During the drive back, Mr. Watson was in very good humour, speaking several times of the civility and attention he had received from Mr. Howard and his sister; and praising Charles, to whom he had taken a considerable fancy.
"As for Lord Osborne," he continued, "though I do not think very much of him, he is at least preferable to that fellow Musgrave, whom I have never thought a gentleman."
This was cruelly mortifying to Margaret, who was nevertheless forced to constrain her feelings in the presence of her father; but on their return home, as he went directly to his room, she gave way to her agitation—quite shocking Emma by the violence of her passion, as well as by a wholly unexpected attack on her own conduct.
Elizabeth endeavoured in vain to interpose, but Margaret would not be stayed;and Emma stood motionless under a shower of angry accusations. She was running after Lord Osborne—her intentions were plain to everyone, and she would only have herself despised! Lord Osborne would neverlook at her!
Mr. Musgrave saw through her! No doubt he was in Miss Osborne's confidence, and knew she was coming—thatwas why he had been so wanting in civility to herself!—he did not want the Osbornes to think he was mixed up with them—but Lord Osborne would never think of her, except to insult her!
At this, Emma, in silent indignation, took up her candlestick and retired to her room.
When she had gone, Elizabeth spoke more seriously to her sister than ever she had done in her life before; and as Margaret at first refused to listen to reason, threatened to appeal to her father should there be any repetition of the scene. Completely overcome, Margaret then burst into tears, and shortly after permitted Elizabeth to lead her upstairs.
A few days later, Lady Osborne and her daughter called on the Miss Watsons. Miss Osborne, supported by her friend Miss Carr, had endeavoured to dissuade her mother from taking this step; but Lady Osborne, seeing that her son's feelings were more deeply engaged than ever she had previously known them to be, was too clever not to be assured that opposition would only serve to fan his flame; and, moreover, she did not choose that he should visit with people whom she would not acknowledge.
She was showed by Nanny into the parlour, and though it was not such a room as she was accustomed to be received in, everything was in order; and Elizabeth, who had become more refined from her intercourse with Emma, received her with greater dignity than she had expected. As for Emma herself, she was not less elegant in her simple house frock than in her ball-dress, and the Osbornes were compelled to acknowledge her beauty. It was not such a marriage as Lady Osborne could possibly countenance for her son;but nevertheless she found herself drawn towards Emma; and placing herself near to her, directed the greater part of her conversation to her; while Margaret sat somewhat aside, white and silent, only able to join in the conversation when directly addressed.
"I understand from Mrs. Blake," said Lady Osborne, "that you have been brought up by a relative at some distance?"
"By my aunt, Mrs. Turner, now Mrs. O'Brien."
"And where has she gone to live?"
"In the South of Ireland, ma'am, where Captain O'Brien has a small property."
"Captain O'Brien? There was an officer of that name in the Royal ——s, my brother's regiment."
"That was his regiment, but he resigned his commission many years ago."
"I am afraid it could scarcely have been a prudent marriage."
Seeing tears gathering in Emma's eyes, Lady Osborne hastened to change the conversation by speaking of other officers inthe same regiment; and on mentioning a Colonel Norwood, was interested to hear that he had been a friend of the late Mr. Turner, with whom he had frequently dined.
"It is a pity your aunt did not marry him instead," she observed.
"But he is dead, ma'am. He left me this brooch I am wearing and also a legacy of fifty pounds."
"I did not know you had fifty pounds, Emma," said Elizabeth, surprised. Miss Osborne looked her disdain, but Lady Osborne said kindly—
"It will be very useful to Miss Emma for her trousseau, in a few years; well, do not be in too great a hurry to marry, my dear."
Emma blushed, and Lady Osborne, believing that it was on account of her son, grew more reserved for a few moments. Determined, however, to have fuller proof, she presently mentioned him by name, and was gratified to observe that Emma received it without any embarrassment.
"Perhaps there is someone else," she thought to herself.
But on sharing this surmise with Miss Osborne, during the drive home, she was surprised to find that her daughter received it with so little favour.
Elizabeth and Emma shortly returned the visit, but Lady Osborne was not at home.
Soon after this event, Lord Osborne sent game for Mr. Watson; Mr. Howard was not less civil with a present of fruit; and Mr. Musgrave, not to be out of the fashion, called with a basket of fish. Poor Mr. Watson was considerably surprised at finding himself become so popular all at once; but when he questioned Emma on the subject, received surprisingly little information in her reply.
In the meantime, Margaret's health was occasioning not a little anxiety to her sisters. She seemed to have no interest in anything, had quite lost her appetite, and went listlessly about the house; before long she was confined to her room with a feverish attack.
Elizabeth and Emma were assiduous in their care of her, and were presently rewarded, not only by her being restored to some measure of health, but also by her being rendered less irritable towards them, from a sense of gratitude for their sympathy.
Just as she was beginning to come down stairs again, the Osbornes issued invitations for a ball; and the Miss Watsons were among the first to receive a card.
Elizabeth had no idea but that they should go with the Edwards, and was considerably put out when she found that not only were they not going, but that Mrs. Edwards was offended at having been ignored, when the Watsons (on whom she had always looked down) had been included.
Mary Edwards was absent at the moment, but, on learning what had transpired, with great good sense pointed out to her mother that as they had never before been taken notice of by the Osbornes, they had now no cause for mortification, generously adding that such beauty asEmma's could not but be distinguished.
Nevertheless there is no young lady who can hear of a ball without desiring to go to it; and the matter occasioned not a little stir in the small country town, where any subject for gossip was eagerly seized upon. Tom Musgrave, hearing of it, reported it at the Castle as a good joke, believing the Osbornes would be gratified by learning of the disappointment they had unwittingly occasioned.
