_LADY LATIMER IN WOLDSHIRE_.
Mr. Fairfax welcomed Elizabeth on her arrival with an air of reserve, as
if he did not wish to receive any intelligence from Minster Court.
Bessie took the hint. The only news he had for her was that she might
mount Janey now as soon as she pleased. Bessie was pleased to mount her
the next morning, and to enjoy a delightful ride in her grandfather's
company. Janey went admirably, and promised to be an immense addition to
the cheerfulness of her mistress's life. Mr. Fairfax was gratified to
see her happy, and they chatted cordially enough, but Bessie did not
find it possible to speak of the one thing that lay uppermost in her
mind.
In the afternoon Mrs. Stokes called, and having had a glimpse of Mr.
Laurence Fairfax's secret, and heard various reports since, she was
curious for a full revelation. Bessie gave her the narrative complete,
interspersed with much happy prediction; and Mrs. Stokes declared
herself infinitely relieved to hear that, in spite of probabilities, the
mysterious wife was a quite presentable person.
"You remember that I told you Miss Jocund was a lady herself," she said.
"The Jocunds are an old Norminster family, and we knew a Dr. Jocund in
India. It was an odd thing for Miss Jocund to turn milliner; still, it
must be much more comfortable than dependence upon friends. There is
nothing so unsatisfactory as helpless poor relations. Colonel Stokes has
no end of them. I wish they would turn milliners, or go into Lady
Angleby's scheme of genteel mistresses for national schools, or do
anything but hang upon us. And the worst is, they are never grateful and
never done with."
"Are they ashamed to work?"
"No, I don't think shame is in their way, or pride, but sheer
incompetence. One is blind, another is a confirmed invalid."
"Then perhaps Providence puts them in your lot for the correction of
selfishness," said Bessie laughing. "I believe if we all helped the need
that belongs to us by kindred or service, there would be little misery
of indigence in the world, and little superfluity of riches even amongst
the richest. That must have been the original reading of the old saw
that sayeth, 'Charity should begin at home.'".
"Oh, political economy is not in my line," cried Mrs. Stokes, also
laughing. "You have caught a world of wisdom from Mr. Cecil Burleigh, no
doubt, but please don't shower it on me."
Bessie did not own the impeachment by a blush, as she would have done a
week ago. She could hear that name with composure now, and was proving
an apt pupil in the manners of society. Mrs. Stokes scanned her in some
perplexity, and would have had her discourse of the occupations and
diversions of Brentwood, but all Bessie's inclination was to discourse
of those precious boys in Minster Court.
"They are just of an age to be play-fellows with your boys," she said to
the blooming little matron. "How I should rejoice to see them racing
about the garden together!"
Bessie was to wish this often and long before her loving desire was
gratified. If she had not been preassured that her grandfather did, in
fact, know all that was to be known about the children, nothing in his
conduct would have betrayed it to her. She told the story in writing to
her mother, and received advice of prudence and patience. The days and
weeks at Abbotsmead flowed evenly on, and brought no opportunity of
asking the favor of a visit from them. Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton drove
over to luncheon, and Bessie and her grandfather returned the civility.
Sir Edward Lucas came to call and stayed a long time, planning his new
town for colliers: Miss Fairfax said a word in praise of steep tiled
roofs as more airy than low roofs of slate, and Sir Edward was an easy
convert to her opinion. Mr. Cecil Burleigh came twice to spend a few
days, and brought a favorable report of his canvass; the second time his
sister accompanied him, and they brought the good news that Lady Latimer
was at Brentwood, and was coming to Hartwell the following week.
Bessie Fairfax was certainly happier when there was company at
Abbotsmead, and she had a preference for Miss Burleigh's company; which
might be variously interpreted. Miss Burleigh herself considered Miss
Fairfax rather cold, but then Bessie was not expansive unless she loved
very fondly and familiarly. One day they fell a-talking of Mr. Laurence
Fairfax's wife, and Miss Burleigh suggested a cautious inquiry with a
view to obtaining Bessie's real sentiments respecting her. She received
the frankest exposition of them, with a bit of information to boot that
gave her a theme for reflection.
"I think her a perfect jewel of a wife," said Bessie with genuine
kindness. "My uncle Laurence and she are quite devoted to one another.
She sings like a little bird, and it is beautiful to see her with those
boys. I wish we had them all at Abbotsmead. And she is _so_ pretty--the
prettiest lady I ever saw, except, perhaps, one."
"And who was that one?" Miss Burleigh begged to know.
"It was a Miss Julia Gardiner. I saw her first at Fairfield at the
wedding of Lady Latimer's niece, and again at Ryde the other day."
