The rank, and extensive connections of Lady Westhaven, led her
unavoidably into a good deal of company; but it was among persons as
respectable for their virtues as their station. Emmeline, of course,
often accompanied her: but almost all her mornings, and frequently her
evenings, were dedicated to Lady Adelina; who hardly saw any body but
her, Lady Westhaven, her brothers, and her sister; and never went out
but for the air.
Godolphin passed with her much of his time: to the love and pity he had
before felt for her, was added veneration and esteem, excited by the
heroism of her conduct. At her lodgings, too, he could see Emmeline
without the restraint they were under in other places. There, he could
talk to her of his love; and there, she consented to hear him.
Lady Westhaven went constantly every morning to visit her mother, who
had lately been rather better, and whose health her physicians
entertained some hopes of re-establishing. Her own unhappy temper seemed
to be the chief impediment to her recovery; her violent passions,
unsubdued by sickness and disappointment; and her immeasurable pride,
which even the approach of death could not conquer, kept her nerves
continually on the stretch; and allowed her no repose of mind, even when
her bodily sufferings were suspended. That her favourite project of
uniting the only surviving branches of her own family, by the marriage
of Lord Delamere and Miss Otley, was now for ever at an end, was a
perpetual source of murmuring and discontent. And tho' Emmeline had as
splendid a fortune, with a person and a mind infinitely more lovely, her
Ladyship could not yet prevail upon herself to desire, that the name for
which she felt such proud veneration, and the fortune of her own
illustrious ancestors, should be enjoyed, or carried down to posterity
by her, who had become the object of her capricious but inveterate
dislike.
Emmeline was very glad that the Marchioness thro' prejudice, and her
uncle thro' shame, forbore to persecute her in favour of their son: but
tho' perfectly aware of the antipathy Lady Montreville entertained
towards her, she yet shewed her all the attention she would receive; and
would even constantly have waited on her, had she not expressed more
pain than pleasure in her presence.
Lady Frances Crofts, by this time fixed in Burlington street for the
winter, called now and then on her mother; but her visits were short and
cold. It unfortunately happened, that the Marchioness, whose amusement
was now almost solely confined to reading the daily prints, had found in
one of them a paragraph evidently pointed at the intimacy subsisting
between Lady Frances and the Chevalier de Bellozane, which had long been
the topic of public scandal.
Lady Frances called upon her while her mind was under the first
impression of this disgraceful circumstance; and she spoke to her
daughter of her improper attachment to that young foreigner with more
than her usual severity. Lady Frances, far from hearing her remonstrance
with calmness, retorted, with rudeness and asperity, what she termed
unjust reproaches; and asserted her own right to associate with whom she
pleased. The Marchioness grew more enraged, and they parted in great
wrath: in consequence of which, Lady Montreville, in the inconsiderate
excess of her anger, sent for her husband and her son; and exclaiming
with all her natural acrimony against the shameful conduct of Lady
Frances, insisted upon their obliging Crofts to separate his wife from
her dangerous and improper acquaintance, and forcing her immediately
into the country.
Lord Montreville, who had already heard too much of his daughter's
general light conduct, and her particular partiality to Bellozane, now
saw new evils gathering round him, from which he knew not how to escape.
The fiery and impatient Delamere, already irritated against Bellozane
for his pretensions to Emmeline, broke forth in menace and invective;
and nothing but his father's anguish, and even tears, prevented his
flying directly to him to execute that vengeance which his mother had
dictated. She herself, in the violence of her passion, had overlooked
the consequence of putting this affair into the hands of the
inconsiderate and headlong Delamere; but when she saw him thus inflamed,
terror for _him_, was added to resentment against her daughter; and
altogether produced such an effect on her broken constitution, that in a
few days afterwards her complaints returned with great violence, and all
remedies proving ineffectual, she expired in less than a fortnight. Lady
Westhaven and Emmeline attended on her themselves for the last four or
five days; but she was insensible; and knew neither of them. Delamere,
very fond of his mother, and whose feelings were painfully acute,
suffered for many days the most violent paroxysms of grief; yet it was a
considerable alleviation to reflect that he had not finally been the
cause of her death. Lord Montreville bore it with more composure: and
the softer, tho' deep sorrow of Lady Westhaven, found relief in the
constant and tender attention of her Lord, and the sympathy of Emmeline.
