Lady Wetheral was extremely disconcerted by the knowledge of Mrs.
Pynsent's intended visit for the day. The hour of breakfast passed
slowly and miserably to Christobelle, who bore the whole burden of
her petulance, and gave offence by the silence with which she hoped
to dispel her irritability. "She was not at all like her other girls.
Clara was warm in her temper, but she had always something sharp or
witty to say. Christobelle was the dullest creature she had ever been
doomed to sit in company with. Thompson was a great loss, poor dear
silly woman; the best creature in the world, and the greatest fool for
marrying a man who could not settle something upon her. If Christobelle
would have the kindness to inform her how Clara looked, she would be
extremely obliged by the information. Perhaps that was a subject on
which she might condescend to speak."
Christobelle told her mother all she had seen and heard; and how
fearful she was, that another dispute had arisen between the
Kerrisons, which would increase Clara's violence. Lady Wetheral smiled
incredulously.
"Clara will soon find herself no match for Sir Foster, and then she
must yield by degrees. One or other must domineer, and the battle will
be short: Clara will feel compelled to command her temper in time, and
all this nonsense will be forgotten. People always forget the faults of
the rich. Clara must give a splendid ball when it is blown over. How
did Anna Maria appear to like being a guest at Hatton?"
"She was so happy and agreeable."
"She is very unlike her mother, then. I never would visit Wetheral
till your father's tiresome old mother died, and Christobelle followed
her example. I expect to hear your sister designated 'Mrs. Tom' every
where. Country places are so second-rate in their customs! I hope no
one will be guilty of such bad taste before _me_."
Christobelle had nothing to bring forward upon any subject which she
considered likely to amuse; and, was therefore, again silent. Her
mother patted the table a few seconds.
"Was Mrs. Hancock at dinner yesterday?"
"Yes, mamma."
"And how did she behave?"
"She was quite silent."
"Mrs. Pynsent is tolerated, because her position in life raises her
among the highest of the land; but Mrs. Hancock is unfit for ladies'
society:--I was going to say, for female association; but she does not
often intrude. Miss Wycherly is a softened likeness of Mrs. Pynsent.
There is great insolence in such marked bluntness of manners; one only
meets with it in retired country places."
Another long pause.
"Your father talks of visiting Bedinfield next week, and he means to
intrude you there. I shall send for poor dear Isabel and her child, I
think."
Christobelle was all astonishment. What! summon the Brierly party, whom
she always deprecated! Her surprise was visible in her countenance.
"Any thing very extraordinary, Bell, in wishing to see my daughter? I
wish you would endeavour to suppress impertinence in your looks and
motions, before you leave home. What are you sitting there for? Pray
retire to your occupations."
Christobelle went into her father's study--that sanctum sanctorum for
painful feelings, and mortified spirits, and there she remained till
the Hatton carriage arrived. She had a long and serious conversation
with her kind parent upon many subjects. He spoke most feelingly
upon the distress of mind he endured, respecting Clara's conduct and
destiny. He had suspected at Hatton that the Kerrisons were not upon
speaking terms; and, though Sir Foster was not the man to whom he would
commit the care of a daughter, yet he feared that Clara's turbulent
disposition increased her own misery, and defied her husband's control.
He besought his youthful daughter to pray without ceasing for a mild
and teachable spirit, that her future days might not be steeped in
misery. He pointed out the worldly and avaricious feelings which had
induced Clara to marry; and which he feared would wreck the peace of
Lady Ennismore.
Lord Ennismore and Sir Foster Kerrison were selfish men--men who cared
for their _own_ pleasures, not for the happiness of those who lived
with them. What had Clara reaped from her connexion with the Kerrison
family?--Contention and disgust. What had Julia gained by an early
removal from her family? He firmly believed she was a victim to the
strongly imperious and fascinating Lady Ennismore, who was jealous of
any influence over her son's mind, and who would not endure a rival in
her power.
Christobelle listened to her father's anxieties in sorrowful silence;
young as she was, she had been too long his companion not to have
gained some powerful views of the great truths he had ever been
anxious to inculcate. She had also been too long his companion not to
comprehend and feel for his disquietude. She threw her arms round his
neck, and promised to be guided by his counsel in every action of her
life; but she besought him not to take blame to himself for Clara's
wilful conduct, or Julia's determination to become Lady Ennismore. Her
father smiled, but did not combat her prayer. Christobelle was too
young to be made the confidante of his feelings--much too young to
distinguish the cause of his self-reproach. He could not tell _her_
of one whom he deprecated as the cause of Clara's misery; that he was
mourning, when too late, the power he had delegated into unsafe hands.
