days, in settling
with Lady Moseley the preliminaries of the wedding; but the latter had
suffered too much through her youngest daughters, to enter into these
formalities with her ancient spirit. All things were, however, happily
settled; and Ives making a journey for the express purpose, John and
Grace were united privately at the altar of one of the principal
churches in Bath. Chatterton had been summoned on the occasion; and the
same paper which announced the nuptials, contained, amongst the
fashionable arrivals, the names of the Duke of Derwent and his sister,
the Marquess of Eltringham and sisters, amongst whom was to be found
Lady Laura Denbigh. Lady Chatterton carelessly remarked, in presence of
her friends, the husband of the latter was summoned to the death-bed of
a relative, from whom he had great expectations. Emily's color did
certainly change as she listened to this news, but not allowing her
thoughts to dwell on the subject, she was soon enabled to recall her
serenity of appearance.
But Jane and Emily were delicately placed. The lover of the former, and
the wives of the lovers of both, were in the way of daily, if not hourly
rencounters; and it required all the energies of the young women to
appear with composure before them. The elder was supported by pride, the
younger by principle. The first was restless, haughty, distant, and
repulsive. The last mild, humble, reserved, but eminently attractive.
The one was suspected by all around her; the other was unnoticed by any,
but by her nearest and dearest friends.
The first rencounter with these dreaded guests occurred at the rooms one
evening, where the elder ladies had insisted on the bride's making her
appearance. The Jarvises were there before them, and at their entrance
caught the eyes of the group. Lady Jarvis approached immediately, filled
with exultation--her husband with respect. The latter was received with
cordiality--the former politely, but with distance. The young ladies and
Sir Henry bowed distantly, and the gentleman soon drew off into another
part of the room: his absence alone kept Jane from fainting. The
handsome figure of Egerton standing by the side of Mary Jarvis, as her
acknowledged husband, was near proving too much for her pride,
notwithstanding all her efforts; and he looked so like the imaginary
being she had set up as the object of her worship, that her heart was
also in danger of rebelling.
"Positively, Sir Edward and my lady, both Sir Timo and myself, and, I
dare say, Sir Harry and Lady Egerton too, are delighted to see you
comfortably at Bath among us. Mrs. Moseley, I wish you much happiness;
Lady Chatterton too. I suppose your ladyship recollects me now; I am
Lady Jarvis. Mr. Moseley, I regret, for your sake, that my son Captain
Jarvis is not here; you were so fond of each other, and both so loved
your guns."
"Positively, my Lady Jarvis," said Moseley, drily, "my feelings on the
occasion are as strong as your own; but I presume the captain is much
too good a shot for me by this time."
"Why, yes; he improves greatly in most things he undertakes," rejoined
the smiling dame, "and I hope he will soon learn, like you, to shoot
with the harrows of Cupid. I hope the Honorable Mrs. Moseley is well."
Grace bowed mildly, as she answered to the interrogatory, and smiled at
the thought of Jarvis put in competition with her husband in this
species of archery, when a voice immediately behind where they sat
caught the ears of the whole party; all it said was--
"Harriet, you forgot to show me Marian's letter."
"Yes, but I will to-morrow," was the reply.
It was the tone of Denbigh. Emily almost fell from her seat as it first
reached her, and the eyes of all but herself were immediately turned in
quest of the speaker. He had approached within a very few feet of them,
supporting a lady on each arm. A second look convinced the Moseleys that
they were mistaken. It was not Denbigh, but a young man whose figure,
face, and air resembled him strongly, and whose voice possessed the same
soft melodious tones which had distinguished that of Denbigh. This party
seated themselves within a very short distance of the Moseleys, and they
continued their conversation.
"You heard from the Colonel to-day, too, I believe," continued the
gentleman, turning to the lady who sat next to Emily.
"Yes, he is a very punctual correspondent; I hear every other day."
"How is his uncle, Laura?" inquired her female companion.
"Rather better; but I will thank your grace to find the Marquess and
Miss Howard."
"Bring them to us," rejoined the other.
"Yes," said the former lady, with a laugh, "and Eltringham will thank
you too, I dare say."
In an instant the duke returned, accompanied by a gentleman of thirty
and an elderly lady, who might have been safely taken for fifty without
offence to anybody but herself.
During these speeches their auditors had listened with almost breathless
interest. Emily had stolen a glance which satisfied her it was not
Denbigh himself and it greatly relieved her; but was startled at
discovering that she was actually seated by the side of his young and
lovely wife. When an opportunity offered, she dwelt on the amiable,
frank countenance of her rival with melancholy satisfaction: at least,
she thought, he may yet be happy, and I hope penitent.