Lady Frances Crofts, not insensible to remorse, but resolutely stifling
it, affected to hear the news with proper concern, yet as what had been
for many months expected. She sent constantly to enquire after her
father; and the Marquis hoping that while her mind was softened by such
a mournful event his remonstrance might make a deeper impression,
determined to go to her; therefore the day after the remains of the
Marchioness had been carried to the family vault of the Delameres, he
took his chair, and went to Burlington street.
On entering the house, the servants, who concluded he came to Mr.
Crofts, were taking him into those apartments below which their master
occupied: but his Lordship told them he must speak to their lady. Her
own footman said her Ladyship had given orders to be denied.
'To her father, puppy?'--said Lord Montreville. 'Where is she?'
'In her dressing room, my Lord.'
He then passed alone up stairs--As he went, he heard the voice of
laughter and gaiety, and was more shocked than surprised, when, on
opening the door, he saw Lady Frances in a morning dishabille, and the
Chevalier de Bellozane making her tea. At the entrance of her father
thus unexpectedly, she changed colour; but soon assuming her usual
assured manner, said she was glad to see his Lordship well enough to
come out.
'Dismiss this young man,' said he sternly. 'I must speak to you alone.'
'_Va mon ami_,' cried Lady Frances, with the utmost ease, '_pour
quelques moments_.'
Bellozane left the room; and then Lord Montreville, with paternal
affection, tried to move her. But she had conquered her feelings; and
answered with great calmness--'That conscious of her own innocence, she
was quite indifferent to the opinion of the world. And that tho' she
certainly wished to be upon good terms with her own family, yet if any
part of it chose to think ill of her, they must do so entirely from
prejudice, which it was little worth her while to attempt removing.'
Lord Montreville, now provoked beyond all endurance, gave way to the
indignation with which he was inflamed, and denounced his malediction
against her, if she did not immediately dismiss Bellozane and regulate
her manner of life. She heard him with the most callous insensibility;
and let him depart without making any attempt to appease his anger or
calm his apprehensions. From her, he went down to Crofts; to whom he
forcibly represented the necessity there was for putting an immediate
stop to the scandal which the conduct of his wife occasioned.
Pusillanimous and mean-spirited, Crofts chose neither to risk his
personal safety with the Chevalier, nor the diminution of his fortune by
attempting to procure a divorce, which would compel him to return what
he loved much better than honour.
He saw many others do extremely well, and mightily respected, whose
wives were yet gayer than his own; and convinced that while he had money
he should always obtain as much regard as he desired, he rather excused
to Lord Montreville the conduct of Lady Frances than shewed any
disposition to resent it. The Marquis left him with contempt, and
ordered his chair to Lord Westhaven's. As he went, he could not forbear
reflecting on the contrast between his eldest and youngest daughter, and
between his eldest daughter and his niece. He grew extremely anxious for
Lord Delamere's marriage with Emmeline: sure of finding, in her, an
honour to his family, which might console him for his present
misfortunes: and he deeply regretted that infatuation which had blinded
him to her superior merit, and hazarded losing her for ever. Disgusted
already with the Crofts, he remembered that it had been in a great
measure owing to them, and he thought of them only with repentance and
dislike.
He saw Lord Westhaven alone; and relating to him all that had passed
that morning, besought him to consider what could be done to divide
Bellozane from Lady Frances Crofts.
Lord Westhaven had seen and heard too much of the intimacy between them.
He was extremely hurt that so near a relation of his own should occasion
such uneasiness in the family of his wife; but as he had not invited him
over, and always discouraged his stay, he had on that head nothing with
which to reproach himself. And all he could now do, was, to promise that
he would speak again to Bellozane, and write to the Baron de St. Alpin,
entreating him to press the return of his son to Switzerland. His
Lordship entered warmly into the apprehensions of Lord Montreville; and
undertook to use all his influence with Delamere to prevent his running
rashly into a quarrel with a young man as passionate and as violent as
himself.
Lord Montreville then spoke of Emmeline; and expressed his wishes that
the union between her and his son might speedily be accomplished: but on
this subject Lord Westhaven gave him very little hopes. Tho' Emmeline
had done her utmost to conceal even from Lord and Lady Westhaven the
true state of her heart, his Lordship had, in their frequent conferences
on her affairs, clearly perceived what were her sentiments. But since
they were in favour of his brother, he could not think of attempting to
alter them, however sorry for Delamere; and could only determine to
observe an absolute neutrality.
