To quit Edgar thus, at the very moment of renewed intercourse and amity, seemed too cruel; and Camilla, though with blushes, and stammering, whispered Mrs. Arlbery, ‘What can I do, ma’am? most unfortunately I have engaged myself to dance?’
‘With whom?’
‘With — Mr. — Mandlebert.’
‘O, vastly well! Stay, then by all means: but, as he has not engaged me too, allow me, I beseech you, to escape. Mrs. Berlinton will, I am sure, be happy to take care of you.’
This scheme was, to Camilla, the most pleasant that could be proposed; and, at the same instant, the Major returned to her, with these words written with a pencil upon the back of a letter.
‘To-morrow, and next day, and next day, come to me, my lovely friend; every thing, and every body fatigues me but yourself.’
Camilla, obliged again to have recourse to the Major, wrote, upon the same paper, ‘Can you have the goodness to convey me to Mount Pleasant to-night, if I stay?’ and begged him to bring her an answer. She entreated, also, Mrs. Arlbery to stop till it arrived, which was almost in the same minute; for the eye of Mrs. Berlinton had but glanced upon the words, ere her soft and lovely form was again with their fair writer, with whom, smiling and delighted, she walked back, arm in arm, to her place.
Mrs. Arlbery and the General, and Mr. and Miss Dennel, now left the room.
Edgar viewed all this with amazement. He found that the young lady she joined was sister-in-law to a peer, and as fashionable as she was beautiful; but could not fathom how so great an intimacy had so suddenly been formed.
Camilla, thus distinguished, became now herself an object of peculiar notice; her own personal claim to particular attention, her dejection had forfeited, for it had robbed her eyes of their animation, and her countenance of its play; but no contagion spreads with greater certainty nor greater speed than that of fashion; slander itself is not more sure of promulgation. She was now looked at by all present as if seen for the first time; every one discovered in her some charm, some grace, some excellence; those who, the minute before, had passed her with perfect indifference, said it was impossible to see and not be struck with her; and all agreed she could appear upon no spot under the sun, and not instinctively be singled out, as formed to shine in the highest sphere.
But he by whom this transaction was observed with most pleasure, was Sir Sedley Clarendel. The extraordinary service he had performed for Camilla, and the grateful interest she had shewn him in return, had led him to consider her with an attention so favourable, that, without half her merit, or half her beauty, she could not have failed rising in his estimation, and exciting his regard: and she had now a superior charm that distanced every other; she had been asked to dance, yet refused it, by a man of celebrity in the ton; and she was publicly sought and caressed by the only rival at Tunbridge, in that species of renown, to Lady Alithea Selmore.
He felt an increased desire to be presented to Mrs. Berlinton himself; and, gliding from his own circle as quietly as he could contrive, not to offend Lady Alithea, who, though she laughed at the little Welsh rustic, was watchful of her votaries, and jealous of her rising power, came gently behind Lord O’Lerney and whispered his request.
He was received by the young beauty with that grace, and that sweetness which rendered her so generally bewitching, yet with an air that proved her already accustomed to admiration, and untouched by its intoxicating qualities. All that was voluntary of her attention was bestowed exclusively upon Camilla, though, when addressed and called upon by others, she answered without impatience, and looked without displeasure.
This conduct, at the same time that it shewed her in a point of view the most amiable, raised Camilla higher and higher in the eyes of the by-standers: and, in a few minutes more, the general cry throughout the assembly was, to inquire who was the young lady thus brought forward by Mrs. Berlinton.
Edgar heard this with increased anxiety. Has she discretion, has she fortitude, thought he, to withstand public distinction? Will it not spoil her for private life; estrange her from family concerns? render tasteless and insipid the conjugal and maternal characters, meant by Nature to form not only the most sacred of duties, but the most delicious of enjoyments?
Very soon after, this anxiety was tinctured with a feeling more severe; he saw her spoken to negligently by Sir Sedley; he required, after what he had already himself deemed impertinence from the Baronet, that she should have assumed to him a distant dignity; but he perceived, on the contrary, that she answered him with pleasant alacrity, and, when not engaged by Mrs. Berlinton, attended to him, even with distinction.