It had quite a different effect, however, on Lady Osborne, who at once despatched an invitation to Mary Edwards, together with a kind note in which she said she understood that she was a friend of the Miss Watsons, and that it would give her much pleasure if she would accompany them to the dance.
All was now happily settled, as Mrs. Blake had arranged to meet them in the cloakroom at the Castle and act as chaperon.
Miss Osborne, though in some awe of her mother, had done all in her power to prevent her inviting Emma.
"You are encouraging Osborne in every way," she said, "to make this disgraceful marriage—to ask Emma Watson to this house will be to throw her into his arms."
"I think differently," replied Lady Osborne coldly, "and I do not choose that Osborne should give a dance in the Assembly Rooms, which was what he had intended doing."
"It would have been far better, ma'am. You could then have refused to attend."
"I have not the slightest intention of ever inflicting such a slight upon my son."
"It would have put Miss Watson in her place. She will now be more forward and impertinent than ever."
"I find her neither forward nor impertinent."
"You do not know her, ma'am; there is a sort of independence in her which I find insupportable."
"I believe I am the better judge—and it is not a question ofherconduct, but ofmine."
Miss Osborne, finding nothing to reply, curtsied and left the room.
During the interval which elapsed, Lord Osborne and Mr. Howard both discovered various pretexts for calling at the Rectory; Mr. Watson's health, for one thing, causing them no inconsiderable anxiety; and on different occasions when the latter was riding by chance in the neighbourhood of Stanton, and had met Emma out walking with Elizabeth, in view of all the perils of a singularly quiet neighbourhood, had believed it incumbent on him to escort her the whole way home, leading his horse by the bridle.
Nor is it to be supposed that Mr. Musgrave permitted himself to be relegated to the background, where a new and pretty woman was concerned; even had she not possessed the additional importance, in his eyes, of having aroused Lord Osborne from his habitual apathy. He addressed himself to her without loss oftime, confident of success, and wholly incapable of believing that her indifference was genuine.
But Emma's contempt for him, as can well be imagined, only served to aggravate the mortification from which poor Margaret was constrained to suffer; and she could not be prevailed upon to go to the Osbornes' dance, although her father had expressed his willingness to remain, for once, by himself.
On the night of the ball, Emma and Elizabeth were received with every attention by Lord Osborne, who met them in the hall; and Lady Osborne both curtsied and held out her hand; but Miss Osborne contented herself with a very short curtsey; while Miss Carr found herself obliged to become so engrossed in Colonel Beresford that she could not see them at all.
Lord Osborne was to open the ball with the Countess of X——, but he engaged Emma for the next two dances; and Mr. Howard secured her for the first two, and led her aside.
"This is just your second dance, is it not?"
"Oh, no! I have been out a year."
"Preposterous! A year's licence for breaking hearts in."
"Hearts so easily broken would be scarcely worth considering."
"Do not you, then, preserve them in a glass case?"
"I never preserve what I do not value."
"So young and so untender!"
"'So young, my lord, and true!'"
"I did not know young ladies were students of Shakespeare."
"No doubt they are more intelligent at breaking hearts, and preserving them in a glass case!"
Miss Osborne, who was near to her at the moment, turned and looked at her in cold surprise, then passed on; but Emma's face was at once so arch and sweet that Mr. Howard was wholly charmed, and bending slightly over her, took a white rose from his coat and begged her to honour him by wearing it. Then as the violins were playing, and several couplesleaving the room, they followed in their wake.
As Emma entered the ball-room, all eyes were fixed on her—it passed from mouth to mouth that she was the prettiest woman in the room, and she was speedily acclaimed thebelle.
Gentlemen flocked round her, begging for introductions; and Tom Musgrave was foremost in presenting himself; but Emma felt so keenly all the misery he had caused her sister, that she declined to give him an engagement for any dance, and without affording him any semblance of excuse.
Never before had he received such treatment at the hands of any lady, and least of all had he expected it from a Miss Watson.
Highly incensed, and with a view to covering his discomfiture, he approached Miss Carr, and solicited her; but as she had witnessed what had transpired, and would have been the last to accept a rejected suitor, he was promptly dismissed,and retired to the card-room vowing vengeance.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Mary Edwards had no lack of partners, as they knew several of the officers present; and Lord Osborne had made a point of introducing other gentlemen to them. Both were in good looks, especially Elizabeth, who was accounted by several to be almost as handsome as her sister.
In the course of the evening the Boulangeries were danced. This had been arranged by Miss Osborne and Miss Carr, with a special view to mortifying Emma; but to their disappointment, it transpired that she was not only conversant with the several figures, but was also accustomed to innovations; and on Lord Osborne requesting her to direct a new movement, conducted it with a simple confidence which proved her to be no novice.
Had Elizabeth been her mother, she could not have taken a greater pride in her performance; and Charles was in ecstasies as she selected him for her cavalier.
Lady Osborne, who had come in withMrs. Blake to watch the dance, entirely approved her conduct, fully recognizing that she acted in this manner, not only that she might keep her promise to Charles of giving him a dance, but also in order to avoid Lord Osborne, who made not the slightest effort to conceal his admiration of her. Her eyes then fell on her own daughter, and it seemed to her that never had she seen her less in looks. Near to her was Miss Carr, and she could not but note the ill-humour of her countenance. The next moment she was almost startled by its sudden change of expression as she leaned forward to speak to her son, and as she did so her designs on him were betrayed.
In point of fortune and connection there was nothing to be urged; but in that moment Lady Osborne felt that if she were asked to choose between her and Emma Watson for a daughter-in-law, she would be constrained to give her suffrage to the latter—and again her eyes wandered to her.