He did not communicate to the Marquis all he thought, but told him in
general, that Emmeline seemed at present averse to every proposal of
marriage, and firm in the resolution she had made, to remain single
'till she had completed her twenty-first year. Lord Westhaven sent for
Bellozane; who had lately been less frequent in his visits at
Grosvenor-street, and who seemed to resent the coldness with which his
cousins received him, and to have conceived great anger at the reserve
and even aversion with which Emmeline treated him. The servant whom his
Lordship dispatched with a note to Bellozane, returned in about ten
minutes, and said that the Chevalier was gone to Bath. Lord Westhaven
now hoped that for some time the intercourse which had given such
offence, and occasioned such misery, would be at an end: in the
afternoon, however, Crofts came in; and on Lady Westhaven's enquiry
after her sister, he told her that she was going that afternoon to
Speenhamland in her way to Bath. Conduct, so glaringly improper and
unfeeling, a defiance so bold to the opinions of the world and the
common decencies of society, extremely hurt both her Ladyship and her
Lord. The latter, however, found some satisfaction in reflecting that at
least Delamere and Bellozane could not immediately meet.
Above a month now passed with as much tranquillity as the ardent
supplications of Delamere to Emmeline would admit. Lord and Lady
Clancarryl, with their family, arrived in London to pass the rest of the
winter; and Lady Adelina, insensibly won from her retirement by the
pleasure of meeting at once her sister and her two brothers, seemed to
be in better health, and sometimes in better spirits. As she was now
frequently induced to join these charming family parties, she was
obliged to see Fitz-Edward among them; and he entertained new hopes that
she would at length conquer her scruples and accept his hand: she
carefully, however, avoided all conversation with him but in mixed
company; and Emmeline being continually with her, they were equally
prevented from hearing, with any degree of particularity, Godolphin or
Fitz-Edward.
The Marchioness of Montreville had now been dead almost two months; and
Lady Westhaven, who from respect to her memory had hitherto forborne to
appear in public, was prevailed upon to go to a new play; for the author
of which, a nobleman, one of her friends, being particularly interested,
he prevailed on all the people of fashion and taste whom he knew to
attend on the third night of it's representation. Lady Westhaven, Lady
Clancarryl, and Emmeline, were by his earnest entreaties induced to be
among them: but as Lord Westhaven, Lord Clancarryl, Godolphin, and
Fitz-Edward, were absent, being gone all together to the seat of the
former, in Kent, for a few days, they foresaw but little pleasure in the
party; and Lady Westhaven expressed even a reluctance for which she knew
not how to account. The eagerness of Lord----to serve his friend at
length over-ruled her objections; his Lordship himself and Lord Delamere
were to attend them; and they were to be joined by some other ladies
there. The stage box had been retained for them; and they proceeded to
the playhouse, where they were hardly seated, before Lady Westhaven saw,
with infinite mortification and alarm, her sister, Lady Frances Crofts,
enter the next box, handed by the Chevalier de Bellozane, and
accompanied by a lady, of fashion indeed, but of very equivocal
character, with whom she had lately contracted a great intimacy. All
attention to the play was now at an end. Incapable of receiving
amusement, Lady Westhaven would instantly have returned home; and
Emmeline, who saw rage and fierceness in the countenance of Lord
Delamere, was equally anxious to do so: but they knew not how to account
for such a wish to their party without making their fears public; and
while they deliberated how to act, the play went on. Lady Frances, as if
quite unconscious of any impropriety in her conduct, spoke to them and
to Delamere. They forced themselves to answer her with civility; but her
brother, turning from her, darted an angry look at Bellozane, and went
to the other side of the house. He from thence watched with indignation
the familiar whispers which passed between her and the Chevalier; and
reflecting on the recent death of his mother, which had been hastened if
not occasioned by this connection; remembering how greatly the
sufferings of her last hours had been embittered by it, and recalling to
his memory a thousand other causes of anger against Bellozane, he heated
his imagination with the review of these injuries, till he raised
himself into an agony of passion, which it was soon impossible for him,
had he been so disposed, to restrain.
