The transports with which Lord Westhaven received his sister, were
considerably checked by her melancholy air and faded form. The beauty
and vivacity which she possessed when he last saw her, were quite gone,
tho' she was now only in her twenty second year; and tears and sighs
were the only language by which she could express the pleasure she felt
at again seeing him. Imputing, however, this dejection entirely to her
late unfortunate marriage, his Lordship expressed rather sorrow than
wonder. He admired the little boy, whom he believed to be the son of
Godolphin; and he met Emmeline with that unreserved and generous
kindness he had ever shewn her.
Lady Westhaven, with the truest pleasure, again embraced the friend of
her heart; and with delight Emmeline met her; but it was soon abated by
the sanguine hopes she expressed that nothing would now long delay the
happiness of Lord Delamere.
'My Emmeline,' said she, 'will now be indeed my sister! Lord Montreville
and my mother can no longer oppose a marriage so extremely advantageous
to their son. _She_ will forgive them for their long blindness; and
pardoning poor Delamere for the involuntary error into which he was
forced, will constitute the happiness of him and of his family.'
To this, Emmeline could only answer that she had not the least intention
of marrying. Lady Westhaven laughed at that assertion. And she foresaw a
persecution preparing for her, on behalf of Delamere, which was likely
to give her greater uneasiness than she had yet suffered from any event
of her life.
Lord Westhaven, as soon as they grew a little composed, took an
opportunity of leaving the rest of the party; and went into his dressing
room, where he sent for Emmeline.
'Well, my lovely cousin,' said he, when she was seated, 'I have seen
Lord Montreville on your business. I cannot say that his Lordship
received me with pleasure. But some allowances must be made for a man
who loves money, on finding himself obliged to relinquish so large an
estate, and to refund so large a sum as he holds of yours.'
'I hope, however, you, my Lord, have had no dispute on my account with
the Marquis?'
'Oh! none in the world. What he _thought_, I had no business to enquire;
what he said, was not much; as he committed the arguments against you to
Sir Richard Crofts, who talked very long, and, as far as I know, very
learnedly. He spoke like a lawyer and a politician. I cut the matter
short, by telling him that I should attend to nothing but from an honest
man and a gentleman.'
'That was severe, my Lord.'
'Oh! he did not feel it. Wrapped in his own self-sufficiency, and too
rich to recollect the necessity of being honest, he still persisted in
trying to persuade me that nothing should be done in regard to restoring
your estate 'till all the deeds had been examined; as he had his doubts
whether, allowing your father's marriage to be established, great part
of the landed property is not entailed on the heirs male. In short, he
only seemed desirous of gaining time and giving trouble. But the first,
I was determined not to allow him; and to shorten the second, I took Mr.
Newton with me the next day, and desired Sir Richard, if he could prove
any entail, to produce his proofs. For that, he had an evasion ready--he
had not had _time_ to examine the deeds; which I find are all in his
hands. _We_, however, were better prepared. Mr. Newton produced the
papers that authenticate your birth; he offered to bring a witness who
was present when Mr. Mowbray was married to Miss Stavordale; nay even
the clergyman who performed the ceremony at Paris, and who is found to
be actually living in Westmoreland. The hand writing of your father is
easily proved; and Mr. Newton, summing up briefly all the corroborating
testimonies that exist of your right to the Mowbray estate, concluded by
telling Lord Montreville, that at the end of two days he should wait
upon his Lordship for his determination, whether he would dispute it in
a court of law or settle it amicably with me on behalf of his niece.
Newton then left us; and I desired your uncle to allow me a few moments
private conversation; which, as he could not refuse it, obliged old
Crofts, and that formal blockhead his son, to leave us alone together. I
then represented to him how greatly his character must suffer should the
affair become public. That tho' I believed myself he was really ignorant
of the circumstances which gave you, from the moment of your father's
death, an undoubted claim to the whole of his fortune, yet that the
world will not believe it; but will consider him as a man so cruelly
insatiable, so shamefully unjust, as to take advantage of a defenceless
orphan to accumulate riches he did not want, and had no right to enjoy.
I added, that if notwithstanding he chose to go into court, he must
excuse me if I forgot the near connection I had with him, and appeared
publicly as the assertor of your claim, and of course as his enemy.