He would not tell her his indulgence to his wife had been treacherously
and even wickedly dealt with; that he had given his affections to a
worldly being, and that its consequences were now gnawing at his heart.
True, he could turn with pleasure to Anna Maria and Isabel, and behold
_them_ happy. They had married men of principle--men whom he approved
and valued; but who would wipe away the tears from Clara's eyes?--from
Julia's once smiling cheeks? Not the Protector, who swore to cherish
each young and inexperienced creature at the altar. Not the world,
which condemns and punishes its erring and unhappy members, with
ruthless pertinacity. They must turn to another and more merciful Judge
for pardon and peace; and had they been taught to pray for help in
time of need? A father could not unfold all this to the youthful mind
of his child; though his melancholy tone and countenance struck her
attention, as he spoke to her of earthly and heavenly things. She could
not _then_ understand the chastening of his mind, but she listened in
deep attention to his precepts; and fancied that nothing in this world
could have power to attract her from him who loved and cherished her so
dearly. To marry, and quit the study, its quiet, its books, its happy
associations! Oh! Lucy Kerrison might wish to leave Ripley, and the
family quarrels which broke its rest; but Christobelle felt she could
never like a human being, as she honoured and loved her father.
The Pynsents arrived in the highest spirits at Wetheral, and the sight
of Anna Maria gave animation to her mother's countenance for a season.
She thought her very much improved in looks, and it was not her fault
that Anna Maria had not rouged before she married; but Sir John had
many prejudices, and that was one of them. Tom Pynsent was delighted.
"Well, I do like to hear every one say my little wife is rouged; it
proves how rosy she is grown. All my care, Lady Wetheral, all my care.
I let her do as she liked; Biddulph, and Jack Smith, and myself, went
after her, and the Count; every where kept her in sight, you know. She
talked herself into that pretty rosy face."
"You were not conspicuous, my love, I hope," said her mother, smiling.
"Oh, no; Tom liked me to chat my French, did you not, my love?"
"I liked you to make yourself happy," answered Tom, affectionately.
"You made _me_ happy, by getting such a nice healthy bloom."
A look of affection, and a pressure of the hand, attested his lady's
gratitude and love, though she coloured through her rouge at her
husband's remark.
"When we have lunched," continued Tom Pynsent, taking nearly half a
pigeon-pie into his plate, "when we have just taken off the edge of
hunger, we'll have a ride on horseback, Anny, and go over the old
ground again. You must have an old habit here, somewhere; let us go and
see our old love haunts."
Anna Maria was nothing loth; her matrimony was of only four or five
months' standing, and they were lovers still. She was quite willing to
take an agreeable ride with her dear Tom.
"Let us have the young one, too," exclaimed the good-natured Tom
Pynsent; "habits and horses for two, and you shall see the world,
missy."
"I shall want Bell," said Lady Wetheral, annoyed at the idea of a
_tête-à-tête_ with Mrs. Pynsent.
"Ay, Miss Bell, stay with us, I shall want a casting vote, and I
shall want you to introduce me to Sir John's study," cried Mrs.
Pynsent, giving Christobelle a thump upon her shoulder. "I must become
acquainted with you, young lady."
Lady Wetheral's possession of manner concealed the disgust she endured
at this movement. She turned to her eldest daughter, and inquired at
what hour she would wish her horse equipped.
"Oh, my poor Lady Mary, let her be saddled at three, if you please. I
think three o'clock, Tom, will do."
"Lord, Mrs. Tom, you will be as hot as fire, riding in the blazing
sun," exclaimed Mrs. Pynsent.
"Perhaps Mrs. _Tom Pynsent_ would prefer her ride at four o'clock,"
observed Lady Wetheral.
"My daughter, Tom, will melt away," replied Mrs. Pynsent, giving her a
touch with the elbow. "Suppose your pretty face melts, eh, Mrs. Tom?
That would be a pretty confession, wouldn't it?"
"At what hour, Mrs. Pynsent?" demanded her mother, addressing Anna
Maria, and taking no notice of Mrs. Pynsent, the elder.
"Say four, then, at once," continued Mrs. Pynsent, "and don't confound
mother and daughter; I am Pen Pynsent, and that is my daughter,
Tom--Mrs. Tom, till I am underground, and out of the way."