A very few minutes after the play ended, Lady Westhaven, impatient to
get away before her sister, beckoned to Delamere; and finding her
servants ready, told her party she was too much tired to stay the
entertainment, and rose with Emmeline to go. Lord----led her Ladyship,
and Delamere took the hand of Emmeline: the two former walked hastily
thro' the lobby; but as the two latter followed, they were suddenly
stopped by Rochely, who, making one of his solemn bows, advanced close
to Emmeline, and with great composure congratulated her in his usual
slow and monotonous manner, on her late acquisitions; assured her of his
great respect and esteem; and added, that as he understood she would,
when she came of age, be possessed of a large sum of money, he flattered
himself she would allow him to manage it for her, as Lord Montreville at
present did; declaring that nobody could be more attentive to the
interest of his customers. The profound gravity with which, in such a
place, he made such a request; the sordid meanness of spirit, which
could induce a man already so very rich, to solicit custom with the
avidity of a mechanic beginning business; and the uncouth and formal
figure of the person himself; would have excited in Emmeline ridicule as
well as contempt, at any other time: but now, distrest at the delay this
meeting occasioned, she hurried over some answer, she hardly knew what,
and hastened towards the door. Just, however, before they reached it,
Bellozane, with Lady Frances Crofts hanging on his arm, overtook and
passed them: the Chevalier slightly touched his hat to Emmeline; and
Lady Frances, nodding familiarly, said--'Good night! good night!' Lady
Frances and Bellozane went on; and Emmeline, who saw fury in the eyes of
Delamere, now wished as much to linger behind as she had before done to
hurry forward. But Delamere quickening his pace, overtook them as they
descended the steps, and rushed so closely and with so much intended
rudeness by Bellozane, that it was with the utmost difficulty he could
avoid falling and dragging his fair associate with him. The fiery
Frenchman recovering his footing, turned fiercely to Delamere, and
asked, in French, what he meant? Lord Delamere, in the same language,
replied, that he meant to tell him he was a scoundrel! Instantly a
mutual blow was exchanged: the shrieks of Emmeline brought the
sentinels; who, together with the croud which immediately gathered,
forced them from each other.
Lord----who had taken care of Lady Westhaven to her coach, alarmed at
Emmeline's not joining them, and at the noise he heard, now came back to
see what was the matter. He met her, more dead than alive, coming
towards him, attended by a stranger; and she had just breath enough to
implore him not to think of _her_, but to find Lord Delamere, and try to
prevent the fatal consequence of what had just happened.
Leaving her to the care of the gentleman he had found her with, who
almost supported her to the coach, his Lordship went forward in quest
of Delamere, whom he met with two or three other gentlemen. Bellozane,
after stating to them the affront he had received, and giving Lord
Delamere a card, had returned back into the lobby with Lady Frances and
her friend; from whence it was supposed he had gone out with them across
the stage, as Lady Frances appeared in great alarm. Lord----now
entreated Delamere to go with him to the coach, where he told him his
sister was in the utmost terror for his safety. But enquiring eagerly
whether Miss Mowbray was safe with her, and hearing she was, he said he
would be in Grosvenor-street to supper, and desired they would go home.
Lord----then very warmly remonstrated on the cruelty of terrifying his
sister, and insisted on his going with him to the coach: but they were
by this time among the croud at the door, where people began to go out
fast; and Delamere, whose passions were now inflamed to a degree of
madness, broke violently away from his Lordship; and rushing into the
street, instantly disappeared. Every attempt which himself, his
servants, or some gentlemen who were witnesses to the transaction, made
to find him, being ineffectual, Lord----now returned to the coach,
where Lady Westhaven was fainting in the arms of Emmeline; who, equally
alarmed, and hardly able to support herself, was trying to assist and
console her. Lord----, instead of returning to his own family, now sent
a footman to desire they would go home without him; and remaining in
Lady Westhaven's carriage, directed it to be driven with the utmost
speed to Grosvenor street. As they went, he attempted to appease the
agonizing fears of them both, by persuading them that they might find
Lord Delamere at home before them; but they knew too well the ferocity
with which he was capable of pursuing his vengeance when it was once
awakened; and arrived at home in such disorder, that neither could
speak.--The coach, however, no sooner stopped than somebody ran out.
