THE AYLMER PARK HASHED CHICKEN COMES TO AN END.
Easter in this year fell about the middle of April, and it still
wanted three weeks of that time when Captain Aylmer started for
London. Clara was quite alive to the fact that the next three weeks
would not be a happy time for her. She looked forward, indeed, to so
much wretchedness during this period, that the days as they came were
not quite so bad as she had expected them to be. At first Lady Aylmer
said little or nothing to her. It seemed to be agreed between them
that there was to be war, but that there was no necessity for any of
the actual operations of war during the absence of Captain Aylmer.
Clara had become Miss Amedroz again; and though an offer to be
driven out in the carriage was made to her every day, she was in
general able to escape the infliction;--so that at last it came to be
understood that Miss Amedroz did not like carriage exercise. "She has
never been used to it," said Lady Aylmer to her daughter. "I suppose
not," said Belinda; "but if she wasn't so very cross she'd enjoy it
just for that reason." Clara sometimes walked about the grounds with
Belinda, but on such occasions there was hardly anything that could
be called conversation between them, and Frederic Aylmer's name was
never mentioned.
Captain Aylmer had not been gone many days before she received a
letter from her cousin, in which he spoke with absolute certainty of
his intention of giving up the estate. He had, he said, consulted
Mr. Green, and the thing was to be done. "But it will be better,
I think," he went on to say, "that I should manage it for you till
after your marriage. I simply mean what I say. You are not to suppose
that I shall interfere in any way afterwards. Of course there will be
a settlement, as to which I hope you will allow me to see Mr. Green
on your behalf." In the first draught of his letter he had inserted a
sentence in which he expressed a wish that the property should be so
settled that it might at last all come to some one bearing the name
of Belton. But as he read this over, the condition,--for coming from
him it would be a condition,--seemed to him to be ungenerous, and he
expunged it. "What does it matter who has it," he said to himself
bitterly, "or what he is called? I will never set my eyes upon his
children, nor yet upon the place when he has become the master of
it." Clara wrote both to her cousin and to the lawyer, repeating
her assurance,--with great violence, as Lady Aylmer would have
said,--that she would have nothing to do with the Belton estate. She
told Mr. Green that it would be useless for him to draw up any deeds.
"It can't be made mine unless I choose to have it," she said, "and I
don't choose to have it." Then there came upon her a terrible fear.
What if she should marry Captain Aylmer after all; and what if he,
when he should be her husband, should take the property on her
behalf! Something must be done before her marriage to prevent the
possibility of such results,--something as to the efficacy of which
for such prevention she could feel altogether certain.
But could she marry Captain Aylmer at all in her present mood? During
these three weeks she was unconsciously teaching herself to hope that
she might be relieved from her engagement. She did not love him. She
was becoming aware that she did not love him. She was beginning to
doubt whether, in truth, she had ever loved him. But yet she felt
that she could not escape from her engagement if he should show
himself to be really actuated by any fixed purpose to carry it out;
nor could she bring herself to be so weak before Lady Aylmer as to
seem to yield. The necessity of not striking her colours was forced
upon her by the warfare to which she was subjected. She was unhappy,
feeling that her present position in life was bad, and unworthy of
her. She could have brought herself almost to run away from Aylmer
Park, as a boy runs away from school, were it not that she had no
place to which to run. She could not very well make her appearance
at Plaistow Hall, and say that she had come there for shelter and
succour. She could, indeed, go to Mrs. Askerton's cottage for awhile;
and the more she thought of the state of her affairs, the more did
she feel sure that that would, before long, be her destiny. It must
be her destiny,--unless Captain Aylmer should return at Easter with
purposes so firmly fixed that even his mother should not be able to
prevail against them.
And now, in these days, circumstances gave her a new friend,--or
perhaps, rather, a new acquaintance, where she certainly had looked
neither for the one or for the other. Lady Aylmer and Belinda and the
carriage and the horses used, as I have said, to go off without her.
