This old fantastical Duke of dark corners.--
_Measure for Measure._
There was some coming and going of Mr. Hargrave in the ensuing weeks;
and it began to be known that Miss Delavie was to become the wife of
the recluse. Mrs. Aylward evidently knew it, but said nothing; Molly
preferred a petition to be her waiting maid; Jumbo grinned as if
over-powered with inward mirth; the old ladies in the pew looked more
sour and haughty than ever to discourage “the artful minx,” and the
little girls asked all manner of absurd and puzzling questions.
My Lady was still at Bath, and Aurelia supposed that the marriage would
take place on her return; and that the Major and Betty would perhaps
accompany her. The former was quite in his usual health again, and had
himself written to give her his blessing as a good dutiful maiden,
and declare that he hoped to be with her for her wedding, and to give
himself to his honoured friend.
She was the more amazed and startled when, one Sunday evening in spring,
Mr. Hargrave came to her as she sat in her own parlour, saying, “Madam,
you will be amazed, but under the circumstances, the parson and
myself being both here, Mr. Belamour trusts you will not object to the
immediate performance of the ceremony.”
Aurelia took some moments to realise what the ceremony was; and then she
cried, “Oh! but my father meant to have been here.”
“Mr. Belamour thinks it better not to trouble Major Delavie to come
up,” said Mr. Hargrave; and as Aurelia stood in great distress and
disappointment at this disregard of her wishes, he added, “I think Miss
Delavie cannot fail to understand Mr. Belamour’s wishes to anticipate
my Lady’s arrival, so that he may be as little harassed as possible with
display and publicity. You may rely both on his honour and my vigilance
that all is done securely and legally.”
“Oh! I know that,” said Aurelia, blushing; “but it is so sudden! And I
was thinking of my father---”
“Your honoured father has given full consent in writing,” said the
steward. “Your doubts and scruples are most natural, my dear madam, but
under the circumstances they must give way, for it would be impossible
to Mr. Belamour to go through a public wedding.”
That Aurelia well knew, though she had expected nothing so sudden or
so private; but she began to feel that she must allow all to be as he
chose; and she remembered that she had never pressed on him her longing
for her father’s presence, having taken it as a matter of course, and
besides, having been far too shy to enter on the subject of her wedding.
So she rose up as in a dream, saying, “Shall I go as I am?”
“I fear a fuller toilet would be lost upon the bridegroom,” said the
lawyer with some commiseration, as he looked at the beautiful young
creature about to be bound to the heart-broken old hermit. “You will
have to do me the honour of accepting my services in the part of
father.”
He was a man much attached to the family, and especially to Mr.
Belamour, his first patron, and was ready to do anything at his bidding
or for his pleasure. Such private weddings were by no uncommon up to
the middle of the last century. The State Law was so easy as to render
Gretna Green unnecessary, when the presence of any clergyman anywhere,
while the parties plighted their troth before witnesses, was sufficient
to legalise the union; nor did any shame or sense of wrong necessarily
attach to such marriages. Indeed they were often the resource of
persons too bashful or too refined to endure the display and boisterous
merriment by which a public wedding was sure to be attended. Every one
knew of excellent and respectable couples who had not been known to be
married till the knot had been tied for several days or weeks--so that
there was nothing in this to shock the bride. And as usual she did as
she was told, and let Mr. Hargrave lead her by her finger-tips towards
Mr. Belamour’s apartments. Mrs. Aylward was waiting in the lobby, with
a fixed impassive countenance, intended to imply that though obedient
to the summons to serve as a witness, it was no concern of hers. On the
stairs behind her the maids were leaning over the balusters, stuffing
their aprons into their mouths lest their tittering should betray them.
The sitting-room was nearly, but not quite, dark, for a lamp, closely
shaded, cast a dim light on a Prayer-book, placed on a small table,
behind which stood poor Mr. Greaves--a black spectre, whose white bands
were just discernible below a face whose nervous, disturbed expression
was lost in the general gloom. He carefully avoided looking at the
bride, fearing perhaps some appeal on her part such as would make his
situation perplexing. Contempt and poverty had brought his stamp of
clergymen very low, and rendered them abject. He had been taken by
surprise, and though assured that this was according to my Lady’s will,
and with the consent of the maiden’s father, he was in an agony of
fright, shifting awkwardly from leg to leg, and ruffling the leaves
of the book, as a door opened and the bridegroom appeared, followed by
Jumbo.
