FASHIONABLE FRIENDSHIP.
Lord Glenmore's marriage soon became the subject of general
conversation. The day of the nuptials was already named, and the
ceremony was to be in the most splendid style. In compliment to Lord
Glenmore, several of his acquaintance were invited. Amongst these was
Lady Tilney and Lady Tenderden; the Comtesse Leinsengen of course; and
Lady Ellersby, who on her mother's side was related to the family of
the Melcombs. The parties named expressed themselves annoyed at the
idea of forming part of what they called the _Melcomb mélange_; but a
secret wish to retain an influence with Lord Glenmore, whose marriage
it was intended should not, without a trial of Miss Melcomb's aptitude
for _ton_, banish him from their circle.
The whole affair, however, was _sotto sugezione_ in the opinion of
Lady Tilney and her friends. "The strangest thing of all is," exclaimed
the former, as she was conversing on the subject with Lady Tenderden
and the Comtesse Leinsengen, "that the marriage takes place in church."
"In church! _quelle idée, vraiment on mourra de froid_."
"And pray how must one be dressed?" inquired Lady Tenderden.
"Oh, _en costume de traineau_, I presume, since it is in von of your
cold church; but vat sinifies how von dresses for it?"
"If it rains I really must send my excuse," said Lady Tilney, who
wanted to be on a level at least with the Comtesse in impertinence.
"Have you seen the _trousseau_?" she added.
"Yes, I have," replied Lady Tenderden. Lady Tilney looked blank; she
could not bear that others should precede her even in the inspection
of a _trousseau_. Lady Tenderden, continued:--"Madame Duval brought
me every thing that was worth seeing; the laces are magnificent, and
the _corbeille de noces_, and every thing is in good taste. But here
is Lady Ellersby," exclaimed Lady Tenderden, glad to break off from a
subject which had been disagreeable to her, "I do not suppose _she_
will approve of the programme of this ceremony."
"My dear Lady Ellersby," the ladies all exclaimed, running up to her,
"why did you not exert your influence with Lady Melcomb to prevent this
_baroque_ fancy of being married in church; surely your relationship
would have authorized your good advice on the occasion." Lady Ellersby
looked surprised, and asked an explanation.
"Do you not know," answered Lady Tilney, "that the ceremony is to take
place in a church?"
"La! does it? What a strange fancy!" drawled Lady Ellersby; "but I
should never think of giving any advice to Lady Melcomb--I never do, to
any body."
"Dat Mademoiselle Melcomb, vid all her imbecile _niaiserie_, seems not
to have played her part amiss."
"I think she will turn out better than one could have supposed,"
rejoined Lady Tenderden, "when she becomes _un peu plus façonné_."
"Do tell me who are the invited?" interrupted Lady Tilney, addressing
Lady Ellersby.
"Oh, half London, to be sure; such a quantity of tiresome relations,
and so much property, and family dignity, there will be no end of all
the cousins--don't you know they are just the sort of people who teem
with relations?"
"But who is there of the party that one knows?" replied Lady Tilney.
"Oh, there are ourselves, and the Duke of Mercington, and the Boileaus,
and Baskervilles, I believe; I fancy too the Duke and Duchess
D'Hermanton, and some of _that_ set, are also among the _priés_, but
I must go now _en qualité de cousine_, and leave my card with the
Melcombs, and then I shall go on to Kitchener's, who has the resetting
of the family diamonds. I am told they are magnificent; and I should
so like to persuade Lord Ellersby to let mine be reset too, I have had
them three years in their present form, and am so tired of them as
they are--he, he, he!--well--adieu, we shall meet to-night at Lady De
Chere's?"
"_Avouez moi qu'elle passe la permission qu'ou a d'être bête_,"
observed Lady Tenderden, as she left the room.
"May be so, but she is a very old friend of mine, and besides, she is
perfectly _comme il faut_, and after all, that sort of thing gets on in
the world just as well as talent."
"Perhaps better," rejoined Lady Tilney.
