CHAPTER LIX.
The day following, Lady Anne, restored to a proper system, experienced great relief, and was enabled to dictate various notes to Georgiana, which were pretty generally preluded with such words as "Lady Anne Granard" (who has lately been troubled with a severe cold), or, in some cases, it was "a slight cold," but always meant an apology for a short notice, as it fixed the invitation for eight days afterwards. At the time these notes were dispatched, it appeared to her neighbours an act of madness, and it was to her daughters one of bitter sorrow; but, for several successive days, as she was careful in observing the strictest regimen (and they took care that the temperature of her rooms was precisely that which suited her), she actually became much better, especially as to these favourable circumstances was added great calmness of temper, she wisely substituting the quiet sneer of contempt for angry vituperation and vindictive scorn.
The third day after Sir Edward and his sister left town, Mr. Palmer had a letter informing him that they were now on their way to Exeter, finding it impossible to give up the hope of assisting Lord Meersbrook, who was harassing himself to death in traversing the coast along Devonshire and Cornwall; and who, undoubtedly, as the weather was at the present moment favourable, would set out to seek his brother, or rather the wreck of his brother's vessel (however hopeless the search might be), if he had not faithfully promised them to abstain from it for their sakes. The letter added, "that they had no doubt but that he would come to them at Exeter, and perhaps conduct them to Plymouth."
The circumstances attending this family had been frequently discussed in Rotheles Castle (where they were beginning to talk of the London campaign, for which, every year of his life, Lord Rotheles expressed less liking), and it always was a subject of great interest to the Earl, who, every day, in his airing, called on the baronet's aged tenant, whom we have mentioned, either to tell him what was said in the newspapers, or inquire "what had been communicated by his youngest son, who was Sir Edward's personal attendant?"—At length the news ran thus—
"Ah! well-a-day, my lord, we shall never set eyes on Sir Edward again, for certain—he have gone all the way to Exeter, an he'll never live to come back, for the young lord's not with him, poor crature. William says, he raally thinks he's right down crazy, more pity, on account of Master Arthur being drowned—not but he may be alive, after all."
Lord Rotheles read William's letter, and saw very clearly, however obtuse the poor fellow's expression, that his heart was penetrated with compassion for his master and the family; and, not considering, as his sister would have done, that it would be derogatory to share a plebeian's feelings, he fairly gave them way, allowed them to conquer his habitual indolence, and immediately proposed to Lady Rotheles to take a trip to Exeter, observing, "that a month in Devonshire, at that season, did every body good."
The lady was decidedly of opinion that a month any where did so, and she so facilitated affairs that they set out the following morning, and, by the aid of post-horses, accomplished their journey with a facility surprising to themselves; and the delight with which they were received, the gratitude felt for a movement so friendly, would have repaid the ailing peer for ten times the exertion.
Nor was the affair less agreeable to his lady, for she had been afraid of being called to London by Lady Anne's illness, as she never believed any of her assertions as to the improvement her health had evinced; and, although she was perfectly willing that her sister-in-law should die, she neither desired that herself nor her lord should watch her dying bed, nor did she approve of wearing mourning in the London season. Finding that Lady Anne had been well enough to meet the Haleses, at Mr. Palmer's, was therefore a relief, and she most magnanimously (in her own mind) permitted her to live till August.
Could she have seen her under the improved management of the last few days, she could scarcely have doubted that such permission would be acted on, for her improvement was surprising; and her friends and daughters, thankful for the change, only the more deprecated her determination of receiving the party; but, if a word was spoken on the subject, she became so angry that it appeared an absolute cruelty to injure by opposing her; and even her physician thought it better to leave her alone on the subject, saying, "that when the day arrived, her own feelings would point out the necessity of continuing her present course."
Alive to every thing connected with this object of her ambition, the directions she gave, and the questions she asked, were innumerable; yet she did not appear to be the worse, but the better, for her exertion: on learning, indeed, that the Marquis of Wentworthdale had arrived in town, her joy was so excessive as for a few hours to cause an accession of fever, but she fairly starved it down, and declared a determination, when it was gone, never to allow its return.
"And in order to contribute your share to this good end, Helen, I desire you to go to bed for the three next nights, to eat your meals regularly, and let the page fetch you half a pint of beer, unless old Palmer happens to give you a glass of wine—you will see clearly I can spare none, for every body will drink the health of Lady Allerton in bumpers, and not ten to one pay the same compliment to Isabella, for the well-known wealth and talent of Glentworth brings him near to the rank of Lord Allerton. Now, my dear Helen, mind what you are about, and, depend upon it, you will do far better than either of your lucky sisters—I say nothing of Louisa; she has chosen her lot, and must abide by it."
"Ah! how happy a lot!" silently ejaculated Helen.