They had no power to ask who; but the voice was that of Godolphin; who
finding his brother likely to be detained two days longer, and existing
only while he could see Emmeline every hour, had returned alone to town,
and now waited their arrival from the play. He was astonished at the
situation he found them in, as he assisted them out of the carriage. He
received, however, a brief account of the cause from Lord----; while
Lady Westhaven, a little recovered by the sight of Godolphin and the
hartshorn and water she had taken, found her voice.
'For God's sake! dear Godolphin, lose not a moment, but go after my
brother. We dread lest he went immediately in search of Bellozane--Oh!
fly! and endeavour to prevent the horrid effects that may be expected
from their meeting!'
'Pray go!' said Emmeline. 'Pray go instantly!'
Godolphin needed not entreaty. He took his hat, and ran away directly,
without knowing whither to go. He thought, however, that it was possible
Delamere might go to Berkley square, and send from thence an appointment
to Bellozane. Thither therefore he hastened; but heard that Lord
Delamere had not been at home since he dressed to dine in Grosvenor
street, and that the Marquis was gone to Lord Dornock's, where he was to
stay some days; news, which encreased the alarm of Godolphin, who had
hoped that his influence might be used to prevent the rashness of his
son. He ordered Millefleur, and Delamere's coachman, footmen, and
grooms, to run different ways in search of their master, while he went
himself to the lodgings of Bellozane. Bellozane, he learnt, came from
Bath only that morning, and had dressed at his lodgings, but had not
been there since.
He now flew to the house of Lady Frances Crofts. Mr. Crofts was gone
down to his father's; and Lady Frances, who had come from Bath the same
day, had dined with her friend, and was to be set down by her carriage
after supper. Eagerly asking the name of this friend, he was directed to
Charlotte street, Oxford street; where on hastening he found Lady
Frances, who was vainly attempting to conquer the terrors that possessed
her. Bellozane, he heard, had procured chairs for her and the lady with
her, at the stage door, and had there wished them a good night, tho'
they had both intreated of him to go home with them. They added, that
they had refused to let him look for their carriage, which was driven
off in the croud, lest he should meet with Delamere; but were greatly
afraid he had gone back to the avenues of the playhouse with that
design. Godolphin, however unpromising his search yet appeared,
determined not to relinquish it. But while he continued running from
place to place, Lady Westhaven and Emmeline sat listening to every noise
and terrifying themselves with conjectures the most dreadful. Almost as
soon as Godolphin was gone, they had conjured Lord----to go on the same
search: but he returned not; and of Godolphin they heard nothing. Even
the late hours when fashionable parties break up, now passed by. Every
coach that approached made them tremble between hope and fear; but it
rolled away to a distance. Another and another passed, and their
dreadful suspence still continued. Emmeline would have persuaded Lady
Westhaven to go to bed; but nothing could induce her to think of it. She
sometimes traversed the room with hurried steps; sometimes sat listening
at the window; and sometimes ran out to the stair case, where all the
servants except those who had been dispatched in pursuit of Lord
Delamere were assembled.
The streets were now quiet; the watch called a quarter past five; and
convinced that if something fatal had not happened some body would have
returned to them by this time, their terror grew insupportable. A quick
rap was now heard at the door. Emmeline flew to the stairs--'Is it Lord
Delamere?' 'No, Madam,' replied a servant, 'it is Captain Godolphin.'
Afraid of asking, yet unable to bear another moment of suspence, she
flew down part of the stairs. Godolphin, with a countenance paler than
death, caught her in his arms--'Whither would you go?' cried he,
trembling as he spoke.
'Have you found--Delamere?'
'I have.'
'Alive and well?'
'Alive--but--'
'Oh! God!--but what?'
'Wounded, I fear, to death. Keep his sister from knowing it too
suddenly.'
That was almost impossible. Lady Westhaven had at first sat down in the
drawing room in that breathless agony which precluded the power of
enquiry; then losing her weakness in desperation, she ran down,
determined to know the worst, and was already on the stairs.
Emmeline, white and faint, leaned on Godolphin--'Where is he, where is
my brother?' cried Lady Westhaven.
Godolphin beckoned to the servants to assist him in getting her up
stairs. After a moment, they were all in the drawing room.
