With Harriet, now closely connected with them by marriage as well as
attachment, the baronet's family maintained a most friendly intercourse;
and Mrs. Wilson, and Emily, a prodigious favorite with her new cousin,
consented to pass a day soberly with her during an excursion of her
husband to Windsor on business connected with his station. They had,
accordingly, driven round to an early breakfast; and Chatterton, after
politely regretting his loss, and thanking them for their consideration
for his wife, made his bow.
Lady Harriet Denbigh had brought the Baron a very substantial addition
to his fortune; and as his sisters were both provided for by ample
settlements, the pecuniary distresses which had existed a twelvemonth
before had been entirely removed. Chatterton's income was now large, his
demands upon it small, and he kept up an establishment in proportion to
the rank of both husband and wife.
"Mrs. Wilson," cried the hostess, twirling her cup as she followed with
her eyes the retreating figure of her husband at the door, "I am about
to take up the trade of Miss Harris, and become a match-maker."
"Not on your own behalf so soon, surely," rejoined the widow.
"Oh no, my fortune is made for life, or not at all," continued the
other, gaily; "but in behalf of our little friend Emily here."
"Me," cried Emily, starting from a reverie, in which the prospect of
happiness to Lady Laura was the subject; "you are very good, Harriet;
for whom do you intend me?"
"Whom! Who is good enough for you, but my cousin Pendennyss? Ah!" she
cried, laughing, as she caught Emily by the hand, "Derwent and myself
both settled the matter long since, and I know you will yield when you
come to know him."
"The duke!" cried the other, with a surprise and innocence that
immediately brought a blush of the brightest vermillion into her face.
"Yes, the duke," said Lady Chatterton: "you may think it odd for a
discarded lover to dispose of his mistress so soon, but both our hearts
are set upon it. The earl arrived last night, and this day he and his
sister dine with us in a sober way: now, my dear madam," turning to Mrs.
Wilson, "have I not prepared an agreeable surprise for you?"
"Surprise indeed," said the widow, excessively gratified at the probable
termination to her anxieties for this meeting; "but where are they
from?"
"From Northamptonshire, where the earl has already purchased a
residence, I understand, and in your neighborhood too; so, you perceive,
he at least begins to think of the thing."
"A certain evidence, truly," cried Emily, "his having purchased the
house. But was he without a residence that he bought the deanery?"
"Oh no! he has a palace in town, and three seats in the country; but
none in Northamptonshire but this," said the lady, with a laugh. "To own
the truth he did offer to let George Denbigh have it for the next
summer, but the Colonel chose to be nearer Eltringham; and I take it, it
was only a ruse in the earl to cloak his own designs. You may depend
upon it, we trumpeted your praises to him incessantly in Westmoreland."
"And is Colonel Denbigh in town?" said Mrs. Wilson, stealing an anxious
glance towards her niece, who, in spite of all her efforts, sensibly
changed color.
"Oh, yes! and Laura is as happy--as happy--as myself," said Lady
Chatterton, with a glow on her cheeks, as she attended to the request of
her housekeeper, and left the room.
Her guests sat in silence, occupied with their own reflections, while
they heard a summons at the door of the house. It was opened, and
footsteps approached the door of their own room. It was pushed partly
open, as a voice on the other side said, speaking to a servant without,-
-
"Very well. Do not disturb your lady. I am in no haste."
At the sound of its well known tones, both the ladies almost sprang from
their seats. Here could be no resemblance, and a moment removed their
doubts. The speaker entered. It was Denbigh.
He stood for a moment fixed as a statue: It was evident the surprise was
mutual. His face was pale as death, and then instantly was succeeded by
a glow of fire. Approaching them, he paid his compliments with great
earnestness, and in a voice in which his softest tones preponderated.
"I am happy, very happy, to be so fortunate in again meeting with such
friends, and so unexpectedly."
Mrs. Wilson bowed in silence to his compliment, and Emily, pale as
himself, sat with her eyes fastened on the carpet, without daring to
trust her voice with an attempt to speak.
After struggling with his mortified feelings for a moment, Denbigh rose
from the chair he had taken, and drawing near the sofa on which the
ladies were placed, exclaimed with fervor,
"Tell me, dear madam, lovely, too lovely Miss Moseley, has one act of
folly, of wickedness if you please, lost me your good opinion for ever?
Derwent had given me hopes that you yet retained some esteem for my
character, lowered, as I acknowledge it to be, in my own estimation."
"The Duke of Derwent? Mr. Denbigh!"
"Do not; do not use a name, dear madam, almost hateful to me," cried he,
in a tone of despair.
"If," said Mrs. Wilson, gravely, "you have made your own name
disreputable, I can only regret it, but--"
"Call me by my title--oh! do not remind me of my folly; I cannot bear
it, and from you."
"Your title!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with a cry of wonder, and Emily
turned on him a face in which the flashes of color and succeeding
paleness were as quick, and almost as vivid, as the glow of lightning.
He caught their astonishment in equal surprise.
