CHAPTER XV
Eliza wrote to her sister immediately after her arrival at St. Mary's:—
here, that is right. Ernest' (meaning Colonel Beaufort), 'you should have sent to my house before you set off; I wanted you to bespeak horses for me on the road. Well, now we must go and dress, it is almost time for dinner. I have my old room, I suppose, Teviot; so, dear Helen, you need not come with me, I am quite at home, so stay where you are. Who is that with your mother?' 'Miss Douglas,' Helen said. 'Oh, Miss Douglas, rather pretty, is not she?' Now you know, Sarah, that I am not vain, nor perhaps even rather pretty, but I longed to say 'Yes, quite beautiful,' just to quell Lady Portmore, who walked off, saying, 'Well, good people, will you all go and dress, I hate waiting for dinner.' I should have liked to put it off for half an hour, for the pleasure of thwarting her, though I was rather hungry myself. I have such a pretty room, with a dressing-room, and such looking-glasses and sofa and arm-chairs, mamma would be shocked. Lady Eskdale was so good as to send for me before she went downstairs, and Lord Beaufort took me in to dinner, so I was less frightened than might have been expected. He is so good-natured, I am not at all afraid of him. I wore my blue gown. This is such a magnificent house. How I should like to be married to a very rich man, with a very fine place!"I begin my letter after I have come up to bed, dearest Sarah, for there is so much to say, that unless I write at night, I never shall have time to say it all. This is such a beautiful place; but you hate descriptions, and so do I. We arrived an hour before dinner, and met Lord and Lady Teviot at the first lodge, when Lady Eskdale got out, and walked home with them. I wish you could have seen how pretty and happy Helen looked. Lord Eskdale and Lord Beaufort arrived just after we did, and we had not been half an hour in the house before a number of other people came. A Colonel Beaufort, a horrid man, like that Mr. Brown we used to call Ape Brown—though Colonel Beaufort is very good-looking—but he is so grand and conceited. Then, there are two Mr. Sterlings and a Sir Charles de Vere, and one or two others, and at last there came Lord and Lady Portmore, and with them a Miss Forrester, a great friend of Helen's. Don't you remember how Mrs. Duncombe used to talk of her, and say how clever she was, and that she was going to be married to somebody, I forget who, who liked somebody else? I do not like Lady Portmore at all. She came in just as if she were mistress of the house, and as if it were her place to receive the guests; and she called everybody by their names, and without their titles. 'Oh! Teviot, why did not you ask Melmoth to meet me? So, Beaufort, you are
"Your affectionate sister,
"E. Douglas."
Helen was quite happy at dinner, with her father on one side of her, and Mary Forrester sitting next to him, and her mother nearly opposite to her. She had been all day preparing for the arrival of her family, surveying their rooms again and again, and adorning them with flowers. The books that she thought would amuse them were placed on their tables. The claret cup which Lord Eskdale drank after dinner had been ordered and tasted by herself; even the bill of fare, which was usually submitted only to Lord Teviot, was looked over by her, lest the boiled chicken for Lady Eskdale, and the potage which Beaufort liked so much, should have been omitted. And now they were all there, the guests and their comestibles, and she felt at home again. She had more questions to ask her father about Eskdale Castle than he could possibly answer during one dinner, for she was obliged to do the honours to the rest of the company; but that was no trouble to her. Her eye was bright, and her cheek flushed with happiness. She was willing to laugh at every joke, and to break through every silence, for there was a pleasant consciousness about her, not only that the good things of life were collected very handsomely and becomingly around her, but that those she loved best were with her to share them.
"Upon my word. Lady Teviot," said her father with a gratified smile, as the ladies rose to withdraw, "you seem to me to be a very finished specimen of the lady of the house; that little head will be turned, and my little Helen will be spoiled."
She kissed his hand as she moved on, but the gloomy look with which Lord Teviot regarded her as she passed him at the door might have satisfied Lord Eskdale that there was still a chance that his daughter would not be utterly spoiled by unqualified indulgence.