CHAPTER LV.
The following morning brought the expected letters, announcing to Lady Anne the marriage of her eldest daughter with a nobleman she well knew her dear mother would highly approve, a few lines of most respectful courtesy from the new relative, and, what was still better, a letter from Isabella, which mentioned an intention of inviting herself and sisters as soon as they were settled in Paris, and information that Mr. Glentworth had written to Mr. Penrhyn to present her dear mamma with three hundred pounds, trusting that it would enable her to come to them with ease. "It has been delayed (in fact, the letter was lost), or you would have had the money before now; but it will be the more convenient for you at this time. You will receive it three days after this letter comes to hand." The letter went on to talk of her babe, her illness, &c.; but Lady Anne saw nothing, thought of nothing, but how to secure the money, and prevent Lord Rotheles from knowing she was likely to receive it, lest he should suppose she could do without that which he had mentioned, and which she was determined to insure, although her reawakened ambition induced her to withdraw her consent to Georgiana's marriage, recently as it had been given. After holding the letter some minutes so closely to her face that no one could read the many thoughts busy in her mind, she all at once dashed the good news into the fire, exclaiming—
”Oh, Isabella, Isabella, how can you be so foolish! All young mothers make sad noodles of themselves, but you are the worst of all."
"Why did you burn the poor child's letter, Lady Anne?" said Lord Rotheles; "I have been waiting to hear what she says; I should like to hear her prattle of her boy."
As he spoke, he tried to catch the remnant of the paper, but was too late—Lady Anne's eye had been more accurate than to admit such an interposition; but, as he appeared hurt at its destruction, she began eagerly to repeat the contents, and, with one omission of moment, succeeded admirably, especially as she laid additional weight, or at least words, on the passage which invited them to Paris. In conclusion, she proposed setting out for Welbeck Street the following day, saying, "that she had a thousand things to do, and not being very strong, must do them by degrees, and very quietly, in order to give herself the advantage she expected to reap from her journey."
As this appeared very reasonable, and the weather was rather mild for the season, no objection was made, and Lord Rotheles, confident that the sons-in-law she was about to visit would keep her up to the promise she had given to Sir Edward Hales, and also preserve her from the sin of book-making, he would neither teaze her by exhortations, nor allow her to be harassed by disappointments, and she received from him the two hundred pounds which he considered necessary for her on the present occasion, "and which, after all, poor thing, would do little more than pay the expences of her illness."
Lady Anne left Rotheles Castle on such a terrible morning, that, even after her horses had arrived, both the earl and countess earnestly requested her to stay; but there was nothing cowardly in her nature, and she had a grand point to carry of which they knew nothing—her great object was to be in London, so as to catch the three hundred pounds from Mr. Penrhyn on the morrow, lest he should take the liberty of paying Mr. Palmer, whose money had been due more than six weeks, also to prevent the agent who received her own income at Christmas from exercising any liberty beyond paying her rent.
"To go to Paris without plenty of money in one's pocket would be a positive act of weakness, for which I could not forgive myself, especially as I shall be there in the demi-saison, when things are the most beautiful and becoming. Without any great stretch of vanity, I may expect to cut a better figure than the poor sallow bride, or that brown Isabella, and the other two can be thrown to a distance. Lord Allerton must be a fool; but that is nothing to me. I am the more obliged to him, and I cannot doubt that he will gladly unite with me in saving Georgiana from the sad fate which seems to await her. I must give the marquis up; there are some hopes of a gouty man, but rheumatism is a vulgar complaint, and would sink even a ducal coronet—the very lowest people have it. I question if there is a workhouse in Great Britain exempt from it. Neither is there one free from asthma, and yet all the world knows a royal duke suffers from it as much as a coalheaver might do; really these things are incomprehensible, and at times make one inclined to listen to Riccardini's exhortations. However strange, he is no fool, and, as Isabella said, 'he is of the essence of kindness;' when I return from France, I will talk with him seriously."
The day following her journey, Lady Anne was actually unable to get up; nevertheless, when in the evening she was told that Mr. and Mrs. Penrhyn were below, she sate up in bed, adjusted her coiffure, and gave orders for them to be admitted immediately, receiving them as her dear children, and inquiring affectionately after little Charles, especially as to "the cutting of his teeth, concerning which she had been in anxiety ever since she went to Rotheles Castle."
"But surely, dear mamma, you have, like us, been delighted by Mary's union with Lord Allerton? there is something in it so singular—I may even say so providential to both parties! atoning to him, poor man, for the miseries an artful and inveigling woman brought upon him, and to her for years of cruel mortification and pining sorrow. I hope my uncle is pleased with it also?"
