'Thrown a pearl away richer than all his tribe!'
'Thrown a pearl away richer than all his tribe!'
'Thrown a pearl away richer than all his tribe!'
'Yet I am sure you will think it still more cruel to give him hope. I will tell you all my weakness. While I see you here, all benignity and goodness to me, I feel for Lord Delamere infinite pity; but were you to receive him with your usual sweetness, to give him many of those enchanting smiles, and to look at him with those soft eyes, as if you tenderly felt his sorrows, I am not sure whether the most unreasonable jealousy would not possess me, and whether I should not hate him as much as I now wish him well.'
'That were to be indeed unreasonable, and to act very inconsistently with your natural candour and humanity. I will not think so ill of you as to believe you. You know I must of course often see Lord Delamere: but after the avowal you have extorted from me, surely I need not repeat that I shall see him only as my friend.'
Godolphin then kissed her hands in rapture; and for a few moments forgot even his concern for Lady Adelina. Emmeline now wished to break off the conversation; and he at length allowed her to leave him. After having enquired of Barret after her mistress, who was happily in a calmer sleep, she retired to her own room, where she hoped to have a few hours of repose: but notwithstanding the promises of Godolphin, she felt as the hour of the morning approached on which he was to meet Fitz-Edward, that anxiety chased away sleep, and again made her suffer the cruellest suspense.
The heart of Godolphin, glowing with the liveliest sense of his own happiness, yet felt with great keenness the unfortunate situation of his sister. He began to doubt whether he had any right to perpetuate her wretchedness; and whether it were not better to leave it to herself to decide in regard to Fitz-Edward. The delicacy of his honour made him see an infinity of objections to their marriage, which to common minds might appear chimerical and romantic. To that part of his own family who were yet ignorant of her former indiscretion, as he could not urge his reasons, his opposition of Fitz-Edward must seem capricious and unjust. Lord Westhaven must therefore either be told that which had hitherto with so much pains been concealed from him, or he must determine to refer Fitz-Edward entirely to Lady Adelina herself; and on this, after long deliberation, he fixed.
Exactly as the clock struck seven, Fitz-Edward was at the door; and was introduced into Godolphin's study, who was already up and waiting for him. Emmeline, still full of apprehension, had arisen before six, and hearing Lady Adelina was still asleep, had gone down stairs, and waited with a palpitating heart in the breakfast room.
She was glad to distinguish, at their first meeting, the usual salutations of the morning. She listened; but tho' the rest of the house was profoundly silent, she could not hear their conversation or even the tone in which it was carried on. It was not, however, loud, and she drew from thence a favourable omen. Near two hours passed, during which breakfast was carried in to them; and as the servant passed backwards and forwards, she heard parts of sentences which assured her that then, at least, they were conversing on indifferent subjects.
Now, therefore, the agitation of her spirits began to subside; and she dared even to hope that this meeting would prove themeans of reconciliation, rather than of producing those fatal effects she had dreaded.
In about a quarter of an hour, however, after they had finished their breakfast, they went out and crossed the lawn together. Then again her heart failed her; and without knowing exactly what she intended, she took the little boy, whom the maid had just brought to her, and walked as quickly as possible after them. Before she could overtake them, they had reached the gate; and in turning to shut it after him, Godolphin saw her, and both together came hastily back to meet her. At the same moment, the child putting out his hands to Godolphin, called him papa! as he had been used to do; and Fitz-Edward, snatching him up, kissed him tenderly, while his eyes were filled with tears.
Godolphin took the hand of Emmeline. 'Why this terror? why this haste?' said he, observing her to be almost breathless.
'I thought—I imagined—I was afraid—' answered she, not knowing what she said.
'Be not alarmed,' said Godolphin—'We go together as friends.'
'And Godolphin,' interrupted Fitz-Edward, 'is again the same noble minded Godolphin I once knew, and have always loved.'
'Let us say then,' cried Emmeline, 'no more of the past.—Let us look forward only to the future.'
'And the happiness of that future, at least as far as it relates to me, depends, dearest Miss Mowbray, on you.'
'On me!'