'The Marquis seemed very much hurt at the peremptory style in which I
thought myself obliged to speak. He declined giving any positive answer;
saying, only, that he must consult his wife and his son. What the former
said, I know not; but the latter, generous in his nature, and adoring
_you_, protested to his father that he would himself, as your next
nearest relation, join in the suit against him, if the estate was not
immediately given up. This spirited resolution of Lord Delamere, and the
opinions of several eminent lawyers whom Sir Richard was sent to
consult, at length brought Lord Montreville to a resolution before the
expiration of the two days; and last night I received a letter from him,
to say that he would, on Monday next, account with you, and put you in
possession of your estate; the management of which, however, and the
care of your person, he should reserve to himself 'till you were of
age.'
'Good God!' exclaimed Emmeline; trembling, 'am I to meet my uncle on
Monday on this business?'
'Yes; and wherefore are you terrified?'
'At the idea of his anger--his hatred; and of being compelled to live
with the Marchioness, who always disliked me, and now must detest me.'
Lord Westhaven then assured her that he would be there to support her
spirits. That her uncle, whatever might be his feelings, would not
express them by rudeness and asperity; but would more probably be
desirous of shewing kindness and seeking reconciliation. Yet that it was
improbable he should propose her residing with Lady Montreville; 'whose
present state of health,' said he, 'makes her incapable of leaving her
room, and for whose life the most serious apprehensions are entertained
by her physicians.'
Emmeline, thus reassured by Lord Westhaven on that subject, and
extremely glad to hear there would be no necessity for proceedings at
law against her uncle, returned with some chearfulness to the company;
where it was not encreased by the entrance of Lord Delamere, which
happened soon afterwards.
The very ill state of health indicated by his appearance, extremely hurt
her. Nor was she less affected by his address to her, so expressive of
the deepest anguish and regret. She could not bear to receive him with
haughtiness and coldness; but mildly, and with smiles, returned the
questions he put to her on common subjects. His chagrin seemed to wear
off; and hope, which Emmeline as little wished to give, again reanimated
in some degree his melancholy countenance.
The next day, and again the next, he came to Lord Westhaven's; but
Emmeline cautiously avoided any conversation with him to which the whole
company were not witnesses. Godolphin too was there: her behaviour to
him was the same; and she would suffer neither to treat her with any
degree of particularity. Godolphin, who knew her reason for being
reserved towards _him_, was content; and Delamere, who suspected not how
dangerous a rival he had, was compelled to remain on the footing only of
a relation; still hoping that time and perseverance might restore him to
the happiness he had lost.
Monday now arrived, and Emmeline was to wait on her uncle in
Berkley-square. At twelve o'clock Lord Westhaven was ready. Emmeline was
led by him into the coach. They took up Mr. Newton in Lincolns-inn; and
then went to their rendezvous. Emmeline trembled as Lord Westhaven took
her up stairs: she remembered the terror she had once before suffered in
the same house; and when she entered the drawing-room, could hardly
support herself.
The Marquis, Sir Richard Crofts, his eldest son, and Lord Delamere, with
two stewards and a lawyer, were already there. Lord Montreville coldly
and gravely returned his niece's compliments; Sir Richard malignantly
eyed her from the corners of his eyes, obscured by fat; and Crofts put
on a look of pompous sagacity and consequential knowledge; while Lord
Delamere, who would willingly have parted with the whole of his paternal
fortune rather than with her, seemed eager only to see a business
concluded by which she was to receive benefit.
The lawyer in a set speech opened the business, and expatiated largely
on Lord Montreville's great generosity.
Lord Westhaven looked over the accounts: they appeared to have been made
out right. The title deeds of the estate were then produced; the usual
forms gone thro'; and papers signed, which put Emmeline in possession of
them. All passed with much silence and solemnity: Lord Montreville said
very little; and ineffectually struggled to conceal the extreme
reluctance with which he made this resignation. When the business was
completed, Emmeline advanced to kiss the hand of her uncle: he saluted
her; but without any appearance of affection; and coldly enquired how
she intended to dispose of herself?
'I propose, my Lord, wholly to refer myself to your Lordship as to my
present residence, or any other part of my conduct in which you will
honour me with your advice.'
