CHAPTER XXXIII
There was a succession of hurried breakfasts the next morning, and of partings more or less painful. Lady Portmore went off first, comforting the friends she left by assurances that her visit had been very pleasant, and delicately affirming to the Douglas family that they would not find her one of those odious fine ladies who would cut them if ever they came to town, which last touch of grandeur made Mrs. Douglas remarkably angry. Colonel Beaufort, after ordering horses to take him the first stage to his own house in Lincolnshire, suddenly decided it would be less trouble to go to town with Lord Teviot. Miss Forrester had hesitated about accepting Lady Eskdale's invitation, as she thought she should be in the way till the family were more at ease about Lady Sophia, and to her great surprise found herself pressed by Mrs. Douglas to come and stay at Thornbank till she should like to remove to the castle.
"I really was obliged to ask her," Mrs. Douglas said; "though what she will do with herself I have not a guess. It is all Eliza's doing. She has taken one of those engouements for Miss Forrester which my girls set up all of a sudden. I cannot think where they learnt it. Not from me: I never took a fancy to anybody in my life. If people have any striking qualities, they are generally bad ones. However, Miss Forrester is less disagreeable than most of her set; and the instant I saw that Lady Portmore making difficulties about taking her home again, I determined to be as civil to her as possible. Besides, poor thing! I should pity her if she had to go through all the fuss that Lady Eskdale will make about Lady Sophia. We shall hear enough of it at Thornbank, though I shall keep out of the way; and Miss Forrester is welcome to take shelter there till the great storm blows over."
Mary hoped that Lord Beaufort's stay at home would not be long, as in her own mind she had decided on postponing her visit to Eskdale till his was concluded; and, in the meantime, she was glad to be in Helen's neighbourhood: so she and the Douglases took their departure together. Eliza was desperately low, and looked back at St. Mary's as at a lost heaven; and after the tall column on the top of the hill had disappeared, the remainder of the journey seemed to her to be through a dreary flat, and she could not understand what Miss Forrester meant by thinking the country pretty. However, she found some consolation in the idea of the endless talks she could have with Sarah, and in the unacknowledged expectation that Colonel Beaufort must come at last to see his relations. At all events, there were others of his name in the neighbourhood; she might hear them mention him: in short, black as were her prospects, there were still gleams of light, and, to end where she began, she should tell Sarah all about it.
Poor girl! little did she think that while she sat quietly in the carriage, pondering over Colonel Beaufort's tritest remarks, hoarding up as most important recollections that he liked reading the newspaper, and did not care about poetry; that he thought London the best place to live in; and that his watch cost ninety guineas: little did she know that the ungrateful creature had dismissed from his mind all the conversations that had ever passed between them, and was given up to discussions on foreign politics with Lord Teviot, and half disposed to go abroad himself for a few years; and that she was merely to him a good-humoured little Miss Something whom he had met at St. Mary's. Shocking discrepancy! but so it will be, when young, ignorant girls fall in love as, I grieve to say, they often do with blasés men of the world. However, give them time and opportunity, and there is no saying whether the warm heart will not soften and conquer the hard one at last.
Lord and Lady Teviot parted in the most edifying manner. He handed her into the carriage, arranged her cloak round her, and insisted, in the hearing of Mrs. Tomkinson and the servants, on her writing to him by the first post, and then walked round the britzska to see that the apron was properly buttoned, and that Helen had shawls enough. This was all for the public: their private farewells had been perfectly amicable, though his misgivings had revived as her hysterics had subsided; but Helen was satisfied. She had her brother by her side, and Eskdale in prospect; the knowledge that she and her husband were on good terms now, and that he would have no opportunity for being angry with her again. So she was happy, and it was fortunate he did not know it.