'Godolphin wishes me not now to see his sister. I have acquiesced. He wishes me even to refrain from seeing her till she has been six months a widow. With this, also, I have complied. But as it is not in my power to remain thus long in a suspence so agonizing as that I now endure, he allows me to write to her, and refers wholly to herself my hopes and my despair. Ah! generous, lovely Emmeline!youcan influence the mind of your friend. When she is calm, give her the letter I will send to you; and if you would save me from a life of lingering anguish to which death is preferable, procure for me a favourable answer.'
Emmeline could not refuse a request made by Fitz-Edward which Godolphin seemed not to oppose. She therefore acquiesced; and saw him, after he had again tenderly caressed the child, depart with Godolphin, who desired her to return to the house, in order to await Lady Adelina's rising; where he would soon join her.With an heart lightened of half the concern she had felt on this melancholy subject, she now went to the apartment of her poor friend, who was just awakened from the stupor rather than the sleep into which the soporifics she had taken had thrown her. With an heavy and reluctant eye she looked round her, as if hopeless of seeing the image now always present to her imagination. Emmeline approached her with the child. She seemed happy to see them; and desiring her to sit down by the bed side, said—'Tell me truly what has happened? Have I taken any medicine that has confused my head, or how happens it that I appear to have been in a long and most uneasy dream? Wild and half formed images still seem to float before my eyes; and when I attempt to make them distinct, I am but the more bewildered and uneasy.'
'Think not about it, then, till the heaviness you complain of is gone off.'
'Tell me, Emmeline, have I really only dreamed, or was a stranger here yesterday? I thought, that suddenly I saw Fitz-Edward, thin, pale, emaciated, looking as if he were unhappy; and then, as it has of late often happened, I lost at once all traces of him; and in his place Godolphin came, and I know not what else; it is all confusion and terror!'
Emmeline now considered a moment; and then concluded that it would be better to relate distinctly to her, since she now seemed capable of hearing it, all that had really passed the preceding evening, than to let her fatigue her mind by conjectures, and enfeeble it by fears. She therefore gave her a concise detail of what had happened; from the accidental meeting with Fitz-Edward, to the parting she had herself just had with him in the garden. She carefully watched the countenance of Lady Adelina while she was speaking; and saw with pleasure, that tho' excessively agitated, she melted into tears, and heard, with a calmer joy than she had dared to hope, the certainty of Fitz-Edward's tender attachment, and the unhoped for reconciliation between him and her brother. Having indulged her tears some time, she tenderly pressed the hand of Emmeline, and said, in a faint voice, that she found herself unable to rise and meet Godolphin till she had recovered a little more strength of mind, and that she wished to be left alone. Emmeline, rejoiced to find her so tranquil, left her, and rejoined Godolphin, who was by this timereturned; and who read, in the animated countenance of Emmeline, that she had favourable news to relate to him of his sister.
While they enjoyed together the prospect of Lady Adelina's return to health and peace, of which they had both despaired, the natural chearfulness of Emmeline, which anxiety and affection had so long obscured, seemed in some degree to return; and feeling that she loved Godolphin better than ever, for that generous placability of spirit he had shewn to the repentant Fitz-Edward, she no longer attempted to conceal her tenderness, or withhold her confidence from her deserving lover. They breakfasted together; and afterwards, as Lady Adelina still wished to be alone, they walked over the little estate which lay round the house, and Emmeline allowed him to talk of the improvements he meditated when she should become it's mistress. The pleasure, however, which lightened in her eyes, and glowed in her bosom, was checked and diminished when the image of Delamere, in jealousy and despair, intruded itself. And she could look forward to no future happiness for herself, undashed with sorrow, while he remained in a state of mind so deplorable. When they returned into the house, Barret brought to Godolphin the following note.—
'Dearest and most generous Godolphin! I find myself unequal to the task ofspeakingon what has passed within these last twenty four hours. I wish still to see you. But let our conversation turn wholly on Lord Westhaven, of whom I am anxious to hear; and spare me, for the present, on the subject which now blinds with tears your weak but grateful and affectionateAdelina.'
'Dearest and most generous Godolphin! I find myself unequal to the task ofspeakingon what has passed within these last twenty four hours. I wish still to see you. But let our conversation turn wholly on Lord Westhaven, of whom I am anxious to hear; and spare me, for the present, on the subject which now blinds with tears your weak but grateful and affectionate
Adelina.'