'I am sorry, Miss Mowbray, that the ill state of health of the
Marchioness prevents my having the pleasure of your company here.
However my daughter, Lady Westhaven, will of course be happy to have you
remain with her till you have fixed on some plan of life, or till you
are of age.'
'Not only till Miss Mowbray is of age, my Lord, but ever, both Lady
Westhaven and myself should be gratified by having her with us,' said
Lord Westhaven.
To this no answer was given; and a long silence ensued.
Emmeline felt distressed; and at length said--'I believe, my Lord, Lady
Westhaven will expect us.'
They then rose; and taking a formal leave of the Marquis, were allowed
to leave the room. Lord Delamere, however, took Emmeline's hand, and as
he led her to the coach implored her to indulge him with one moment's
conversation at any hour when they might not be interrupted. But with
great firmness, yet with great sweetness, she told him that she must be
forgiven if she adhered to a resolution she had made to give no audience
on the topic he wished to speak upon, for many months to come.
'Almost two years!' exclaimed he--'almost two long years must I wait,
without knowing whether, at the end of that time, you will hear and pity
me! Ah! can you, Emmeline, persist in such cruelty?'
'A good morning to your Lordship,' said she, as she got into the coach.
'Will you dine with us, Delamere?' asked Lord Westhaven.
'Yes; and will go home with you now, and dress in Grosvenor street.' He
then gave some orders to his servants, and stepped into the coach.
'I never was less disposed in my life,' said he, 'to rejoin a party,
than I am to go back to those grave personages up stairs: it is with the
utmost difficulty I command my temper to meet those Crofts' on the most
necessary business. My blood boils, my soul recoils at them!'
'Pooh, pooh!' cried Lord Westhaven, 'you are always taking unreasonable
aversions. Your blood is always boiling at some body or other. I tell
you, the Crofts' are good necessary, plodding people. Not too refined,
perhaps, in points of honour, nor too strict in those of honesty; but
excellent at the main chance, as you may see by what they have done for
themselves.'
Delamere then uttered against them a dreadful execration, and went on to
describe the whole family with great severity and with great truth,
'till he at length talked himself into a violent passion; and Lord
Westhaven with difficulty brought him to be calm by the time they had
set down Mr. Newton and stopped at his own door. At the same instant
Lord Westhaven's coach arrived there, a splendid chariot, most elegantly
decorated, came up also. Delamere, struck with its brilliancy, examined
the arms and saw his own: looking into it, he changed countenance, and
said to Lord Westhaven--'Upon my word! Crofts' wife and your Swiss
relation, de Bellozane!'
'Crofts' wife?'
'Aye. I mean the woman who was once Fanny Delamere, my sister.'
'Come, Delamere, forget these heartburnings, and remember that she is
your sister still.'
'I should be glad to know (if it were worth my while to enquire) what
business Bellozane has with _her_?'
By this time they were in the house, where Lady Frances and the
Chevalier arrived also.
Lord Westhaven met them with his usual politeness; but Delamere only
slightly touched his hat to Bellozane, and sternly saluted his sister
with 'your servant, Lady Frances Crofts!' He then passed them, and went
into Lord Westhaven's dressing room; while her Ladyship, regardless of
his displeasure, and affecting the utmost gaity, talked and laughed with
Lord Westhaven as she went up stairs. Emmeline followed them, listening
to the whispered compliments of Bellozane with great coldness; and Lady
Frances, entering with a fashionable flounce the drawing room where her
sister was, cried--'Well child! how are you? I beg your pardon for not
coming to enquire after you sooner: but I have had such crowds of
company at Belleville Lodge, that it was impossible to escape. And
here's this animal here, this relation of your Lord's, really haunts me;
so I was forced at last to bring him with me.' This speech was
accompanied by a significant smile directed to Bellozane.
Lady Westhaven, checked by such an address from flying into the arms of
her sister, now expressed, without any great warmth, that she was glad
to see her. Something like general conversation was attempted. But Lady
Frances, who hoped to hide, under the affectation of extravagant
spirits, the envy and mortification with which she contemplated the
superior happiness of her sister, soon engrossed the discourse entirely.