It was a mixture of love and gratitude which prompted this wish, both
sentiments not easily got rid of when once ingrafted in our better
feelings. John eyed the strangers with a displeasure for which he could
not account at once, and saw, in the ancient lady, the bridesmaid Lord
Henry had so unwillingly admitted to that distinction.
Lady Jarvis was astounded with her vicinity to so much nobility, and she
drew back to her family to study its movements to advantage; while Lady
Chatterton sighed heavily, as she contemplated the fine figures of an
unmarried Duke and Marquess, and she without a single child to dispose
of. The remainder of the party continued to view them with curiosity,
and listened with interest to what they said.
Two or three young ladies had now joined the strangers, attended by a
couple of gentlemen, and the conversation became general. The ladies
declined dancing entirely, but appeared willing to throw away an hour in
comments on their neighbors.
"William," said one of the young ladies, "there is your old messmate,
Col. Egerton."
"Yes, I observe him," replied her brother, "I see him;" but, smiling
significantly, he continued, "we are messmates no longer."
"He is a sad character," said the Marquess, with a shrug. "William, I
would advise you to be cautious of his acquaintance."
"I thank you," replied Lord William, "but I believe I understand him
thoroughly."
Jane manifested strong emotion during these remarks, while Sir Edward
and his wife averted their faces from a simultaneous feeling of self-
reproach. Their eyes met, and mutual concessions were contained in the
glance; yet their feelings were unnoticed by their companions, for over
the fulfilment of her often repeated forewarnings of neglect and duty to
our children, Mrs. Wilson had mourned in sincerity, but she had
forgotten to triumph.
"When are we to see Pendennyss?" inquired the Marquess; "I hope he will
be here with George--I have a mind to beat up his quarters in Wales this
season--what say you, Derwent?"
"I intend it, if I can persuade Lady Harriet to quit the gaieties of
Bath so soon--what say you, sister--will you be in readiness to attend
me so early?"
This question was asked in an arch tone, and drew the eyes of her
friends on the person to whom it was addressed.
"I am ready now, Frederick, if you wish it," answered the sister
hastily, and coloring excessively as she spoke.
"But where is Chatterton? I thought he was here--he had a sister married
here last week," inquired Lord William Stapleton, addressing no one in
particular.
A slight movement in their neighbors attracted the attention of the
party.
"What a lovely young woman," whispered the duke to Lady Laura, "your
neighbor is!"
The lady smiled her assent, and as Emily overheard it, she rose with
glowing cheeks, and proposed a walk round the room.
Chatterton soon after entered. The young peer had acknowledged to Emily
that, deprived of hope as he had been by her firm refusal of his hand,
his efforts had been directed to the suppression of a passion which
could never be successful; but his esteem, his respect, remained in full
force. He did not touch at all on the subject of Denbigh, and she
supposed that he thought his marriage was a step that required
justification.
The Moseleys had commenced their promenade round the room as Chatterton
came in. He paid his compliments to them as soon as he entered, and
walked with their party. The noble visitors followed their example, and
the two parties met. Chatterton was delighted to see them, the Duke was
particularly fond of him; and, had one been present of sufficient
observation, the agitation of his sister, the Lady Harriet Denbigh,
would have accounted for the doubts of her brother as respects her
willingness to leave Bath.
A few words of explanation passed; the duke and his friends appeared to
urge something on Chatterton, who acted as their ambassador, and the
consequence was, an introduction of the two parties to each other. This
was conducted with the ease of the present fashion--it was general, and
occurred, as it were incidentally, in the course of the evening.
Both Lady Harriet and Lady Laura Denbigh were particularly attentive to
Emily. They took their seats by her, and manifested a preference for her
conversation that struck Mrs. Wilson as remarkable. Could it be that the
really attractive manners and beauty of her niece had caught the fancy
of these ladies, or was there a deeper seated cause for the desire to
draw Emily out, that both of them evinced? Mrs. Wilson had heard a rumor
that Chatterton was thought attentive to Lady Harriet, and the other was
the wife of Denbigh; was it possible the quondam suitors of her niece
had related to their present favorites the situation they had stood in
as regarded Emily? It was odd, to say no more; and the widow dwelt on
the innocent countenance of the bride with pity and admiration. Emily
herself was not a little abashed at the notice of her new acquaintances,
especially Lady Laura's; but as their admiration appeared sincere, as
well as their desire to be on terms of intimacy with the Moseleys, they
parted, on the whole, mutually pleased.
The conversation several times was embarrassing to the baronet's family,
and at moments distressingly so to their daughters.
At the close of the evening they all formed one group at a little
distance from the rest of the company, and in a situation to command a
view of it.
"Who is that vulgar-looking woman," said Lady Sarah Stapleton, "seated
next to Sir Henry Egerton, brother?"