Aurelia looked up with bashful eagerness, and saw in the imperfect light
a tall figure entirely covered by a long dark dressing-gown, a grey,
tight curled lawyer’s wig on the head, and the upper part of the face
sheltered from the scanty rays of the lamp by a large green shade.
Taking his place opposite to her as Mr. Hargrave arranged them, he bowed
in silence to the clergyman, who, in a trembling voice, began the rite
which was to unite Amyas Belamour to Aurelia Delavie. He intended to
shorten the service, but his nervous terror and the obscurity of the
room made him stumble in finding the essential passages, and blunder in
dictating the vows, thus increasing the confusion and bewilderment of
poor little Aurelia. Somehow her one comfort was in the touch of the
hand that either clasped hers, or held the ring on her finger--a strong,
warm, tender, trustworthy hand, neither as white nor as soft as she
would have expected, but giving her a comfortable sense both of present
support and affection, and of identity with that eager one which had
sought to fondle and caress her. There was a certain tremor about
both, but hers was from bashful fright, his, from scarcely suppressed
eagerness.
The steward had a form of certificate ready for signature. When it was
presented to the bridegroom he put up his hand for a moment as if to
push back the shade, but, in dread of admitting even a feeble ray of
light, gave up the attempt, took the pen and wrote Amyas Belamour where
the clergyman pointed. Aurelia could hardly see what she was doing, and
knew she had written very badly. The lawyer and housekeeper followed as
witnesses; and the bridegroom, laying a fee of ten guineas on the desk,
took his bride by the hand and led her within the door whence he had
issued. It was instantly closed, and at the same moment she was enfolded
in a pair of rapturous arms, and held to a breast whose throbs wakened
response in her own, while passionate kisses rained on her face, mingled
with ecstatic whispers and murmurs of “Mine! mine! my own!”
On a knock at the door she was hastily released, and Mr. Hargrave said,
“Here are the certificates, sir.”--Mr. Belamour put one into her hand,
saying “Keep it always about you; never part with it. And now, my child,
after all the excitement you have gone through, you shall be subjected
to no more to-night. Fare you well, and blessings attend your dreams.”
Strange that while he was uttering this almost peremptory dismissal, she
should feel herself in a clinging grasp, most unwilling to let her go!
What did it all mean? Could she indeed be a wife, when here she was
alone treading the long dark stair, in looks, in habits, in externals,
still only the little governess of my Lady’s children! However, she had
hardly reached her room, before there was a knock at the door, and
the giggling, blushing entrance of Molly with “Please, ma’am, Madam
Belamour, I wishes you joy with all my heart. Please can’t I do nothing
for you? Shall I help you undress, or brush your hair?”
Perhaps she expected a largesse in honour of the occasion, but Aurelia
had spent all her money on Christmas gifts, and had nothing to bestow.
However, she found on the breakfast-table a parcel addressed to Madam
Belamour, containing a purse with a startling amount of golden guineas
in it. She was rather surprised at the title, which was one generally
conferred on dignified matrons whose husbands were below the rank of
knighthood, such as the wives of country squires and of the higher
clergy. The calling her mother Madam Delavie had been treated as an
offence by Lady Belamour; and when the day had gone by, with nothing
else to mark it from others, Aurelia, finding her recluse in what she
mentally called his quiet rational mood, ventured, after thanking him,
modestly to inquire whether that was what she was to be called.
“It is better thus,” hes said. “You have every right to the title.”
She recollected that he was a baronet’s younger son, a distinction in
those days; and that she had been told that his patent of knighthood
had been made out, though he had never been able to appear at court to
receive the accolade, and had never assumed the title; so she only
said “Very well, sir, I merely thought whether my Lady would think it
presuming.”