She talked only of men of the first rank, or of _beaux esprits_ their
associates, who had been down in parties to Belleville Lodge (the name
she had given to her villa near Richmond); and she repeated compliments
which both the Lords and the wits had made to her figure and her
understanding. When she seemed almost to have exhausted this interesting
topic, Lady Westhaven said, as if merely for the sake of saying
something--'Mr. Crofts has been so obliging as to call here twice since
we came to London; but unluckily was not let in. Pray how does he do?'
'Mr. Crofts? Oh! I know very little of him. At this time of the year we
never meet. _He_ lives, you know, in Burlington street, and _I_ live at
Belleville; and if he comes thither, as he sometimes does of a Friday or
Saturday, he finds me too much engaged to know whether he is there or
not. I believe, tho', he is very well; and I think the last time I saw
him he was nearly as lively and amusing as he usually is. Don't you
think he was, Bellozane?'
'_O! assurement oui_,' replied the Chevalier, sneeringly, '_Monsieur
Croff a toujours beaucoup de vivacité_.--_C'est un homme fort amusant ce
Monsieur Croff._'[43]
Lady Westhaven, disgusted, shocked, and amazed, had no power to take any
share in such a dialogue; and Lady Frances went on.
'Well! but now I assure you, Augusta, I'm going to be most uncommonly
good; and am coming, tho' 'tis a terrible heavy undertaking, to pass a
whole week, without company, with _mon tres cher Mari_, in
Burlington-street. Nay, I will go still farther, and make a family party
with you to the play, which I generally detest of all things.'
'That is being really very kind,' said Lady Westhaven. 'But since you
are so tenderly disposed towards your own family, would it not be well
if you were to enquire after my mother? You know, I suppose, how very
ill she is; how much worse 'tis feared she may be?'
'Yes, I shall certainly call,' replied Lady Frances with the utmost
_sang froid_, 'before I go home. But as to her illness, you are
frightened at nothing: she has only her old complaints.'
'Her old complaints! And are not they enough? If _I_ were in a situation
to be useful to her; or even as it is, if Lord Westhaven would permit
me, I should certainly think it my duty constantly to attend her.'
'Probably you might. And it is equally probable that it would be of no
use if you did. She has Brackley, and all her own people about her; and
no more _could_ be done for her, even tho' you were to hazard your
_precious_ life, or if _I_, (who you know would not risk by it that of
an heir to an Earldom) should sacrifice _my_ ease and _my_ friends to
attend her.'
The unfeeling malignity of this speech was so extremely distressing to
Lady Westhaven, that she could hardly command her tears.
Lord Westhaven saw her emotion, and said, 'Augusta, my love, your sister
is too brilliant for you. You have not acquired that last polish of high
life, which quite effaces all other feelings; nor will you, perhaps,
ever arrive at it.'
'God forbid that I ever should!' cried Lady Westhaven, unable to conceal
her indignation.
'Poor thing!' said Lady Frances, with the most unblushing
assurance--'You have curious ideas of domestic felicity: and it's a
thousand pities, that instead of being what you are, destiny had not
made you the snug, notable wife of a country parson, with three or four
hundred a year--You would have been pure and happy, to drive about in a
one horse chaise, make custards, walk tame about the house, and bring
the good man a baby every year: but really, you are now quite out of
your element.' She then rang the bell for her carriage; which being soon
ready, she gaily wished her sister good day, and the Chevalier handed
her down stairs; where, as she descended, she said, loud enough to be
heard, '_S'il y'a une chose au monde que je deteste plus qu'un notre,
c'est la tristesse d'une societé comme cela_.'[44] The Chevalier assented
with his lips; but his heart and his wishes were fled towards Emmeline.
He was, however, so engaged with her proud and insolent rival, that he
no longer dared openly to avow his predilection for her: and Lady
Frances seemed so sure of the strength of that attachment which was her
disgrace, that she brought him on purpose where Emmeline was, to shew
how little she apprehended his defection.
Lord Westhaven, after pausing a second, ran down stairs after them; and
just as Bellozane was stepping into the chariot, took him by the arm,
and begged to speak to him for two minutes.
He apologized to Lady Frances, and they went together into a room; where
Lord Westhaven, with all the warmth which his relationship authorized,
remonstrated against his stay in England; represented the expence and
uneasiness it must occasion to the good old Baron; and above all,
exhorted him to fly immediately from the dangerous society of Lady
Frances Crofts.
