PLEASANT MEETINGS AT SORRENTO.
The Duc de Luna was not yet able to walk, but Doctor Nelson considered
that change of scene might be beneficial, if Mr. Chandos and his family
would go with him; therefore, a comfortable travelling-carriage was
engaged for the Duke, and the whole party started for Sorrento.
Mr. Chandos had ascertained that a large villa was to be had there, in a
beautiful spot near the seashore, not far from Mrs. Vivian’s house, and
Valentino was despatched to engage it and see that it was fit for their
reception. In order to make short days’ journeys, they stopped the first
night at Capua, and the next at Castellamare, only stopping an hour at
Naples on the way.
On their arrival at Sorrento, they found, to the great surprise and the
delight of all the family except Mrs. Chandos, that Lady Horatia
Somerton had just taken a house there. Her little girl, Brownie, had
been very ill, and she was advised to try a southern climate; and most
of her friends wondered that a so-called gay lady had not chosen Naples,
instead of such a quiet place as Sorrento. But she explained, as if half
ashamed of choosing a dull place, that she thought it would be better
for Brownie, and that she would be able to attend more to her; and now
there was no chance of being dull, as Norah and her father were there,
and the dear little Hetty, who would be such a delightful companion for
Brownie; and that most handsome and fascinating of Dukes, who had passed
two London seasons under her protection.
“Yes, protection, my dear,” she repeated to Norah, “for I helped to keep
him out of the worst gambling set. I did indeed; and now that he has
been so dangerously ill, and has had such a miraculous escape, I hope
you will be able to reform him. Do you know, I am getting quite good. I
am becoming _devote_, as Madame de R---- said, when she was getting
tired of the world, or the world was getting tired of her. And then the
beautiful Contessa Vivian--that wonderful girl Constance’s
mother--thrives so on her devotions, and looks so young and lovely, that
it makes one in love with her religion. But what a contrast she is to
her daughter in all except her extraordinary beauty!”
This was said by Lady Horatia to Norah the morning after their arrival,
when she called on the new-comer, and found Norah in the garden in front
of the Villa Palmiero. She would not go in to see the rest of the party
till she had taken Norah to one of the shady seats at the end of the
terrace, and had drawn from her an account of all that had happened
since she came to London last season to nurse her friend with infectious
fever.
Norah did not tell her much in words, but the quick-witted lady soon
made out the exact state of the case. She had heard of Sir Alfred’s
mysterious disappearance, and when Norah told her what Prince D---- said
about him and Lady Selina, she felt sure that the Prince was right.
“And you think you saw him land in the moonlight at Gaeta?--and the next
day Lady Selina went off to that mad aunt of hers among the mountains?
Depend upon it, she has heard something of him, and she is the most
mischievously persevering person I ever met with. And you still care a
little for Sir Alfred? I see you do. That fascinating Duke has
not--darling, don’t look so miserable and angry. I am sure it would be
very natural. Sir Alfred behaved so shamefully. Ah, that is little
Hetty, is it?” she said, as the child ran bounding down the terrace
towards them. “Now, then, I will go in and see the others--you are all
here together--well, there is plenty of room--I suppose the Duke has a
suite of rooms to himself?”
“Yes, my father acceded to his earnest wish that he should remain with
us till he had quite recovered; and the doctor was most anxious, too,
that he should; but--”
“Ah, yes, there is a but,” added Lady Horatia, as they entered the
house; “well, we shall see; your new mother improves, I suppose,” she
whispered, as they crossed the entrance-hall.
Mrs. Chandos had never seen Lady Horatia, but from all she had heard
before her marriage of the great lady, she had always dreaded meeting
her, and, above all, being introduced to her. She was upstairs with the
children when she heard Lady Horatia’s name announced, and she ran to
the glass to see if her dress was properly arranged, and her hair in
some degree of order, for her baby had been playing with it.
While her trembling fingers were trying to remedy the mischief, Norah
came to the rescue, and not only put it to rights, but begged that she
would bring down the baby, as Lady Horatia was dying to see it; “it is
dressed quite nicely enough.”
This idea was a great relief to Mrs. Chandos, for she was never so
happy, or thought so little about herself, as when people were admiring
her baby.
Norah was fully aware of this, and also of her dread of Lady Horatia, so
she tried, as they went downstairs, to convince her that she would
really like Lady Horatia very much.
“Ah, but she will not like me,” said Mrs. Chandos, in a despondent tone.
“Yes, that she will; and she will, besides, be enchanted with that
lovely baby.”
At first, after they entered the room, Mrs. Chandos could see nothing
but her child, but she felt her hand was taken, not shaken, but held for
a moment with a gentle pressure, which soothed her nerves; and then a
voice, which said the single words, “I am very glad to see you at last,”
sounded most cheeringly sincere.
Then she ventured to look up, and saw Lady Horatia’s beautiful face and
speaking eyes turned towards her with an approving smile of welcome. The
baby was taken from her arms, and Lady Horatia danced and admired and
talked to it with a kind of homely heartiness which surprised and
delighted the young mother, and made her forget that this was really the
formidable great London lady, the bugbear of her imagination.
“How proud you must be of the darling child, Mr. Chandos!” she said,
turning to the father. “I really think it will be the handsomest of all
your children--not even excepting my beautiful Norah.”