'Tell me,' cried she, with an accent and look of despair--'Tell me for I
will know! You have seen my brother; he is killed! I know he is killed!'
'He is alive,' answered Godolphin, hardly bearing to wound her ears
with such intelligence as he had to deliver--'at least he _was_ alive
when I left him.'
'_Was_ alive! He is wounded then--and dying!'
'It were useless and cruel to deceive you. I greatly fear he is.'
Uttering a faint shriek, Lady Westhaven now sprung towards the door, and
protested she would go to him wherever he was. Emmeline clung about her,
and besought her to be patient--to be pacified.
'Perhaps,' cried she, 'his situation may not be so desperate. Let us
rather enquire what can be done for him, than indulge the extravagance
of our own despair.'
'Ah! tell me, then, where?--how?' Lady Westhaven could say no more.
Godolphin thought it best to satisfy her.
'I will not relate the first part of my search. It was fruitless. At
length I saw a croud before the door of the Bedford. I asked what was
the matter? and heard that two gentlemen had fought a duel, by
candlelight, with swords; that one was killed and the other had escaped.
This was too much like what I expected to hear: I forced my way into the
room. Lord Delamere was bleeding on the ground. Two surgeons were with
him. I cleared the room of all but them, and the necessary attendants. I
saw him carefully conveyed to bed. I left them with him; and came to
tell you. Now I must hasten back to him. I will not flatter you; the
surgeons gave me very little--indeed no hope of his life.'
'Oh! my father! my father!' exclaimed Lady Westhaven, 'what will become
of him when he hears this?'
'I would go to him,' said Godolphin, 'but that I must return to poor
Delamere. What little he said was to request that I would stay with
him.'
'Go then,' said Emmeline--'we must do without you. Let him not miss the
comfort of your presence.'
'Yes,' answered he, 'I must indeed go.' Emmeline, leaving Lady Westhaven
a moment to her woman, followed him out, and he said to her--'Try, I
conjure you, my Emmeline, to exert yourself for the sake of your poor
friend. Keep her as tranquil as you can; and may ye both acquire
fortitude to bear what is, I fear, inevitable!'
'Oh! my father!' loudly exclaimed Lady Westhaven, with a dreadful
shriek--'Who shall dare to announce these tidings to you?'
'Send,' continued Godolphin, 'an express to Lord Montreville. He is at
Lord Dornock's; and dispatch another to my brother. Pray take care of
your own health. It is now impossible for me to stay--the poor
languishing Delamere expects me.' He then ran hastily away; and
Emmeline, struggling with all her power against her own anguish, was
obliged to commit her friend to the care of her servants, while she sat
down to write to Lord Montreville. Her letter contained only two lines.
'My dear Lord,
'Your son is very ill. We are much alarmed; and Lady Westhaven
begs you will immediately come hither. Do not go to Berkley-square.
EMMELINE MOWBRAY.'
_Grosvenor-street,
April 5th._
This note, short as it was, she had the utmost difficulty to make
legible. A servant was sent off with it, who was ordered to answer no
questions; and in another short and incoherent note she told to Lord
Westhaven the melancholy truth, and sent it by express into Kent.
Having thus obeyed Godolphin as well as she could; she returned to Lady
Westhaven, who could not be prevailed upon to go to bed, but insisted on
being allowed to see her brother. Emmeline, dreadfully terrified by her
obstinacy, now sent for the two physicians who usually attended the
family. One of them had been taken by Godolphin to Delamere; but the
other instantly attended the summons. Every argument he could use
failing entirely of effect, he was obliged to administer to her a
remedy, which soon acting on her fatigued and exhausted spirits, threw
her for a short time into insensibility. While poor Emmeline, who
expected soon the arrival of the unhappy father, and who waited with
torturing anxiety for news from Godolphin, could not even sit down; but
wandered about the house, and walked from room to room, as if change of
place could shorten or lessen her dreadful suspence.
No news, however, came from Godolphin. But a little before eight
o'clock, the Marquis's chaise stopped at the door.