"We are all pleased with it, of course, exceedingly; it is the kind of connection which all my daughters ought to have made, and would have made, had it taken place at a proper time. However, I do not mean to advert to the past, but I am not well enough to keep up conversation, so I will thank you, my dear Charles, to give me the three hundred pounds which I know Mr. Glentworth has sent me."
"Here are three fifty-pound bills; I gave three others about an hour since to Mr. Palmer, who most handsomely declined receiving any interest."
Lady Anne hastily sprang from her pillow, and fixed on Penrhyn eyes that glared with fire—that were positively appalling, as she exclaimed, in a voice which, though shrill, was not powerful.
"How dare you, sir, meddle with my affairs? be assured, I shall immediately inform Mr. Glentworth of your conduct. I am going to Paris in a fortnight or three weeks, and you must see what a figure you will cut in the eyes of your patron, when he hears of your misconduct."
"My orders from Mr. Glentworth are expressly to appropriate the sum of three hundred pounds to the payment of Lady Anne Granard's debts, giving her the overplus. I have paid the half of the sum where it was strictly due, and I have a claim on the other half myself. I did not intend to enforce it, but you treat me in a manner which compels me to do so; for if I am to have no credit for kindness, I will ensure it for regularity. You will be pleased, at the same time, to remember that you owe Louisa eighteen sovereigns."
"To say nothing of the board of my daughters, I presume, most generous merchant?"
Charles Penrhyn's cheek and eyes gave signal, as Bunyan would say, "of a storm in man-soul," but Louisa was hanging on his arm, and the way in which she pressed it recalled the resolution he had made on entering the house, and he answered coolly and drily—
"I shall not charge you for them till you are in cash, Lady Anne, nor will I be hard upon you when that time comes, though I cannot forget that you have never given a biscuit to my child since he was born."
As Penrhyn spoke, he unclasped his pocket-book, and laid in the three notes one after another, as if a single crease would be their ruin. Lady Anne's eyes were on the process, and the bitter scorn of her countenance continued till the last of the family (which she could have apostrophized as Macduff, his children, "all my little ones—all") was laid in its cradle, when she broke at once into a loud laugh, but of such discordant sound as really to frighten all her daughters, and, so soon as she could any way speak, exclaimed:—
"Well done, Charles, you really are a droll creature. I am sure Matthews, the acting man, is a fool to you; 'tis well I don't see you often, for sure enough, as he says, that boy would be the death of me."
Poor Lady Anne was interrupted by a fit of coughing so violent as to alarm all who stood around her; and Penrhyn inwardly determined that she should have all her own way, since it could not be for long; it was, however, a great consolation when she was able to speak, that she said, in a languid voice:—
"Seriously speaking, dear Charles, I am very glad you paid my worthy neighbour, and I will go over myself to-morrow and thank him. We are going to France to meet my daughters, and the bills in your pocket, with my income, will enable us to do so. I shall thank Mr. Glentworth in person, I hope, in a fortnight or so."
Mr. Penrhyn mechanically opened his pocket-book, and gave the neatly-folded bills into the white hand extended to receive them, and which closed on them with a miser's grasp, its next motion being a dismissal of all save Helen.
"Who knows," said Lady Anne to herself, "but I may get the money, or the best part of it, out of the old man's hands before he goes into the city, in which case this untoward affair may turn to good account; it will strengthen my credit without materially diminishing my funds. The great art of life is undoubtedly 'keeping up appearances,' and one must pay their debts now and then, on that account."
Having arrived at this conclusion, and become reconciled to the transaction, the lady naturally concluded she should sleep; but, alas! the "innocent sleep" had been frightened either by the cough, the anger, or, worse than all, the dread, produced by the evanishing notes; and, notwithstanding all the pretty epithets poets have bestowed on this said sleep, we all know it to be naturally perverse and rebellious, greatly resembling Miss Edgworth's Irish boy, who said, "the more you call the more I won't come." In short, Lady Anne did not sleep till morning; and, before she arose, a certain iron safe in the detestable city had closed its "inexorable iron jaws" on the three bills which she did not consider as actually lost till then.
Her humour was evidently so bad after it was known that Mr. Palmer had been sauntering down the street more than an hour before, that neither daughter presumed to speak, and their movements were as gentle as if they trod on down. At length Georgiana ventured to say, when Lady Anne had breakfasted—
"Please, mamma, may the page go to Mr. Penrhyn's for my things?"
