THE INTRIGUES OF A DEMIREP.
Lady Cecilia retired to her own chamber, locked the door, threw herself
upon the bed, and burst into tears.
Oh! at that moment how the hated her husband;--how she hated herself!
She wept not in regret of her evil ways: she poured forth tears of spite
when she thought of the opinion that her new lover must form of her,
after the explanation given by Sir Rupert.
For Captain Fitzhardinge was rich and confiding; and the fair patrician
had calculated upon rendering him subservient alike to her necessities
and her licentiousness.
But, now--what must he think of one who bestowed upon him those favours
that were alienated from her husband by a formal compact? What opinion
could he entertain of a woman who sinned deliberately by virtue of an
understanding with him whom she had sworn to respect and obey?
It could not be supposed that the morality of Captain Fitzhardinge was
of a very elevated nature: but in the occurrence of that morning there
was something calculated to shock the mind the least delicate--the least
refined.
Yea--Lady Cecilia wept; for she thought of all this!
And then her rage against her husband knew no bounds.
"The wretch--the cowardly wretch!" she exclaimed aloud, as she almost
gnashed her teeth with rage: "was he not born to be my ruin? From the
moment that I saw him first until the present hour, has he not been an
evil genius in my way? Yes--oh! yes: he is a demon sent to torture me in
this world for my faults and failings! Seduced by him when I was very
young, I might have been plunged into disgrace and infamy, had not my
father purchased his consent to espouse me. Then the large sum that was
paid to save my honour was squandered in the payment of his debts, or in
ministering to his extravagances. Now, what is our position? what is
_my_ position? Shunned by my own father and mother, I am left dependent
on him who knows not how to obtain enough for himself; or else I--I, the
daughter of a peer, must sell myself to some Mr. Greenwood or Captain
Fitzhardinge for the means to support my rank! Oh! it is atrocious: I
begin to loathe myself! Would that I were the mistress of some wealthy
man who would be constant and kind towards me, rather than the wife of
this beggared baronet!"
Lady Cecilia rose from the bed, advanced towards the mirror, and
smoothed her hair. Then she perceived that her eyes were red with
weeping.
"Absurd!" she exclaimed, a contemptuous smile curling her lips: "why
should I shed tears upon the past which no human power can recall?
Rather let me avail myself of the present, and endeavour to provide for
the future. Am I not young? and does not my glass tell me that I am
beautiful? Even the immaculate--the taintless--the exemplary rector of
Saint David's paid me a compliment on my good looks when I met him at
Lady Marlborough's, a few days ago. Yes--and methought that if the most
evangelical of evangelical clergymen of the Established Church could for
a moment be moved by my smile,--if that admired preacher, who publicly
avows that he refrains from marriage upon principle,--if that holy
minister who is quoted as a pattern to his class, and an example for the
whole world,--if _he_ could whisper a word savouring of a compliment in
my ear, and then seem ashamed of the moment of weakness into which his
admiration had betrayed him;--if my charms could effect so great a
miracle as this, what may they not do for me in helping me on to
fortune?"
She paused and considered herself for some minutes in the glass opposite
to her.
"Yes," she cried, again breaking silence, "I will no longer remain in
the same house with my unprincipled and heartless husband: I will no
longer breathe the tainted atmosphere which he inhabits. His very name
is associated in my mind with forgery and felony! I will break the
shackle which yet partially binds me to him; I will emancipate myself
from the restraint and thraldom wherein I now exist. Fitzhardinge is
rich and loving: perhaps he may still feel the influence of the silken
chain which I threw around his heart. We will see! If he come gladly
back to my feet, my aim is won: if not--well,"--and she smiled,
complacently,--"there are others as rich, as handsome, and as easily
enchained as he!"
Lady Cecilia proceeded to her desk and wrote the following note:--
"Come to me, dearest Fitzhardinge, at three precisely this
afternoon: I have much to say respecting the specious falsehoods
which Sir Rupert uttered this morning in order to conceal the
natural cowardice of his disposition. He was afraid to involve
himself in a quarrel with you; and he excused his unmanly
forbearance by means of assertions that reflected upon me. Come,
then, to me at three: I shall be alone, and at home only to you."
This note was immediately conveyed to Captain Fitzhardinge by Cecilia's
lady's-maid, who was the confidant of her mistress's intrigues.
Having despatched her missive, the baronet's wife proceeded to the
duties of the toilet.
This employment, breakfast, the newspaper, and a novel, wiled away the
time until about one o'clock, when Lady Cecilia, having ascertained that
her husband had gone out half an hour previously, descended to the
drawing-room.
She was attired in a simple and unpretending manner; but then she knew
that this style became her best.
She was determined to captivate that day; and certainly she had seldom
appeared to greater advantage.