Lady Wetheral bowed with much suavity and politeness to her unrefined
companion. "She had great pleasure in acknowledging her daughter Mrs.
Tom Pynsent, the wife of an excellent and honourable man, standing high
in the county."
"To be sure--and very happy to get him. Every girl can't marry such a
tight lad as Tom; as good a son as ever comforted a mother's eyes. He's
none of your pimmeny fellows, like I know who; or a ranting, violent
husband, like Foster Kerrison. He's good, downright Tom; and Mrs. Tom
may look the best of them in the face."
Tom Pynsent winked at his lady, and continued paying his _devoirs_ to
the pigeon-pie. Lady Wetheral could never argue with Mrs. Pynsent, and
a short silence ensued. Mrs. Pynsent's forcible mode of expressing
her ideas, and her perfectly opposite views upon every subject,
prevented all hope of coalition with Lady Wetheral, who could not
endure abruptness, or what the world denominated "a good, downright
person." Her education in high life did not enable her to shape her
sentiments and actions to the tone of country society, so far removed
from the atmosphere of courtly phrases; and of all her acquaintance,
Mrs. Pynsent was the least suited to her tastes. She disliked
"truth-telling," disagreeable people; she deprecated people who "spoke
their mind" upon every point, and at all times; in short, Mrs. Pynsent
was never to be endured but as the mother of Tom; and now he was
secured, nothing could be more intolerable than her presence.
Mrs. Pynsent took up her workbag after luncheon, and sat down to knot.
Lady Wetheral politely stationed herself near her guest, and appeared
occupied with her worstedwork. Anna Maria looked over Christobelle
as she was busied copying a drawing for her father; and Tom Pynsent
was gone to sit an hour with him in the study, and talk of Paris,
till the riding-horses should make their appearance. Mrs. Tom Pynsent
complimented her sister upon her first essays in landscape-painting,
and prognosticated she would be the only accomplished Miss Wetheral of
the family. Her mother smiled upon her.
"I may certainly confess you are the 'beautiful,' my dear Anna Maria. I
quite congratulate you upon the addition of a little rouge."
"I'm sure I would never congratulate a daughter upon her painted face,"
exclaimed Mrs. Pynsent; "a woman with her cheeks raddled, is like the
poor things in the street."
Anna Maria blushed, but in perfect good humour with her mother-in-law.
She answered the remark with a confession of its propriety, and
expressed her wish it should not be made known to her husband that she
_did_ employ art in improving her complexion.
"I was very foolish to rouge at all, because Tom did not like the
idea of it; but the Count de Nolis pressed it so much as a material
improvement to a lady who was naturally pale, that I tried a very
little gradually; and poor dear Tom had such pleasure in fancying I was
becoming blooming, that I never could bear to disappoint him. I assure
you it was only to please Tom."
Mrs. Pynsent was appeased at once by this candid confession: any thing
which bore a meaning, or shew of affection towards her son, won her
instant assent. She was satisfied the motive was good, and she upheld
her daughter-in-law from that hour in deceiving her husband. But there
was a reservation in her approval.
"It's a nasty trick, Mrs. Tom, and a bad trick; but if you love your
husband, and wish to please his eye--God help me!--I have nothing to
say. Whoever loves Tom, has my heart and good-will. But leave it off as
soon as you can."
"It is very becoming," observed Lady Wetheral, "and it is done in all
the highly fashionable circles."
"Yes, it's _done_, my Lady Wetheral, and so are many abominable
practices. Your high ladies do gamble, and they do intrigue, my Lady
Wetheral; but you would not approve your daughter's fashionable turn, I
hope, in that line."
Her ladyship disliked "home thrusts" also, in her catalogue of country
annoyances. She made no reply to Mrs. Pynsent's remark, but coolly
inquired of Anna Maria when Miss Wycherly's marriage was likely to take
place.
"Oh! I am most likely to know my niece's affairs," resumed Mrs.
Pynsent; "my daughter, Tom, can't explain Pen's intentions. Bill
Wycherly gives up Lidham to the young couple."
"A very excellent resolution," observed Lady Wetheral, with emphasis.
"I don't think so, at all. Bill should keep the staff in his own hand:
I'm very angry with him. Let the young wait for the old, is my maxim."
"The old, perhaps, are more fitted for retirement," drily remarked Lady
Wetheral.
"They are fitter to be called fools who renounce their birthright,"
retorted Mrs. Pynsent, "and so I told Bobby when he offered Hatton to
Tom. My son knew better than to accept it. Tom never forgets his duty,
and his wife may say her prayers for having caught him."