This would take place soon after luncheon. Most of us know how the
events of the day drag themselves on tediously in such a country
house as Aylmer Park,--a country house in which people neither read,
nor flirt, nor gamble, nor smoke, nor have resort to the excitement
of any special amusement. Lunch was on the table at half-past one,
and the carriage was at the door at three. Eating and drinking
and the putting on of bonnets occupied the hour and a half. From
breakfast to lunch Lady Aylmer, with her old "front," would occupy
herself with her household accounts. For some days after Clara's
arrival she put on her new "front" before lunch; but of late,--since
the long conversation in the carriage,--the new "front" did not
appear till she came down for the carriage. According to the theory
of her life, she was never to be seen by any but her own family
in her old "front." At breakfast she would appear with head so
mysteriously enveloped,--with such a bewilderment of morning caps,
that old "front" or new "front" was all the same. When Sir Anthony
perceived this change,--when he saw that Clara was treated as though
she belonged to Aylmer Park, then he told himself that his son's
marriage with Miss Amedroz was to be; and, as Miss Amedroz seemed
to him to be a very pleasant young woman, he would creep out of his
own quarters when the carriage was gone and have a little chat with
her,--being careful to creep away again before her ladyship's return.
This was Clara's new friend.
"Have you heard from Fred since he has been gone?" the old man asked
one day, when he had come upon Clara still seated in the parlour in
which they had lunched. He had been out, at the front of the house,
scolding the under-gardener; but the man had taken away his barrow
and left him, and Sir Anthony had found himself without employment.
"Only a line to say that he is to be here on the sixteenth."
"I don't think people write so many love-letters as they did when I
was young," said Sir Anthony.
"To judge from the novels, I should think not. The old novels used to
be full of love-letters."
"Fred was never good at writing, I think."
"Members of Parliament have too much to do, I suppose," said Clara.
"But he always writes when there is any business. He's a capital man
of business. I wish I could say as much for his brother,--or for
myself."
"Lady Aylmer seems to like work of that sort."
"So she does. She's fond of it,--I am not. I sometimes think that
Fred takes after her. Where was it you first knew him?"
"At Perivale. We used, both of us, to be staying with Mrs.
Winterfield."
"Yes, yes; of course. The most natural thing in life. Well, my dear,
I can assure you that I am quite satisfied."
"Thank you, Sir Anthony. I'm glad to hear you say even as much as
that."
"Of course money is very desirable for a man situated like Fred; but
he'll have enough, and if he is pleased, I am. Personally, as regards
yourself, I am more than pleased. I am indeed."
"It's very good of you to say so."
Sir Anthony looked at Clara, and his heart was softened towards her
as he saw that there was a tear in her eye. A man's heart must be
very hard when it does not become softened by the trouble of a woman
with whom he finds himself alone. "I don't know how you and Lady
Aylmer get on together," said he; "but it will not be my fault if we
are not friends."
"I am afraid that Lady Aylmer does not like me," said Clara.
"Indeed. I was afraid there was something of that. But you must
remember she is hard to please. You'll find she'll come round in
time."
"She thinks that Captain Aylmer should not marry a woman without
money."
"That's all very well; but I don't see why Fred shouldn't please
himself. He's old enough to know what he wants."
"Is he, Sir Anthony? That's just the question. I'm not quite sure
that he does know what he wants."
"Fred doesn't know, do you mean?"
"I don't quite think he does, sir. And the worst of it is, I am in
doubt as well as he."
"In doubt about marrying him?"
"In doubt whether it will be good for him or for any of us. I don't
like to come into a family that does not desire to have me."
"You shouldn't think so much of Lady Aylmer as all that, my dear."
"But I do think a great deal of her."