Her rich auburn hair,--of a hue as warm as the disposition which it
characterised,--fell in long hyperion ringlets upon her sloping
shoulders: her blue eyes were expressive of a feeling of languid
voluptuousness; and her pure complexion was set off by the dark dress
that she wore.
The time-piece upon the mantel had scarcely struck two, when a loud
double-knock at the front-door resounded through the house.
Lady Cecilia started from her seat, for she had forgotten to instruct
the servants "that she was only at home to Captain Fitzhardinge." But
she was too late to remedy her neglect; the summons was already answered
ere she had gained the landing on which the drawing-room opened.
She accordingly returned to the sofa, and composed herself to receive
the visitor, whoever it might be.
In a few moments the servant announced the Earl of Warrington.
With this nobleman Lady Cecilia was only very slightly acquainted, she
having met him on two or three occasions, some years previously, at her
father's house.
"I must apologise, Lady Harborough, for this intrusion," said the earl;
"but I trust to your kindness to pardon me in that respect, and to
afford me a little information concerning a matter which has suddenly
assumed an air of importance in my eyes."
"No apology is necessary for the honour which your lordship confers upon
me by visiting my humble abode," answered Lady Cecilia; "and with regard
to the subject to which your lordship alludes, I shall be happy to
furnish any information in my power."
"Your ladyship's courtesy encourages me to proceed," continued the earl.
"Forgive me if I must direct your attention to one of those pieces of
gossip--I will not say scandal--which so often become current in the
sphere in which we move. I allude to an anecdote relative to a certain
mysterious remittance of a thousand pounds which was forwarded to Sir
Rupert Harborough, and which your ladyship undertook to disburse for his
advantage."
"Your lordship places the matter in as delicate a light as possible,"
said Lady Cecilia, affecting to laugh heartily in order to conceal the
shame which she really experienced at this reference to her unworthy
action; "but it was only a pleasant trick which I played Sir Rupert. The
truth is, Sir Rupert is not the most generous of men towards his wife;
and when I found that some honourable person was repaying him a debt
contracted a long time previously, I thought that, as the amount fell so
providentially into my hands, I could not do better than appropriate it
to the liquidation of the arrears of pin-money due to me."
"Very just, madam," said the earl, forcing himself to smile at the
incident which Lady Cecilia represented in the light of a venial little
advantage taken by a wife against her husband. "I believe that the
amount was forwarded anonymously?"
"To tell you the candid truth, my lord," answered Lady Cecilia, "the
whole affair was so strange and romantic, that I kept, as a great
curiosity, the letter which accompanied the bank-note. If you possess
any interest in the matter----"
"Your ladyship _knows_ that I am not seeking this information without
_some_ object," said the earl, emphatically. "Would it be indiscreet,"
he added, in a less serious tone, "to request a glimpse at that great
curiosity?"
"Oh! by no means," returned Lady Cecilia, who affected to treat the
whole matter as an excellent joke; then, rising from her seat, she
hastened to her work-box, and in a few moments produced the letter. "It
was not so scented with musk when I received it," she added, laughing;
"but it was redolent of a far more grateful flavour--that of this
world's mammon."
"I believe mammon is the deity whom we all more or less adore," observed
the Earl of Warrington, gallantly taking up the tone of chit-chat,
rather than formality, which Lady Cecilia endeavoured to infuse into the
conversation: then, as he received the letter from her hand, he said,
"May I be permitted to read it?"
"Oh! certainly, my lord: and, if you have any curiosity in the matter,
you are welcome to retain it," answered Lady Cecilia.
"With your leave I will do so," said the earl.
"And now that I have replied to all your lordship's queries," continued
Lady Cecilia, "may I ask one in my turn?"
The earl bowed, and smiled.
"Who was the indiscreet eave's-dropper or tale-bearer that gave your
lordship the hint concerning this business?" asked the baronet's wife.
"Methinks that your ladyship has been at no pains to conceal the
affair," said the earl: "and what hundreds have talked about cannot well
be charged against an individual tale-bearer."
"Nay, my lord, I mentioned it but to two persons," exclaimed Cecilia;
"the first was to Sir Rupert Harborough--in a moment of pique; and the
other was to a--a--particular friend----"
"I am not indiscreet enough to ask for names," interrupted the earl,
rising; and he hastened to take his leave, ere Lady Cecilia could
reiterate her question relative to the person who had communicated to
him the fact of the intercepted thousand pounds.
It was now nearly three o'clock; and Lady Cecilia again composed herself
to receive Captain Fitzhardinge.
Punctual to the hour, that officer was introduced into the drawing-room.
But his manner, instead of being all love and tenderness, was simply
polite and friendly.