"No less a personage than my Lady Jarvis," replied the marquess,
gravely, "and the mother-in-law of Sir Harry, and the wife to Sir Timo--
;" this was said, with a look of drollery that showed the marquess was a
bit of a quiz.
"Married!" cried Lord William, "mercy on the woman who is Egerton's
wife. He is the greatest latitudinarian amongst the ladies, of any man
in England--nothing--no, nothing would tempt me to let such a man marry
a sister of mine!"
Ah, thought Mrs. Wilson, how we may be deceived in character, with the
best intentions, after all! In what are the open vices of Egerton worse
than the more hidden ones of Denbigh?
These freely expressed opinions on the character of Sir Henry were
excessively awkward to some of the listeners, to whom they were
connected with unpleasant recollections of duties neglected, and
affections thrown away.
Sir Edward Moseley was not disposed to judge his fellow-creatures
harshly; and it was as much owing to his philanthropy as to his
indolence, that he had been so remiss in his attention to the associates
of his daughters. But the veil once removed, and the consequences
brought home to him through his child, no man was more alive to the
necessity of caution on this important particular; and Sir Edward formed
many salutary resolutions for the government of his future conduct in
relation to those whom an experience nearly fatal in its results had now
greatly qualified to take care of themselves. But to resume our
narrative--Lady Laura had maintained with Emily a conversation, which
was enlivened by occasional remarks from the rest of the party, in the
course of which the nerves as well as the principles of Emily were put
to a severe trial.
"My brother Henry," said Lady Laura, "who is a captain in the navy, once
had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Moseley, and in some measure made
me acquainted with you before we met."
"I dined with Lord Henry at L----, and was much indebted to his polite
attentions in an excursion on the water," replied Emily, simply.
"Oh, I am sure his attentions were exclusive," cried the sister;
"indeed, he told us that nothing but want of time prevented his being
deeply in love--he had even the audacity to tell Denbigh it was
fortunate for me he had never seen you, or I should have been left to
lead apes."
"And I suppose you believe him now," cried Lord William, laughing, as he
bowed to Emily.
His sister laughed in her turn, but shook her head, in the confidence of
conjugal affection.
"It is all conjecture, for the Colonel said he had never enjoyed the
pleasure of meeting Miss Moseley, so I will not boast of what my powers
might have done; Miss Moseley," continued Lady Laura, blushing slightly
at her inclination to talk of an absent husband, so lately her lover, "I
hope to have the pleasure of presenting Colonel Denbigh to you soon."
"I think," said Emily, with a strong horror of deception, and a mighty
struggle to suppress her feelings, "Colonel Denbigh was mistaken in
saying that we had never met; he was of material service to me once, and
I owe him a debt of gratitude that I only wish I could properly repay."
Lady Laura listened in surprise; but as Emily paused, she could not
delicately, as his wife, remind her further of the obligation, by asking
what the service was, and hesitating a moment, continued--
"Henry quite made you the subject of conversation amongst us; Lord
Chatterton too, who visited us for a day, was equally warm in his
eulogiums. I really thought they created a curiosity in the Duke and
Pendennyss to behold their idol."
"A curiosity that would be ill rewarded in its indulgence," said Emily,
abashed by the personality of the discourse.
"So says the modesty of Miss Moseley," said the Duke of Derwent, in the
peculiar tone which distinguished the softer keys of Denbigh's voice.
Emily's heart beat quick as she heard them, and she was afterwards vexed
to remember with how much pleasure she had listened to this opinion of
the duke. Was it the sentiment, or was it the voice? She, however,
gathered strength to answer, with a dignity that repressed further
praises:--
"Your grace is willing to divest me of what little I possess."
"Pendennyss is a man of a thousand," continued Lady Laura, with the
privilege of a married woman. "I do wish he would join us at Bath--is
there no hope, duke?"
"I am afraid not," replied his grace: "he keeps himself immured in Wales
with his sister, who is as much of a hermit as he is himself."
"There was a story of an inamorata in private somewhere," cried the
marquess; "why at one time it was even said he was privately married to
her."
"Scandal, my lord," said the duke, gravely: "Pendennyss is of
unexceptionable morals, and the lady you mean is the widow of Major
Fitzgerald, whom you knew. Pendennyss never sees her, though by accident
he was once of very great service to her."
Mrs. Wilson breathed freely again, as she heard this explanation, and
thought if the Marquess knew all, how differently would he judge
Pendennyss, as well as others.
"Oh! I have the highest opinion of Lord Pendennyss," cried the Marquess.
The Moseleys were not sorry that the usual hour of retiring put an end
to the conversation and their embarrassment.