"Oh yes! dear Julia was very lovely once, but she has gone off. The
Gardiners are very old friends of ours." Miss Burleigh turned aside her
face as she spoke. She had not heard before that Miss Fairfax had met
her rival and predecessor in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's affections: why had
her dear Cecil been so rash as to bring them in contact and give her the
opportunity of drawing inferences? That Bessie had drawn her inferences
truly was plain, from a soft blush and glance and a certain tone in her
voice as she mentioned the name of Miss Julia Gardiner, as if she would
deprecate any possible idea that she was taking a liberty. The subject
was not pursued. Miss Burleigh wished only to forget it; perhaps Bessie
had expected a confidential word, and was abashed at hearing none, for
she began to talk with eagerness, rather strained, of Lady Latimer's
promised visit to Hartwell.
Lady Latimer's arrival was signalized by an immediate invitation to Mr.
Fairfax and his granddaughter to go over and lunch on a fixed day.
Bessie was never so impatient as till the day came, and when she mounted
Janey to ride to Hartwell she palpitated more joyously than ever she had
done yet since her coming into Woldshire. Her grandfather asked her why
she was so glad, but she found it difficult to tell him: because my lady
had come from the Forest seemed the root of the matter, as far as it
could be expressed. The squire looked rather glum, Macky remarked to
Mrs. Betts; and if she had been in his shoes wild horses should not have
drawn her into company with that proud Lady Latimer. The golden harvest
was all gone from the fields, and there was a change of hue upon the
woods--yellow and red and russet mingled with their deep green. The
signs of decay in the vivid life of Nature could not touch Bessie with
melancholy yet--the spring-tides of youth were too strong in her--but
Mr. Fairfax, glancing hither and thither over the bare, sunless
landscape, said, "The winter will soon be upon us, Elizabeth. You must
make the best of the few bright days that are remaining: very few and
very swift they seem when they are gone."
Hartwell was as secluded amongst its evergreens and fir trees now as at
midsummer, but in the overcast day the house had a dull and unattractive
aspect. The maiden sisters sat in the gloomy drawing-room alone to
receive their guests, but after the lapse of a few minutes Lady Latimer
entered. She was dressed in rich black silk and lace--carefully dressed,
but the three years that had passed since Bessie Fairfax last saw her
had left their mark. Bessie, her heart swelling, her eyes shining with
emotion, moved to meet her, but Lady Latimer only shook hands with sweet
ceremoniousness, and she was instantly herself again. The likeness that
had struck the maiden sisters did not strike my lady, or, being warned
of it, she was on her guard. There was a momentary silence, and then
with cold pale face she turned to Mr. Fairfax, congratulated him on
having his granddaughter at home, and asked how long she had been at
Abbotsmead. Soon appeared Mr. Oliver Smith, anxious to talk election
gossip with his neighbor; and for a few minutes Bessie had Lady Latimer
to herself, to gaze at and admire, and confusedly to listen to, telling
Beechhurst news.
"Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie charged me with innumerable kind words for
you--Jack wants you to go home before he goes to sea--Willie and Tom
want you to make tails for their kites--Miss Buff will send you a letter
soon--Mr. Wiley trusts you have forgiven him his forgetfulness of your
message."
"Oh no, I have not. He lost me an opportunity that may come again I know
not when," said Bessie impetuously.
"I must persuade your grandfather to lend you to me for a month next
spring, when the leaves are coming out and the orchards are in blossom;
or, if he cannot spare you then, when the autumn tints begin."
"Oh, thank you! But I think the Forest lovely at all seasons--when the
boughs are bare or when they are covered with snow."
Bessie would have been glad that the invitation should come now, without
waiting for next year, but that was not even thought of. Lady Latimer
was looking towards the gentlemen, more interested in their interests
than in the small Beechhurst chat that Bessie would never have tired of.
After a few minutes of divided attention my lady rose, and _a propos_ of
the Norminster election expressed her satisfaction in the career that
seemed to be opening for Mr. Cecil Burleigh:
"Lord Latimer thought highly of him from a boy. He was often at Umpleby
in the holidays. He is like a son to my old friend at Brentwood; Lady
Angleby is happy in having a nephew who bids fair to attain distinction,
since her own sons prefer obscurity. She deplores their want of
ambition: it must be indeed a trial to a mother of her aspiring temper."
So my lady talked on, heard and not often interrupted; it was the old
voice and grand manner that Bessie Fairfax remembered so well, and once
so vastly reverenced. She did not take much more notice of Bessie. After
luncheon she chose to pace the lawn with her brother and Mr. Fairfax,
debating and predicting the course of public affairs, which shared her
thoughts with the government of Beechhurst. Bessie remained indoors with
the two quiet sisters, who were not disposed to forsake the fireside for
the garden: the wood-fire was really comfortable that clouded afternoon,
though September was not yet far advanced. Miss Charlotte sat by one of
the windows, holding back the curtain to watch the trio on the lawn, and
Bessie sat near, able to observe them too.
