When Helen attempted to walk, she trembled so much that she could not
move, and leaning against the tree under which she was standing, she
remained fixed for some time almost without thought. Then she began to
recollect what had been before all this, and as soon as she could walk
she went back for her drawing-book, threw from her the pencil which
Beauclerc had cut, and made her way home as fast as she could, and up to
her own room, without meeting anybody; and as soon as she was there she
bolted the door and threw herself upon her bed. She had by this time a
dreadful headache, and she wanted to try and get rid of it in time for
breakfast--that was her first object; but her thoughts were so confused
that they could not fix upon anything rightly. She tried to compose
herself, and to think the whole affair over again; but she could not.
There was something so strange in what had passed! The sudden--the total
change in her opinion--her total loss of confidence! She tried to put
all thoughts and feelings out of her mind, and just to lie stupified if
she could, that she might get rid of the pain in her head. She had no
idea whether it was late or early, and was going to get up to look at
her watch, when she heard the first bell, half an hour before breakfast,
and this was the time when Cecilia usually opened the door between their
rooms. She dreaded the sound, but when she had expected it some minutes,
she became impatient even for that which she feared; she wanted to have
it over, and she raised herself on her elbow, and listened with acute
impatience: at last the door was thrown wide open, and bright and gay as
ever, in came Cecilia, but at the first sight of Helen on her bed, wan
and miserable, she stopped short.
“My dearest Helen! what can be the matter?”
“Mr. Beauclerc--”
“Well! what of him?” cried Cecilia, and she smiled.
“Oh, Cecilia! do not smile; you cannot imagine--”
“Oh, yes! but I can,” cried Cecilia. “I see how it is; I understand it
all; and miserable and amazed as you look at this moment, I will set all
right for you in one word. He is not going to be married--not engaged.”
Helen started up. “Not engaged!”
“No more than you are, my dear! Oh! I am glad to see your colour come
again!”
“Thank Heaven!” cried Helen, “then he is not--”
“A villain!--not at all. He is all that’s right; all that is charming,
my dear. So thank Heaven, and be as happy as you please.”
“But I cannot understand it,” said Helen, sinking back; “I really cannot
understand how it is, Cecilia.” Cecilia gave her a glass of water in
great haste, and was very sorry, and very glad, and begged forgiveness,
and all in a breath: but as yet Helen did not know what she had to
forgive, till it was explained to her in direct words, that Cecilia had
told her not only what was not true, but what she at the time of telling
knew to be false.
“For what purpose, oh! my dear Cecilia! All to save me from a little
foolish embarrassment at first, you have made us miserable at last.”
“Miserable! my dear Helen; at worst miserable only for half an hour.
Nonsense! lie down again, and rest your poor head. I will go this minute
to Granville. Where is he?”
“Gone! Gone for ever! Those were his last words.”
“Impossible! absurd! Only what a man says in a passion. But where is he
gone? Only to Old Forest! Gone for ever--gone till dinner-time! Probably
coming back at this moment in all haste, like a true lover, to beg your
pardon for your having used him abominably ill. Now, smile; do not shake
your head, and look so wretched; but tell me exactly, word for word and
look for look, all that passed between you, and then I shall know what
is best to be done.”
Word for word Helen could not answer, for she had been so much confused,
but she told to the best of her recollection; and Cecilia still thought
no great harm was done. She only looked a little serious from the
apprehension, now the real, true apprehension, of what might happen
about Lady Blanche, who, as she believed, was at Old Forest. “Men are so
foolish; men in love, so rash. Beauclerc, in a fit of anger and despair
on being so refused by the woman he loved, might go and throw himself at
the feet of another for whom he did not care in the least, in a strange
sort of revenge. But I know how to settle it all, and I will do it this
moment.”
But Helen caught hold of her hand, and firmly detaining it, absolutely
objected to her doing anything without telling her exactly and truly
what she was going to do.
Lady Cecilia assured her that she was only going to inquire from the
general whether Lady Blanche was with her sister at Old Forest, or not.
“Listen to me, my dear Helen; what I am going to say can do no mischief.