"How, in the name of wonder, could the boy carry your portmanteau and bonnet-box, to say nothing of other rubbish?"
"I thought he could take a hackney-coach, mamma."
"You thought, did you? that is a new occupation with you, I believe, and I would advise you to leave it alone. After seeing the way in which your dear brother Charles choused me out of my money last night, you might have concluded that I had not any thing to throw away on hackney-coaches today. However, as the things must be had, your best plan is to go over the way, and get Mrs. Palmer to drive Helen to see the boy, which she can pretend to be fond of. If they take my money, it is as little as they can do to contribute to my convenience."
Lady Anne's will, once expressed, saved all further trouble, and they were not long in throwing themselves into the arms and upon the pity of Mrs. Palmer, who promised to take one sister and bring back the other sister's clothes on the morrow; after remarking that the weather was very boisterous, she said, emphatically, "really I cannot sleep for thinking of the poor sailors in the Channel: I don't think so much of those who are a long way off, but of the poor creatures on our coast, God help them!" Though believing Mrs. Palmer to be, generally speaking, a perfectly upright woman, neither sister exactly believed her at this time; their impression being that she was thinking of a sailor who was a long way off, and that, as she understood ships and high winds much better than they did, there was much more to fear for the one sailor they were acquainted with than had as yet entered their heads. Mrs. Palmer congratulated them warmly on the marriage of their sister, which she had only learnt the evening before, and rejoiced that the two families were so near home, and talked much of the pleasures of a trip to Paris; but Georgiana's heart had got a subject for contemplation, which held it far too intensely to admit of pleasurable emotion; and Helen, who was, in truth, in a state of great anxiety on her own account, readily chimed in with her sister's feelings, scarcely sorry to have an excuse to herself for indulging that pensive tone of thought, which every day rendered more decidedly the "temper of her soul."
On their return home, they found that a fashionable friend had looked in, in order to be among the first to congratulate Lady Anne, and informed her of a number of arrivals, owing to the very early meeting of parliament. "Of course," said the lady, "the great body are gentlemen. Members of both houses, and their eldest sons, are up; the ladies will not be here till after Easter; four young peers make their debut next week, I believe; it is quite a stirring time—don't you think Mr. Glentworth will go into Parliament?"
"Of course, when there is a vacancy for a county member; had he been at home, I should have put him in for Lincolnshire the other day."
This was said so coolly, the "I should" was pronounced so quietly, that, although the visitant was by no means new to the world, and knew perfectly well that Lady Anne had no more parliamentary influence than the netting-needle she was playing with, or than other poor dowagers enjoy, and that of the county in question she literally knew nothing, yet she was staggered into the belief that some unsuspected power, either of wealth or connection, beyond what appeared, had arisen; and she departed with her mind fully occupied in making out the manner in which Lady Anne could dispose of county representations, and heartily wishing she could do as much by boroughs.
Lady Anne pursued the idea thus awakened, and her castle-building propensities became so absorbing that she did not hear her daughters enter the room; but when, at length, she perceived Georgiana, she asked her so abruptly, "what made her such a ghost?" that the poor girl burst into tears.
"Have you lost your clothes?" cried Lady Anne; "if you have, you may go back to Penrhyn's, for I have no money to buy you any thing; on that you may depend."
"I have lost nothing, mamma—nothing that I know of; but the wind has been so very, very high; and Mr. Palmer says, at Lloyd's, there is such a terrible list of accidents—accidents, every body must feel for their fellow-creatures—Mrs. Palmer is very low indeed."
"Why, truly, she is in the right to feel for her fellow-creatures by way of variety, for I am sure she has not a single trouble of her own to feel for; it is a great comfort persons of sensibility, like her and you, never in London can want subjects—what with the hackney-coach horses, and the cats left to starve to death in the areas of empty houses, to say nothing of donkeys unmercifully beaten."
"Yes, mamma, that is all very true and very shocking, but I was not thinking of them."
"No, madam, you were daring to think of a man—to be afraid for a man—to shudder and cry, for fear a sailor should be drowned! Don't you know that such fear is an act of positive indecency? What right, what possible pretension can any woman have to care for a man till she is actually married to him?—there is something in it so utterly repugnant to female delicacy, it absolutely shocks me."
"However," continued Lady Anne, "this nonsense must be put aside, at all events, for the present; as I shall muster a little party in honour of Lady Allerton's wedding, and I shall expect you to exert yourself very diligently in employments more calculated for Lady Anne Granard's daughter than crying for her fellow-creatures."