After the funeral of Mrs. Cadurcis, the family returned to Cherbury
with Plantagenet, who was hereafter to consider it his home. All that
the most tender solicitude could devise to reconcile him to the change
in his life was fulfilled by Lady Annabel and her daughter, and, under
their benignant influence, he soon regained his usual demeanour. His
days were now spent as in the earlier period of their acquaintance,
with the exception of those painful returns to home, which had once
been a source to him of so much gloom and unhappiness. He pursued his
studies as of old, and shared the amusements of Venetia. His allotted
room was ornamented by her drawings, and in the evenings they read
aloud by turns to Lady Annabel the volume which she selected. The
abbey he never visited again after his mother's funeral.
Some weeks had passed in this quiet and contented manner, when one
day Doctor Masham, who, since the death of his mother, had been
in correspondence with his guardian, received a letter from that
nobleman, to announce that he had made arrangements for sending his
ward to Eton, and to request that he would accordingly instantly
proceed to the metropolis. This announcement occasioned both Cadurcis
and Venetia poignant affliction. The idea of separation was to both
of them most painful; and although Lady Annabel herself was in
some degree prepared for an arrangement, which sooner or later she
considered inevitable, she was herself scarcely less distressed.
The good Doctor, in some degree to break the bitterness of parting,
proposed accompanying Plantagenet to London, and himself personally
delivering the charge, in whose welfare they were so much interested,
to his guardian. Nevertheless, it was a very sad affair, and the week
which was to intervene before his departure found both himself and
Venetia often in tears. They no longer took any delight in their
mutual studies but passed the day walking about and visiting old
haunts, and endeavouring to console each other for what they both
deemed a great calamity, and which was indeed, the only serious
misfortune Venetia had herself experienced in the whole course of her
serene career.
'But if I were really your brother,' said Plantagenet, 'I must have
quitted you the same, Venetia. Boys always go to school; and then we
shall be so happy when I return.'
'Oh! but we are so happy now, Plantagenet. I cannot believe that we
are going to part. And are you sure that you will return? Perhaps your
guardian will not let you, and will wish you to spend your holidays at
his house. His house will be your home now.'
It was impossible for a moment to forget the sorrow that was impending
over them. There were so many preparations to be made for his
departure, that every instant something occurred to remind them of
their sorrow. Venetia sat with tears in her eyes marking his new
pocket-handkerchiefs which they had all gone to Southport to purchase,
for Plantagenet asked, as a particular favour, that no one should mark
them but Venetia. Then Lady Annabel gave Plantagenet a writing-case,
and Venetia filled it with pens and paper, that he might never want
means to communicate with them; and her evenings were passed in
working him a purse, which Lady Annabel took care should be well
stocked. All day long there seemed something going on to remind them
of what was about to happen; and as for Pauncefort, she flounced in
and out the room fifty times a day, with 'What is to be done about my
lord's shirts, my lady? I think his lordship had better have another
dozen, your la'ship. Better too much than too little, I always say;'
or, 'O! my lady, your la'ship cannot form an idea of what a state my
lord's stockings are in, my lady. I think I had better go over to
Southport with John, my lady, and buy him some;' or, 'Please, my lady,
did I understand your la'ship spoke to the tailor on Thursday about
my lord's things? I suppose your la'ship knows my lord has got no
great-coat?'
Every one of these inquiries made Venetia's heart tremble. Then there
was the sad habit of dating every coming day by its distance from
the fatal one. There was the last day but four, and the last day
but three, and the last day but two. The last day but one at length
arrived; and at length, too, though it seemed incredible, the last day
itself.
Plantagenet and Venetia both rose very early, that they might make it
as long as possible. They sighed involuntarily when they met, and then
they went about to pay last visits to every creature and object of
which they had been so long fond. Plantagenet went to bid farewell
to the horses and adieu to the cows, and then walked down to the
woodman's cottage, and then to shake hands with the keeper. He would
not say 'Good-bye' to the household until the very last moment; and as
for Marmion, the bloodhound, he accompanied both of them so faithfully
in this melancholy ramble, and kept so close to both, that it was
useless to break the sad intelligence to him yet.
'I think now, Venetia, we have been to see everything,' said
Plantagenet, 'I shall see the peacocks at breakfast time. I wish Eton
was near Cherbury, and then I could come home on Sunday. I cannot bear
going to Cadurcis again, but I should like you to go once a week, and
try to keep up our garden, and look after everything, though there is
not much that will not take care of itself, except the garden. We made
that together, and I could not bear its being neglected.'
Venetia could not assure him that no wish of his should be neglected,
because she was weeping.
'I am glad the Doctor,' he continued, 'is going to take me to town.
I should be very wretched by myself. But he will put me in mind of
Cherbury, and we can talk together of Lady Annabel and you. Hark! the
bell rings; we must go to breakfast, the last breakfast but one.'