Godolphin now assured her, by Emmeline, that he would mention nothing that should give her a moment's pain, and that she should herself lead the conversation.
He soon after went up to her and Emmeline, in her dressing room; and found her still calm, tho' very low and languid. The name of Fitz-Edward was carefully avoided. But in the short time they were together, Godolphin observed that the eyes of Lady Adelina seemed, on the entrance of any one into the room, fearfully and anxiously to examine whether they brought the letter she had been taught to expect from Fitz-Edward. It was easy to see that she deeply meditated on the answer which she must give; and that she felt an internal struggle, which Godolphin fearedmight again unsettle her understanding. She was too faint to sit up long; and desirous of being left entirely alone, Godolphin had for the rest of the day the happiness of entertaining Emmeline apart. He failed not to avail himself of it; and drew from her a confession of her partiality towards him, even from the first day of their acquaintance; and long before she dared trust her heart to enquire into the nature of those sentiments with which it was impressed.
Late in the evening, a messenger arrived with the expected letter from Fitz-Edward. To convince Godolphin of the perfect integrity with which he acted, he sent him a copy of it; adding, that he was then on his road to London, where he should await, in painful solicitude, the decision of Lady Adelina. It was determined that Emmeline should give her the letter the next morning; and that if after reading it she retained the same languid composure which she had before shewn, they should go in the evening to Southampton, and from thence proceed the following day to London, where Lord and Lady Westhaven so anxiously expected their arrival.
When Emmeline delivered the letter, Lady Adelina turned pale, and trembled. She left her to read it; and on returning to her in about half an hour, Emmeline found her drowned in tears. She seemed altogether unwilling to speak of the contents of the letter; but assured Emmeline that she was very well able to undertake the journey her brother proposed, and she believed it would be rather useful than prejudicial to her. 'As to the letter,' added she, with a deep sigh, 'it will not for some days be in my power to answer it.'
Every thing was, by the diligence of Godolphin, soon prepared for their departure. Lady Adelina, her little boy, Emmeline and Godolphin, attended by their servants, went the same evening to Southampton; from whence they began their journey the next day; and resting one night at Farnham, arrived early on the following at the house Lord Westhaven had taken in Grosvenor street
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.Shewill 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 hethought, 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 hadtimeto 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 accumulateriches 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 adoringyou, 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, soexpressive 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 towardshim, 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 ineffectuallystruggled 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 thoseCrofts' 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 withher?'
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 toescape. 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 ofbeaux espritstheir 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.Helives, you know, in Burlington street, andIlive 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.'[44]
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, withmon 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 utmostsang 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? IfIwere 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 morecouldbe done for her, even tho' you were to hazard yourpreciouslife, or ifI, (who you know would not risk by it that of an heir to an Earldom) should sacrificemyease andmyfriends 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.'[45]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 winninghoneteté, invited him to her house, and supplied the want ofthathospitality 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 sisterremained, 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 yetloveme well enough to solicit my hand, is I own most soothing and consolatory: but where, Fitz-Edward, is the Lethean cup, without which you cannotesteemme?—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!
'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 yetloveme well enough to solicit my hand, is I own most soothing and consolatory: but where, Fitz-Edward, is the Lethean cup, without which you cannotesteemme?—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 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 lostAdelina Trelawny.'
'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 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, thenut 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 withFitz-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.
FOOTNOTES:[44]Oh! certainly, Mr. Crofts is always very sprightly. A most entertaining personage.[45]If there is any thing in the world I utterly detest, 'tis such dismal society as that.
[44]Oh! certainly, Mr. Crofts is always very sprightly. A most entertaining personage.
[44]Oh! certainly, Mr. Crofts is always very sprightly. A most entertaining personage.
[45]If there is any thing in the world I utterly detest, 'tis such dismal society as that.
[45]If there is any thing in the world I utterly detest, 'tis such dismal society as that.
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 herrecovery; 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 wifefrom 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 forhim, 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 LordWesthaven'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 beenless 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 tothe 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 ofher, 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 forwardin 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 woundher ears with such intelligence as he had to deliver—'at least hewasalive when I left him.'
'Wasalive! 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.
'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.