If Lady Blanche is there, then the best thing to be done is, for me to
go immediately, this very morning, to pay the ladies a visit on their
coming to the country, and I will bring back Granville. A word will
bring him back. I will only tell him there was a little mistake, or if
you think it best, I will tell him the whole truth. Let me go--only let
me go and consult the general before the breakfast-bell rings, for I
shall have no time afterwards.”
Helen let her go, for as Beauclerc had told her that he had opened his
mind to the general, she thought it was best that he should hear all
that had happened.
The moment the general saw Lady Cecilia come in, he smiled, and said,
“Well! my dear Cecilia, you have seen Helen this morning, and she has
seen Beauclerc--what is the result? Does he stay, or go?”
“He is gone!” said Cecilia. The general looked surprised and sorry.
“He did not propose for her,” continued Cecilia, “he did not declare
himself--he only began to sound her opinion of him, and she--she
contrived to misunderstand--to offend him, and he is gone, but only to
Old Forest, and we can have him back again directly.”
“That is not likely,” said the general, “because I know that Beauclerc
had determined, that if he went he would not return for some time. Your
friend Helen was to decide. If she gave him any hope, that is, permitted
him to appear as her declared admirer, he could, with propriety,
happiness, and honour, remain here; if not, my dear Cecilia, you must be
sensible that he is right to go.”
“Gone for some time!” repeated Cecilia, “you mean as long as Lady
Castlefort is here.”
“Yes,” said the general.
“I wish she was gone, I am sure, with all my heart,” said Cecilia; “but
in the mean time, tell me, my dear Clarendon, do you know whether Lord
Beltravers’ sisters are at Old Forest?”
The general did not think that Lady Blanche had arrived; he was
not certain, but he knew that the Comtesse de St. Cymon had arrived
yesterday.
“Then,” said Cecilia, “it would be but civil to go to see the comtesse.
I will go this morning.”
General Clarendon answered instantly, and with decision, that she must
not think of such a thing--that it could not be done. “Madame de St.
Cymon is a woman of doubtful reputation, not a person with whom Lady
Cecilia Clarendon ought to form any acquaintance.”
“No, not form an acquaintance--I’m quite aware of that,” and eagerly
she pleaded that she had no intention of doing anything; “but just one
morning visit paid and returned, you know, leads to nothing. Probably we
shall neither of us be at home, and never meet; and really it would be
such a marked thing not to pay this visit to the Beltravers family
on their return to the country. Formerly there was such a good
understanding between the Forresters and your father; and really
hospitality requires it. Altogether this one visit really must be paid,
it cannot be helped, so I will order the carriage.”
“It must not be done!” the general said; “it is a question of right, not
of expediency.”
“Right, but there is nothing really wrong, surely; I believe all that
has been said of her is scandal. Nobody is safe against reports--the
public papers are so scandalous! While a woman lives with her husband,
it is but charitable to suppose all is right. That’s the rule. Besides,
we should not throw the first stone.” Then Lady Cecilia pleaded, lady
this and lady that, and the whole county, without the least scruple
would visit Madame de St. Cymon.
“Lady this and lady that may do as they please, or as their husbands
think proper or improper, that is no rule for Lady Cecilia Clarendon;
and as to the whole county, or the whole world, what is that to me, when
I have formed my own determination?”
The fact was, that at this very time Madame de St. Cymon was about to
be separated from her husband. A terrible discovery had just been made.
Lord Beltravers had brought his sister to Old Forest to bide her from
London disgrace; there he intended to leave her to rusticate, while he
should follow her husband to Paris immediately, to settle the terms of
separation or divorce.
“Beauclerc, no doubt, will go to Paris with him,” said the general.
“To Paris! when will he set out?”
“To-day--directly, if Helen has decidedly rejected him; but you say he
did not declare himself. Pray tell me all at once.”
And if she had done so, all might have been well; but she was afraid.
