Nothing material occurred for a fortnight after the departure of Lady
Laura, the Moseleys entering soberly into the amusements of the place,
and Derwent and Chatterton becoming more pointed every day in their
attentions--the one to Emily, and the other to Lady Harriet; when the
dowager received a pressing entreaty from Catherine to hasten to her at
Lisbon, where her husband had taken up his abode for a time, after much
doubt and indecision as to his place of residence. Lady Herriefield
stated generally in her letter, that she was miserable, and that without
the support of her mother she could not exist under the present
grievances; but what was the cause of those grievances, or what grounds
she had for her misery, she left unexplained.
Lady Chatterton was not wanting in maternal regard, and she promptly
determined to proceed to Portugal in the next packet. John felt inclined
for a little excursion with his bride; and out of compassion to the
baron, who was in a dilemma between his duty and his love (for Lady
Harriet about that time was particularly attractive), he offered his
services.
Chatterton allowed himself to be persuaded by the good-natured John,
that his mother could safely cross the ocean under the protection of the
latter. Accordingly, at the end of the before mentioned fortnight, the
dowager, John, Grace, and Jane, commenced their journey to Falmouth.
Jane had offered to accompany Grace, as a companion in her return (it
being expected Lady Chatterton would remain in the country with her
daughter); and her parents appreciating her motives, permitted the
excursion, with a hope it would draw her thoughts from past events.
Although Grace shed a few tears at parting with Emily and her friends,
it was impossible for Mrs. Moseley to be long unhappy, with the face of
John smiling by her side; and they pursued their route uninterruptedly.
In due season they reached the port of embarkation.
The following morning the packet got under weigh, and a favorable breeze
soon wafted them out of sight of their native shores. The ladies were
too much indisposed the first day to appear on the deck; but the weather
becoming calm and the sea smooth, Grace and Jane ventured out of the
confinement of their state-rooms, to respire the fresh air above.
There were but few passengers, and those chiefly ladies--the wives of
officers on foreign stations, on their way to join their husbands. As
these had been accustomed to moving in the world, their disposition to
accommodate soon removed the awkwardness of a first meeting, and our
travellers began to be at home in their novel situation.
While Grace stood leaning on the arm of her husband, and clinging to his
support, both from affection and a dread of the motion of the vessel,
Jane ventured with one of the ladies to attempt a walk round the deck of
the ship. Unaccustomed to such an uncertain foothold, the walkers were
prevented falling by the kind interposition of a gentleman, who for the
first time had shown himself among them at that moment. The accident,
and their situation, led to a conversation which was renewed at
different times during their passage, and in some measure created an
intimacy between our party and the stranger. He was addressed by the
commander of the vessel as Mr. Harland; and Lady Chatterton exercised
her ingenuity in the investigation of his history, by which she made the
following discovery:
The Rev. and Hon. Mr. Harland was the younger son of an Irish earl, who
had early embraced his sacred profession in that church, in which he
held a valuable living in the gift of his father's family. His father
was yet alive, and then at Lisbon with his mother and sister, in
attendance on his elder brother, who had been sent there in a deep
decline a couple of months before. It had been the wish of his parents
to have taken all their children with them; but a sense of duty had kept
the young clergyman in the exercise of his holy office, until a request
of his dying brother, and the directions of his father, caused him to
hasten abroad to witness the decease of the one, and to afford all the
solace within his power to the others.
It may be easily imagined that the discovery of the rank of their
accidental acquaintance, with the almost certainty that existed of his
being the heir of his father's honors, in no degree impaired his
consequence in the eyes of the dowager; and it is certain, his visible
anxiety and depressed spirits, his unaffected piety, and disinterested
hopes for his brother's recovery, no less elevated him in the opinions
of her companions.
There was, at the moment, a kind of sympathy between Harland and Jane,
notwithstanding the melancholy which gave rise to it proceeding from
such very different causes and as the lady, although with diminished
bloom, retained all her personal charms, rather heightened than
otherwise by the softness of low spirits, the young clergyman sometimes
relieved his apprehensions of his brother's death by admitting the image
of Jane among his more melancholy reflections.