He got out; asked faulteringly of the servants for his son. Their looks
imported sad tidings; but they were ordered to profess ignorance, and it
was the excruciating task allotted to Emmeline to inform this wretched
parent that his only son, the pride and support of his life, had
fallen; and what made it still more horrid, by the hand of his
daughter's paramour. Lord Montreville entered the drawing room; and the
wild and pallid looks of his niece struck him with such horror, that he
could only pronounce with trembling lips the name of Delamere: and then
throwing himself into a chair, seemed to expect she should tell him what
he was unable to ask.
She approached him; but words failed her.
'Delamere!--my son!' cried he, in a voice hollow and tremulous.
'He is not dead, my Lord.'
'Not dead! wherefore is it then that you look thus? Oh! what is it I am
to know?'
Emmeline then briefly related his situation, as she had heard it from
Godolphin. She had only said, that tho' desperately wounded he yet
lived, when Lord Montreville, gazing on her with eyes that bespoke the
agony of his soul, and seizing her violently by the hand, said--'Come,
then, with me! come to him with me, now, this instant!'
He then burst out of the room, still taking her with him. She knew not
why he wished her to follow; but went, unequal to resistance or enquiry.
His chariot was at the door. They both got in, and just as it was
driving away, Millefleur ran up to it.
'Your master?--your master?--' said Lord Montreville.
'Ah! my Lord, he is--yet living!'
'_Yet_ living!'
'And Captain Godolphin sent me to see if you was come, in hopes that you
might see him.'
'Go on!' cried Lord Montreville, with a degree of fierceness that made
Emmeline shudder. The horses flew. He continued in dreadful and gloomy
silence, interrupted only by deep groans. Emmeline had no comfort to
offer, and dared not speak to him. At length they arrived at the place.
The servants assisted their lord to leave the chariot. Just as he got
out of it, Dr. Gardner came out; but too much shocked to be able to
speak, he waved his hand to say that all was over; and almost instantly,
Godolphin, with a countenance most expressive of what he felt, came out
to him also.
'My dear Lord, your going up will be of no use; spare yourself so great
a shock, and suffer me to attend you home.'
'He is dead then?'
Deep and mournful silence told him it was so.
'I will see him, however,' said he, pushing by those who would have
detained him.
'No, no,' cried Emmeline. 'Pray, my Lord! pray, my dear uncle!'
'Uncle!' exclaimed he. 'Have I deserved to be your uncle? But I am
punished--dreadfully, dreadfully punished!'
A croud was now gathering; and Godolphin was compelled to let him
proceed; while he himself approached Emmeline, who was left half dead in
the chariot.
'Ah! attend not to me!' said she. 'Go, I beg of you, with my poor
uncle!'
Dreadful was the scene when the miserable father beheld the body of his
son. In that bitter anguish which is incapable of tears, he reproached
himself for the obstinacy with which, even against his own judgment, he
had opposed his marriage with Emmeline.--'Instead of seeing thus my
hopes blasted for ever, I might have grown old among his children and
the children of my brother's daughter! But I drove her to France; and in
consequence of that, the scourge, the dreadful scourge has fallen upon
me! I and my house are low in the dust! Weak and wretched infatuation!
Dreadful sacrifice to vain and empty ambition; Oh! my poor murdered
boy!' Then, after a moment's pause, he turned suddenly to Godolphin,
whose manly countenance was covered with tears. 'Tell me, Sir! did he
not wish to see his misjudging father? did he leave me nothing--not even
his forgiveness?'
'Lord Delamere,' said Godolphin, 'was wounded in the lungs, and every
effort to speak threatened his immediate dissolution. He expressed a
wish to see you and Miss Mowbray; but said very little else.'
'I brought her, because I knew he must wish to see her. But he will see
her no more!' A deep and hollow groan now burst from him: his sorrow
began to choak him; and exclamation was at an end; yet struggling a
moment with it, he said quickly to Godolphin--'Do you think he suffered
great pain?'
'I believe very little, my Lord.'
'And he had every assistance?'
'He had instantly every assistance that skill could offer. Two surgeons
of eminence were at supper with company in the house; and they were with
him before I was, which was not ten minutes after the accident. I never
left him afterwards, but to run to Lady Westhaven.'