"I should feel inclined to soften that expression," observed Lady
Wetheral, in her gentlest accents; "the idea of catching a young man is
not a pleasing figure of speech."
Mrs. Pynsent gave a short, loud laugh. "Why, my Lady Wetheral, we won't
stand upon words; I express my knowledge of facts in few roundabout
phrases. I say what I think, and I can't help the cap fitting too tight
to be agreeable."
Anna Maria beheld the disgust of Lady Wetheral's mind expressed upon
her lowering brow. A slight frown was the only public token of distaste
which was ever allowed to transpire: her ladyship never rebutted, never
argued. It was, she averred, an indisputable sign of ill-breeding,
wretched taste, and bad temper. She frowned, and her daughter knew its
purport. It was impossible to leave two such ill-assorted companions
together; the undisguised sentiments of Mrs. Pynsent, uttered with
masculine energy of manner and voice, would overpower her conscious
yet refined companion--perhaps cause a nervous attack, and originate
an illness. Mrs. Tom Pynsent relinquished all intention of riding with
her husband. Her presence might check her mother-in-law's vivacity;
it would certainly give pleasure to her mother, and it must be a
satisfaction to Christobelle. Mrs. Pynsent's good nature even turned
her daughter-in-law's expressed intention to Christobelle's advantage.
"Very good move, Mrs. Tom--very good move. You and myself are old
women, as it were; we will sit here chatting to my Lady Wetheral, but
let every one have their turn. Tom will ride with poor Miss Bell, and
amuse her: the poor thing is cooped up to death here."
"My daughter Bell has every advantage. I rather think my daughter
considers her mother's society sufficiently agreeable," said Lady
Wetheral, bending politely but haughtily to her guest.
"Considers a fiddlestick, my Lady Wetheral!" replied Mrs. Pynsent,
knotting with great energy. "What young girl considers herself
agreeable with no playfellows, and a hipped Lady-mother? No, no; air,
my lady--exercise, my lady--companions, my lady: _that_ is poor Miss
Bell's proper entertainment. Tom will ride with her, poor thing."
Lady Wetheral did not condescend to reply to this sally. However
lowly Christobelle stood in her eyes, however petulant she might be
to the "stupid, awkward girl _herself_," "poor thing!" sounded most
offensively to her ear. Anna Maria again interfered by ringing the
bell, and begging that Mr. Tom Pynsent might be summoned from the
library. Tom's presence, she knew, was always desirable every where;
but his mother's attention would be riveted upon her son, and Lady
Wetheral would escape the inevitable contention which followed her
own remarks. This was the first time the ladies had ever been placed
a whole morning in juxtaposition. Anna Maria was sure the visit would
never take place again. Each party would decline a second day of family
intercourse.
Tom Pynsent's entrance with Sir John effected a change in every one's
situation. Christobelle was to ride; Mrs. Pynsent decided upon that
measure, and her father enforced it. He was then to do the honours
of the conservatory and gardens to his guest, while the mother and
daughter worked and conversed _tête-à-tête_. So far, all was prudently
arranged, and promised peace.
Christobelle was enchanted with her ride. Tom Pynsent did not possess
conversational powers, but his want of talent was more than balanced
by invincible good-nature, and manly courage of body and mind.
Christobelle loved him for his kind heart and anxious wish to make
every body happy; and she loved him for the devotion he expressed for
Anna Maria at all times, and in all places. It was not an uxorious
affection, effeminate, and annoying to witness. Tom Pynsent loved with
his whole heart the woman who possessed his name, and was to share
his fortunes. He loved her with a manly tenderness, which displayed
itself in a thousand forms, and raised him in public estimation by its
amalgamation with his very existence. It connected his wife with the
stable and the kennel; it connected her with all his amusements. She
was part and parcel of every thing in which he was concerned. What a
man had Julia thrown from herself, ere he discovered Anna Maria's love
and sufferings!
Tom Pynsent shewed Christobelle, with infinite satisfaction, the spots
most consecrated to memory, as the scenes of Anna Maria's confessions.
He seemed to linger with pleasure in the lane where his wife first
disclosed her long-concealed misery, and where he had dismounted to
impress a thousand kisses upon her hand. His tone changed, as he
recapitulated his astonishment and delight.