Alas! thought he, the degradation from the true female character is already begun! already the lure of fashion draws her from what she owes to delicacy and propriety, to give a willing reception to insolence and foppery!
Camilla, meanwhile, unsuspicious of his remarks, and persuaded every civility in her power was due to Sir Sedley, was gay, pleased, and pleasing; happy to consider herself under the guidance, and restored to the amity of Edgar, and determined to acquaint him with all her affairs, and consult him upon all her proceedings.
The dancing, for which mutually they languished, as the mutual means of reunion, seemed not to be the humour of the evening, and those who were ready for it, were not of sufficient consequence to bring it forward. But when Mrs. Berlinton mentioned, that she had been taking some lessons in a cotillon, a universal cry was raised by all her party, to try one immediately. She pleaded in vain her inexperience in such dances; they insisted there was nobody present that could criticise, that her form alone would compensate for every mistake of rule, and that the best lesson was easy practice.
She was soon gained, for she was not addicted to denials; but the application which ensued to Camilla was acceded to less promptly. As there were but two other ladies in the circle of Mrs. Berlinton, her assistance was declared to be indispensable. She pleaded inability of every sort, though to dance without Edgar was her only real objection; for she had no false shame in being ignorant of what she never had learnt. But Mrs. Berlinton protested she would not rise if she were the only novice to be exhibited; and the Major then prepared to prostrate himself at the feet of Camilla; who, hastily, and ashamed, stood up, to prevent an action that Edgar might misinterpret.
Hoping, however, now, to at least draw him into their set, she ventured to acknowledge to Mrs. Berlinton, that she was already engaged, in case she danced.
The Major, who heard her, and who knew it was not to himself, strenuously declared this could only be for country dances, and therefore would not interfere with a cotillon.
‘Will country dances, then,’ said she, blushing, ‘follow?’
‘Certainly, if any one has spirit to begin them.’
The cotillon was now played, and the preceding bow from the opposite Major forced her courtsie in return.
The little skill in this dance of one of the performers, and the total want of it in another, made it a mere pleasantry to all, though the youth and beauty of the two who did the worst, rendered them objects of admiration, that left nearly unnoticed those who did best.
To Camilla what belonged to pleasantry in this business was of short duration. When the cotillon was over, she saw nothing of Edgar. She looked around, mortified, disappointed. No one called for a country dance; and the few who had wished for it, concluding all chance over when a cotillon was begun, had now retired, or given it up.
What was this disappointment, compared with the sufferings of Edgar? Something of a contest, and of entreaties, had reached his ears, while he had hovered near the party, or strolled up and down the room. He had gathered the subject was dancing, and he saw the Major most earnest with Camilla. He was sure it was for her hand, and concluded it was for a country dance; but could she forfeit her engagement? were matters so far advanced, as to make her so openly shew him all prevailing, all powerful, not only over all rivals, but, according to the world’s established customs upon these occasions, over all decor
um?
Presently, he saw the Major half kneel; he saw her rise to prevent the prostration; and he heard the dance called.
He could bear no more; pain intolerable seized, distracted him, and he abruptly quitted the ballroom, lest the Major should approach him with some happy apology, which he was unfitted to receive.
He could only settle his ideas by supposing she really loved Major Cerwood, and had suffered her character to be infected by the indelicacy that made a part of his own. Yet why had she so striven to deny all regard, all connection? what an unaccountable want of frankness! what a miserable dereliction of truth!
His first impulse was to set off instantly from Tunbridge; but his second thoughts represented the confession this would make. He was too proud to leave the Major, whom he despised, such a triumph, and too much hurt to permit Camilla herself to know him so poignantly wounded. She could not, indeed, but be struck by his retreat; he resolved, however, to try to meet with her the next day, and to speak to her with the amity they had so lately arranged, yet in a way that should manifest him wholly free from all other interest or view.