"_Précisement_," said the Comtesse Leinsengen, "but, _il faut que je
pars, je vais voir le trousseau_, for oderwise I shall have nothing to
say to Lady Baskerville, who goes vid me to-night to de Opera. _Adieu
les belles, adieu._"
"I wonder how she can be at the trouble of going to see that foolish
_trousseau_," exclaimed Lady Tilney, as soon as she was out of hearing.
"She is so _inconséquente_. Did Lady Ellersby name the Baskervilles as
being among the invited?" continued Lady Tilney.
"Oh yes, the Comtesse, depend upon it, has taken care they shall be
asked; and my Lord is always flattered in being reckoned a requisite
appendage to a woman of high rank; but he will soon find his error
in depending on her smiles, for except for the gratification of the
moment's vanity, she seeks no further aim, and at all times scruples
not to sacrifice her _çi-devant_ friends to her new ones."
"Poor Lord Baskerville," replied Lady Tilney, "was intended to be by
nature _le bon enfant_, which she calls him; but he has fallen into the
terrible mistake of thinking himself a _leader_ of _ton_, which gives
him a ridicule that he would not otherwise have."
"How well you read characters, my dear Lady Tilney! But I thought he
was a _protégé_ of yours."
"Oh, so he is; I like him of all things; and he is often vastly useful.
One must have different characters at command to fill different parts,
or else nothing that one wants would go on. But to return to the
Melcombs, I do not recover from my surprise about that marriage."
"It only shews what perseverance will do, I wished to talk the matter
over with you, and to ascertain whether or not you meant to attend;
so now I need not trouble you longer. Your gown you say is to be
rose-colour, mine shall be jonquille."
"Ah, you always look divine in that golden light: but what light do
you not look divine in?"
"I must positively run away, or you will quite turn my head with
flattery. Adieu, adieu," and they parted well pleased with each other.
When Lady Ellersby stopped at Lady Melcomb's door, where she had
intended only to leave her card, a multiplicity of people on the same
errand _faisoit queue à la porte_; but to her infinite dismay, just as
her carriage drove up, Lord Glenmore, who happened to be coming out of
the door, approached her with a countenance beaming happiness.
"I am sure Georgina will be at home to _you_; do allow me to hand you
out of your carriage."
"Not for the world, I would not intrude; I am sure Miss Melcomb has a
thousand things to do, and to arrange; but--"
"Nay, dear Lady Ellersby," continued Lord Glenmore, pressingly (who
thought every one must be as anxious to see his bride, as he was eager
she should be seen), "Georgina will be so disappointed if you do not
go up stairs, that I must entreat you will." And in short, for once,
what between curiosity to look at the bridal paraphernalia, and a sort
of awkwardness to do a decided thing, and say no, Lady Ellersby's
indolence was overcome, and she allowed herself to be handed up stairs
into the drawing room, where were assembled a host of ladies (_not_
Miss Melcomb), who were busily engaged admiring the various dresses and
finery which were displayed before them.
"You are just come in time, Lady Ellersby," exclaimed Lady Aveling,
"for after to-day, nobody is to be admitted."
"No? well, la! I am glad then; but my dear Lady Melcomb I came, I
assure you, expressly to wish you joy, and to leave my congratulations
also with Miss Melcomb, whom I hope, I am to see, for Lord Glenmore
insisted on my coming in, otherwise I would not have done so--knowing
how tiresome visitors are at such a moment; but since I am here, do me
the favour to mention to Miss Melcomb, how very happy I am to have the
opportunity of wishing her joy."
"And do look," cried Lady Aveling, "at this enchanting hat; it is just
come from Paris--was there ever any thing _de meilleur gôut_?--and
then look at this, and that _seduisante_--really, Lady Melcomb, your
selection has been exquisite. But here comes the bride."
Then ensued kisses, curtseys, and congratulations, during which Lord
Glenmore retired, wearied with the nonsense of the female coterie, and
despairing of even catching a glance from Miss Melcomb.
While the marriage ornaments continued to absorb the attention of the
other visitors, Miss Melcomb took Lady Ellersby aside to shew her what,
she said, was infinitely better worth looking at--a miniature of Lord
Glenmore.
"So, my dear," said Lady Ellersby, "you are really what they call in
love? he, he, he!"