'Excellent young man! you will still, I know, remain with him, and do
what _I_ cannot do.' He then paused a moment, and his anguish seemed to
gather strength--while with a look of deep and gloomy despair he
approached the bed; slowly and sternly invoked the vengeance of heaven
on his eldest daughter; and then continued with glazed and motionless
eyes to gaze on the body. From this dreadful torpor it was necessary to
rouse him, and to remove him from the room. The united efforts of
Godolphin and the surgeons, with difficulty effected it. He was however
at length placed in the chariot; and with Emmeline, who was more dead
than alive, was conveyed to Grosvenor-street. Godolphin, dreading the
scene he was to encounter when they got thither, followed them on foot;
and assisted Lord Montreville to his chamber, where he entreated the
servants not to allow him to see Lady Westhaven, till they were both
better able to bear the interview. He then returned to Emmeline; who,
quite overcome by excessive terror and fatigue, had hardly strength to
speak to him; and unable to support herself longer, retired to bed,
where a violent fever seized her; and for near a week she was so
alarmingly ill, that Godolphin, in the wildest distraction, believed he
saw her snatched from him by the inexorable hands of death. Lady Adelina
came to her the evening after Delamere's decease, and never left her bed
side while there was the least appearance of danger; Godolphin continued
whole days in the little dressing room that adjoined to it; and
Fitz-Edward, who insisted on attending him during these hours of
torturing suspence, was unavoidably frequently in the presence of Lady
Adelina, whose every sentiment was for the time absorbed in her fear for
a life so dear to them all.
At length Emmeline, tho' yet too ill to leave her room, was no longer in
danger; and Lord Westhaven, who returned instantly to town on hearing
the mournful news helped to appease the violent grief of his wife. But
on the more settled and silent anguish of her wretched father, his good
offices made not the least impression. He seemed to abhor all thoughts
of consolation: and when the remains of poor Delamere were carried to be
deposited with those of his mother, he shut himself up in total
darkness, and refused to admit even Lady Westhaven to participate his
sorrows. When she was allowed to pay her duty to him, he conjured her to
keep from him the sight of any of the Crofts', and that she would
prevent even their name being repeated in his presence. With their
visits there was no danger of his Lordship's being offended; for as he
had, in consequence of this family calamity, resigned all the places he
held, Sir Richard and his two sons were already eagerly paying their
court to his successor; and had entered into new views, and formed new
political connections, with an avidity which made them equally forgetful
of their patron's personal afflictions and of that favour to which they
owed their sudden and unmerited elevation. Amidst all the misery which
the guilty and scandalous conduct of his wife had brought upon the
family of his benefactor, the point on which Mr. Crofts felt the most
solicitude, was to know what portion of the Delamere estate was
irrevocably settled in equal divisions on the daughters, if the Marquis
of Montreville died without a son. The physicians now advised Lord
Westhaven to carry the Marquis into the country as soon as possible;
where he might enjoy the solitude he so much desired, without being
excluded from the air, as he was in town, by being confined entirely to
his bed chamber and dressing room. The sight of any of his own seats;
places which he had so lavishly embellished for the residence of him who
was now no more, he could not yet endure; and Lord Westhaven with some
difficulty prevailed upon him to remove to _his_ house in Kent. Thither,
therefore, the Marquis and Lord Westhaven's family removed, at the end
of a fortnight; but Emmeline, tho' pretty well recovered, desired Lady
Westhaven not to insist on her being of the party; being convinced, that
tho' he tried to see her with fortitude, and to behave to her with
tenderness, the sight of her was painful to her uncle, and perpetually
brought to his mind his own fatal misconduct in regard to his son.
Lady Westhaven yielded reluctantly to her reasons, and departed without
her: but as her health made her immediate departure from London
necessary, she went with Lady Adelina to Highgate; who now remained
there only for the purpose of taking leave of Lord and Lady Clancarryl,
as they were within a fortnight to return to Ireland.
In this interval, they heard that Lady Frances Crofts, infatuated still
with her passion for Bellozane, had followed him to Paris, whither he
had fled after his fatal encounter with her brother. Bellozane, stung
with guilt, and pursued by remorse, hurried from her with detestation;
and concealing himself in Switzerland, saw her no more. For some time
she continued to live in France in a style the most disgraceful to her
family and herself. Nobody dared name her to her unhappy father. But
Lord Westhaven at length interposed with Crofts, who, influenced by his
authority, and still more by his own desire to lessen her expences, went
over, and found no great difficulty in procuring a _lettre de cachet_,
which confined her during pleasure to a convent.