CHAPTER VIII
Ways to the Heart
All pleasure to Camilla was completely over from the moment that Edgar disappeared.
When she returned to Mount Pleasant, Mrs. Arlbery, whom she found alone, said, ‘Did I not understand that you were going to dance with Mr. Mandlebert? How chanced he to leave you? We were kept ages waiting for the coach; and I saw him pass by, and walk off.’
Camilla, colouring, related the history of the cotillon; and said, she feared, not knowing how she had been circumstanced, he was displeased.
‘Displeased!’ cried Mrs. Arlbery, laughing; ‘and do you, at seventeen, suffer a man to be displeased? How can you do worse when you are fifty? Know your own power more truly, and use it better. Men, my dear, are all spoilt by humility, and all conquered by gaiety. Amuse and defy them! — attend to that maxim, and you will have the world at your feet.’
‘I have no such ambition: ... but I should be sensibly hurt to make an old friend think ill of me.’
‘When an old friend,’ said Mrs. Arlbery, archly, ‘happens to be a young man, you must conduct yourself with him a little like what you are; that is, a young woman. And a young woman is never in her proper place, if such sort of old friends are not taught to know their own. From the instant you permit them to think of being offended, they become your masters; and you will find it vastly more convenient to make them your slaves.’
Camilla pretended to understand this in a mere general sense, and wished her good night.
The next morning, at an early hour, her chamber door was opened with great suddenness, and no preparation, and Mrs. Mittin tript nimbly into the room, with a hat in her hand.
‘Look here! my dear Miss Tyrold,’ cried she, ‘for now that other young lady has told me your name, and I writ it down upon paper, that I might not forget it again: look at your hat now! Did you ever see anything so much improved for the better? I declare nobody would know it! Miss Dennel says it’s as pretty again as it was at first. I’ll go and shew it to the other lady.’
Away she went, triumphant, with the trophy of her notability; but presently returned, saying, ‘Do, pray, Miss Tyrold, write me down that other lady’s name upon a scrap of paper. It always goes out of my head. And one looks as if one knew nobody, when, one forgets people’s names.’
Camilla complied, and expressed her shame to have caused her so much trouble.
‘O, my dear, it’s none at all. I got all the things at Mrs. Tillden’s.’
‘Who is Mrs. Tillden?’ cried Camilla, staring.
‘Why the milliner. Don’t you know that?’
‘What things?’ asked Camilla, alarmed.
‘Why these, my dear; don’t you see? Why it’s all new, except just the hat itself, and the feathers.’
Camilla was now in extreme embarrassment. She had concluded Mrs. Mittin had only newly arranged the ornaments, and had not the smallest idea of incurring a debt which she had no means to discharge.
‘It all comes to quite a trifle,’ continued Mrs. Mittin, ‘for all it’s so pretty. Mrs. Tillden’s things are all monstrous cheap. I get things for next to nothing from her, sometimes, when they are a little past the mode. But then I recommend her a heap of customers. I get all my friends, by hook or by crook, to go to her shop.’
‘And what,’ stammered out Camilla, ‘besides my thanks, do I owe you?’
‘Oh nothing. She would not be paid; she said, as you was her customer, and had all your things of her at first, she’d put it down in your bill for the season.’
This was, at least, some respite; though Camilla felt the disagreeable necessity of increasing her intended demand upon Mrs. Arlbery.
Miss Dennel came with a summons from that lady to the Pantiles, whither, as the day was fine, she proposed they should walk.
‘O,’ cried Mrs. Mittin, ‘if you are going upon the Pantiles, you must go to that shop where there’s the curious ear-rings that are be to raffled for. You’ll put in to be sure.’
Camilla said no, with a sigh attributed to the ear-rings, but due to a tender recollection of the raffle in which Edgar had procured her the trinket she most valued. Mrs. Mittin proposed accompanying them, and asked Camilla to introduce her to Mrs. Arlbery. This was very disagreeable; but she knew not how, after the civility she owed her, to refuse.