"I shall be very glad to have you as a daughter-in-law. And as for
Lady Aylmer--between you and me, my dear, you shouldn't take every
word she says so much to heart. She's the best woman in the world,
and I'm sure I'm bound to say so. But she has her temper, you know;
and I don't think you ought to give way to her altogether. There's
the carriage. It won't do you any good if we're found together
talking over it all; will it?" Then the baronet hobbled off, and Lady
Aylmer, when she entered the room, found Clara sitting alone.
Whether it was that the wife was clever enough to extract from her
husband something of the conversation that had passed between him
and Clara, or whether she had some other source of information,--or
whether her conduct might proceed from other grounds, we need not
inquire; but from that afternoon Lady Aylmer's manner and words to
Clara became much less courteous than they had been before. She would
always speak as though some great iniquity was being committed, and
went about the house with a portentous frown, as though some terrible
measure must soon be taken with the object of putting an end to the
present extremely improper state of things. All this was so manifest
to Clara, that she said to Sir Anthony one day that she could no
longer bear the look of Lady Aylmer's displeasure,--and that she
would be forced to leave Aylmer Park before Frederic's return, unless
the evil were mitigated. She had by this time told Sir Anthony that
she much doubted whether the marriage would be possible, and that she
really believed that it would be best for all parties that the idea
should be abandoned. Sir Anthony, when he heard this, could only
shake his head and hobble away. The trouble was too deep for him to
cure.
But Clara still held on; and now there wanted but two days to Captain
Aylmer's return, when, all suddenly, there arose a terrible storm at
Aylmer Park, and then came a direct and positive quarrel between Lady
Aylmer and Clara,--a quarrel direct and positive, and, on the part of
both ladies, very violent.
Nothing had hitherto been said at Aylmer Park about Mrs.
Askerton,--nothing, that is, since Clara's arrival. And Clara had
been thankful for this silence. The letter which Captain Aylmer had
written to her about Mrs. Askerton will perhaps be remembered, and
Clara's answer to that letter. The Aylmer Park opinion as to this
poor woman, and as to Clara's future conduct towards the poor woman,
had been expressed very strongly; and Clara had as strongly resolved
that she would not be guided by Aylmer Park opinions in that matter.
She had anticipated much that was disagreeable on this subject, and
had therefore congratulated herself not a little on the absence of
all allusion to it. But Lady Aylmer had, in truth, kept Mrs. Askerton
in reserve, as a battery to be used against Miss Amedroz if all other
modes of attack should fail,--as a weapon which would be powerful
when other weapons had been powerless. For awhile she had thought
it possible that Clara might be the owner of the Belton estate, and
then it had been worth the careful mother's while to be prepared to
accept a daughter-in-law so dowered. We have seen how the question
of such ownership had enabled her to put forward the plea of poverty
which she had used on her son's behalf. But since that Frederic had
declared his intention of marrying the young woman in spite of his
poverty, and Clara seemed to be equally determined. "He has been fool
enough to speak the word, and she is determined to keep him to it,"
said Lady Aylmer to her daughter. Therefore the Askerton battery was
brought to bear,--not altogether unsuccessfully.
The three ladies were sitting together in the drawing-room, and had
been as mute as fishes for half an hour. In these sittings they were
generally very silent, speaking only in short little sentences. "Will
you drive with us to-day, Miss Amedroz?" "Not to-day, I think, Lady
Aylmer." "As you are reading, perhaps you won't mind our leaving
you?" "Pray do not put yourself to inconvenience for me, Miss
Aylmer." Such and such like was their conversation; but on a sudden,
after a full half-hour's positive silence, Lady Aylmer asked a
question altogether of another kind. "I think, Miss Amedroz, my son
wrote to you about a certain Mrs. Askerton?"
Clara put down her work and sat for a moment almost astonished.
It was not only that Lady Aylmer had asked so very disagreeable a
question, but that she had asked it with so peculiar a voice,--a
voice as it were a command, in a manner that was evidently intended
to be taken as serious, and with a look of authority in her eye, as
though she were resolved that this battery of hers should knock the
enemy absolutely in the dust! Belinda gave a little spring in her
chair, looked intently at her work, and went on stitching faster
than before. "Yes he did," said Clara, finding that an answer was
imperatively demanded from her.