Bellozane received this advice from his cousin with a very ill grace. He
said, that he could not discover why his Lordship assumed an authority
over him, or pretended either to blame his past conduct or dictate his
future. That he came to England a stranger; brought thither by his
honourable passion for Miss Mowbray, which he had a right to pursue; but
that Mr. Godolphin, who was his only relation then in England, had
either from accident or design shewn him very little attention; while
Lady Frances had, with the most winning _honeteté_, invited him to her
house, and supplied the want of _that_ hospitality which his own family
had not afforded him. And that infinitely obliged as he was to her, he
should ill brook any reflection on a woman of honour who was his friend.
'But my Lord,' added he, 'if your Lordship will allow me to visit here
as Miss Mowbray's favoured lover, I will not only drop the acquaintance
of Lady Frances, but will put myself entirely under your Lordship's
direction.'
Lord Westhaven, piqued and provoked, answered--'that he had no power
whatever to direct Miss Mowbray; and if he had, should never advise her
to receive him. Be assured, Monsieur le Chevalier, that you have no
chance of ever being acceptable to her, and you must think no more of
her.'
Bellozane, equally impatient of advice and contradiction, burst from
him; and went back to Lady Frances in a very ill humour.
Delamere, who had been dressing while his eldest sister remained, now
joined Lady Westhaven and Emmeline in the drawing room. Thither also
came Lady Adelina; who, during the five days they had been in town had
not been well enough till this day to dine below.
She was now languid and faint, and obliged to retire, as soon as the
cloth was removed, to her own room. Emmeline attended her; and when they
were alone together, she complained of finding herself every day more
indisposed. 'The air of London,' said she, 'is not good for my child: I
cannot help fancying he droops already. And the noise of a house where
there are unavoidably so many visitors, and such a multitude of
servants, is too much for my spirits. As Lord Westhaven is desirous of
my staying in London till my sister Clancarryl arrives, that we may meet
all together after being so many years divided, I will not press my
return to East Cliff; but I wish he would allow me to go to some village
near London, where I may occasionally enjoy solitude and silence; for I
have that upon my heart, Emmeline, that demands both.'
Emmeline communicated her wish to Godolphin the same evening; who
undertook to settle it with Lord Westhaven as his sister desired; and
the next day Lady Adelina and her little boy removed to Highgate, where
her brother had procured her a handsome lodging; and he, quitting those
he usually occupied in town, went to reside with her.
After having been there a few days, she sent to Emmeline the following
letter, which she desired might be delivered by her own hand.
'_To the Honourable George Fitz-Edward._
'I have thus long forborne to answer your letter, because I have
not 'till now been able to collect that strength of mind which is
necessary, when I am to obey the inexorable duty that tears me from
you for ever!
'That you yet _love_ me well enough to solicit my hand, is I own
most soothing and consolatory: but where, Fitz-Edward, is the
Lethean cup, without which you cannot _esteem_ me?--without which, I
cannot esteem myself? No! I am not worthy the honour of being your
wife! It is fit my fault be punished--punished by the cruel
obligation it lays me under of renouncing the man I love!
'Fitz-Edward, I will not dissemble! I cannot, if I would! My
affection for you is become a part of my existence, and can end
but in the grave. Under the dread of your infidelity or your
danger, my reason was too weak to support me: now that I have no
longer any apprehensions of either, my reason is returned--it is
returned to shew me all my wretchedness, and to afford me that
light by which I must plunge a dagger into my own bosom.
'Had I, however, no objections on my own account, there is one
that on another appears insuperable. Were the marriage you solicit
to take place, and to be followed by a family, could I bear that my
William, the delight and support of my life, should be as an alien
in his father's house, and either appear as the son of Godolphin or
learn to blush for his mother!
'We must part, Fitz-Edward! Indeed we must! Or if we are obliged
to meet, do you at least forget that we ever met before.
'I know that the daughter of Lord Westhaven, in youth, beauty, and
innocence, would not have been, however portionless, unworthy of
you. But what would you receive in the widow of Trelawny? A mind
unsettled by guilt and sorrow; spirits which have lost all relish
for felicity; a blemished, if not a ruined reputation, a faded
person, and an exhausted heart--exhausted of almost every sentiment
but that so fatally predominant; which now forces me to blot my
paper with tears, as I write this last farewel!