She was now dancing with Mr.Howard, in a temporary exchange of partners, and it was very evident that he was quite absorbed in her.
At this moment, Miss Osborne passed near to her mother, and her excessive pallor showed beneath her rouge.
Presently Colonel Beresford and his partner paused within a few steps of her, without observing her, and she could not help hearing part of their conversation.
"Osborne must be monstrous hard hit when he gives a dance."
"But you are all in love with this beautiful girl—are not you?—Look at Mr. Howard!—and she is not insensible to his merit!"
"He has no chance against Lord Osborne. No young lady could refuse a title!"
"Why such strictures! Do not you then allow anything for our hearts?"
"Zounds, Madam; I have more respect for your wits! I should form but a mean opinion of any woman's understanding who would reject Lord Osborne for his former tutor!"
Then they passed on; but in the short space that Lady Osborne had stood there, it seemed to her that all the comedy and tragedy of the ball had been revealed to her; no longer could she find any enjoyment in it; and, sick at heart, she would have left the room only for the observation it would have occasioned.
As Lady X—— had been obliged to return home early, Lord Osborne, having danced twice with Emma, took her in to supper. Mr. Howard then danced twice with her. He had admired her very much from the first; and now was in a fair way to be very much in love with her. Casting prudence to the winds, he drew her into the greenhouse and, in accents which betrayed his emotion, endeavoured to thank her for having given him the happiest evening of his life, begging her to favour him by returning him the rose he had presented to her.
Emma was unable to meet the ardour of his eyes, and with fingers which slightly trembled, she removed it from her dress.
He placed it in his breast and, raising her hand, pressed it to his lips.
"I believe this is our dance, Mr. Howard," Miss Osborne's cold voice broke in on them, and nothing could well have been less opportune. Mr. Howard, however, appeared entirely unembarrassed, and, bowing and smiling, gave her his arm—seeing that Colonel Beresford was claiming Emma; and the latter saw him no more. For almost immediately afterwards, Miss Edwards came to beg her to come home, as she had promised her father to return early; and as Lady X—— had already gone, there could be no impropriety in their doing so.
Lord Osborne attended them to the carriage, but Emma was almost wholly silent, and he was deeply mortified by her reserve.
The next day Mr. Watson was taken seriously ill; and though he lingered for some weeks, his daughters were almost completely cut off from all social intercourse.
Towards Christmas he died.
Everything was overshadowed by the sense of loss; but Emma found that she could be still more lonely, when, on receipt of a kind letter from Mrs. Blake, she learned that she had taken a house in London, in order to put Charles to school; and that Mr. Howard had been called to Cumberland to the bedside of a relative who had had a stroke.
The Osbornes had gone abroad.
The clergyman who had been doing duty for Mr. Watson, had been appointed to the parish; but with great consideration had begged them not to move till the following March; so that they might have sufficient leisure to dispose of theirfurniture, and to make their arrangements.
Penelope had returned for some time, and Emma had learned to dread the sound of her sharp voice. She and Margaret quarrelled perpetually. There seemed never to be any peace in the house. Her ill-humour was aggravated by her friends, the Shaws, having secured a situation for her as assistant teacher in a private seminary; for not only was she averse to this position, but she felt, even more keenly, that it was a tacit acknowledgment of the fatal obduracy of the heart, she had wasted so much time in endeavouring to subdue.
Margaret had got an engagement as companion to a delicate girl.
Emma's case was the hardest. She was to find her home with Robert and Jane, who openly discussed her prospects of making a good match. In vain she pleaded her desire to take a situation, like her sisters. Robert would not hear of it. She had already received ill-treatment enough from her family, he affirmed, and he would do his best to give her a goodchance. Even Elizabeth joined her voice to her brother's.
"You do not know what you would suffer as governess or companion. Your beauty would be for ever making you enemies."
Emma could say no more while her brother was present, but when she found herself alone with Elizabeth, she besought her to aid her in getting a post where she might earn her bread independently.
"My position with Robert and Jane would not be tolerable," she pleaded.
"Do not stand in your own light, dear Emma," Elizabeth replied; "your position would be much worse with strangers. Robert and Jane will both be kind to you if you do not offend them. They were not too well pleased by your refusing to go with them in October; and now that Lord Osborne has admired you, they are all for having you. Believe me, it will be the best thing for you."
"Anyway, I shall stay here until March."
"Yes—Robert has consented to that—andas Penelope and Margaret are to go to their situations in February, we can have a little time in peace to ourselves."
To Elizabeth alone did there come any prospect of happiness.
Mr. Purvis, now a widower, had been engaged by Mr. Howard to do duty for him; and, on learning that Miss Watson was as handsome as ever, considered it to be his duty to call as soon as circumstances permitted.
His earlier feelings for her were very soon revived, and although he could not immediately enter into an engagement with her, on account of his recent bereavement, it was quite evident to all that the old relations between them would be happily restored.
In the meantime it was arranged that Elizabeth should go to his aunt as companion.
His marriage had not been happy, which is scarcely to be wondered at, seeing that he had entered somewhat hastily into it in order to assuage his feelings of disappointment; and as his wife shortlyafterwards fell into ill-health, matters had been scarcely brightened by the peevish temper of an invalid.
The more Emma saw of him, the better was she pleased with him. He was good-looking and gentlemanlike, with unaffected manners, and a pleasant countenance. She could not but feel confident that Elizabeth would be happy at his side.
Towards the end of February, Mr. Howard returned, and lost no time in riding over to Stanton. Unfortunately, however, as he drew near to the Rectory gate, he met Tom Musgrave coming out of it, and was instantly hailed by that gentleman.