He laughed a little. “My Lady will soon understand it,” he said.
“Her husband will be at home in a few weeks. And now, my dear Madam
Belamour,” he add playfully, “tell me whether there is any wish that I
can gratify.”
“You are very kind, sir---”
“What does that pause mean, my fair friend?”
“I fear it is too much to ask, sir, but since you inquire what would
please me most, it would be if you could spare me to go to my sister
Harriet’s wedding?”
“My child,” he said, with evident regret, “I fear that cannot be. It
will not be prudent to make any move until Mr. Wayland’s return; but
after that I can assure you of more liberty. Meantime, let us consider
what wedding present you would like to send her.”
Aurelia had felt her request so audacious that she subsided easily;
and modestly suggested a tea-service. She thought of porcelain, but Mr.
Belamour’s views were of silver, and it ended in the lady giving the
cups and saucers, and the gentleman the urn and the tea and coffee
pots and other plate; but it was a drawback to the pleasure of this
munificence that the execution of the order had to be entrusted to Mr.
Hargrave. The daring hope Aurelia had entertained of shopping for a day,
with Mrs. Aylward as an escort, and choosing the last fashions to send
to her sisters was quashed by the grave reply that it was better not for
the present. What was the meaning of all this mystery, and when was it
to end? She felt that it would be ungrateful to murmur, for Mr. Belamour
evidently was full of sorrow whenever he was obliged to disappoint her,
and much was done for her pleasure. A charming little saddle-horse, two
riding-habits, with a groom, and a horse for him, were sent down from
London for her benefit; gifts showered upon her; and whenever she found
her husband in one of those perplexing accesses of tenderness she was
sure to carry away some wonderful present, a beautiful jewelled watch,
an _etui_ case, a fan, a scent-bottle, or patch-box with a charming
enamel of a butterfly. The little girls were always looking for
something pretty that she would show them in the morning, and thought
it must be a fine thing to have a husband who gave such charming things.
Those caressing evenings, however, always frightened Aurelia, and sent
her away vaguely uneasy, often to lie awake full of a vague yearning
and alarm; and several days of restlessness would pass before she could
return to her ordinary enjoyment of her days with the children and her
evenings with Mr. Belamour. Yet when there was any long intermission
of those fits of tender affection, she missed them sorely, and began to
fear she had given offence, especially as this strangely capricious man
seemed sometimes to repel those modest, timid advances which at other
times would fill him with ill-suppressed transport. Then came longings
to see and satisfy herself as to what was indeed the aspect of him whom
she was learning to love.
No wonder there was something unsettled and distressed about her,
overthrowing much of that gentle duteous ness which she had brought from
home. She wrote but briefly and scantily to her sister, not feeling as
if she could give full confidence; she drifted away from some of the
good habits enjoined on her, feeling that, as a married woman, she was
less under authority. She was less thorough in her religious ways, less
scrupulous in attending to the children’s lessons; and the general fret
of her uncertainties told upon her temper with them. They loved her
heartily still, and she returned their affection, but she was not so
uniformly patient and good-humoured. Indeed since Amoret’s departure
some element of harmony was missing, and it could not now be said that
a whine, a quarrel, or a cry was a rare event. Even the giving up my
lady’s wearisome piece of embroidery had scarcely a happy effect,
for Aurelia missed the bracing of the task-work and the attention it
required, and the unoccupied time was spent in idle fretting. A little
self-consequence too began to set in, longing for further recognition of
the dignities of Madam Belamour.
The marriage had been notified to Lady Belamour and to Major Delavie,
and letters had been received from each. My Lady travelled to London
early in April in company with Lady Aresfield, and, to the relief of
the inmates of Bowstead, made no deviation thither. No one else was
officially told that the wedding had taken place, but all the village
knew it; and Mrs. Phoebe and Mrs. Delia so resented it that they
abandoned the state pew to Madam Belamour and the children, made their
curtsies more perpendicularly than ever, and, when formally invited to
supper, sent a pointed and ceremonious refusal, so that Aurelia felt
hurt and angered.