The voyage was tedious, and some time before it was ended the dowager
had given Grace an intimation of the probability there was of Jane's
becoming, at some future day, a countess. Grace sincerely hoped that
whatever she became she would be as happy as she thought all allied to
John deserved to be.
They entered the bay of Lisbon early in the morning; and as the ship had
been expected for some days, a boat came alongside with a note for Mr.
Harland, before they had anchored. It apprised him of the death of his
brother. The young man threw himself precipitately into it, and was soon
employed in one of the loveliest offices of his vocation, that of
healing the wounds of the afflicted.
Lady Herriefield received her mother in a sort of sullen satisfaction,
and her companions with an awkwardness she could ill conceal. It
required no great observation in the travellers to discover, that their
arrival was entirely unexpected by the viscount, if it were not equally
disagreeable; indeed, one day's residence under his roof assured them
all that no great degree of domestic felicity was an inmate of the
dwelling.
From the moment Lord Herriefield became suspicious that he had been the
dupe of the management of Kate and her mother, he viewed every act of
his wife with a prejudiced eye. It was easy, with his knowledge of human
nature, to detect her selfishness and worldly-mindedness; for as these
were faults she was unconscious of possessing, so she was unguarded in
her exposure of them. But her designs, in a matrimonial point of view,
having ended with her marriage, had the viscount treated her with any of
the courtesies due her sex and station, she might, with her disposition,
have been contented in the enjoyment of rank and in the possession of
wealth; but their more private hours were invariably rendered
unpleasant, by the overflowings of her husband's resentment at having
been deceived in his judgment of the female sex.
There is no point upon which men are more tender than their privilege of
suiting themselves in a partner for life, although many of both sexes
are influenced in this important selection more by the wishes and whims
of others than is usually suspected; yet, as all imagine what is the
result of contrivance and management is the election of free will and
taste, so long as they are ignorant, they are contented. Lord
Herriefield wanted this bliss of ignorance; and, with contempt for his
wife, was mingled anger at his own want of foresight.
Very few people can tamely submit to self-reproach; and as the cause of
this irritated state of mind was both not only constantly present, but
completely within his power, the viscount seemed determined to give her
as little reason to exult in the success of her plans as possible.
Jealous he was, from temperament, from bad associations, and a want of
confidence in the principles of his wife, the freedom of foreign manners
having an additional tendency to excite this baneful passion to an
unusual degree. Abridged in her pleasures, reproached with motives she
was incapable of harboring, and disappointed in all those enjoyments her
mother had ever led her to believe the invariable accompaniments of
married life, where proper attention had been paid to the necessary
qualifications of riches and rank, Kate had written to the dowager with
the hope her presence might restrain, or her advice teach her,
successfully to oppose the unfeeling conduct of the viscount.
Lady Chatterton never having implanted any of her favorite systems in
her daughter, so much by precept as by the force of example in her own
person, as well as by indirect eulogiums on certain people who were
endowed with those qualities and blessings she most admired, on the
present occasion Catherine did not unburden herself in terms to her
mother; but by a regular gradation of complaints, aimed more at the
world than at her husband, she soon let the knowing dowager see their
application, and in the end completely removed the veil from her
domestic grievances.
The example of John and Grace for a short time awed the peer into
dissembling his disgust for his spouse; but the ice once broken, their
presence soon ceased to affect either the frequency or the severity of
his remarks, when under its influence.
From such exhibitions of matrimonial discord, Grace shrank timidly into
the retirement of her room, and Jane, with dignity, would follow her
example; while John at times became a listener, with a spirit barely
curbed within the bounds of prudence, and at others, he sought in the
company of his wife and sister, relief from the violence of his
feelings.
