On the following day, Mr. Neuchatel had good-naturedly invited Endymion
down to Hainault, and when he arrived there, a servant informed him that
Miss Ferrars wished to see him in her room.
It was a long interview and an agitated one, and when she had told her
tale, and her brother had embraced her, she sat for a time in silence,
holding his hand, and intimating, that, for a while, she wished that
neither of them should speak. Suddenly, she resumed, and said, “Now you
know all, dear darling; it is so sudden, and so strange, that you must
be almost as much astounded as gratified. What I have sighed for,
and prayed for--what, in moments of inspiration, I have sometimes
foreseen--has happened. Our degradation is over. I seem to breathe for
the first time for many years. I see a career, ay, and a great one; and
what is far more important, I see a career for you.”
“At this moment, dear Myra, think only of yourself.”
“You are myself,” she replied, rather quickly, “never more so than at
this moment;” and then she said in a tone more subdued, and even tender,
“Lord Roehampton has every quality and every accident of life that I
delight in; he has intellect, eloquence, courage, great station and
power; and, what I ought perhaps more to consider, though I do not,
a sweet disposition and a tender heart. There is every reason why we
should be happy--yes, very happy. I am sure I shall sympathise with him;
perhaps, I may aid him; at least, he thinks so. He is the noblest
of men. The world will talk of the disparity of our years; but Lord
Roehampton says that he is really the younger of the two, and I think he
is right. My pride, my intense pride, never permitted to me any levity
of heart.”
“And when is it to happen?” inquired Endymion.
“Not immediately. I could not marry till a year had elapsed after our
great sorrow; and it is more agreeable, even to him, that our union
should be delayed till the session is over. He wants to leave England;
go abroad; have a real holiday. He has always had a dream of travelling
in Spain; well, we are to realise the dream. If we could get off at the
end of July, we might go to Paris, and then to Madrid, and travel in
Andalusia in the autumn, and then catch the packet at Gibraltar, and get
home just in time for the November cabinets.”
“Dear Myra! how wonderful it all seems!” involuntarily exclaimed
Endymion.
“Yes, but more wonderful things will happen. We have now got a lever
to move the world. Understand, my dear Endymion, that nothing is to
be announced at present. It will be known only to this family, and the
Penruddocks. I am bound to tell them, even immediately; they are friends
that never can be forgotten. I have always kept up my correspondence
with Mrs. Penruddock. Besides, I shall tell her in confidence, and she
is perfectly to be depended on. I am going to ask my lord to let Mr.
Penruddock marry us.”
“Oh! that will be capital,” said Endymion.
“There is another person, by the by, who must know it, at least my lord
says so,” said Myra, “and that is Lady Montfort; you have heard of that
lady and her plans. Well, she must be told--at least, sooner or later.
She will be annoyed, and she will hate me. I cannot help it; every one
is hated by somebody.”
During the three months that had to elapse before the happy day, several
incidents occurred that ought to be noted. In the first place, Lady
Montfort, though disappointed and very much astonished, bore the
communication from Lord Roehampton more kindly than he had anticipated.
Lord Roehampton made it by letter, and his letters to women were more
happy even than his despatches to ministers, and they were unrivalled.
He put the matter in the most skilful form. Myra had been born in a
social position not inferior to his own, and was the daughter of one of
his earliest political friends. He did not dilate too much on her charms
and captivating qualities, but sufficiently for the dignity of her
who was to become his wife. And then he confessed to Lady Montfort how
completely his heart and happiness were set on Lady Roehampton being
welcomed becomingly by his friends; he was well aware, that in these
matters things did not always proceed as one could wish, but this was
the moment, and this the occasion, to test a friend, and he believed he
had the dearest, the most faithful, the most fascinating, and the most
powerful in Lady Montfort.
“Well, we must put the best face upon it,” exclaimed that lady; “he was
always romantic. But, as he says, or thinks, what is the use of friends
if they do not help you in a scrape?”
So Lady Montfort made the acquaintance of Myra, and welcomed her
new acquaintance cordially. She was too fine a judge of beauty and
deportment not to appreciate them, even when a little prejudice lurked
behind. She was amused also, and a little gratified, by being in the
secret; presented Myra with a rare jewel, and declared that she should
attend the wedding; though when the day arrived, she was at Princedown,
and could not, unfortunately, leave her lord.
About the end of June, a rather remarkable paragraph appeared in the
journal of society:
“We understand that His Royal Highness Prince Florestan, who has been
for some little time in this country, has taken the mansion in Carlton
Gardens, recently occupied by the Marquis of Katterfelto. The mansion is
undergoing very considerable repairs, but it is calculated that it will
be completed in time for the reception of His Royal Highness by the
end of the autumn; His Royal Highness has taken the extensive moors of
Dinniewhiskie for the coming season.”
In the earlier part of July, the approaching alliance of the Earl
of Roehampton with Miss Ferrars, the only daughter of the late Right
Honourable William Pitt Ferrars, of Hurstley Hall, in the county of
Berks, was announced, and great was the sensation, and innumerable the
presents instantly ordered.
But on no one did the announcement produce a greater effect than
on Zenobia; that the daughter of her dearest friend should make
so interesting and so distinguished an alliance was naturally most
gratifying to her. She wrote to Myra a most impassioned letter, as if
they had only separated yesterday, and a still longer and more fervent
one to Lord Roehampton; Zenobia and he had been close friends in other
days, till he wickedly changed his politics, and was always in office
and Zenobia always out. This was never to be forgiven. But the bright
lady forgot all this now, and sent to Myra the most wondrous bracelet
of precious stones, in which the word “Souvenir” was represented in
brilliants, rubies, and emeralds.
“For my part,” said Myra to Endymion, “my most difficult task are
the bridesmaids. I am to have so many, and know so few. I feel like a
recruiting sergeant. I began to Adriana, but my lord helps me very much
out of his family, and says, when we have had a few family dinners, all
will be right.”
Endymion did not receive the banter he expected at the office. The event
was too great for a jest. Seymour Hicks, with a serious countenance,
said Ferrars might get anywhere now,--all the ministerial receptions of
course. Jawett said there would be no ministerial receptions soon;
they were degrading functions. Clear-headed Trenchard congratulated him
quietly, and said, “I do not think you will stay much longer among us,
but we shall always remember you with interest.”
At last the great day arrived, and at St. George’s, Hanover Square,
the Right Honourable the Earl of Roehampton, K.G., was united to Miss
Ferrars. Mr. Penruddock joined their hands. His son Nigel had been
invited to assist him, but did not appear, though Myra had written to
him. The great world assembled in force, and Endymion observed Mr. and
Mrs. Rodney and Imogene in the body of the church. After the ceremony
there was an entertainment in Portland Place, and the world ate
ortolans and examined the presents. These were remarkable for number and
splendour. Myra could not conceal her astonishment at possessing so many
friends; but it was the fashion for all Lord Roehampton’s acquaintance
to make him offerings, and to solicit his permission to present gifts
to his bride. Mr. Neuchatel placed on her brow a diamond tiara, and
Mrs. Neuchatel encircled her neck with one of her diamond necklaces.
“I should like to give the other one to Adriana,” she observed, “but
Adriana says that nothing will ever induce her to wear jewels.” Prince
Florestan presented Lady Roehampton with a vase which had belonged to
his mother, and which had been painted by Boucher for Marie Antoinette.
It was matchless, and almost unique.
Not long after this, Lord Beaumaris, with many servants and many guns,
took Waldershare and Endymion down with him to Scotland.