Lady Annabel endeavoured, by unusual good spirits, to cheer up her
little friends. She spoke of Plantagenet's speedy return so much as a
matter of course, and the pleasant things they were to do when he came
back, that she really succeeded in exciting a smile in Venetia's April
face, for she was smiling amid tears.
Although it was the last day, time hung heavily on their hands. After
breakfast they went over the house together; and Cadurcis, half with
genuine feeling, and half in a spirit of mockery of their sorrow, made
a speech to the inanimate walls, as if they were aware of his intended
departure. At length, in their progress, they passed the door of the
closed apartments, and here, holding Venetia's hand, he stopped, and,
with an expression of irresistible humour, making a low bow to them,
he said, very gravely, 'And good-bye rooms that I have never entered;
perhaps, before I come back, Venetia will find out what is locked up
in you!'
Dr. Masham arrived for dinner, and in a postchaise. The unusual
conveyance reminded them of the morrow very keenly. Venetia could not
bear to see the Doctor's portmanteau taken out and carried into the
hall. She had hopes, until then, that something would happen and
prevent all this misery. Cadurcis whispered her, 'I say, Venetia, do
not you wish this was winter?'
'Why, Plantagenet?'
'Because then we might have a good snowstorm, and be blocked up again
for a week.'
Venetia looked at the sky, but not a cloud was to be seen.
The Doctor was glad to warm himself at the hall-fire, for it was a
fresh autumnal afternoon.
'Are you cold, sir?' said Venetia, approaching him.
'I am, my little maiden,' said the Doctor.
'Do you think there is any chance of its snowing, Doctor Masham?'
'Snowing! my little maiden; what can you be thinking of?'
The dinner was rather gayer than might have been expected. The Doctor
was jocular, Lady Annabel lively, and Plantagenet excited by an
extraordinary glass of wine. Venetia alone remained dispirited. The
Doctor made mock speeches and proposed toasts, and told Plantagenet
that he must learn to make speeches too, or what would he do when
he was in the House of Lords? And then Plantagenet tried to make a
speech, and proposed Venetia's health; and then Venetia, who could not
bear to hear herself praised by him on such a day, the last day, burst
into tears. Her mother called her to her side and consoled her, and
Plantagenet jumped up and wiped her eyes with one of those very
pocket-handkerchiefs on which she had embroidered his cipher and
coronet with her own beautiful hair. Towards evening Plantagenet began
to experience the reaction of his artificial spirits. The Doctor had
fallen into a gentle slumber, Lady Annabel had quitted the room,
Venetia sat with her hand in Plantagenet's on a stool by the fireside.
Both were sad and silent. At last Venetia said, 'O Plantagenet, I
wish I were your real sister! Perhaps, when I see you again, you will
forget this,' and she turned the jewel that was suspended round her
neck, and showed him the inscription.
'I am sure when I see you-again, Venetia,' he replied, 'the only
difference will be, that I shall love you more than ever.'
'I hope so,' said Venetia.
'I am sure of it. Now remember what we are talking about. When we meet
again, we shall see which of us two will love each other the most.'
'O Plantagenet, I hope they will be kind to you at Eton.'
'I will make them.'
'And, whenever you are the least unhappy, you will write to us?'
'I shall never be unhappy about anything but being away from you. As
for the rest, I will make people respect me; I know what I am.'
'Because if they do not behave well to you, mamma could ask Dr. Masham
to go and see you, and they will attend to him; and I would ask him
too. I wonder,' she continued after a moment's pause, 'if you have
everything you want. I am quite sure the instant you are gone, we
shall remember something you ought to have; and then I shall be quite
brokenhearted.'
'I have got everything.'
'You said you wanted a large knife.'
'Yes! but I am going to buy one in London. Dr. Masham says he will
take me to a place where the finest knives in the world are to be
bought. It is a great thing to go to London with Dr. Masham.'
'I have never written your name in your Bible and Prayer-book. I will
do it this evening.'
'Lady Annabel is to write it in the Bible, and you are to write it in
the Prayer-book.'
'You are to write to us from London by Dr. Masham, if only a line.'
'I shall not fail.'
'Never mind about your handwriting; but mind you write.'
At this moment Lady Annabel's step was heard, and Plantagenet said,
'Give me a kiss, Venetia, for I do not mean to bid good-bye to-night.'
'But you will not go to-morrow before we are up?'
'Yes, we shall.'
'Now, Plantagenet, I shall be up to bid you good-bye, mind that'
Lady Annabel entered, the Doctor woke, lights followed, the servant
made up the fire, and the room looked cheerful again. After tea,
the names were duly written in the Bible and Prayer-book; the last
arrangements were made, all the baggage was brought down into the
hall, all ransacked their memory and fancy, to see if it were possible
that anything that Plantagenet could require was either forgotten
or had been omitted. The clock struck ten; Lady Annabel rose. The
travellers were to part at an early hour: she shook hands with Dr.
Masham, but Cadurcis was to bid her farewell in her dressing-room, and
then, with heavy hearts and glistening eyes, they all separated. And
thus ended the last day!