John never admired nor respected Catherine, for she wanted those very
qualities he chiefly loved in her sister; yet, as she was a woman, and
one nearly connected with him, he found it impossible to remain a quiet
spectator of the unmanly treatment she often received from her husband;
he therefore made preparations for his return to England by the first
packet, abridging his intended residence in Lisbon more than a month.
Lady Chatterton endeavored all within her power to heal the breach
between Kate and her husband, but it greatly exceeded her abilities. It
was too late to implant such principles in her daughter, as by a long
course of self-denial and submission might have won the love of the
viscount, had the mother been acquainted with them herself; so that
having induced her child to marry with a view to obtaining precedence
and a jointure, she once more set to work to undo part of her former
labors, by bringing about a decent separation between the husband and
wife, in such a manner as to secure to her child the possession of her
wealth, and the esteem of the world. The latter, though certainly a
somewhat difficult undertaking, was greatly lessened by the assistance
of the former.
John and his wife determined to seize the opportunity to examine the
environs of the city. In one of these daily rides, they met their fellow
traveller, Mr. now Lord Harland. He was rejoiced to see them again, and
hearing of their intended departure, informed them of his being about to
return to England in the same vessel--his parents and sister
contemplating ending the winter in Portugal.
The intercourse between the two families was kept up with a show of
civilities between the noblemen, and much real good-will on the part of
the juniors of the circle, until the day arrived for the sailing of the
packet.
Lady Chatterton was left behind with Catherine, as yet unable to
circumvent her schemes with prudence; it being deemed by the world a
worse offence to separate, than to join together one's children in the
bands of wedlock.
The confinement of a vessel is very propitious to those intimacies which
lead to attachments. The necessity of being agreeable is a check upon
the captious, and the desire to lessen the dulness of the scene a
stimulus to the lively; and though the noble divine and Jane could not
possibly be ranked in either class, the effect was the same. The noble
man was much enamored, and Jane unconsciously gratified. It is true,
love had never entered her thoughts in its direct and unequivocal form;
but admiration is so consoling to those laboring under self-
condemnation, and flattery of a certain kind so very soothing to all, it
is not to be wondered that she listened with increasing pleasure to the
interesting conversation of Harland on all occasions, and more
particularly, as often happened, when exclusively addressed to herself.
Grace had of late reflected more seriously on the subject of her eternal
welfare than she had been accustomed to do in the house of her mother;
and the example of Emily, with the precepts of Mrs. Wilson, had not been
thrown away upon her. It is a singular fact, that more women feel a
disposition to religion soon after marriage than at any other period of
life; and whether it is, that having attained the most important station
this life affords the sex, they are more willing to turn their thoughts
to a provision for the next, or whether it be owing to any other cause,
Mrs. Moseley was included in the number. She became sensibly touched
with her situation, and as Harland was both devout and able as well as
anxious to instruct, one of the party, at least, had cause to rejoice in
the journey for the remainder of her days. But precisely as Grace
increased in her own faith, so did her anxiety after the welfare of her
husband receive new excitement; and John, for the first time, became the
cause of sorrow to his affectionate companion.
The deep interest Harland took in the opening conviction of Mrs.
Moseley, did not so entirely engross his thoughts as to prevent the too
frequent contemplation of the charms of her friend for his own peace of
mind; and by the time the vessel reached Falmouth, he had determined to
make a tender of his hand and title to the acceptance of Miss Moseley.
Jane did not love Egerton; on the contrary, she despised him; but the
time had been, when all her romantic feelings, every thought of her
brilliant imagination, had been filled with his image, and Jane felt it
a species of indelicacy to admit the impression of another so soon, or
even at all. These objections would, in time, have been overcome, as her
affections became more and more enlisted on behalf of Harland, had she
admitted his addresses; but there was an impediment that Jane considered
insurmountable to a union with any man.