"It was quite necessary that he should write. I believe it to be an
undoubted fact that Mrs. Askerton is,--is,--is,--not at all what she
ought to be."
"Which of us is what we ought to be?" said Clara.
"Miss Amedroz, on this subject I am not at all inclined to joke. Is
it not true that Mrs. Askerton--"
"You must excuse me, Lady Aylmer, but what I know of Mrs. Askerton,
I know altogether in confidence; so that I cannot speak to you of her
past life."
"But, Miss Amedroz, pray excuse me if I say that I must speak of
it. When I remember the position in which you do us the honour of
being our visitor here, how can I help speaking of it?" Belinda
was stitching very hard, and would not even raise her eyes. Clara,
who still held her needle in her hand, resumed her work, and for a
moment or two made no further answer. But Lady Aylmer had by no means
completed her task. "Miss Amedroz," she said, "you must allow me to
judge for myself in this matter. The subject is one on which I feel
myself obliged to speak to you."
"But I have got nothing to say about it."
"You have, I believe, admitted the truth of the allegations made
by us as to this woman." Clara was becoming very angry. A red spot
showed itself on each cheek, and a frown settled upon her brow. She
did not as yet know what she would say or how she would conduct
herself. She was striving to consider how best she might assert her
own independence. But she was fully determined that in this matter
she would not bend an inch to Lady Aylmer. "I believe we may take
that as admitted?" said her ladyship.
"I am not aware that I have admitted anything to you, Lady Aylmer, or
said anything that can justify you in questioning me on the subject."
"Justify me in questioning a young woman who tells me that she is to
be my future daughter-in-law!"
"I have not told you so. I have never told you anything of the kind."
"Then on what footing, Miss Amedroz, do you do us the honour of being
with us here at Aylmer Park?"
"On a very foolish footing."
"On a foolish footing! What does that mean?"
"It means that I have been foolish in coming to a house in which I am
subjected to such questioning."
"Belinda, did you ever hear anything like this? Miss Amedroz, I must
persevere, however much you may dislike it. The story of this woman's
life,--whether she be Mrs. Askerton or not, I don't know--"
"She is Mrs. Askerton," said Clara.
"As to that I do not profess to know, and I dare say that you are
no wiser than myself. But what she has been we do know." Here Lady
Aylmer raised her voice and continued to speak with all the eloquence
which assumed indignation could give her. "What she has been we do
know, and I ask you, as a duty which I owe to my son, whether you
have put an end to your acquaintance with so very disreputable a
person,--a person whom even to have known is a disgrace?"
"I know her, and--"
"Stop one minute, if you please. My questions are these--Have you put
an end to that acquaintance? And are you ready to give a promise that
it shall never be resumed?"
"I have not put an end to that acquaintance,--or rather that
affectionate friendship as I should call it, and I am ready to
promise that it shall be maintained with all my heart."
"Belinda, do you hear her?"
"Yes, mamma." And Belinda slowly shook her head, which was now bowed
lower than ever over her lap.
"And that is your resolution?"
"Yes, Lady Aylmer; that is my resolution."
"And you think that becoming to you, as a young woman?"
"Just so; I think that becoming to me,--as a young woman."
"Then let me tell you, Miss Amedroz, that I differ from you
altogether,--altogether." Lady Aylmer, as she repeated the last word,
raised her folded hands as though she were calling upon heaven to
witness how thoroughly she differed from the young woman!
"I don't see how I am to help that, Lady Aylmer. I dare say we may
differ on many subjects."
"I dare say we do. I dare say we do. And I need not point out to you
how very little that would be a matter of regret to me, but for the
hold you have upon my unfortunate son."