"By Jove, when I think of all this, I could never bear to ride here, if
any thing happened to my little wife; but I hope not--I hope she will
see me into my grave, and be comfortable with you all. She would do
very well without me, but I couldn't exist without her. I should let
Kerrison have the kennel then, and take the shoes off the hunters. By
Jove, they might turn out for life, then."
Christobelle listened to her brother's remarks with great interest;
she could not understand the deep affection of his heart at that
time, but she was sensible to the compliment of being the depository
of his thoughts. She was delighted with his notice and attention;
and particularly felt its pleasing influence, because her mother
undervalued and reproached her daily and hourly at Wetheral. She was
very sorry when their ride was brought to a close, and she again
returned to her apartment to dress for dinner.
Anna Maria joined her sister; her hair was forced into immense curls,
by her French attendant, Félicé, and her ringlets were frizzed into
bows. Félicé followed her mistress in green silk. Such a novelty
was rare and alarming in Shropshire; they had heard of the allied
sovereigns being at that moment in London, but nothing approaching to a
foreigner had yet appeared at Shrewsbury. Félicé was a creature to be
stared at, and Anna Maria would become most formidably fashionable when
once the knowledge of her arrival should transpire. Anna Maria said,
"she had brought her maid to friz Christobelle's very English head of
hair into something like effect. She bade her look in the glass, and
smile at her hair, combed straight in front, and just turned up at the
back. It was something that would horrify De Nolis in the autumn. She
must positively have it dressed properly."
"See now, Félicé; Miss Wetheral's hair must be dressed this way."
"_Comme-ça, madame_," repeated the smiling pretty Félicé.
"Yes, _comme-ça_: friz this dreadful crop into curls, _boucles_,
Félicé--_grand boucles_, like mine. _Donnez mademoiselle un_ very nice
_tournure_, and let her be _très bien mise_. You may laugh, Bell, but I
assure you a Parisian perfectly understands what you mean, if you only
use the words '_coiffure_,' '_parure_,' or '_tournure_;' they fill up
the rest of the sentence intuitively."
Christobelle submitted to the torture of the comb and curling-irons
with great satisfaction. Whatever was fashionable in Paris, must be
admired and envied in England, and her mother would be pleased to see
her decorated by the hand of approved good-taste.
The hair was not the "_ultima thule_" of Félicé's care. A "_bustle_"
was appended to Christobelle's waist, and the folds of her muslin frock
were drawn over it with the nicest care; her dress was dragged down
to give a lengthened appearance to the waist, and the band tightened
till she could hardly breathe. Mrs. Tom Pynsent and her "_artiste_"
were charmed with the result of their exertions. Félicé spoke a long
sentence, which Christobelle translated to her sister, whose knowledge
of the language was not at all improved by four months' residence in
Paris. It was a well-turned compliment upon the change in the young
lady's appearance. Anna Maria regretted that their education had been
so little attended to by Lady Wetheral.
"Papa has taught you so many accomplishments, Bell! You draw, and you
speak French, and quote delightfully, Charles Spottiswoode says. You
have had many advantages over us. The Count de Nolis said I was rapidly
improving in French, and he advised me to return to Paris soon, to
learn the accent; but I cannot speak it half so fluently as you do. I
wonder what mamma will say to your head? I think it perfect."
Their appearance certainly made a sensation in the drawing-room,
for Lady Wetheral raised her glass with a surprised and satisfied
expression of countenance, and examined Christobelle very attentively.
Mrs. Pynsent caught a glance of her head, curled, frizzed, and bowed
in all directions; and she exclaimed, "Hollo, there! why, Miss Bell,
what's the matter now? they have made a dancing-dog of you!"
"You have done a very kind action by your sister, my dear Mrs. Tom
Pynsent," said Lady Wetheral, still gazing at Christobelle through her
glass; "you have quite christianized her style and appearance."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Mrs. Pynsent, "poor Miss Bell! Well, now they _have_
done it. Curly-headed christians for ever, Mrs. Tom! Who are you going
to baptize next?"
"But does not Bell become her baptism?" asked Anna Maria, smiling.
"She is always a pretty girl; and, what is far better, she is a good
and kind-hearted girl; but I don't like your French fashions."
"Pray, Bell, let your hair be attended to in future," said Lady
Wetheral, still holding her glass to her eye. "I approve of your
present appearance. I cannot endure your thick, short hair hanging over
your eyes."
"By far the most natural, at her age," observed Mrs. Pynsent; "a young
girl dressed up that figure, is very unnatural and ridiculous."