"I am fondly attached to Lord Glenmore, and feel proud now in declaring
it;--it has become my happy duty," replied Miss Melcomb.
"Duty!" replied Lady Ellersby, opening her mouth, and _ouvrant des
grands yeux_, "he, he, he!--surely you are not serious? Whoever heard
a young person going to be married, that is, going to be her own
mistress, talk of duty! Tell me, really are you not delighted at the
idea of having horses and equipages, and doing exactly what you like,
and going out every where you please? That was what I liked and thought
of, when I was going to be married, and----but then I was not in
love--he, he, he!"
"No?" replied Miss Melcomb, somewhat astonished.
"Certainly not--he, he, he!"
"I have no wish," rejoined Miss Melcomb, "to be more my own mistress
than I am at present. I shall, on the contrary, feel myself less at
liberty, for of course a married woman has a thousand things to think
of which a girl has not."
"La, my dear, you talk in a way which it is very right to teach
children, but when people act for themselves they think very
differently. Every body, you know, marries to avoid being governed."
"I never could have married for that reason, for I have been the
happiest of creatures at home."
"Well really, la! you don't say so! But now you will have an opera
box, jewels, equipages, and all sorts of delightful things."
"I don't know--perhaps if Lord Glenmore intends I should--"
"La, how droll you are; you don't really mean to set out by asking his
leave, or consulting him on such trifling subjects as these, my dear
child, he, he, he! you are enough to spoil any husband.--Well, good
morning--you must correct yourself of such _enfantillage_--remember
what I say. Six months will not have elapsed before you recant all
this, and change your present mode of thinking and feeling."
Miss Melcomb smiled, and shook her head in token of dissent. "Good
morning," Lady Ellersby repeated, "I have already intruded too much
upon your time; I shall be delighted to cultivate your society when you
come back a gay bride; and pray tell Lady Melcomb I will not torment
her any more just now.--Once again accept my congratulations, and my
best compliments to Lord Melcomb, he, he, he!"
It is a strange thing that in the happiest of times there is often a
word spoken, or a thing occurs, which seems to interpose a dark spot
upon the brightness of happiness, as though we were not to forget the
nature of mortal felicity. Lady Ellersby's words, of six months will
not elapse ere you have changed your present feelings--sounded in Miss
Melcomb's ears long after they had been spoken; and though she strove
to drive them from her remembrance, they remained fixed there like a
warning which she was not to disregard--a foreboding of evil (for to
the happy all change has terror in it). Minor circumstances such as
this, have happened to every body in their course through life, and
have been like visions which opened a vista to futurity.
The day at length came which was to unite Miss Melcomb with Lord
Glenmore, and the various persons invited met at Lord Melcomb's house,
from whence their carriages followed in the suite of that of the
bride's. The ceremony took place in St. James's Chapel, and it was a
beautiful sight to see the bride, with composed bashfulness, in the
long white robe and coronal that bound her veiled brows, so fitly
emblematic of her own purity, supported by her father to the altar,
and given from the paternal arms into those of a husband, who was
henceforth to be all the world to her, and whom she acknowledged to be
lord of her affections in the seriousness of true and deep attachment,
as the chosen of her heart. Her velvet prayer book in one hand--the
other folding her veil across her person, which it but partially
concealed, she knelt down in that spirit of piety which hallows and
sanctifies the vows she was about to take. The previous tremor which
had shook her frame as she advanced to the altar, was stilled into
composure as she bent the knee, and raised her thoughts to heaven.
Lord Glenmore, too, seemed imbued with the same devout feelings, and
all those who came with lighter thoughts, appeared, outwardly at least,
impressed.
When the ceremony closed, the now Lady Glenmore knelt before her
parents, and as they pressed her to their breast, blessed her with
silent fervour; and even the most insensible acknowledged a touch of
feeling at this scene. Lady De Chere was heard to say, that she had
no idea it would be made such a serious affair of; had she known it,
she certainly would not have been present. Congratulations having been
offered on every side, some with sincere goodwill, but the greater
part with common-place phrase; the marriage party returned to Lady
Melcomb's, where a breakfast had been prepared.