She had once communicated her passion to its object. There had been the
confidence of approved love; and she had now no heart for Harland, but
one that had avowedly been a slave to another. To conceal this from him
would be unjust, and not reconcilable to good faith; to confess it,
humiliating, and without the pale of probability. It was the misfortune
of Jane to keep the world too constantly before her, and to lose sight
too much of her really depraved nature, to relish the idea of humbling
herself so low in the opinion of a fellow-creature. The refusal of
Harland's offer was the consequence, although she had begun to feel an
esteem for him, that would no doubt have given rise to an attachment in
time, far stronger and more deeply seated than her passing fancy for
Colonel Egerton had been.
If the horror of imposing on the credulity of Harland a wounded heart,
was creditable to Jane, and showed an elevation of character that under
proper guidance would have placed her in the first ranks of her sex; the
pride which condemned her to a station nature did not design her for was
irreconcilable with the humility a just view of her condition could not
fail to produce; and the second sad consequence of the indulgent
weakness of her parents, was confirming their child in passions directly
at variance with the first duties of a Christian.
We have so little right to value ourselves on anything, that pride is a
sentiment of very doubtful service, and one certainly, that is unable to
effect any useful results which will not equally flow from good
principles.
Harland was disappointed and grieved, but prudently judging that
occupation and absence would remove recollections which could not be
very deep, they parted at Falmouth, and our travellers proceeded on
their journey for B----, whither, during their absence, Sir Edward's
family had returned to spend a month, before they removed to town for
the residue of the winter.
The meeting of the two parties was warm and tender, and as Jane had many
things to recount, and John as many to laugh at, their arrival threw a
gaiety around Moseley Hall to which it had for months been a stranger.
One of the first acts of Grace, after her return, was to enter strictly
into the exercise of all those duties and ordinances required by her
church, and the present state of her mind, and from the hands of Dr.
Ives she received her first communion at the altar.
As the season had now become far advanced, and the fashionable world had
been some time assembled in the metropolis, the Baronet commenced his
arrangements to take possession of his town-house, after an interval of
nineteen years. John proceeded to the capital first; and the necessary
domestics procured, furniture supplied, and other arrangements usual to
the appearance of a wealthy family in the world having been completed,
he returned with the information that all was ready for their triumphal
entrance.
Sir Edward, feeling that a separation for so long a time, and at such an
unusual distance, in the very advanced age of Mr. Benfield, would be
improper, paid him a visit, with the intention of persuading him to make
one of his family for the next four months. Emily was his companion, and
their solicitations were happily crowned with a success they had not
anticipated. Averse to be deprived of Peter's society, the honest
steward was included in the party.
"Nephew," said Mr. Benfield, beginning to waver in his objections to the
undertaking, as the arguments pro and con were produced, "there are
instances of gentlemen, not in parliament, going to town in the winter,
I know. You are one yourself; and old Sir John Cowel, who never could
get in, although he ran for every city in the kingdom, never missed his
winter in Soho. Yes, yes--the thing is admissible--but had I known your
wishes before, I would certainly have kept my borough if it were only
for the appearance of the thing--besides," continued the old man,
shaking his head, "his majesty's ministers require the aid of some more
experienced members in these critical times; for what should an old man
like me do in Westminster, unless it were to aid his country with his
advice?"
"Make his friends happy with his company, dear uncle," said Emily,
taking his hand between both her own, and smiling affectionately on the
old gentleman as she spoke.
"Ah! Emmy dear!" cried Mr. Benfield, looking on her with melancholy
pleasure, "you are not to be resisted--just such another as the sister
of my old friend Lord Gosford; she could always coax me out of anything.
I remember now, I heard the earl tell her once he could not afford to
buy a pair of diamond ear-rings; and she looked--only looked--did not
speak! Emmy!--that I bought them with intent to present them to her
myself."
"And did she take them, uncle?" asked his niece, in a little surprise.
"Oh yes! When I told her if she did not I would throw them into the
river, as no one else should wear what had been intended for her; poor
soul! how delicate and unwilling she was. I had to convince her they
cost three hundred pounds, before she would listen to it; and then she
thought it such a pity to throw away a thing of so much value. It would
have been wicked, you know, Emmy, dear; and she was much opposed to
wickedness and sin in any shape."
