SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS
We do not advance very far in this second despatch, and it will be found
chiefly serviceable for the indications it affords of our General's skill
in mining, and addiction to that branch of military science. For the
moment I must beg that a little indulgence be granted to her.
'Purely business. Great haste. Something has happened. An event? I
know not; but events may flow from it.
'A lady is here who has run away from the conjugal abode, and Lady
Jocelyn shelters her, and is hospitable to another, who is more concerned
in this lady's sad fate than he should be. This may be morals, my dear:
but please do not talk of Portugal now. A fine-ish woman with a great
deal of hair worn as if her maid had given it one comb straight down and
then rolled it up in a hurry round one finger. Malice would say carrots.
It is called gold. Mr. Forth is in a glass house, and is wrong to cast
his sneers at perfectly inoffensive people.
'Perfectly impossible we can remain at Beckley Court together--if not
dangerous. Any means that Providence may designate, I would employ. It
will be like exorcising a demon. Always excuseable. I only ask a little
more time for stupid Evan. He might have little Bonner now. I should
not object; but her family is not so good.
'Now, do attend. At once obtain a copy of Strike's Company people. You
understand--prospectuses. Tell me instantly if the Captain Evremonde in
it is Captain Lawson Evremonde. Pump Strike. Excuse vulgar words.
Whether he is not Lord Laxley's half-brother. Strike shall be of use to
us. Whether he is not mad. Captain E----'s address. Oh! when I think
of Strike--brute! and poor beautiful uncomplaining Carry and her
shoulder! But let us indeed most fervently hope that his Grace may be
balm to it. We must not pray for vengeance. It is sinful. Providence
will inflict that. Always know that Providence is quite sure to. It
comforts exceedingly.
'Oh, that Strike were altogether in the past tense! No knowing what the
Duke might do--a widower and completely subjugated. It makes my bosom
bound. The man tempts me to the wickedest Frenchy ideas. There!
We progress with dear venerable Mrs. Bonner. Truly pious--interested in
your Louisa. She dreads that my husband will try to convert me to his
creed. I can but weep and say--never!
'I need not say I have my circle. To hear this ridiculous boy Harry
Jocelyn grunt under my nose when he has led me unsuspectingly away from
company--Harriet! dearest! He thinks it a sigh! But there is no time
for laughing.
'My maxim in any house is--never to despise the good opinion of the
nonentities. They are the majority. I think they all look up to me.
But then of course you must fix that by seducing the stars. My
diplomatist praises my abilities--Sir John Loring my style--the rest
follow and I do not withhold my smiles, and they are happy, and I should
be but that for ungrateful Evan's sake I sacrificed my peace by binding
myself to a dreadful sort of half-story. I know I did not quite say it.
It seems as if Sir A.'s ghost were going to haunt me. And then I have
the most dreadful fears that what I have done has disturbed him in the
other world. Can it be so? It is not money or estates we took at all,
dearest! And these excellent young curates--I almost wish it was
Protestant to speak a word behind a board to them and imbibe comfort.
For after all it is nothing: and a word even from this poor thin mopy Mr.
Parsley might be relief to a poor soul in trouble. Catholics tell you
that what you do in a good cause is redeemable if not exactly right. And
you know the Catholic is the oldest Religion of the two. I would listen
to the Pope, staunch Protestant as I am, in preference to King Henry the
Eighth. Though, as a woman, I bear him no rancour, for his wives were--
fools, point blank. No man was ever so manageable. My diplomatist is
getting liker and liker to him every day. Leaner, of course, and does
not habitually straddle. Whiskers and morals, I mean. We must be silent
before our prudish sister. Not a prude? We talk diplomacy, dearest.
He complains of the exclusiveness of the port of Oporto, and would have
strict alliance between Portugal and England, with mutual privileges.
I wish the alliance, and think it better to maintain the exclusiveness.
Very trifling; but what is life!
'Adieu. One word to leave you laughing. Imagine her situation! This
stupid Miss Carrington has offended me. She has tried to pump Conning,
who, I do not doubt, gave her as much truth as I chose she should have in
her well. But the quandary of the wretched creature! She takes Conning
into her confidence--a horrible malady just covered by high-neck dress!
Skin! and impossible that she can tell her engaged--who is--guess--Mr.
George Up------! Her name is Louisa Carrington. There was a Louisa
Harrington once. Similarity of names perhaps. Of course I could not let
her come to the house; and of course Miss C. is in a state of wonderment
and bad passions, I fear. I went straight to Lady Racial, my dear.
There was nothing else for it but to go and speak. She is truly a noble
woman--serves us in every way. As she should!--much affected by sight of
Evan, and keeps aloof from Beckley Court. The finger of Providence is in
all. Adieu! but do pray think of Miss Carrington!
It was foolish of her to offend me. Drives and walks-the Duke attentive.
Description of him when I embrace you. I give amiable Sir Franks
Portuguese dishes. Ah, my dear, if we had none but men to contend
against, and only women for our tools! But this is asking for the world,
and nothing less.
'Open again,' she pursues. 'Dear Carry just come in. There are fairies,
I think, where there are dukes! Where could it have come from? Could
any human being have sent messengers post to London, ordered, and had it
despatched here within this short time? You shall not be mystified! I
do not think I even hinted; but the afternoon walk I had with his Grace,
on the first day of his arrival, I did shadow it very delicately how much
it was to be feared our poor Carry could not, that she dared not, betray
her liege lord in an evening dress. Nothing more, upon my veracity! And
Carry has this moment received the most beautiful green box, containing
two of the most heavenly old lace shawls that you ever beheld. We divine
it is to hide poor Carry's matrimonial blue mark! We know nothing. Will
you imagine Carry is for not accepting it! Priority of birth does not
imply superior wits, dear--no allusion to you. I have undertaken all.