Her husband was as exact about _some things_ as her mother; he would
certainly be displeased at the deception she had practised on Helen; she
could not tell him that, not at this moment, for she had just fooled him
to the top of his bent about this visit; she would find a better
time; she so dreaded the instant change of his smile--the look of
disapprobation; she was so cowardly; in short, the present pain of
displeasing--the consequences even of her own folly, she never could
endure, and to avoid it she had always recourse to some new evasion;
and now, when Helen--her dear Helen’s happiness, was at stake, she
faltered--she paltered--she would not for the world do her any wrong;
but still she thought she could manage without telling the whole--she
would tell nothing _but_ the truth. So, after a moment’s hesitation,
while all these thoughts went through her mind, when the general
repeated his question, and begged to know at once what was passing in
her little head; she smiled in return for that smile which played on her
husband’s face while he fondly looked upon her, and she answered, “I
am thinking of poor Helen. She has made a sad mistake--and has a horrid
headache at this moment--in short she has offended Beauclerc past
endurance--past his endurance--and he went off in a passion before she
found out her mistake. In short, we must have him back again; could you
go, my dear love--or write directly?”
“First let me understand,” said the general. “Miss Stanley has made a
mistake--what mistake?”
“She thought Beauclerc was engaged to Lady Blanche.”
“How could she think so? What reason had she?”
“She had been told so by somebody.”
“Somebody!--that eternal scandal-monger Lady Katrine, I suppose.”
“No--not Lady Katrine,” said Cecilia; “but I am not at liberty to tell
you whom.”
“No matter; but Miss Stanley is not a fool; she could not believe
somebody or anybody, contrary to common sense.”
“No, but Beauclerc did not come quite to proposing--and you know she
had been blamed for refusing Mr. Churchill before she was asked--and in
short--in love, people do not always know what they are about.”
“I do not understand one word of it,” said the general; “nor I am sure
do you, my dear Cecilia.”
“Yes, I really do, but----”
“My dear Cecilia, I assure you it is always best to let people settle
their love affairs their own way.”
“Yes, certainly--I would not interfere in the least--only to get
Granville back again--and then let them settle it their own way. Cannot
you call at Old Forest?”
“No.”
“Could you not write?”
“No--not unless I know the whole. I will do nothing in the dark. Always
tell your confessor, your lawyer, your physician, your friend, your
whole case, or they are fools or rogues if they act for you; go back and
repeat this to Helen Stanley from me.”
“But, my dear, she will think it so unkind.”
“Let her show me how I can serve her, and I will do it.”
“Only write a line to Beauclerc--say, ‘Beauclerc come back,--here has
been a mistake.’” She would have put a pen into his hand, and held paper
to him.
“Let me know the whole, and then, and not till then, can I judge whether
I should be doing right for her or not.” The difficulty of telling
the whole had increased to Lady Cecilia, even from the hesitation and
prevarication she had now made. “Let me see Helen,--let me speak to
her myself, and learn what this strange nonsensical mystery is.” He was
getting impatient. “Cannot I see Miss Stanley?”
“Why no, my dear love, not just now, she has such a headache! She is
lying down. There is the breakfast-bell--after breakfast, if you
please. But I am clear she would rather not speak to you herself on the
subject.”
“Then come down to breakfast, my dear, and let her settle it her own
way--that is much the best plan. Interference in love matters always
does mischief. Come to breakfast, my dear--I have no time to lose--I
must be off to a court-martial.”
He looked at his watch, and Cecilia went half down stairs with him, and
then ran back to keep Helen quiet by the assurance that all would
be settled--all would be right, and that she would send her up some
breakfast--she must not think of coming down; and Cecilia lamented half
breakfast-time--how subject to headaches poor Helen was; and through
this and through all other conversation she settled what she would do
for her. As the last resource, she would tell the whole truth--not to
her husband, she loved him too well to face his displeasure for one
moment--but to Beauclerc; and writing would be so much easier than
speaking--without being put to the blush she could explain it all to
Beauclerc, and turn it playfully; and he would be so happy that he
would be only too glad to forgive her, and to do anything she asked.
She concocted and wrote a very pretty letter, in which she took all the
blame fully on herself--did perfect justice to Helen; said she wrote
without her knowledge, and depended entirely upon his discretion, so
he must come back of his own accord, and keep her counsel. This letter,
however, she could not despatch so soon as she had expected; she
could not send a servant with it till the general should be off to his
court-martial. Now had Cecilia gone the straight-forward way to work,
her husband could in that interval, and would, have set all to rights;
but this to Cecilia was impossible; she could only wait in an agony of
impatience till the general and his officers were all out of the way,
and then she despatched a groom with her letter to Old Forest, and
desired him to return as fast as possible, while she went to Helen’s
room, to while away the time of anxious suspense as well as she could;
and she soon succeeded in talking herself into excellent spirits again.