Lady Wetheral did not reply. Tom Pynsent was much amused at the
transformation, when he entered the room. He bantered Christobelle,
with great good-humour, upon the havoc she would cause among the
hearts of the schoolboys, the very next vacation, if she persisted in
twisting her hair into sausages; and he pitied poor Frank Kerrison,
who would certainly renounce murdering cockchafers, to write verses
upon her beauty. Sir John smiled, and stroked his daughter's cheek,
but he offered no comment upon her person. The circumstance was almost
too trifling to amuse even the dull half hour before dinner. A whim
of Mrs. Tom Pynsent had led her to dress her sister's hair; and its
end was answered, by causing a few smiles and a jest. The incident
passed away, and was forgotten in the summons to dinner; but that very
trifling occurrence laid the foundation of much future misery:--it
woke up Lady Wetheral's slumbering energies, and led her to speculate
upon the establishment of a creature whom she had, till that moment,
renounced as awkward and vulgar--a girl belonging exclusively to her
father--whose futurity was indifferent to herself. Causes, however
trifling in their origin, swell into fearful effects, under the agency
of the weak or wicked.
When the ladies returned into the drawing-room, Anna Maria and
Christobelle enjoyed a short _tête-à-tête_ during their mother's
_siesta_. Anna Maria said it would be impossible to hope for pleasant
intercourse between the houses of Pynsent and Wetheral. The two ladies
had not agreed in one sentiment upon any subject during Christobelle's
absence, and each appeared irritated and wearied. It was altogether
abrupt truth on one side, and haughty silence on the part of her
mother: she was very certain there would be no pleasant result from
this day's occurrences. Her two relations had never before passed a day
together, dependent upon each other's society; and it had only taught
them how impossible it would be to meet again upon those terms. She
would tell Tom her thoughts as soon as they arrived at Hatton--Tom
could manage every thing--she did not believe any body could resist
Tom's pleasing way of arranging things: perhaps Tom would entreat his
mother not to contradict Lady Wetheral so very flatly.
This was distressing intelligence: if Lady Wetheral felt disturbed by
Mrs. Pynsent's peculiar style of manners, there would be an end at once
to Christobelle's happy prospects; she was becoming jealous of her
daughter's society, though she professed indifference; and she could
see little of her sister's company, if Mrs. Pynsent was necessarily
included in the invitation, which welcomed the Tom Pynsents, at all
times, to the now dull halls of Wetheral Castle. Lady Wetheral's
offended taste was a mental wound which never closed. She was not
harsh towards vice--it might redeem itself; but rudeness of manner,
or a vulgar phraseology, was beyond the limits of pardon. In both
particulars did Mrs. Pynsent certainly transgress; and her ladyship's
remarks, after their departure, betokened her disgust and aversion to
the society of her departed guest.
"I shall feel obliged, Bell, by your silence upon the events of this
disgusting day. Let me forget, if possible, that I have been, for eight
hours, the companion of stentorian coarseness and vulgarity. I must
regret seeing your sister but seldom, as I apprehend I shall do. I
cannot be upon terms with a woman who designates her son's lady 'Mrs.
Tom:' now ring, if you please, for my _sal volatile_."
The next day's post brought a letter from Mrs. Boscawen: its contents
were most cheering. "She was very anxious Christobelle should know
how beautiful her darling babe was growing, and that it had outgrown
its first pinafores. Boscawen was quite as fond of the darling as she
could possibly be herself, and Christobelle would be amused by seeing
him nurse it to sleep, while she tamboured its little frock. Miss
Tabitha was gone to stay a few weeks at Worcester, with Mrs. Ward, and
there was no one now at Brierly to alarm her with heat, and cold, with
drinking too little, or eating too much. She was perfectly happy with
her dear Boscawen, nursing and laughing all day long--no books--no
lectures. Oh, if Chrystal could but see her _now_!"
A postscript, in Mr. Boscawen's hand-writing, was equally valuable, and
gave deep satisfaction to Sir John Wetheral. These were his words:--
"I have lived many years in seclusion, and in the dull misery of a
long bachelorship; but I am repaid by a happiness, too fondly valued
to describe. The remainder of my life will pass in making an innocent
and exemplary wife and mother, as happy as mortality will allow, and
poor human nature can enjoy.
"Yours faithfully,
"C. BOSCAWEN."