"She must have been a very unexceptionable character indeed," cried the
Baronet, with a smile, as he proceeded to make the necessary orders for
their journey. "But we must return to the party left at Bath."
Chapter
XXXVI.
The letters of Lady Laura informed her friends, that she and Colonel
Denbigh had decided to remain with his uncle until the recovery of the
latter was complete, and then to proceed to Denbigh Castle, to meet the
Duke and his sister during the approaching holidays.
Emily was much relieved by this postponement of an interview which she
would gladly have avoided for ever; and her aunt sincerely rejoiced that
her niece was allowed more time to eradicate impressions, which, she saw
with pain, her charge had yet a struggle to overcome.
There were so many points to admire in the character of Denbigh; his
friends spoke of him with such decided partiality; Dr. Ives, in his
frequent letters, alluded to him with so much affection; that Emily
frequently detected herself in weighing the testimony of his guilt, and
indulging the expectation that circumstances had deceived them all in
their judgment of his conduct. Then his marriage would cross her mind;
and with the conviction of the impropriety of admitting him to her
thoughts at all, would come the mass of circumstantial testimony which
had accumulated against him.
Derwent served greatly to keep alive the recollections of his person,
however; and as Lady Harriet seemed to live only in the society of the
Moseleys, not a day passed without giving the Duke some opportunity of
indirectly preferring his suit.
Emily not only appeared, but in fact was, unconscious of his admiration;
and entered into their amusements with a satisfaction that was increased
by the belief that the unfortunate attachment her cousin Chatterton had
once professed for herself, was forgotten in the more certain enjoyments
of a successful love.
Lady Harriet was a woman of manners and character very different from
Emily Moseley; yet had she in a great measure erased the impressions
made by the beauty of his kinswoman from the bosom of the baron.
Chatterton, under the depression of his first disappointment, it will be
remembered, had left B---- in company with Mr. Denbigh. The interest of
the duke had been unaccountably exerted to procure him the place he had
so long solicited in vain, and gratitude required his early
acknowledgments for the favor. His manner, so very different from a
successful applicant for a valuable office, had struck both Derwent and
his sister as singular. Before, however, a week's intercourse had passed
between them, his own frankness had made them acquainted with the cause;
and a double wish prevailed in the bosom of Lady Harriet, to know the
woman who could resist the beauty of Chatterton, and to relieve him from
the weight imposed on his spirits by disappointed affection.
The manners of Lady Harriet Denbigh were not in the least forward or
masculine; but they had the freedom of high rank, mingled with a good
deal of the ease of fashionable life. Mrs. Wilson noticed, moreover, in
her conduct to Chatterton, a something exceeding the interest of
ordinary communications in their situation, which might possibly have
been attributed more to feeling than to manner. It is certain, one of
the surest methods to drive Emily from his thoughts, was to dwell on the
perfections of some other lady; and Lady Harriet was so constantly
before him in his visit into Westmoreland, so soothing, so evidently
pleased with his presence, that the baron made rapid advances in
attaining his object.
He had alluded, in his letter to Emily, to the obligation he was under
to the services of Denbigh, in erasing his unfortunate partiality for
her: but what those services were, we are unable to say, unless they
were the usual arguments of the plainest good sense, enforced in the
singularly insinuating and kind manner which distinguished that
gentleman. In fact, Lord Chatterton was not formed by nature to love
long, deprived of hope, or to resist long the flattery of a preference
from such a woman as Harriet Denbigh.
On the other hand, Derwent was warm in his encomiums on Emily to all but
herself; and Mrs. Wilson again thought it prudent to examine into the
state of her feelings, in order to discover if there was any danger of
his unremitted efforts drawing Emily into a connexion that neither her
religion nor prudence could wholly approve.
Derwent was a man of the world--a Christian only in name; and the
cautious widow determined to withdraw in season, should she find grounds
for her apprehensions.