"How is this? some dreadful mistake, of which I am yet in ignorance," he
cried, taking the unresisting hand of Mrs. Wilson, and pressing it with
warmth between both his own, as he added, "do not leave me in suspense."
"For the sake of truth, for my sake, for the sake of this suffering
innocent, say, in sincerity, who and what you are," said Mrs. Wilson in
a solemn voice, gazing on him in dread of his reply.
Still retaining her hand, he dropped on his knees before her, as he
answered,--
"I am the pupil, the child of your late husband, the companion of his
dangers, the sharer of his joys and griefs, and would I could add, the
friend of his widow. I am the Earl of Pendennyss."
Mrs. Wilson's head dropped on the shoulders of the kneeling youth, her
arms were thrown in fervor around his neck, and she burst into a flood
of tears. For a moment, both were absorbed in their own feelings; but a
cry from Pendennyss aroused the aunt to the situation of her niece.
Emily had fallen senseless on the sofa.
An hour elapsed before her engagements admitted of the return of Lady
Chatterton to the breakfast parlor, where she was surprised to find the
breakfast equipage yet standing, and her cousin, the earl. Looking from
one to the other in surprise, she exclaimed,--
"Very sociable, upon my word; how long has your lordship honored my
house with your presence, and have you taken the liberty to introduce
yourself to Mrs. Wilson and Miss Moseley?"
"Sociability and ease are the fashion of the day. I have been here an
hour, my dear coz, and have taken the liberty of introducing myself to
Mrs. Wilson and Miss Moseley," replied the earl gravely, although a
smile of meaning lighted his handsome features as he uttered the latter
part of the sentence, which was returned by Emily with a look of
archness and pleasure that would have graced her happiest moments of
juvenile joy.
There was such an interchange of looks, and such a visible alteration in
the appearance of her guests, that it could not but attract the notice
of Lady Chatterton. After listening to the conversation between them for
some time in silence; and wondering what could have wrought so sudden a
change below stairs, she broke forth with saying,--"Upon my word, you
are an incomprehensible party to me. I left you ladies alone, and find a
gentleman with you. I left you grave, if not melancholy, and find you
all life and gaiety. I find you with a stranger, and you talk with him
about walks, and rides, and scenes, and acquaintances. Will you, madam,
or you, my lord, be so kind as to explain these seeming
inconsistencies?"
"No," cried the earl, "to punish your curiosity, I will keep you in
ignorance; but Marian is in waiting for me at your neighbor's, Mrs.
Wilmot, and I must hasten to her--- you will see us both by five."
Rising from his seat he took the offered hand of Mrs. Wilson and pressed
it to his lips. To Emily he also extended his hand, and received hers in
return, though with a face suffused with the color of the rose.
Pendennyss held it to his heart for a moment with fervor, and kissing
it, precipitately left the room. Emily concealed her face with her
hands, and, dissolving in tears, sought the retirement of an adjoining
apartment.
All these unaccountable movements filled Lady Chatterton with amazement,
that would have been too painful for further endurance; and Mrs. Wilson,
knowing that further concealment with so near a connexion would be
impossible, if not unnecessary, entered into a brief explanation of the
earl's masquerade (although ignorant herself of its cause, or of the
means of supporting it), and his present relation with her niece.
"I declare it is provoking," cried Lady Chatterton, with a tear in her
eye, "to have such ingenious plans as Derwent and I had made lost from
the want of necessity in putting them in force. Your demure niece has
deceived us all handsomely; and my rigid cousin, too--I will rate him
soundly for his deception."
"I believe he already repents sincerely of his having practised it,"
said Mrs. Wilson, "and is sufficiently punished for his error by its
consequence. A life of misery for four months is a serious penalty to a
lover."
"Yes," said the other; "I am afraid his punishment was not confined to
himself alone: he has made others suffer from his misconduct. I will
rate him famously, depend upon it I will."
If anything, the interest felt by Lady Chatterton for her friend was
increased by this discovery of the affections of Pendennyss, and a few
hours were passed by the three, in we will not say sober delight, for
transport would be a better word. Lady Chatterton frankly declared that
she would rather see Emily the wife of the earl than of her brother, for
he alone was good enough for her; and Mrs. Wilson felt an exhilaration
of spirits, in the completion of her most sanguine wishes, that neither
her years, her philosophy, nor even her religion, could entirely
restrain. The face of Emily was a continued blush, her eye sparkled with
the lustre of renewed hope, and her bosom was heaving with the purest
emotions of happiness.
At the appointed hour the rattling of wheels announced the approach of
the earl and his sister.
Pendennyss came into the room with a young woman of great personal
beauty and extremely feminine manners, leaning on his arm. He first
announced her to Mrs. Wilson as his sister, Lady Marian Denbigh, who
received her with a frank cordiality that made them instantly
acquainted. Emily, although confiding in the fullest manner in the truth
and worth of her lover, had felt an inexplicable sensation of pleasure,
as she heard the earl speak of his sister by the name of Marian; love is
such an unquiet, and generally such an engrossing passion, that few
avoid unnecessary uneasiness while under its influence, unless so
situated as to enjoy a mutual confidence.