"You know, Helen, both you and Georgiana are delicately fair, with blue eyes and small pouting mouths, which yet, by smiling, shew your teeth, which are good. Girls like you should always smile and look cheerful; the graceful and interesting are unattainable to you; in my opinion, Georgiana looks shockingly, and I really give her up completely. If the sailor lives, he takes her; if he is dead, I think the old people will have her; and it may happen, in time, living in the country, and waiting on his grandfather, and all that, may induce Lord Meersbrook, who has nothing of the man of fashion about him, but the manners and person, to think of her; but for you, dear Helen, my good, patient girl, I do augur a higher destiny—I do, indeed!"
Helen hoped the grave would be her destiny, if Georgiana married Lord Meersbrook, but she said nothing.
"I will lend you my pearl necklace with the diamond drops (for I cannot wear it myself); and Fanchette shall do your hair, and, if you continue pale, give you the least possible tint of rouge, which has always a good effect on the eyes, and is often required by eyes like yours, though they are, when you are in high health, 'deeply, darkly, beautifully blue,' as Lord Byron says; but few people give him his title—he has to thank his poetry for that. Every low fellow says Byron this, and Byron that, which is not very agreeable to him by this time, I'll be bound (provided he knows it); for he was as proud of his ancestry as a nobleman ought to be, and mistook himself prodigiously when he preferred wit to nobility—wit, the most evanescent of all things. Poor man! I remember flirting with him a whole evening for the éclat of the thing. I was the fashion that winter as much as himself, so the thing appeared selon les règles."
Although many, many things occupied the mind, and could have moved the tongue of poor Helen, there was not one which she dared to utter, for her mother was hedged round with observances, which, from one cause or another, must not be broken in upon. "She must not be made angry, that would be death to her; she must not be made sorry, that would be a thing to regret hereafter."
The poor girl's fears and tenderness operated so far to Lady Anne's encouragement and comfort, that she felt quite certain the great wish of her heart would be accomplished, and that she should see Ellen Marchioness of Wentworthdale—we do not say the last great wish of her heart, for that was not the case. If Lady Anne had believed she should die, her cares for Helen might have existed, because they would have contributed to the aggrandisement of her epitaph, but they would have been comparatively small. She had discovered, within a short time, that doctors were not the cormorants (often ignorant, but always insatiable) she had supposed them to be, and that certain causes produced certain effects; therefore she firmly believed that, by prudence, she should overcome the complaint which troubled her, and for many years enjoy the proud distinction of being the mother of three peeresses, who had not a shilling of dowry.
When Georgiana was ordered to sit down and write a note of her mamma's dictation to the Marquis of Wentworthdale, sympathising with his late illness, slightly adverting to the indisposition under which she had suffered, and entreating him to meet a few friends, who were impatient to congratulate her on Lady Allerton's marriage, amongst whom she would venture to say not one would be found unfit for the example of her own innocent daughters, she hoped she had given a delicate and efficient hint.
Lady Anne had a week before forbidden any newspaper from entering the house; but Mrs. Palmer took care that Georgiana knew what was said, and she already had learned that there was no public announcement on the subject most at heart. But for this happy information, which gave her the melancholy comfort of prolonged doubt, she would have been certain in her own mind that her mother had ascertained the death of Arthur, and was anxious to insure him a successor. As it was, she wrote with difficulty, and drew upon her a sharp reprimand, though uttered in the calm voice of which she gave so many examples.
"You need not give yourself the trouble to be frightened at the marquis, miss, for I can assure you I have too great a regard for him to put such a forward girl in his way. No, your day is past, whether the tailor is dead or alive! but Helen (who I really think is destined to be a lady) may secure a prize in life's lottery."
"I wish she may be a lady—oh! that I do."
"Mighty fine! you are as enthusiastic in your filial as your nautical affections—will they burn equally bright, think you, when you see Helen wearing my pearl necklace with the diamond drops, and the bracelets to match, and find she has got the beautiful gown I bought at Brighton (by the way, that gown brought on all my illness) made up for her, and that she looks charmingly in it?"
"I am sure I shall always rejoice to see Helen look well, mamma; and so far am I from wishing to rival her, that I intended to beg, as a favour, I might keep in my own room—and, indeed, Mrs. Palmer says I ought to do so."
"What right has Mrs. Palmer to give an opinion? I say you shall make your appearance. I don't ask you to look smart, or cheerful; be as great an object as you please, and look as triste, but you shall be there, because, as I have adopted, that is, chosen to adopt, the idea that the sailor is safe, it is perfectly consistent that I should really compel his fiancée to take a little pleasure."
" Would you wish me to wear this ring, mamma?—it is one that was put into my box when Sir Edward's valuable present was taken out—a mourning ring."
Lady Anne remembered that it was Georgiana, the very girl she had injured, who got her out of that scrape, so she said, very graciously, "Well, the Palmers have said, 'unless good news arrives, they will not come,' so, in that case, you shall go to the old lady, provided you persuade Mr. Palmer to come here, for I remember the marquis was quite taken with him, and he will be sure to inquire for him."
This arrangement was a great relief to poor Georgiana, who doubted not her influence over Mr. Palmer, little foreseeing the different engagement awaiting them both. But we must now turn to other parties connected with our story.