"Hold upon him, Lady Aylmer! How dare you insult me by such
language?" Hereupon Belinda again jumped in her chair; but Lady
Aylmer looked as though she enjoyed the storm.
"You undoubtedly have a hold upon him, Miss Amedroz, and I think that
it is a great misfortune. Of course, when he hears what your conduct
is with reference to this--person, he will release himself from his
entanglement."
"He can release himself from his entanglement whenever he chooses,"
said Clara, rising from her chair. "Indeed, he is released. I shall
let Captain Aylmer know that our engagement must be at an end, unless
he will promise that I shall never in future be subjected to the
unwarrantable insolence of his mother." Then she walked off to the
door, not regarding, and indeed not hearing, the parting shot that
was fired at her.
And now what was to be done! Clara went up to her own room, making
herself strong and even comfortable, with an inward assurance that
nothing should ever induce her even to sit down to table again with
Lady Aylmer. She would not willingly enter the same room with Lady
Aylmer, or have any speech with her. But what should she at once do?
She could not very well leave Aylmer Park without settling whither
she would go; nor could she in any way manage to leave the house
on that afternoon. She almost resolved that she would go to Mrs.
Askerton. Everything was of course over between her and Captain
Aylmer, and therefore there was no longer any hindrance to her doing
so on that score. But what would be her cousin Will's wish? He, now,
was the only friend to whom she could trust for good council. What
would be his advice? Should she write and ask him? No;--she could not
do that. She could not bring herself to write to him, telling him
that the Aylmer "entanglement" was at an end. Were she to do so, he,
with his temperament, would take such letter as meaning much more
than it was intended to mean. But she would write a letter to Captain
Aylmer. This she thought that she would do at once, and she began it.
She got as far as "My dear Captain Aylmer," and then she found that
the letter was one which could not be written very easily. And she
remembered, as the greatness of the difficulty of writing the letter
became plain to her, that it could not now be sent so as to reach
Captain Aylmer before he would leave London. If written at all,
it must be addressed to him at Aylmer Park, and the task might be
done to-morrow as well as to-day. So that task was given up for the
present.
But she did write a letter to Mrs. Askerton,--a letter which she
would send or not on the morrow, according to the state of her mind
as it might then be. In this she declared her purpose of leaving
Aylmer Park on the day after Captain Aylmer's arrival, and asked
to be taken in at the cottage. An answer was to be sent to her,
addressed to the Great Northern Railway Hotel.
Richards, the maid, came up to her before dinner, with offers of
assistance for dressing,--offers made in a tone which left no doubt
on Clara's mind that Richards knew all about the quarrel. But Clara
declined to be dressed, and sent down a message saying that she would
remain in her room, and begging to be supplied with tea. She would
not even condescend to say that she was troubled with a headache.
Then Belinda came up to her, just before dinner was announced, and
with a fluttered gravity advised Miss Amedroz to come down-stairs.
"Mamma thinks it will be much better that you should show yourself,
let the final result be what it may."
"But I have not the slightest desire to show myself."
"There are the servants, you know."
"But, Miss Aylmer, I don't care a straw for the servants;--really not
a straw."
"And papa will feel it so."
"I shall be sorry if Sir Anthony is annoyed;--but I cannot help it.
It has not been my doing."
"And mamma says that my brother would of course wish it."
"After what your mother has done, I don't see what his wishes would
have to do with it,--even if she knew them,--which I don't think she
does."
"But if you will think of it, I'm sure you'll find it is the proper
thing to do. There is nothing to be avoided so much as an open
quarrel, that all the servants can see."
"I must say, Miss Aylmer, that I disregard the servants. After what
passed down-stairs, of course I have had to consider what I should
do. Will you tell your mother that I will stay here, if she will
permit it?"
"Of course. She will be delighted."
"I will remain, if she will permit it, till the morning after Captain
Aylmer's arrival. Then I shall go."
"Where to, Miss Amedroz?"