About ten days after the departure of the Dowager and her companions,
Lady Harriet exclaimed, in one of her morning visits--
"Lady Moseley! I have now hopes of presenting to you soon the most
polished man in the United Kingdom!"
"As a husband! Lady Harriet?" inquired the other, with a smile.
"Oh, no! only as a cousin, a second cousin! madam!" replied Lady
Harriet, blushing a little, and looking in the opposite direction to the
one in which Chatterton was placed.
"But his name? You forget our curiosity! What is his name?" cried Mrs.
Wilson, entering into the trifling for the moment.
"Pendennyss, to be sure, my dear madam: whom else can I mean?"
"And you expect the earl at Bath?" Mrs. Wilson eagerly inquired.
"He has given us such hopes, and Derwent has written him to-day,
pressing the journey."
"You will be disappointed, I am afraid, sister," said the duke.
"Pendennyss has become so fond of Wales of late, that it is difficult to
get him out of it."
"But," said Mrs. Wilson, "he will take his seat in parliament during the
winter, my lord?"
"I hope he will, madam; though Lord Eltringham holds his proxies, in my
absence, in all important questions before the house."
"Your grace will attend, I trust," said Sir Edward. "The pleasure of
your company is among my expected enjoyments in the town."
"You are very good, Sir Edward," replied the duke, looking at Emily. "It
will somewhat depend on circumstances, I believe."
Lady Harriet smiled, and the speech seemed understood by all but the
lady most concerned in it.
"Lord Pendennyss is a universal favorite, and deservedly so," cried the
duke. "He has set an example to the nobility, which few are equal to
imitate. An only son, with an immense estate, he has devoted himself to
the profession of a soldier, and gained great reputation by it in the
world; nor has he neglected any of his private duties as a man----"
"Or a Christian, I hope," said Mrs. Wilson, delighted with the praises
of the earl.
"Nor of a Christian, I believe," continued the duke; "he appears
consistent, humble, and sincere--three requisites, I believe, for that
character."
"Does not your grace know?" said Emily, with a benevolent smile.
Derwent colored slightly as he answered--
"Not as well as I ought; but"--lowering his voice for her ear alone, he
added, "under proper instruction I think I might learn."
"Then I would recommend that book to you, my lord," rejoined Emily, with
a blush, pointing to a pocket Bible which lay near her, though still
ignorant of the allusion he meant to convey.
"May I ask the honor of an audience of Miss Moseley," said Derwent, in
the same low tone, "whenever her leisure will admit of her granting the
favor?"
Emily was surprised; but from the previous conversation and the current
of her thoughts at the moment, supposing his communication had some
reference to the subject before them, she rose from her chair, and
unobtrusively, but certainly with an air of perfect innocence and
composure, she went into the adjoining room, the door of which was open
very near them.
Caroline Harris had abandoned all ideas of a coronet with the departure
of the Marquess of Eltringham and his sisters for their own seat; and as
a final effort of her fading charms, had begun to calculate the
capabilities of Captain Jarvis, who had at this time honored Bath with
his company.
It is true, the lady would have greatly preferred her father's neighbor,
but that was an irretrievable step. He had retired, disgusted with her
haughty dismissal of his hopes, and was a man who, although he greatly
admired her fortune, was not to be recalled by any beck or smile which
might grow out of caprice.
Lady Jarvis had, indeed, rather magnified the personal qualifications of
her son; but the disposition they had manifested, to devote some of
their surplus wealth to purchasing a title, had great weight, for Miss
Harris would cheerfully, at any time, have sacrificed one half her own
fortune to be called my lady. Jarvis would make but a shabby-looking
lord, 'tis true; but then what a lord's wife would she not make herself!
His father was a merchant, to be sure, but then merchants were always
immensely rich, and a few thousand pounds, properly applied, might make
the merchant's son a baron. She therefore resolved to inquire, the first
opportunity, into the condition of the sinking fund of his plebeianism,
and had serious thoughts of contributing her mite towards the
advancement of the desired object, did she find it within the bounds of
probable success.