"Upon my word, Howard, I thought you had taken root in Cumberland. Oh, a sad break up here!—monstrous pleasant girls as ever I met! Miss Emma is going to Croydon with her brother, and I hear is shortly to be married to an old flame. Oh, a famous little flirt, I can assure you!"
So saying, and waving his hand, he took himself off, laughing heartily at his own ingenuity.
In consequence therefore of this unwelcome intelligence, Mr. Howard merely called at the door; and, ignoring Nanny's information that the ladies were in, rode gloomily away.
Emma had watched his approach from an upper window, and blushed and blushed again.
She was pausing before coming down, in the endeavour to quell the beating of her heart, when to her surprise she heard the clattering of his horse's hoofs; and, running back to the window, saw him vanishing round the corner.
At first she was all disappointment, and did not know what to think. Tears gathered thickly in her eyes, and fell on her black dress. But presently she considered that he might perhaps think it right to call at first without coming in, on account of her father's death, and that he would come again.
But he never came again, and about a week later she was carried away to Croydon by her brother, who had returned for her.
Emma had now entered on a new chapter of her life, and one which she could not but regard with pain and misgiving. Being in mourning, however, she was for the present saved from any special distress; and she at once found an object for her affection in little Augusta, a very pretty child, with much more natural refinement than either her father or mother. As her health was indifferent, Emma was the more drawn to her, and devoted all the time to her that she could spare from Jane's constant demands on her needle.
All this time she had never seen her brother Sam, as he had been seriously ill when the others had been called to the bedside of their father. During this period he had been attended by Mr. Curtis with the solicitude of a relative; and, on his recovering sufficiently to be removed, he had sent him to Bath at his own charge.
Towards the end of March, he gave him a few days' leave to go and see his brother and sisters at Croydon.
On the day previous to that on which he was expected, as Emma was sitting alone in the drawing-room, the door opened and a young gentleman, with a very open, attractive countenance, entered the room unannounced.
He bowed on seeing her, apologising for his intrusion, and she rose and curtsied—when suddenly he called out——
"As sure as anything, it is little Emma!" and came over to her with both hands stretched out.
"Oh, Sam! Can it be really you?"
"Were not you, then, expecting me?"
"Not until to-morrow. How came you a day sooner?"
"I met Tom Musgrave in Guildford, and he drove me over in his curricle. He will be staying here for a couple of days, and is coming this evening to wait on you and Jane—but let me look at you properly! You have got your nice little brown face still, I see; and I dare say you havethat fine little vixenish temper that you used to have—I vow you gave me a famous slap the last time I had the honour of seeing you!"
"No doubt it was the price of you, sir! and I shall give you another, if you do not be careful!"
Before very long, Jane came into the room and affected a great start of surprise on seeing Sam and Emma sitting on the sofa together.
"Good Lord, Sam!" she cried. "I thought you must be one of Emma's lovers come after her!"
"Has she so many as all that?—I protest I must look into this!" he replied, laughing; then seeing a shade on Emma's face, he easily turned the conversation by enquiring for Robert, and begging that little Augusta might be sent for.
In the course of the evening, Tom Musgrave arrived, and was received with great cordiality by Robert and Jane.
After the usual enquiries and civilities, he threw himself back in the easiest chairin the room, and beamed round at them, saying—
"I vow and declare there are no friends like old friends. Oh, it's monstrous dull since you and the Osbornes left—positively I have half a mind to go after Osborne!"
"Is not he soon coming back?" asked Robert.
"Faith, there's no sign of it! Howard has joined them at Rome. He is very likely to be engaged to Miss Osborne."
Emma was sitting beyond the candles, so that he could not see her face; but by her very stillness he was satisfied that he had wounded her.
"I think it is Miss Carr that he is after," said Jane in an important tone, as though she were intimate.
"Oh, Fanny Carr is all for me! She won't look at anyone else, I can assure you, when I am by!"
"Take care, Tom!" said Sam, laughing. "Out of sight, out of mind! She will have forgotten you months ago, I wager!"
"Why do not you join Lord Osborne?" enquired Jane.
Now, as this was precisely what Tom Musgrave had been straining every nerve to accomplish—giving hints to his lordship of unimaginable breadth, which so far had been entirely ignored—he was by no means too well pleased by the question; and delighted Sam, who saw through him perfectly, by reeling off a string of excuses, each less convincing than the last.
"Does Miss Carr never stay with her own people?" enquired Robert.
"She has been at Castle Carr all winter," said Sam carelessly. "She will be going up to Berkeley Square next month with Lord and Lady Carr."
Tom Musgrave stared at him.
"How came you to know this?" he asked in a sulky tone.
"Lord Montague told me."
"Lord Montague? How came you to meet with him?"
"I was called in to attend him when Mr. Curtis was away. I had supposed hewould consider a surgeon's assistant as little superior to his valet; but he was very civil, and chatted away—told me he had seen my sisters at the Osbornes' dance, and was so obliging as to add they were prodigious pretty! Emma, do not be listening!"
Jane was as surprised as Musgrave, but shrewd enough not to betray it; and, seeing the clouded look on his face, suggested a game of cards.
Robert hesitated a little, but, as Tom caught eagerly at the suggestion, she produced a pack; and, Emma declining to play, whist was selected.
Sam was so little satisfied with Augusta's health that he insisted on her being taken to the sea; and a client of Robert's at once offered to lend him his house, which was in a sheltered bay on the South Coast, for six months. As Jane was unable to go into company, she demurred a good deal less than she might otherwise have done; and, like most wives, was not averse to suffering the mild anguish of a temporary separation from her husband.
Sam himself took charge of them on the journey, as Robert was engaged on an important case; and he had the satisfaction of assuring himself that the climate was suited to his little patient.