"Fitzhardinge," said the lady, "I perceive that you have allowed
yourself to be prejudiced against me."
"Not prejudiced, Lady Cecilia," answered the guardsman; "but I confess
that I am no longer under the influence of a blind passion. The conduct
of your husband this morning was that of a man who was acting
consistently with the circumstances which he explained, and not that of
an individual who was playing a part in order to disguise the innate
cowardice of his disposition. No, Cecilia--your husband is not a
coward--whatever else he may be! And now one word relative to myself. So
long as I believed that you made to me, as a proof of love, the generous
sacrifice of conjugal fidelity,--so long as I believed that an affection
for me alone induced you to violate your marriage-vow,--then the dream
was sweet, though not the less criminal! But when I discovered that you
made no sacrifice to me,--that you came not to my arms warm with a love
that trembled at detection, but secure in the existence of a heartless
compact with your husband,--then my eyes were opened, and I saw that
Lady Cecilia Harborough had risked nothing of all that she had pretended
to risk--sacrificed nothing of all that she had affected to
sacrifice--for the sake of Captain Fitzhardinge! Thus the delusion was
destroyed; and although our amour might be based upon more impunity than
I had ever conceived, it would be the less sweet! The charm--the spell
is broken!"
"And have you come here to tell me all this--to insult me with your
moralisings?" demanded Lady Cecilia, the fire of indignation and wounded
pride displacing the languid voluptuousness which had at first reigned
in the expression of her eyes.
"No! not to insult you, Cecilia," answered the officer; "but to explain
in an open and candid manner the motive which leads me to say: '_Let us
forget the past, as it regards each other!_'"
"Be it so," said Lady Cecilia, deeply humiliated, and now hating the
handsome officer much more than she had ever liked him. "In that case,
sir, we can have nothing more to say to each other."
Captain Fitzhardinge bowed, and withdrew.
Lady Cecilia fell back upon the sofa, murmuring, "Beaten--beaten!
defeated in this hope!"
And tears came into her eyes.
But in a few moments she exclaimed, "How foolish is this grief! how
useless this indignation! Sorrow and hatred are the consuming enemies of
female beauty! Did I not say ere now that there were others in the world
as rich, as handsome, and as confiding as Captain Fitzhardinge?"
As she uttered these words aloud, the haughty beauty wiped her eyes and
composed her countenance.
She rose and advanced towards the mirror to assure herself that her
appearance indicated naught of those tears which she had shed; and as
she contemplated her features with a very pardonable pride, the
reminiscence of the compliment which the clergyman of Saint David's had
paid her flashed to her mind.
She smiled triumphantly as she pondered upon it; and that vague,
shadowy, unsubstantial phrase of flattery, that now formed the topic of
her thoughts, gradually assumed a more palpable shape in her
imagination,--became invested with a significant meaning,--then grew
into a revelation of passion,--and was at length embodied into a perfect
romance of love with all its enjoyments and blisses.
The ardent soul of that frail woman converted the immaculate clergyman
into an admirer betrayed in an unguarded moment into a confession of
love,--then changed him into a suitor kneeling at her feet,--and by
rapid degrees carried him on, through all the mystic phases of passion,
until he became a happy lover reclining on her bosom.
With a presumption which only characterises minds of her warm
temperament and loose ideas of morality, Cecilia triumphed in the
half-hour's impassioned reverie which succeeded the departure of Captain
Fitzhardinge, over the ascetic virtue and self-denying integrity which
public opinion ascribed to the rector of Saint David's.
Then, when some trifling incident aroused her from this wild and
romantic dream, she did not smile at its folly--she regarded it as a
species of inspiration prompting her in which direction to play the
artillery of her charms.
"Yes," she exclaimed, musing aloud; "he once said, '_I never saw you
look so well as you appear this evening:_'--these words shall be a motto
to a new chapter in my life!"
And she smiled triumphantly as if her daring aim were already
accomplished!
"Thirty-six years of age," she abruptly resumed her
musings,--"wealthy--handsome--unmarried, _from principle_,"--and here an
erratic smile of mingled satisfaction and irony played on her rosy
lips,--"and yet fond of society, the Reverend Reginald Tracy must no
longer be permitted to remain proof against woman's beauty--aye, and
woman's wiles. Oh! no--he shall repeat to me, but far more tenderly, the
words he uttered the other evening: his passing compliment shall become
a permanent expression of his sentiments! But his character--his
disposition? must I not study _them_? If that be necessary, the task is
ready to hand!"
She rose from the sofa, and having selected an ecclesiastical magazine
from some books that stood upon a cheffonier, returned to her seat to
peruse at leisure a sketch which the work contained of the character,
ministry, and popularity of the rector of Saint David's.