"What a _mélange_ of persons!" observed Lady Ellersby, as she stopped
in the door-way on entering, in order to reconnoitre. "If I had not
been obliged" (she whispered to Lady Tilney), "nothing should have
brought me here."
"And _I_ most indubitably should not have come," replied the latter,
"had it not been to _oblige you_; and after all I would have given a
great deal that I _had not_: for I assure you, my dear, as soon as the
affair of the day is over, we must none of us be seen here again; what
we may do respecting Lord and Lady Glenmore, _reste a savoir_. But
yonder is Lady Baskerville and Lady Tenderden, let us join them, and
by keeping as much as possible together, and talking to no one but in
our own circle, shew that we are not here even at present on familiar
footing." Lady Baskerville was conversing with Lady Tenderden on one
of those square Ottomans _dos-a-dos_, with their several cavaliers by
them, Lord Tonnerre, Lord Gascoigne, Lord Boileau, &c.
"Well I am sure," said Lady Baskerville, addressing Lord Boileau,
"if I were Lady Glenmore, I should heartily wish all this _étiquette
de noces_ was over; when a marriage has taken place, and it is known
to all the world, the amusement is ended, and there is nothing to be
wished for, but the comfortable arrangement of two sensible persons,
who know what it is to live without being _a charge_ to each other."
"To be sure," replied Lord Boileau, "I wonder how people can make this
sort of fuss and _étalage_; it is assuming that one is interested for
them--nobody cares whether any body is happy or miserable, and it is a
bad taste to _affiché_ their private feelings in this public manner."
At this moment a general movement in one of the apartments attracted
every body's attention.--"Lord Melcomb is dead!" "Lord Melcomb is
dying!" resounded in audible whispers.
"Call my carriage."--"How shocking."--"I would not be in the room with
a corpse for the world."--"Do let us get away."
"Who knows but it may be catching--how fortunate for Glenmore," said
Lord Boileau, looking over the people's heads, as he beheld Lord
Melcomb apparently lifeless. "He will have the pretty heiress and her
fortune at the same moment."
"What do you mean?" asked some one who stood near.
"Why, only if the old Lord dies, that Miss Melcomb becomes immediate
mistress of Melcomb Park, and an estate of ten thousand a year."
"Does she! you do not mean so; had I known that, I would have proposed
to the girl myself," said Lord Tonnerre.
"But is he really in an apoplectic fit?" said another.
"Perhaps, but sometimes people do outlive these sort of things, and
walk about quite gaily many years."
"Ah! there is that chance to be sure," said Lady Baskerville, laughing.
It is lamentable to remark, how those who live in fashion's fooleries
become actually indifferent to every thing, and to every circumstance,
of what mighty moment soever, that does not immediately concern their
interests and pleasures. The most tremendous events, the most awful
dispensations, the most surprising occurrences are to them so many
little coloured bubbles, that seem to blow about for their amusement,
or targets set up to shoot jokes at. Life and death seem but as
foot-balls for these puppets to play with: it would be laughable if it
were not horrible.
Lord Melcomb had only a fainting fit, occasioned by over fatigue,
and the heat of the room. The brilliant crowd, however, which were
assembled at his house, fled in dismay on the first alarm of sickness
or of sorrow; and their inquiries the next day for his health, were
influenced more by curiosity, than by any feeling of humanity, or any
real care whether he were alive or dead. This event, however, had a
very different effect on the minds of Lord Melcomb's sincere friends,
who waited with anxiety to learn the effects of this sudden illness.
On Lady Glenmore's mind it cast a cloud, which seemed to overshadow
the bright dawning of her happiness; and she trembled at the idea of
some unknown calamity, an idea which had once before visited her, when
called up by Lady Ellersby's words, and which now again recurred to her
with painful intenseness. A short hour, however, relieved every one
from anxiety; Lord Melcomb was completely restored, and he received the
embraces of his child: when kissing away the tears, which she could
not restrain, he entreated her to lay aside all fears on his account.
Once more the bridal pair received the parental blessing; and taking
leave of the few dear friends that surrounded them, stepped into their
carriage and set off for Lord Glenmore's villa, where after remaining a
short time, and feeling quite reassured on Lord Melcomb's account, they
proceeded on a tour to Paris.