She and Emma were delighted with the change, and as the weather was unusually mild, they rambled about the greater part of the day.
It was with sincere regret that Emmaparted from Sam; she had found in him a true friend, and one who comprehended the possible evils of her situation with much greater distinctness than had been the case with Elizabeth. They all escorted him to the mail coach at A——, and Emma was constrained to wonder if it were to be for ever her lot to be parted from all to whom she had become attached; while little Augusta, holding her young uncle's hands, danced round with him on the publick road, to the indignation of her mother and the amusement of the other passengers.
At Emma's request, the child's nurse had been dismissed on their leaving Croydon; Emma now taking Augusta under her sole charge, to the great advantage of the little girl, who had been considerably tried by the vagaries of an uncertain temper and an injudicious arrangement of her meals.
As her health rapidly improved, Emma commenced some simple lessons with her, which included instruction in drawing, for which she showed some aptitude. In thecourse of a few weeks she had copied a little picture so neatly, that Jane enclosed it in a letter to her father, who was so pleased that he sent her down a box of water-colours. This was a great boon to the child during the broken weather, which set in for a short time.
As Jane was really fond of her little daughter, she could not but feel grateful to Emma for her care of her; but she had been not a little offended at finding her indifferent to the petty gossip of Croydon, which occupied half her own time, and had always been willingly listened to by both Elizabeth and Margaret. At once jealous of her, and yet considering her to be wanting in fashion, she was nevertheless gratified by the pretty manners she was instilling into Augusta.
Emma was teaching her to curtsey before leaving the room; but, as she was of a very lively disposition, she would often run out into the hall before she could remember to do so. They would then hear her stopping short, and saying to herself, "Oh, I forgot!" when she would comerunning back to make her curtsey. It was all done so prettily, they could not but be delighted with her.
It had been apparent from the first that Jane had derived but little pleasure from the excursions by the sea, or through the country lanes, which delighted Emma and Augusta so much; preferring rather to drive in the pony chaise, which had been left for their use, into the neighbouring town of A——. It was not, however, until the early days of June that Emma began to notice how many hours she was spending there; and presently Jane informed her that a former school friend, a Mrs. Burton, now a widow, had taken rooms in the hotel there, and that she spent the most of her time with her, playing cards. She also confessed that this lady was no favourite of Robert's. This was very unwelcome news to Emma, who knew her brother to be very far from particular.
"I assure you, Emma," Jane continued earnestly, "it is all prejudice; Jemima Burton is of quite superior style, and verywell off. You could hardly meet with anyone more agreeable; and she is all anxiety to know you. I hope you will come with me to-morrow—she will not be having company—we shall be quite by ourselves."
Emma was considerably embarrassed.
"I could not leave Augusta," she said.
"Oh! The maids here will take every care of her—she will not be wanting for anything. I cannot very well go without you, when she has made such a point of it."
On the following afternoon, therefore, Emma was constrained to drive with her sister-in-law into A——, and they were shown into the common sitting-room of the hotel, where they were warmly received by a vulgar, over-dressed woman.
"Now, I call this kind," she exclaimed. "And so this is the young lady Lord Osborne admired!"
This was said in such a loud voice that everyone in the room turned and stared at Emma; so that, in spite of her efforts tomaintain her countenance, she grew crimson.
"Introduce me, madam, I beg," said a thin, unpleasant-looking man, thrusting himself boldly forward; "I know his Lordship well, and am proud to make the acquaintance of any friend of his."
"Allow me to have the pleasure of introducing Captain Conway, Miss Watson."
Emma's curtsey was of the slightest. They were then joined by two or three other men, all of them desiring to be presented, and each more objectionable than the last.
With a quiet courage which surprised Emma herself, she said—
"I am in mourning for my father and do not desire introductions. I understood, ma'am, that we were to be received by you in your own rooms."
Jane stared at her sister-in-law; but Mrs. Burton at once gave in; and, waving them all aside, declared that they were sad fellows, and that none of them need think to be introduced. With that she led the way to her apartments; but, toEmma's surprise, they were closely followed by Captain Conway.
"Oh! he is my cousin," she said with bold assurance; but Emma was convinced that this was a falsehood; the more so that the gentleman in question laughed immoderately, and repeated the assertion several times over.
He placed himself at her side and, fixing his glass in his eye, ogled her in a manner she had never before been subjected to in the whole course of her life; whilst he did his utmost to draw her into conversation. But she would neither answer him, nor raise her eyes from the ground.
Jane grew uncomfortable and, in order to conceal it and to regain confidence, began to speak in a much louder voice than was her wont. In this she was ably assisted by her friend—one would have thought that there were at least a dozen women in the room.
At first, Emma was too agitated to pay any attention to what they were saying—she was even too confused to arrange her thoughts; but presently, as she grew morecomposed, the contrast of her past life with her present position came home to her with such poignancy, that she could scarcely contain her tears. Were it possible, she thought, that her aunt could have seen her in such company, what would not have been her feelings?
Presently, however, her attention was caught by Jane saying—
"Thursday, then; you will both come and have a dish of tea with me on Thursday evening; and we can start a quiet rubber of whist."
During the drive home, Jane was in more ill-humour than Emma could have conceived possible.
"Good heavens! Emma," she said. "How can you give yourself such airs? Your head is completely turned by Lord Osborne having admired you! I could not have imagined anyone could have been so silly!"
Emma remained silent.
"I assure you I am very much offended at the way you have been treating my friends. Mrs. Burton has more style thanyou; and Captain Conway is quite the gentleman. I never saw anyone of more fashion—and such attentions he paid you! Mrs. Burton told me he was wild to know you; and anyone could see how he was struck with you. Good Lord! Emma, what more do you want—aCaptain!—andsecond cousinto theMarquis of H——!—Mrs. Burton told me so!—Why do not you answer?"