"I have already written to a friend, asking her to receive me."
Miss Aylmer paused a moment before she asked her next question;--but
she did ask it, showing by her tone and manner that she had been
driven to summon up all her courage to enable her to do so. "To what
friend, Miss Amedroz? Mamma will be glad to know."
"That is a question which Lady Aylmer can have no right to ask," said
Clara.
"Oh;--very well. Of course, if you don't like to tell, there's no
more to be said."
"I do not like to tell, Miss Aylmer."
Clara had her tea in her room that evening, and lived there the
whole of the next day. The family down-stairs was not comfortable.
Sir Anthony could not be made to understand why his guest kept her
room,--which was not odd, as Lady Aylmer was very sparing in the
information she gave him; and Belinda found it to be impossible to
sit at table, or to say a few words to her father and mother, without
showing at every moment her consciousness that a crisis had occurred.
By the next day's post the letter to Mrs. Askerton was sent, and
at the appointed time Captain Aylmer arrived. About an hour after
he entered the house, Belinda went up-stairs with a message from
him;--would Miss Amedroz see him? Miss Amedroz would see him, but
made it a condition of doing so that she should not be required to
meet Lady Aylmer. "She need not be afraid," said Lady Aylmer. "Unless
she sends me a full apology, with a promise that she will have no
further intercourse whatever with that woman, I will never willingly
see her again." A meeting was therefore arranged between Captain
Aylmer and Miss Amedroz in a sitting-room up-stairs.
"What is all this, Clara?" said Captain Aylmer, at once.
"Simply this,--that your mother has insulted me most wantonly."
"She says that it is you who have been uncourteous to her."
"Be it so;--you can of course believe whichever you please, and it is
desirable, no doubt, that you should prefer to believe your mother."
"But I do not wish there to be any quarrel."
"But there is a quarrel, Captain Aylmer, and I must leave your
father's house. I cannot stay here after what has taken place. Your
mother told me;--I cannot tell you what she told me, but she made
against me just those accusations which she knew it would be the
hardest for me to bear."
"I'm sure you have mistaken her."
"No; I have not mistaken her."
"And where do you propose to go?"
"To Mrs. Askerton."
"Oh, Clara!"
"I have written to Mrs. Askerton to ask her to receive me for awhile.
Indeed, I may almost say that I had no other choice."
"If you go there, Clara, there will be an end to everything."
"And there must be an end of what you call everything, Captain
Aylmer," said she, smiling. "It cannot be for your good to bring into
your family a wife of whom your mother would think so badly as she
thinks of me."
There was a great deal said, and Captain Aylmer walked very often up
and down the room, endeavouring to make some arrangement which might
seem in some sort to appease his mother. Would Clara only allow a
telegram to be sent to Mrs. Askerton, to explain that she had changed
her mind? But Clara would allow no such telegram to be sent, and on
that evening she packed up all her things. Captain Aylmer saw her
again and again, sending Belinda backwards and forwards, and making
different appointments up to midnight; but it was all to no purpose,
and on the next morning she took her departure alone in the Aylmer
Park carriage for the railway station. Captain Aylmer had proposed to
go with her; but she had so stoutly declined his company that he was
obliged to abandon his intention. She saw neither of the ladies on
that morning, but Sir Anthony came out to say a word of farewell to
her in the hall. "I am very sorry for all this," said he. "It is a
pity," said Clara, "but it cannot be helped. Good-bye, Sir Anthony."
"I hope we may meet again under pleasanter circumstances," said the
baronet. To this Clara made no reply, and was then handed into the
carriage by Captain Aylmer.
"I am so bewildered," said he, "that I cannot now say anything
definite, but I shall write to you, and probably follow you."
"Do not follow me, pray, Captain Aylmer," said she. Then she was
driven to the station; and as she passed through the lodges of the
park entrance she took what she intended to be a final farewell of
Aylmer Park.