An occasion soon offered, by the invitation of the Captain to accompany
him in an excursion in the tilbury of his brother-in-law.
In this ride they passed the equipages of Lady Harriet and Mrs. Wilson,
with their respective mistresses, taking an airing. In passing the
latter, Jarvis bowed (for he had renewed his acquaintance at the rooms,
without daring to visit at the lodgings of Sir Edward), and Miss Harris
saw both parties as they dashed by them.
"You know the Moseleys, Caroline?" said Jarvis, with the freedom her
manners had established between them.
"Yes," replied the lady, drawing her head back from a view of the
carriages; "what fine arms those of the Duke's are--and the coronet, it
is so noble--so rich--I am sure if I were a man," laying great emphasis
on the word--"I would be a Lord."
"If you could, you mean," cried the captain.
"Could--why money will buy a title, you know--only most people are
fonder of their cash than of honor."
"That's right," said the unreflecting captain; "money is the thing,
after all. Now what do you suppose our last mess-bill came to?"
"Oh, don't talk of eating and drinking," cried Miss Harris, in affected
aversion; "is it beneath the consideration of nobility."
"Then any one may be a lord for me," said Jarvis, drily "if they are not
to eat and drink; why, what do they live for, but such sort of things!"
"A soldier lives to fight and gain honor and distinction"--for his wife-
-Miss Harris would have added, had she spoken all she thought.
"A poor way that of spending a man's time," said the Captain. "Now there
is Captain Jones in our regiment; they say he loves fighting as much as
eating: if he do, he is a bloodthirsty fellow."
"You know how intimate I am with your dear mother," continued the lady,
bent on the principal object; "she has made me acquainted with her
greatest wish."
"Her greatest wish!" cried the Captain, in astonishment; "why, what can
that be?--a new coach and horses?"
"No, I mean one much dearer to us--I should say, to her, than any such
trifles: she has told me of the plan."
"Plan!" said Jarvis, still in wonder, "what plan?"
"About the fund for the peerage, you know. Of course, the thing is
sacred with me, as, indeed, I am equally interested with you all in its
success."
Jarvis eyed her with a knowing look, and as she concluded, rolling his
eyes in an expression of significance, he said--
"What, serve Sir William some such way, eh?"
"I will assist a little, if it be necessary, Henry," said the lady,
tenderly, "although my mite cannot amount to a great deal."
During this speech, the Captain was wondering what she could mean; but,
having had a suspicion, from something that had fallen from his mother,
that the lady was intended for him as a wife, and that she might be as
great a dupe as Lady Jarvis herself, he was resolved to know the whole,
and to act accordingly.
"I think it might be made to do," he replied, evasively in order to
discover the extent of his companion's information.
"Do!", cried Miss Harris, with fervor, "it cannot fail! How much do you
suppose will be wanting to buy a barony, for instance?"
"Hem!" said Jarvis; "you mean more than we have already?"
"Certainly."
"Why, about a thousand pounds, I think, will do it, with what we have,"
said Jarvis, affecting to calculate.
"Is that all?" cried the delighted Caroline; and the captain grew in an
instant, in her estimation, three inches higher;--quite noble in his
air, and, in short, very tolerably handsome.
From that moment, Miss Harris, in her own mind, had fixed the fate of
Captain Jarvis, and had determined to be his wife, whenever she could
persuade him to offer himself; a thing she had no doubt of accomplishing
with comparative ease. Not so the Captain. Like all weak men, there was
nothing of which he stood more in terror than of ridicule. He had heard
the manoeuvres of Miss Harris laughed at by many of the young men in
Bath, and was by no means disposed to add himself to the food for mirth
of these wags; and, indeed, had cultivated her acquaintance with a kind
of bravado to some of his bottle companions, in order to show his
ability to oppose all her arts, when most exposed to them: for it is one
of the greatest difficulties to the success of this description of
ladies, that their characters soon become suspected, and do them
infinitely more injury than all their skill in their vocation.