"I cannot permit his attentions."
"You cannot permit his attentions!—did anyone ever hear the like! Well, let me tell you, Miss Emma, youmustpermit them—You should be only too thankful he shouldwishto pay them, when you are just nothing!—you are all of you beggars!"
Emma covered her face with her hands.
"There, Emma—I did not mean to make you cry."
* * * * * *
On the evening on which Mrs. Burton and Captain Conway were expected, Augusta was laid up with a feverish cold, and Emma steadily refused to leave herbedside. Jane was at first angry, but, seeing the child's flushed cheeks, was obliged to give way and send for the apothecary, who prescribed a soothing draught.
A few days later, however, Captain Conway called again, and as on this occasion Emma happened to be in the drawing-room with her sister, she was obliged to submit to his company; but she remained almost as silent as before, and would scarcely raise her eyes.
On his departure, Jane again turned on her and vowed that she would soon bring her to her senses by writing to Robert.
"He will send you such a message as you will be bound to obey," she said. "We have done all that could be thought of to fix one of you, and now when there is a chance of your getting settled you are all for throwing it away! You put me quite out of patience with you!"
Robert answered the letter in person; and, to Jane's amazement, declared positively that he was not going to have Emma thrown away on any half-pay officer; andthat he had so much information against Captain Conway, he would hunt him out of the neighbourhood.
On the following morning, however, when he drove into A——, he found that that gentleman, having caught sight of him on the stage coach the previous afternoon, had hastily cleared out, taking Mrs. Burton along with him.
It then transpired that the two had been in collusion; and that Mrs. Burton, believing Emma to be the heiress of her aunt, had introduced Captain Conway to her, on the understanding that she was to receive a substantial sum on the consummation of his marriage with her.
Jane was deeply mortified at having allowed herself to be mixed up with such people; and it was in a very chastened frame of mind that Robert left her, on his return to Croydon, promising to come back in August for a fortnight's holiday.
Mr. Howard had been but a short time with the Osbornes when he was obliged to confess that he had made a mistake in coming.
A man of singular charm of manner, eminently gifted for social success, he had as little vanity as well might be; and his devotion to literature engendered in him a sort of absent-mindedness which rendered him unconscious of things which were sufficiently obvious to others.
He could scarcely himself have said what now opened his eyes in some measure to the nature of Miss Osborne's regard for him; for never before had it occurred to him that she entertained anything beyond an ordinary friendship—the very fact of her occasional efforts to flirt with him only confirming his confidence in her indifference and merely contributing to his amusement.
He had been but little pleased by her incursion into his dinner party; but had attributed it to her lack of variety in a dull neighbourhood and to the influence of Miss Carr, of whom he entertained but a slight opinion. The jealousy of Emma, which she had betrayed at the ball, he believed to be entirely owing to her brother's admiration of her—the connection being such as she could scarcely be expected to advocate.
The knowledge of her feelings occasioned him so much regret, that he would fain have left Italy then and there; but in view of the urgent invitations he had received from Lady Osborne and her son, this was scarcely possible. For the moment at least, he must remain where he was.
He began at once, however, to cast about for some excuse to shorten his stay; and presently urged his desire to prosecute his travels in Spain and Portugal. He had long desired to journey there, and there was now no impediment to his doing so, as his cousin, whose bedside hehad attended, had bequeathed him a large fortune, independently of the handsome property to which he had succeeded as heir-presumptive; but, to his surprise, Lady Osborne withstood him, with flushed cheeks and tears in her eyes.
"Do not desert us the moment you have come," she said; "Osborne has seemed so much more composed since you joined us—I never before knew him to be so disquieted as he has been. I cannot but admire Miss Watson's conduct—had she chosen to accept him, nothing could have prevented the marriage. I had scarcely realised how serious his passion was until the night of the ball—after she had left us. He was quite in despair."
"I understand she is shortly to be married."
"Have you told Osborne?"
"No. He has not mentioned her name to me."
"Am I at liberty to tell him?"
"Certainly, madam; what object could be served in concealing it? Osborne couldscarcely conceive the idea of rushing home to present a pistol at her lover's head!"
Later on in the evening, Lord Osborne entered the private sitting-room of his late tutor, and said abruptly—
"My mother has informed me of Miss Watson's engagement. To whom is she to be married?"
"That I cannot tell you."
"How came you to know?"
"Musgrave told me.'
"Musgrave!I would place monstrous little faith in anything he said!"
"He was certainly nevermyfriend, but I understood him to beyours," replied Mr. Howard, coldly.
"What can a man do in that delectable neighbourhood?—He helps one to get through the time. I dare swear he made the whole thing up!" So saying, Lord Osborne swung out of the room.
He had not been long gone when there was a timid knock, and Miss Osborne entered with a book in her hand.
Mr. Howard rose and placed a chair for her; but did not sit down himself.
"I came to ask you if you would be so very good as to help me with this passage in Dante'sInferno," she said.
He read it at once without any hesitation, as the portion indicated presented no special difficulty that he could see; and he was constrained to wonder wherefore she had selected it—the truth being that she had opened the volume at random.
"I have just heard from Lady Osborne that Miss Watson is about to be married."
In spite of himself, he was obliged to smile.
"I regret that I have nothing to add to this thunderbolt!"
"You are quite sure that she is to be married?"
He was aware that she was watching him narrowly, and both his face and voice were entirely under control as he replied—
"I see no reason to doubt Mr. Musgrave's statement. He was just coming from the Rectory, and I know he was intimate with them."
"He was altogether mad with her forrefusing to dance with him at our ball—Fanny Carr told me so."