'Farewel! most beloved Fitz-Edward!--Ah! try if it be possible to
be happy! Be assured I wish it; even tho' it be necessary for that
end to drive from your memory, for ever, the lost
ADELINA TRELAWNY.'
Emmeline, to whom this letter was sent open, could not but approve the
sentiments it contained, while her heart bled for the pain it must have
cost Lady Adelina, and for that which it must inflict on Fitz-Edward.
When she had dispatched a note to his lodgings, to name an early hour
the next day for speaking to him, she went down into the drawing room,
where a large party of company were already assembled. Emmeline, to
avoid a particular conversation with Lord Delamere, which he incessantly
solicited, placed herself near one of the card tables; when, at a late
hour of the evening, dressed in the utmost exuberance of fashion,
blazing in jewels and blooming in rouge, entered Mrs. James Crofts,
followed by the two eldest of her daughters; one, drest in the character
of Charlotte in the Sorrows of Werter; and the other, as Emma, the nut
brown maid. Their air and manner were adapted, as they believed, to the
figures of those characters as they appear in the print shops; and their
excessive affectation, together with the gaudy appearance of their mama,
nearly conquered the gravity of Emmeline and of many others of the
company.
While Mrs. Crofts paid her compliments to Lady Westhaven and Emmeline,
and gave herself all those airs which she believed put her upon an
equality with the circle she was in, the two Misses anxiously watched
the impression which they concluded their charms must make on the
gentlemen present. Their mama had told them that most likely all of them
were Lords, or Lords sons at least; and the girls were not without
hopes, that among them there might be some of that species of men of
quality, whom modern novelists describe as being in the habit of
carrying forcibly away, beautiful young creatures, with whom perchance
they become enamoured, and marrying them in despite of all opposition.
They longed above all things to meet with such adventures, and to be
carried off by a Lord, or a Baronet at least; whose letters afterwards,
to some dear Charles or Harry, could not fail to edify the world. After
Mrs. Crofts had displayed her dress, and convinced the company of her
being quite in a good style of life; and when her daughters had
committed hostilities for near an hour upon the hearts of the gentlemen,
they sailed out in the same state as they entered; nor could all
Emmeline's good humour prevent her smiling at the satyrical remarks made
on them by some of the company; nothing more strongly exciting the
ridicule and contempt of people of real fashion than awkward and
impotent efforts to imitate them.
The next day, Fitz-Edward attended at the hour Emmeline appointed, and
received from her the letter of Lady Adelina, with a degree of anguish
which gave great pain to Emmeline and Godolphin. Still, however, he was
not quite deprived of hope; but flattered himself that the persuasions
of her sister, Lady Clancarryl (who was now every day expected, with her
husband and family, to pass the rest of the winter in London) added to
those of Lord Westhaven, and the good offices of Emmeline, would
together prevail on Lady Adelina to alter a resolution which rendered
them both wretched.
Some weeks, however, passed, and she still adhered to it; while the
melancholy conversation which Emmeline frequently had with Fitz-Edward,
and the importunity and unhappiness of Delamere, deprived her of much of
that tranquillity she might otherwise have enjoyed; particularly after
the recovery of Lady Westhaven (who presented her Lord with a son), and
the arrival of Mrs. Stafford and her family from France.
Lord Westhaven, who held a promise particularly sacred when made to the
unfortunate, had procured for Mr. Stafford a lucrative employment in the
West Indies. Thither he immediately went; and his wife, whose spirits
and health were greatly hurt, was happy to accept the offer Emmeline
made her of going down with her children to Mowbray Castle. The Marquis
of Montreville had presented his niece with the furniture he had sent
thither, being in truth ashamed to charge it; there was therefore every
thing necessary; and there Emmeline intended Mrs. Stafford should reside
'till she should be established in some residence agreeable to her;
which she intended to fix if possible near her own; and she now felt all
the advantages of that fortune, which enabled her to repay the
obligations she owed to her earliest friend.
[Footnote 43: Oh! certainly, Mr. Crofts is always very sprightly. A most
entertaining personage.]
[Footnote 44: If there is any thing in the world I utterly detest, 'tis
such dismal society as that.]