THE BRIDE ALONE.--A DIALOGUE POLITICAL AND MATRIMONIAL.--CONSTANCE’S
GENIUS FOR DIPLOMACY.--THE CHARACTER OF HER ASSEMBLIES.--HER CONQUEST
OVER LADY DELVILLE.
“Bring me that book; place that table nearer; and leave me.”
The Abigail obeyed the orders, and the young Countess of Erpingham was
alone. Alone! what a word for a young and beautiful bride in the first
months of her marriage! Alone! and in the heart of that mighty city
in which rank and wealth--and they were hers--are the idols adored by
millions.
It was a room fancifully and splendidly decorated. Flowers and perfumes
were, however, its chief luxury; and from the open window you might see
the trees in the old Mall deepening into the rich verdure of June. That
haunt, too--a classical haunt for London--was at the hour I speak of
full of gay and idle life; and there was something fresh and joyous in
the air, the sun, and the crowd of foot and horse that swept below.
Was the glory gone from your brow, Constance?--or the proud gladness
from your eye? Alas! are not the blessings of the world like the
enchanted bullets?--that which pierces our heart is united with the gift
which our heart desired!
Lord Erpingham entered the room. “Well, Constance,” said he, “shall you
ride on horseback to-day?”
“I think not.”
“Then I wish you would call on Lady Delville. You see Delville is of my
party: we sit together. You should be very civil to her, and I did not
think you were so the other night.”
“You wish Lady Delville to support your political interest; and, if I
mistake not, you think her at present lukewarm?”
“Precisely.”
“Then, my dear lord, will you place confidence in my discretion? I
promise you, if you will leave me undisturbed in my own plans, that Lady
Delville shall be the most devoted of your party before the season is
half over: but then, the means will not be those you advise.”
“Why, I advised none.”
“Yes--civility; a very poor policy.”
“D--n it, Constance! why, you would not frown a great person like Lady
Delville into affection for us?”
“Leave it to me.”
“Nonsense!”
“My dear lord, only try. Three months is all I ask. You will leave the
management of politics to me ever afterwards! I was born a schemer. Am I
not John Vernon’s daughter?”
“Well, well, do as you will,” said Lord Erpingham; “but I see how it
will end. However, you will call on Lady Delville to-day?”
“If you wish it, certainly.”
“I do.”
Lady Delville was a proud, great lady; not very much liked and not so
often invited by her equals as if she had been agreeable and a flirt.
Constance knew with whom she had to treat. She called on Lady Delville
that day. Lady Delville was at home: a pretty and popular Mrs. Trevor
was with her.
Lady Delville received her coolly--Constance was haughtiness itself.
“You go to the Duchess of Daubigny’s to-night?” said Lady Delville in
the course of their broken conversation.
“Indeed I do not. I like agreeable society. It shall be my object to
form a circle that not one displeasing person shall obtain access to.
Will you assist me, my dear Mrs. Trevor?”--and Constance turned, with
her softest smile, to the lady she addressed.
Mrs. Trevor was flattered: Lady Delville drew herself up.
“It is a small party at the duchess’s,” said the latter; “merely to meet
the Duke and Duchess of C----.”
“Ah, few people are capable of giving a suitable entertainment to the
royal family.”
“But surely none more so than the Duchess of Daubigny--her house so
large, her rank so great!”
“These are but poor ingredients towards the forming of an agreeable
party,” said Constance, coldly. “The mistake made by common minds is to
suppose titles the only rank. Royal dukes love, above all other persons,
to be amused; and amusement is the last thing generally provided for
them.”
The conversation fell into other channels. Constance rose to depart.
She warmly pressed the hand of Mrs. Trevor, whom she had only seen once
before.
“A few persons come to me to-morrow evening,” said she; “_do_ waive
ceremony, and join us. I can promise you that not one disagreeable
person shall be present; and that the Duchess of Daubigny shall write
for an invitation and be refused.”
Mrs. Trevor accepted the invitation.
Lady Delville was enraged beyond measure. Never was female tongue more
bitter than hers at the expense of that insolent Lady Erpingham! Yet
Lady Delville was secretly in grief; for the first time in her life, she
was hurt at not having been asked to a party: and being hurt because she
was not going, she longed most eagerly to go.