Mr. Howard looked startled for a moment; and she proceeded—
"Fanny thought it showed a great want of breeding on her part to be so insolent to a guest of ours—she is not in a position to be disdainful of anyone—I should never think of calling her a lady."
She received no answer to this.
"Oh, I know you were vastly in love with her—I was quite expecting to have to congratulate you!"—with an attempt at archness.
Mr. Howard contented himself with bowing.
"I thought her rather handsome myself; but several gentlemen said to me that they did not at all think her anything out of the common."
This again was received in silence; and Julia Osborne, considerably mortified, and perfectly aware of Lady Osborne's displeasure, should she learn of her adventure, thought it best to retire to her room.
A few days later they were joined byLord Edward Sothern, to whom Miss Osborne turned her attentions, and with much greater prospect of ultimate success.
This, however, was not at all what she desired; but to inflict some gentle damage on an unimpressive heart, which she should presently be called upon to repair. In vain was the snare laid; and she was shortly engaged in a flirtation which obliged Lady Osborne to compel her to accept the proposal which speedily followed, and was urged with insistence.
Julia Osborne was not a little incensed at the turn affairs had taken; and believing Mr. Howard to be the cause of all the mischief, felt that she had been barbarously used. Her resentment grew with reflection; and for a time nothing could appease her, although it was incumbent on her to dissemble her feelings. All this, however, had the salutary effect of estranging her from the first object of her affections; and by degrees the good-humour and attentions of her lover reconciled her to the hardship of her fate.
As the period for which the Osbornes had engaged a suite of apartments (in an old palace) had drawn to a close, they proceeded with their guests by easy stages to Florence.
Mr. Howard was now Lady Osborne's constant companion, as they rambled about amongst the old churches, and through the galleries, so rich in the masterpieces of the world. He was much more attached to her than to any member of the family, always finding in her a congenial companion. She was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman, greatly superior to her son and daughter, as well by nature as cultivation.
Her beauty was wonderfully preserved; her fair hair untouched by time; her eyes undimmed; and a bright colour glowing in her cheeks as she walked along under the perfect blue of the Italian sky. As they turned down the "Way of theBeautiful Ladies," he could not but acknowledge how well she fulfilled the tradition.
"You are very silent, Arthur," she said.
He looked at her with a smile in his eyes, and made some brief answer.
Never before had she addressed him by his christian name, and he was at once gratified by a friendship which was sincere enough to desire the intimacy; and disappointed that the music of his name had not sounded for him on the lips of another, whose image he was as yet unable to banish from his heart.
As though divining something of the trend of his thought, she began to speak of Emma; continuing—
"I thought her a perfect lady—I could find no want of breeding in her. Modest, yet confident, as one used to Society; refined, yet without affectation. When I think of the difference between her and the other members of her family, whom I have noticed at the Assembly balls, I am forced to the conclusion that her father must have married very much beneath him. It must be trying for her, when shehas been brought up so differently, to be obliged to live with them now."
"She seems to be attached to her eldest sister."
"Sheimpressed me much more favourably than her other sisters, whose conduct has attracted my attention on different occasions—she is too simple to be accused of vulgarity."
They walked along in silence for a brief space; and then Lady Osborne continued—
"Is it not very much to be deplored that men so seldom ask for anything beyond youth and beauty?—so seldom consider merit, or suitability? How often have not men disregarded every indication of personal qualities that would have assured their happiness, and turned aside after the first pretty face that came in their way? It is a sort of blindness—an absence of penetration—which must bring ultimate regret. Do you remember the Sacristan, in Santa Croce, telling us of the priceless frescoes of Giotto that lay hidden under the whitewash on the wallsof the Chapel of the Bardi della Liberta? It made me think of how often so much lies hidden from us by an even slighter veil—a gossamer so slender that we may afterwards come to wonder what obstacle it could have presented to us!"
Her companion looked at her in wonder, not unmixed with sorrow, though the appeal in her voice held no meaning for him; and he was constrained to walk along in silence at her side.
Later on, as she sat beneath Botticelli'sFortitude, with her hand on her parasol, the likeness between them struck him with almost a sense of dismay. Her bright colour had faded, and there was a look of weariness and lassitude on her face. As in the picture, it was the face of one who had suffered, and would yet again suffer, before she had laid her head on the quiet pillow of her grave.
* * * * * *
Towards the end of May, the Osbornes returned to London to prepare for Miss Osborne's wedding, whilst Mr. Howard went on his way to Spain.
The Watsons returned to Croydon in October; and a few weeks later, Mrs. Watson, finding the resignation of second mourning eminently becoming, sent out invitations for a party.
Emma was very sensible of the want of propriety in having company within a year of her father's death; but Robert welcomed the arrangement, as he was anxious to show attention to some new and important clients.
About a week before the entertainment was to take place, Lord Osborne called. He was shown into the drawing-room where Emma was working at her embroidery; while Jane sat near her, making out a list of the dishes that would be necessary for the supper.
It was with a sinking heart that Emma rose and curtsied to him. She had hopedthat he had forgotten her; and his persistence in once more following her could only serve to aggravate the difficulty of her position. Jane was not a little agitated at finding herself, for the first time in her life, in the society of a man of his position; and was also a good deal disconcerted by having thrown her second best tippet round her shoulders, when herbestwould have been so much more suitable to such an important occasion.
As Emma remained silent, she believed it to be incumbent on her to express her sense of the honour he had done them in calling, enquiring with immense affability for Lady Osborne and Lady Edward Sothern.
Emma then enquired for Mrs. Blake and Charles, and learned that the latter was head of his class at school, and was grown a monstrous fine fellow. Lord Osborne then added that Mr. Howard was not yet returned from Spain.