It was grateful happiness to Sir John Wetheral, to reflect upon the
destiny of Isabel. Boscawen's age was an unpromising opening to the
fortunes of a young creature attached to juvenile pleasures, and
averse to the restraints of tuition: but Sir John judged that the
high principles of the man to whom he should commit the welfare of
his child, would be the safeguard of her happiness. The atmosphere of
Wetheral was unfavourable to mental culture. At Brierly, the society of
her husband would enrich Isabel's mind with stores from his own deep
resources; and her heart would become refined and exalted by Boscawen's
strict integrity of thought and action. He had judged rightly. Isabel
loved Boscawen for his kindness of heart; and the birth of her infant
knit their feelings together, in one dear object of continually
increasing solicitude, which would not dissolve again. Anna Maria was
happy, also, with her honest and affectionate Tom Pynsent; but what was
to be the hope of Clara?--clouds and darkness rested upon it.
Christobelle was now to prepare for her visit to Bedinfield. She
wondered at the sudden intention, on her father's part, to go uninvited
to Lord Ennismore; but she was not a party to the events--if such there
were--which gave rise to the meditated visit. Christobelle's youth
precluded her from entering into the consultations, or bearing a part
in the correspondence, of her father: she could only guess all was not
right, when he spoke of Bedinfield, because his smile fled, and his
expression became melancholy; but she was an utter stranger to its
cause. She was perfectly content to know she was preparing to visit
Julia, and to travel with her father. Her mother spoke very seriously
to her the evening before they quitted Wetheral.
"Bell, you will have Taylor to attend you at Bedinfield. I admire Miss
Willis's taste in your dresses: she is unrivalled in her selections,
and your figure is considerably improved since Félicé has given you a
few general instructions. The long waist is extremely becoming to you.
Your hair gives quite a changed expression to your whole person now,
Bell."
"I am very glad, mamma, you approve of it."
"I do, very much: I have some hopes you will equal your sisters in
appearance. If you persevere in attending to your hair, which is
such a graceful ornament to a woman, I shall have some pride in your
well-doing. I never looked at you before, Bell, you were such a
dowdy-looking creature. Walk across the room--head up, Bell: really,
that dress is very becoming."
Christobelle walked several times up and down the boudoir, to allow
her mother to complete her observations. She was to throw her head
gracefully back--she was to curtesy, as if in the act of receiving
company--she was bid to come forward and offer a fan, with an air
of easy composure. She performed many disagreeable, but extremely
necessary evolutions, to give her mother satisfaction; and,
unfortunately, her dress, and her eagerness to bring the lesson to an
end, assisted her success. She was decided a creature not destitute of
a certain air, and, as Landscape Brown would word it, there was "great
capability," with severe pruning, and much persevering determination,
to shine. If Christobelle made good use of the three following years,
her mother did not despair of matching her even higher than Lady
Ennismore. "A very Frenchy style of dress and walk would prove a great
novelty, and attract gentlemen who always approved the novelties they
failed to admire. She would cause a sensation, and some contention
in opinion, which would inevitably make her the highest fashion in
Shropshire."
This was an unlooked-for change in the politics of Wetheral. Little
did Christobelle think Félicé's hand would have wrought such evil to
an unsuspecting, unspeculative creature as herself. Little did she
dream, under her tasteful assistance, to spring, at a bound, from the
"awkward, dull Bell--Sir John's tiresome, learned daughter," into an
object of speculation, which would again waken her mother's powers into
action, to draw her from happy tranquillity, into scenes of distracting
contention. She was glad to think the Bedinfield visit stood between
her and a second lesson upon graceful movements. She could not dive
into the future, or draw conclusions from the present, at this moment:
she rejoiced only to escape lectures upon style, and reprimands for
acting upon impulse. Christobelle hoped to find freedom and happy
enjoyment at Bedinfield, and that pleasing thought gave her spirits
to endure her mother's unceasing efforts to arouse "a proper vanity"
in her mind, and make her look forward to a ducal, or, at least, the
coronet of a marquis.
"Bell, you shall certainly be emancipated from the seclusion of
Wetheral, and receive the first advantages which a dancing-master can
give. I will endeavour to persuade your poor father to give us a spring
or two in London, or a trip to Paris. Paris I should approve most.
Félicé has quite delighted me with her tasteful fancy."
"I prefer Wetheral, mamma, and my pleasant readings with papa in the
library, if you please."
"Young ladies are not the soundest judges upon their own case," replied
her mother, drily; "they may prefer indolence to activity: and, for
a season, they may be blind to their own defects; but they will take
care, in the end, to throw the consequences of their folly upon
their parents, as Clara did. She forgot her own very insupportable
violence of temper; and her endeavour to blame me as the cause of her
high position, as Lady Kerrison, was improper. _I_ find my daughters
establishments, but I look to _them_ to fill that situation with
propriety."