Arch looks, but nothing pointed. His Grace will understand the exquisite
expression of feminine gratitude. It is so sweet to deal with true
nobility. Carry has only to look as she always does. One sees Strike
sitting on her. Her very pliability has rescued her from being utterly
squashed long ere this! The man makes one vulgar. It would have been
not the slightest use asking me to be a Christian had I wedded Strike.
But think of the fairy presents! It has determined me not to be expelled
by Mr. Forth--quite. Tell Silva he is not forgotten. But, my dear,
between us alone, men are so selfish, that it is too evident they do not
care for private conversations to turn upon a lady's husband: not to be
risked, only now and then.
'I hear that the young ladies and the young gentlemen have been out
riding a race. The poor little Bonner girl cannot ride, and she says to
Carry that Rose wishes to break our brother's neck. The child hardly
wishes that, but she is feelingless. If Evan could care for Miss Bonner,
he might have B. C.! Oh, it is not so very long a shot, my dear. I am
on the spot, remember. Old Mrs. Bonner is a most just-minded spirit.
Juliana is a cripple, and her grandmother wishes to be sure that when she
departs to her Lord the poor cripple may not be chased from this home of
hers. Rose cannot calculate--Harry is in disgrace--there is really no
knowing. This is how I have reckoned; L10,000 extra to Rose; perhaps
L1000 or nothing to H.; all the rest of ready-money--a large sum--
no use guessing--to Lady Jocelyn; and B. C. to little Bonner--it is worth
L40,000 Then she sells, or stops--permanent resident. It might be so
soon, for I can see worthy Mrs. Bonner to be breaking visibly. But young
men will not see with wiser eyes than their own. Here is Evan risking
his neck for an indifferent--there's some word for "not soft." In short,
Rose is the cold-blooded novice, as I have always said, the most selfish
of the creatures on two legs.
'Adieu! Would you have dreamed that Major Nightmare's gallantry to his
wife would have called forth a gallantry so truly touching and delicate?
Can you not see Providence there? Out of Evil--the Catholics again!
'Address. If Lord Lax---'s half-brother. If wrong in noddle. This I
know you will attend to scrupulously. Ridiculous words are sometimes the
most expressive. Once more, may Heaven bless you all! I thought of you
in church last Sunday.
'I may tell you this: young Mr. Laxley is here. He--but it was Evan's
utter madness was the cause, and I have not ventured a word to him. He
compelled Evan to assert his rank, and Mr. Forth's face has been one
concentrated sneer since THEN. He must know the origin of the
Cogglesbys, or something. Now you will understand the importance. I
cannot be more explicit. Only--the man must go.
'P.S. I have just ascertained that Lady Jocelyn is quite familiar with
Andrew's origin!! She must think my poor Harriet an eccentric woman. Of
course I have not pretended to rank here, merely gentry. It is gentry in
reality, for had poor Papa been legitimized, he would have been a
nobleman. You know that; and between the two we may certainly claim
gentry. I twiddle your little good Andrew to assert it for us twenty
times a day. Of all the dear little manageable men! It does you
infinite credit that you respect him as you do. What would have become
of me I do not know.
'P.S. I said two shawls--a black and a white. The black not so costly--
very well. And so delicate of him to think of the mourning! But the
white, my dear, must be family--must! Old English point. Exquisitely
chaste. So different from that Brussels poor Andrew surprised you with.
I know it cost money, but this is a question of taste. The Duke
reconciles me to England and all my troubles! He is more like poor Papa
than any one of the men I have yet seen. The perfect gentleman! I do
praise myself for managing an invitation to our Carry. She has been a
triumph.'
Admire the concluding stroke. The Countess calls this letter a purely
business communication. Commercial men might hardly think so; but
perhaps ladies will perceive it. She rambles concentrically, if I may so
expound her. Full of luxurious enjoyment of her position, her mind is
active, and you see her at one moment marking a plot, the next, with a
light exclamation, appeasing her conscience, proud that she has one;
again she calls up rival forms of faith, that she may show the Protestant
its little shortcomings, and that it is slightly in debt to her (like
Providence) for her constancy, notwithstanding. The Protestant you see,
does not confess, and she has to absolve herself, and must be doing it
internally while she is directing outer matters. Hence her slap at King
Henry VIII. In fact, there is much more business in this letter than I
dare to indicate; but as it is both impertinent and unpopular to dive for
any length of time beneath the surface (especially when there are few
pearls to show for it), we will discontinue our examination.
The Countess, when she had dropped the letter in the bag, returned to her
chamber, and deputed Dorothy Loring, whom she met on the stairs, to run
and request Rose to lend her her album to beguile the afternoon with; and
Dorothy dances to Rose, saying, 'The Countess de Lispy-Lispy would be
delighted to look at your album all the afternoon.'
'Oh what a woman that is!' says Rose. 'Countess de Lazy-Lazy, I think.'
The Countess, had she been listening, would have cared little for
accusations on that head. Idlesse was fashionable: exquisite languors
were a sign of breeding; and she always had an idea that she looked more
interesting at dinner after reclining on a couch the whole of the
afternoon. The great Mel and his mate had given her robust health, and
she was able to play the high-born invalid without damage to her
constitution. Anything amused her; Rose's album even, and the
compositions of W. H., E. H., D. F., and F. L. The initials F. L. were
diminutive, and not unlike her own hand, she thought. They were appended
to a piece of facetiousness that would not have disgraced the abilities
of Mr. John Raikes; but we know that very stiff young gentlemen betray
monkey-minds when sweet young ladies compel them to disport. On the
whole, it was not a lazy afternoon that the Countess passed, and it was
not against her wish that others should think it was.