“Now, my dear Helen, if that unlucky mistake had not been made,--if
you had not fancied that Granville was married already,--and if he had
actually proposed for you,--what would you have said?--in short--would
you have accepted him?”
“Oh! Cecilia, I do hope he will understand how it all was; I hope he
will believe that I esteem him as I always did: as to love--”
Helen paused, and Lady Cecilia went on: “As to love, nobody knows
anything about it till it comes--and here it is coming, I do believe!”
continued she, looking out of the window.--No! not Mr. Beauclerc, but
the man she had sent with her letter, galloping towards the house.
Disappointed not to see Beauclerc himself, she could only conclude that
as he had not his horse with him, he was returning in the boat.
The answer to her letter was brought in. At the first glance on the
direction, her countenance changed. “Not Granville’s hand!--what can
have happened?” She tore open the note, “He is gone!--gone with Lord
Beltravers--set off!--gone to Paris!” Helen said not one word, and
Cecilia, in despair, repeated, “Gone!--gone!--absolutely gone! Nothing
more can be done. Oh, that I had done nothing about it! All has failed!
Heaven knows what may happen now! Oh! if I could but have let it all
alone! I never, never can forgive myself! My dear Helen, be angry with
me--reproach me: pray--pray reproach me as I deserve!” But Helen could
not blame one who so blamed herself--one who, however foolish and wrong
she had been, had done it all from the kindest motives. In the agony of
her penitence, she now told Helen all that had passed between her and
the general; that, to avoid the shame of confessing to him her first
deception, she had gone on another and another step in these foolish
evasions, contrivances, and mysteries; how, thinking she could manage
it, she had written without his knowledge; and now, to complete her
punishment, not only had every thing which she had attempted failed, but
a consequence which she could never have foreseen had happened.--“Here
I am, with a note actually in my hand from this horrid Madame de St.
Cymon, whom Clarendon absolutely would not hear of my even calling upon!
Look what she writes to me. She just took advantage of this opportunity
to begin a correspondence before an acquaintance: but I will never
answer her. Here is what she says:--
“‘The Comtesse de St. Cymon exceedingly regrets that Lady Cecilia
Clarendon’s servant did not arrive in time to deliver her ladyship’s
letter into Mr. Beauclerc’s own hand. Mr. B. left Old Forest with
Lord Beltravers early to-day for Paris. The Comtesse de St. Cymon,
understanding that Lady Cecilia Clarendon is anxious that there should
be as little delay as possible in forwarding her letter, and calculating
that if returned by her ladyship’s servant it must be too late for this
day’s post from Clarendon Park, has forwarded it immediately with her
own letters to Paris, which cannot fail to meet Mr. Beauclerc directly
on his arrival there.’
“Oh!” cried Lady Cecilia, “how angry the general would be if he knew of
this!” She tore the note to the smallest bits as she spoke, and threw
them away; and next she begged that Helen would never say a word about
it. There was no use in telling the general what would only vex him, and
what could not be helped; and what could lead to nothing, for she should
never answer this note, nor have any further communication of any kind
with Madame de St. Cymon.
Helen, nevertheless, thought it would be much better to tell the general
of it, and she wondered how Cecilia could think of doing otherwise, and
just when she had so strongly reproached herself, and repented of
these foolish mysteries; and this was going on another step. “Indeed,
Cecilia,” said Helen, “I wish--on my own account I wish you would not
conceal anything. It is hard to let the general suspect me of extreme
folly and absurdity, or of some sort of double dealing in this business,
in which I have done my utmost to do right and to go straightforward.”
Poor Helen, with her nervous headache beating worse and worse,
remonstrated and entreated, and came to tears; and Lady Cecilia promised
that it should be all done as she desired; but again she charged and
besought Helen to say nothing herself about the matter to the general:
and this acceded to, Lady Cecilia’s feelings being as transient as they
were vehement, all her self-reproaches, penitence, and fears passed
away, and, taking her bright view of the whole affair, she ended with
the certainty that Beauclerc, would return the moment he received her
letter; that he would have it in a very few days, and all would end
well, and quite as well as if she had not been a fool.