"Sir Foster is very violent to all his people, mamma" Christobelle
observed, hoping to shield Clara from remark.
"Your sister knew that, Bell: every body knew Sir Foster was a dull
brute. She should never have entered into collision with him. If he
kicked his servants, he was not likely to strike his wife without
provocation. Clara is extremely provoking."
It was true, indeed. Lady Kerrison did act most unadvisedly in rousing
a turbulent nature, when it was actually at rest: but who pointed her
attention to the match, and softened down every report which bruited
Sir Foster's violence to the neighbourhood? Surely, Lucy Kerrison's
remarks upon her father's temper was a beacon to parents, to avoid the
domestic quicksands of Ripley--yet Christobelle was present, and heard
her mother vindicate Sir Foster's treatment of the fishmonger, and urge
the eligibility of the connection. Lady Wetheral continued:--
"I am not at all pleased with the junior Pynsents being guests in the
country--Mrs. Pynsent will follow them every where, and quote 'Mrs.
Tom' to her friends. I cannot say that match has been productive of
pleasure to me. Lady Ennismore, the dowager, has been offensive in
her conduct, by presuming to close her son's house to his friends.
Bedinfield is no pleasant refuge for _me_, I can see. I can never
witness Clara's quarrels--and Brierly is so secluded, besides Isabel
having the child always with her, that I have no satisfaction in _that_
quarter. What comfort have I in my girls' marriages? You must make
up to me for these sad disappointments, Bell. You shall marry Lord
Selgrave, when you are both introduced into life."
"Lord Selgrave, mamma! I never saw him in my life."
"So much the better: the introduction rests with me. Lord Farnborough
will not leave Shropshire, and Selgrave, the boy, will be amongst
us. Farnborough Stacey will be the favourite residence, even when he
becomes Duke of Forfar. You shall be Lady Selgrave, Bell, the future
Duchess of Forfar: does not that title raise your little vanity, and
produce ambitious wishes?"
"No, indeed, mamma, I would rather be comfortable in the library,
reading to papa."
"If there is any thing I detest," exclaimed Lady Wetheral, with great
asperity, "it is a slothful and mean mind, content to grovel in
lowliness--untouched by ambition--crouching in dullness, and blind to
prosperity. Leave my presence, Bell. Go to your chamber, and let me
see you no more."
Christobelle prepared to obey the harsh injunction. She lighted her
taper, and turned to utter "good-night." Her mother waved her hand.
"Say nothing. I do not choose to be disturbed to-morrow by your
appearance. I have no regard for blind obstinacy--pass on in silence,
if you please."
Christobelle quitted the boudoir in tears. Why was her early life to
be embittered with reproaches concerning those things which might
never take place? and why was her mind to be tortured into projects
which could not affect her heart, or her time of life? She rushed to
her father's study, and threw herself into his arms, weeping. He was
surprised at the movement, and still more so at her words:--"Oh, papa,
don't let me be obliged to marry. Don't make me think of Lord Selgrave;
for I never saw him, and I cannot marry him."
"My dear Chrystal," he exclaimed, in astonishment, "I cannot understand
you."
Christobelle explained to him her mother's wishes, and her anger at her
disclaiming matrimony with Lord Selgrave. He smiled.
"This is sad folly, my dear child; I ought not to allow myself to
feel entertained at your alarm, for I see the pernicious effects of
education extending to yourself: but do not weep, Chrystal. No one
shall take you from me, without your consent."
"I may always live with you, papa, and stay at Wetheral?" she asked, as
the tears coursed down her cheeks.
"You shall never quit me till you say, 'Papa, I wish to leave you for
the home of another.'"
"And that will never, never be, my own dear papa!" Christobelle
embraced him with joyous gratitude, and smiled through her tears.
"Then be happy, my child, and think no more of little Lord Selgrave.
You, at least, shall not reproach me hereafter with weakness of
character. Go and sleep sweetly, and prepare for to-morrow's journey."
Christobelle received her father's blessing, and her heart was no
longer sorrowful. He would watch over and protect her! She would not
be driven to marry Lord Selgrave, and renounce her peaceful station by
his side. She could live with him, and read to him for ever! She became
calm, and her mother's angry glances faded from her recollection.
Christobelle retired to her slumbers in peace, that night.