As this once so formidable Marian approached to salute her with an
extended hand, Emily rose, with a face illumined with pleasure, to
receive her. Marian viewed her for a moment intently, and folding her
arms around her, whispered softly as she pressed her to her heart,
"My sister, my only sister."
Our heroine was affected to tears, and Pendennyss gently separating the
two he loved best in the world, they soon became calm.
Lady Marian was extremely like her brother, and had a family resemblance
to her cousin Harriet; but her manners were softer and more retiring,
and she had a slight tinge of a settled melancholy. When her brother
spoke she was generally silent, not in fear, but in love. She evidently
regarded him amongst the first of human beings, and all her love was
amply returned.
Both the aunt and niece studied the manners of the earl closely, and
found several shades of distinction between what he was and what he had
been. He was now the perfect man of the world, without having lost the
frank sincerity which caused you to believe all he said. Had Pendennyss
once told Mrs. Wilson, with his natural air and manner, "I am innocent,"
she would have believed him, and an earlier investigation would have
saved them months of misery; but the consciousness of his deception had
oppressed him with the curse of the wicked.
Pendennyss had lost that air of embarrassment and alarm which had so
often startled the aunt, even in her hours of greatest confidence, and
which had their original in the awkwardness of disguise. But he retained
his softness, his respect, his modest diffidence of his opinions,
although somewhat corrected now by his acknowledged experience and
acquaintance with man.
Mrs. Wilson thought these decided trifling alterations in manner were
improvements; but it required some days and a few tender speeches to
reconcile Emily to any change in the appearance of Denbigh.
Lady Marian had ordered her carriage early, as she had not anticipated
the pleasure she found, and was engaged to accompany her cousin, Lady
Laura, to a fashionable rout that evening. Unwilling to be torn from ins
newly found friends, the earl proposed that the three ladies should
accompany his sister to Annerdale House, and then accept himself as an
escort to their own residence. To this Harriet assented, and leaving a
message for Chatterton, they entered the coach of Marian, and
Pendennyss, mounting the dickey, drove off.
Annerdale House was amongst the best edifices of London. It had been
erected in the preceding century, and Emily for a moment felt, as she
went through its splendid apartments, that it threw a chill around her
domestic affections; but the figure of Pendennyss by her side reconciled
her to a magnificence she had been unused to, which looked the lord
indeed; but with so much modesty and softness, and so much attention to
herself, that before she left the house, Emily began to think it very
possible to enjoy happiness even in the lap of splendor.
The names of Colonel Denbigh and Lady Laura were soon announced, and
this formidable gentleman made his appearance, He resembled Pendennyss
more than even the duke, and appeared about the same age.
Mrs. Wilson soon saw that she had no grounds for pitying Lady Laura. The
colonel was a polished, elegant man, of evident good sense and knowledge
of the world, and apparently devoted to his wife. He was called George
frequently by all his relatives, and he, not unfrequently, used the same
term himself in speaking to the earl. Something was said of a much
admired bust, and the doors of a large library were opened to view it.
Emily was running over the backs of a case of books, until her eye
rested on one; and half smiling and blushing she turned to Pendennyss,
who watched every movement, as she said, playfully,
"Pity me, my lord, and lend me this volume."
"What is it you read?" he asked, as he bowed his cheerful assent.
But Emily hid the book in her handkerchief. Pendennyss noticing an
unwillingness, though an extremely playful one, to let him into the
secret, examined the case, and perceiving her motive, smiled, as he took
down another volume and said--
"I am not an Irish, but an English peer, Emily. You have the wrong
volume."
Emily laughed, with deeper blushes, when she found her wishes detected,
while the earl, opening the volume he held--the first of Debrett's
Peerage--pointed with his finger to the article concerning his own
family, and said to Mrs. Wilson, who had joined them at the instant--
"To-morrow, dear madam, I shall beg your attention to a melancholy tale,
and which may, in some slight degree, extenuate the offence I was guilty
of in assuming, or rather in maintaining an accidental disguise."
As he ended, he went to the others, to draw off their attention, while
Emily and her aunt examined the paragraph. It was as follows:
"George Denbigh--Earl of Pendennyss--and Baron Lumley, of Lumley Castle-
-- Baron Pendennyss--Beaumaris, and Fitzwalter, born----, of----, in the
year of----; a bachelor." The list of earls and nobles occupied several
pages, but the closing article was as follows:
"George, the 21st earl, succeeded his mother Marian, late Countess of
Pendennyss, in her own right, being born of her marriage with George
Denbigh, Esq., a cousin-german to Frederick, the 9th Duke of Derwent."
"Heir apparent. The titles being to heirs general, will descend to his
lordship's sister, Lady Marian Denbigh, should the present earl die
without lawful issue."
As much of the explanation of the mystery of our tales, involved in the
foregoing paragraphs, we may be allowed to relate in our own language,
what Pendennyss made his friends acquainted with at different times, and
in a manner suitable to the subject and his situation.