The next evening came. Erpingham House was not large, but it was well
adapted to the description of assembly its beautiful owner had invited.
Statues, busts, pictures, books, scattered or arranged about the
apartments, furnished matter for intellectual conversation, or gave at
least an intellectual air to the meeting.
About a hundred persons were present. They were selected from the most
distinguished ornaments of the time. Musicians, painters, authors,
orators, fine gentlemen, dukes, princes, and beauties. One thing,
however, was imperatively necessary in order to admit them--the
profession of liberal opinions. No Tory, however wise, eloquent or
beautiful, could, that evening, have obtained the sesame to those
apartments.
Constance never seemed more lovely, and never before was she so winning.
The coldness and the arrogance of her manner had wholly vanished. To
every one she spoke; and to every one her voice, her manner, were kind,
cordial, familiar, but familiar with a soft dignity that heightened the
charm. Ambitious not only to please but to dazzle, she breathed into her
conversation all the grace and culture of her mind. They who admired her
the most were the most accomplished themselves.
Now exchanging with foreign nobles that brilliant trifling of the world
in which there is often so much penetration, wisdom, and research into
character; now with a kindling eye and animated cheek commenting, with
poets and critics, on literature and the arts; now, in a more remote
and quiet corner, seriously discussing, with hoary politicians, those
affairs in which even they allowed her shrewdness and her grasp of
intellect; and combining with every grace and every accomplishment a
rare and dazzling order of beauty--we may readily imagine the sensation
she created, and the sudden and novel zest which so splendid an Armida
must have given to the tameness of society.
The whole of the next week, the party at Erpingham House was the theme
of every conversation. Each person who had been there had met the lion
he had been most anxious to see. The beauty had conversed with the poet,
who had charmed her; the young debutant in science had paid homage to
the great professor of its loftiest mysteries; the statesman had thanked
the author who had defended his measures; the author had been delighted
with the compliment of the statesman. Every one then agreed that, while
the highest rank in the kingdom had been there, rank had been the least
attraction; and those who before had found Constance repellent, were
the very persons who now expatiated with the greatest rapture on the
sweetness of her manners. Then, too, every one who had been admitted
to the coterie dwelt on the rarity of the admission; and thus, all the
world were dying for an introduction to Erpingham House--partly, because
it was agreeable--principally, because it was difficult.
It soon became a compliment to the understanding to say of a person,
“He goes to Lady Erpingham’s!” They who valued themselves on their
understandings moved heaven and earth to become popular with the
beautiful countess. Lady Delville was not asked; Lady Delville was
furious: she affected disdain, but no one gave her credit for it. Lord
Erpingham teased Constance on this point.
“You see I was right; for you have affronted Lady Delville. She has made
Delville look coolly on me; in a few weeks he will be a Tory; think of
that, Lady Erpingham!”
“One month more,” answered Constance, with a smile, “and you shall see.”
One night, Lady Delville and Lady Erpingham met at a large party. The
latter seated herself by her haughty enemy; not seeming to heed Lady
Delville’s coolness, Constance entered into conversation with her. She
dwelt upon books, pictures, music: her manner was animated, and her wit
playful. Pleased, in spite of herself, Lady Delville warmed from her
reserve.
“My dear Lady Delville,” said Constance, suddenly turning her bright
countenance on the countess with an expression of delighted surprise,
“will you forgive me?--I never dreamed before that you were so charming
a person! I never conceal my sentiments: and I own with regret and shame
that, till this moment, I had never seen in your mind--whatever I might
in your person--those claims to admiration which were constantly dinned
into my ear.”
Lady Delville actually coloured.
“Pray,” continued Constance, “condescend to permit me to a nearer
acquaintance. Will you dine with us on Thursday?--we shall have only
nine persons beside yourself: but they are the nine persons whom I most
esteem and admire.”
Lady Delville accepted the invitation. From that hour, Lady
Delville--who had at first resented, from the deepest recess of her
heart, Constance Vernon’s accession to rank and wealth,--who, had
Constance deferred to her early acquaintance, would have always found
something in her she could have affected to despise; from that hour,
Lady Delville was the warmest advocate, and a little time after, the
sincerest follower, of the youthful countess.