"Dear Olympia is as energetic as ever, but, Juliana, don't you think she
is contracting a slight stoop to one side?" said Miss Charlotte. Miss
Juliana approached to look out.
"She always did hang that arm. Dear Olympia! Still, she is a majestic
figure. She was one of the handsomest women in Europe, Miss Fairfax,
when Lord Latimer married her."
"I can well imagine that: she is beautiful now when she smiles and
colors a little," said Bessie.
"Ah, that smile of Olympia's! We do not often see it in these days, but
it had a magic. All the men were in love with her--she made a great
marriage. Lord Latimer was not one of our oldest nobility, but he was
very rich and his mansion at Umpleby was splendid, quite a palace, and
our Olympia was queen there."
"We never married," said Miss Charlotte meekly. "It would not have done
for us to marry men who could not have been received at court, so to
speak--at Umpleby, I mean. Olympia said so at the time, and we agreed
with her. Dear Olympia was the only one of us who married, except
Maggie, our half-sister, the eldest of our father's children--Mrs.
Bernard's mother--and that was long before the great event in our
family."
Bessie fancied there was a flavor of regret in these statements.
Miss Juliana took up the thread where her sister had dropped it: "There
is our dear Oliver--what a perfect gentleman he was! How accomplished,
how elegant! If your sweet aunt Dorothy had not died when she did, he
might have been your near connection, Miss Fairfax. We have often urged
him to marry, if only for the sake of the property, but he has
steadfastly refused to give that good and lovely young creature a
successor. Our elder brother also died unmarried."
Miss Charlotte chimed in again: "Lady Latimer moved for so many years in
a distinguished circle that she can throw her mind into public business.
We range with humble livers in content, and are limited to the politics
of a very small school and hamlet. You will be a near neighbor, Miss
Fairfax, and we hope you will come often to Hartwell: we cannot be Lady
Latimer to you, but we will do our best. Abbotsmead was once a familiar
haunt; of late years it has been almost a house shut up."
Bessie liked the kindly, garrulous old ladies, and promised to be
neighborly. "I have been told," she said after a short silence, "that my
grandfather was devoted to Lady Latimer when they were young."
"Your grandfather, my dear, was one amongst many who were devoted to
her," said Miss Juliana hastily.
"No more than that? Oh, I hoped he was preferred above others," said
Bessie, without much reflecting.
"Why hope it?" said Miss Charlotte in a saddened tone. "Dorothy thought
that he was, and resented Olympia's marriage with Lord Latimer as a
treachery to her brother that was past pardon. Oliver shared Dorothy's
sentiments; but we are all friends again now, thank God! Juliana's
opinion is, that dear Olympia cared no more for Richard Fairfax than she
cared for any of her other suitors, or why should she have married Lord
Latimer? Olympia was her own mistress, and pleased herself--no one else,
for we should have preferred Richard Fairfax, all of us. But she had her
way, and there was a breach between Hartwell and Abbotsmead for many
years in consequence. Why do we talk of it? it is past and gone. And
there they go, walking up and down the lawn together, as I have seen
them walk a hundred times, and a hundred to that. How strangely the old
things seem to come round again!"
At that moment the three turned towards the house. Lady Latimer was
talking with great earnestness; Mr. Fairfax sauntered with his hands
clasped behind him and his eyes on the ground; Mr. Oliver Smith was not
listening. When they entered the room her grandfather said to Bessie,
"Come, Elizabeth, it is time we were riding home;" and when he saw her
wistful eyes turn to the visitor from the Forest, he added, "You have
not lost Lady Latimer yet. She will come over to Abbotsmead the day
after to-morrow."
Bessie could not help being reminded by her grandfather's face and voice
of another old Beechhurst friend--Mr. Phipps. Perhaps this luncheon at
Hartwell had been pleasanter to her than to him, though even she had an
aftertaste of disappointment in it, because Lady Latimer no longer
dazzled her judgment. To the end my lady preserved her animation, and
when the visitors had mounted and were ready to ride away she still
engaged Mr. Fairfax's ear while she expounded her views of the mischief
that would accrue if ever election by ballot became the law of the land.
"You must talk to Chiverton about that," said the squire, lifting his
hat and moving off.
"I shall drive over to Castlemount to-morrow," said my lady; and she
accompanied her visitors to the gate with more last words on a variety
of themes that had been previously discussed and dismissed.
All the way home the squire never once opened his mouth to speak; he
appeared thoroughly jaded and depressed and in his most sarcastic humor.
At dinner Bessie heard more bitter sentiments against her sex than she
had ever heard in her life before, and wondered whether they were the
residuum of his disappointed passion.