"How do you like Croydon, Miss Watson?" he continued. "I always thought it famously dull myself."
"There are some pleasant walks towards the country," she began, when she was hastily interrupted by Jane.
"Oh! I assure you, Lord Osborne, there is an immense deal of fashion in Croydon! Many of the families live in the first style—and as for sociability, there are few places to equal it! When not in mourning, we are in company nearly every evening!"
Lord Osborne looked not a little astonished; then, after a short pause, turning to Emma, said—
"I am glad to hear you are taking exercise. Do not you now wear half-boots?"
Emma began to laugh; and believing he must have said something witty, he joined in very heartily.
At this moment, Robert entered the room. He had not expected to find Lord Osborne there; but Emma was gratified by the quiet manner in which he received him. Taking the conversation into his own hands, he discussed the harvest; the French; the incapacity of the Government (that unfailing source of gratification tothose who govern not); and a new play, which a friend of his had seen in London. Emma had never before heard him talk so well; and yet she was aware that there was something wanting in cordiality; but Lord Osborne was apparently very well satisfied to be spared the fatigue of exercising his brain.
Jane, however, listened with ill-concealed impatience; and when, at length, Robert paused, she lost no time in striking in, and began—
"We are arranging to have a little company, my lord——"
But Robert was quite equal to playing the husband; and the instant displeasure of his eye froze the invitation which was hovering on her lips.
"Mr. Musgrave mentioned something of the sort to me," replied Lord Osborne, colouring slightly. "I should be very much honoured, madam, if you would be so good as to include me."
The request was made with a sort of simple shyness that made it impossible tobe refused; but as Robert returned to the drawing-room, after seeing him out, his face was clouded.
"I am sure you are too sensible, Emma," he said, "to desire to have Lord Osborne dangling after you. It will not be possible for him to marry you. It will only occasion spiteful gossip; and perhaps prevent your getting fixed."
"I assure you, Robert," replied Emma, blushing, "that not for anything in the world would I encourage him—I sincerely hope that he will not continue to call." With that, she left the room.
Jane had been watching her, with shrewd eyes, in silence.
"I declare I never met a girl like her!" she exclaimed. "I am as certain as anything that she is not wanting to have him! But mark my words, Robert, Lord Osborne is in earnest! He is not for flirting at all. And, unless she is a born fool, Emma will be 'my lady'!"
* * * * * *
On the night of the party, Augusta was allowed to remain up for half-an-hour;Sam had got leave to join them; and Lord Osborne and Mr. Musgrave were amongst the first arrivals.
After the usual civilities, Lord Osborne sat down by Emma; and as the guests began to arrive in quick succession, and were not long in being informed by Jane as to his quality, inquisitive glances were constantly directed towards them. Seeing this, Emma presently excused herself, and went to sit by a lady to whom she had been previously introduced; but in a few moments he had followed her. She then presented him to the lady, who was only too pleased to form the acquaintance; and moved on to speak to a pretty girl who was sitting somewhat apart, and who appeared to know as few people as Emma herself. But again he came after her; and although she did her best to engage the two in conversation, the former was so shy, and the latter so dull, that it appeared to her as though they had simultaneously embarked on a game as to which should limit their observations to the fewest words of one syllable. In response to an imploring eye,Sam came over, and she introduced them; and shortly afterwards they were joined by little Augusta. Lord Osborne was at once attracted by the pretty child; and, lifting her up on his knee, presented her with his silver comfit-box. It was soon time for her to retire, and Emma took her, herself, up to her room, remaining with her until Sam was sent in search of her.
As she was coming down stairs, with her hand on his arm, she paused and said earnestly—
"Sam—cannot you help me?"
He remained silent, and she continued: "You can have no conception how I have been suffering from Jane's boasting—and now that Lord Osborne has come, it will be worse than ever! Could not you persuade Robert to forbid him the house?"
"Are you quite sure, Emma, that you know your own heart? Should he be sent away, can you be certain that you will not be regretting it?"
"Quite sure and quite certain!" she replied, smiling.
"Is there anyone else, then, that you care for?"
She blushed deeply, and tears gathered in her eyes.
"There—my love!" he said, gently. "I should not have asked you."
When they re-entered the drawing-room, Lord Osborne was at once at her side. The card-table was being set, and he was anxious to arrange a party for whist, which should include Emma and himself.
Robert, however, interposed by coming forward and requesting his sister to be so kind as to sit beside old Lady Brown, and show her how to play speculation. "Did I hear you say 'whist,' my lord?—this way, if you will be good enough."
At supper, Lord Osborne found himself separated by the length of the room from the object of his admiration; and when he endeavoured to engage her afterwards as his partner, Sam had already secured her for another table.
Jane was perfectly aware of the manoeuvres of her husband and brother, andwas not a little entertained by them. "It will only serve to inflame Lord Osborne," she thought to herself. "They could not be playing her cards better!"
* * * * * *
Sam was obliged to leave them on the following day; but, before going, he urged Robert to put a stop to Lord Osborne calling.
"It is not so simple as you think, Sam," replied his brother. "I shall certainly not give him any encouragement—still less, allow Emma to be thrown at his head. But Jane will have it that he is violently in love with Emma, and quite determined to marry her. If such should be the case, I would not be justified in standing in her way—it would be a very fine match for her."
"I assure you she does not desire it."
"Emma is a good girl—I am perfectly satisfied with her conduct; but, of course, if Lord Osborne intends to ask her, everything will be quite different—she will not think of him in the same way. She is now afraid of being made to appear foolish."
With this, Sam had perforce to be satisfied; and he was at least confident that Robert would secure his sister from any impertinence.