With these views in the respective champions the campaign opened, and
the lady, on her return, acquainted his mother with the situation of the
privy purse, that was to promote her darling child to the enviable
distinction of the peerage. Lady Jarvis was for purchasing a baronetcy
on the spot, with what they had, under the impression that when ready
for another promotion they would only have to pay the difference, as
they did in the army when he received his captaincy. As, however, the
son was opposed to any arrangement that might make the producing the few
hundred pounds he had obtained from his mother's folly necessary, she
was obliged to postpone the wished-for day, until their united efforts
could compass the means of effecting the main point. As an earnest,
however, of her spirit in the cause, she gave him a fifty pound note,
that morning obtained from her husband, and which the Captain lost at
one throw of the dice to his brother-in-law the same evening.
During the preceding events, Egerton had either studiously avoided all
collision with the Moseleys, or his engagements had confined him to such
very different scenes, that they never met.
The Baronet had felt his presence a reproach, and Lady Moseley rejoiced
that Egerton yet possessed sufficient shame to keep him from insulting
her with his company.
It was a month after the departure of Lady Chatterton that Sir Edward
returned to B----, as related in the preceding chapter, and that the
arrangements for the London winter were commenced.
The day preceding their leaving Bath, the engagement of Chatterton with
Lady Harriet was made public amongst their mutual friends, and an
intimation was given that their nuptials would be celebrated before the
family of the Duke left his seat for the capital.
Something of the pleasure that she had for a long time been a stranger
to, was felt by Emily Moseley, as the well remembered tower of the
village church of B---- struck her sight on their return from their
protracted excursion. More than four months had elapsed since they had
commenced their travels, and in that period what changes of sentiments
had she not witnessed in others; of opinions of mankind in general, and
of one individual in particular, had she not experienced in her own
person. The benevolent smiles, the respectful salutations they received,
in passing the little group of houses which, clustered round the church,
had obtained the name of "the village," conveyed a sensation of delight
that can only be felt by the deserving and virtuous; and the smiling
faces, in several instances glistening with tears, which met them at the
Hall, gave ample testimony to the worth of both the master and his
servants.
Francis and Clara were in waiting to receive them, and a very few
minutes elapsed before the rector and Mrs. Ives, having heard they had
passed, drove in also. In saluting the different members of the family,
Mrs. Wilson noticed the startled look of the doctor, as the change in
Emily's appearance first met his eyes. Her bloom, if not gone, was
greatly diminished; and it was only when under the excitement of strong
emotions, that her face possessed that radiance which had so eminently
distinguished it before her late journey.
"Where did you last see my friend George?" said the Doctor to Mrs.
Wilson, in the course of the first afternoon, as he took a seat by her
side, apart from the rest of the family.
"At L----," said Mrs. Wilson, gravely.
"L----!" cried the doctor, in evident amazement. "Was he not at Bath
then during your stay there?"
"No; I understand he was in attendance on some sick relative, which
detained him from his friends," said Mrs. Wilson, wondering why the
doctor chose to introduce so delicate a topic. Of his guilt in relation
to Mrs. Fitzgerald he was doubtless ignorant, but surely not of his
marriage.
"It is now some time since I heard from him," continued the doctor,
regarding Mrs. Wilson expressively, but to which the lady only replied
with a gentle inclination of the body; and the Rector, after pausing a
moment, continued:
"You will not think me impertinent if I am bold enough to ask, has
George ever expressed a wish to become connected with your niece by
other ties than those of friendship?"
"He did," answered the widow, after a little hesitation.
"He did, and--"
"Was refused," continued Mrs. Wilson, with a slight feeling for the
dignity of her sex, which for a moment caused her to lose sight of
justice to Denbigh.
Dr. Ives was silent; but manifested by his dejected countenance the
interest he had taken in this anticipated connexion, and as Mrs. Wilson
had spoken with ill-concealed reluctance on the subject at all, the
Rector did not attempt a renewal of the disagreeable.