Mrs. Arlbery received her with much surprize, but perfect unconcern; conscious of her own importance, she feared no disgrace from being seen with one in a lower station; and she conceived it no honour to appear with one in a higher.
When they came to the Pantiles, Mrs. Mittin begged to introduce them to a view of the ear-rings, which belonged, she said, to one of her particular friends; and as Mrs. Arlbery caught the eye of Sir Sedley Clarendel in passing the window, she entered the shop.
‘Well,’ cried Mrs. Mittin, to its master, ‘don’t say I bring you no company. I am sure you ought to let me throw for nothing, if it’s only for good luck; for I am sure these three ladies will all put in. Come, Miss Dennel, do lead the way. ’Tis but half a guinea, and only look what a prize.’
‘Ask papa to pay for me!’ cried Miss Dennel.
‘Come, good sir, come, put down the half guinea for the young lady. I’m sure you can’t refuse her. Lord! what’s half a guinea?’
‘That’s a very bad way of reasoning,’ answered Mr. Dennel; ‘and what I did not expect from a woman of your sense.’
‘Why you don’t think, sir, I meant that half a guinea’s a trifle? No indeed! I know what money is better than that. I only mean half a guinea is nothing in comparison to ten guineas, which is the price of the ear-rings; and so that makes me think it’s pity the young lady should lose an opportunity of getting them so cheap. I’m sure if they were dear, I should be the last to recommend them, for I think extravagance the greatest sin under the sun.’
‘Well, now you speak like the sensible woman I took you for.’
A very little more eloquence of this sort was necessary, before Mr. Dennel put down half a guinea.
‘Well, I declare,’ cried Mrs. Mittin, ‘there’s only three more names wanted; and when these two ladies have put in, there will be only one! I’m sure if I was rich enough, that one would not be far off. But come, ma’am, where’s your half guinea? Come, Miss Tyrold, don’t hold back; who knows but you may win? there’s only nineteen against you. Lord, what’s that?’
Camilla turned away, and Mrs. Arlbery did not listen to a word; but when Sir Sedley said, ‘They are really very pretty; won’t you throw?’ she answered, ‘I must rather make a raffle with my own trinkets, than raffle for other people’s. Think of my ponies! However, I’ll put in, if Mr. Dennel will be my paymaster.’
Mr. Dennel, turning short off, walked out of the shop.
‘This is a bad omen!’ cried she, laughing; and then desired to look at the list of rafflers; when seeing amongst the names those of Lady Alithea Se
lmore and the Hon. Mrs. Berlinton, she exclaimed: ‘’Tis a coalition of all fashion and reputation! We shall be absolutely scouted, my dear Miss Tyrold, if we shrink. My poor ponies must wait half a guinea longer! Let us put in together.’
Camilla answered, she had no intention to try for them.
‘Well, then, lend me half a guinea; for I never trust myself, now, with my purse.’
‘I have not a half guinea ... I have ... I have no ... gold ... in my purse,’ answered Camilla, with a face deeply tinged with red.
Major Cerwood, who joined the party during this discussion, intreated to be banker for both the ladies. Camilla positively refused any share; but Mrs. Mittin said it would be a shame for such a young lady to go without her chance, and wrote down her name next to that of Mrs. Arlbery; while the Major, without further question, put down a guinea upon the counter.
Camilla could not endure this; yet, from a youthful shame of confessing poverty, forced herself to the ear of Mrs. Arlbery, and whispered an entreaty that she would pay the guinea herself.
Mrs. Arlbery, surprized, answered she had really come out without her purse; but seeing her seriously vexed, added, ‘If you do not approve of the Major for a banker till we go home, what say you to Sir Sedley?’
‘I shall prefer him a thousand times!’
Mrs. Arlbery, in a low voice, repeated this to the young Baronet, and receiving his guinea, threw it down; making the Major, without the smallest excuse or ceremony, take back his own.
This was by no means lost upon Sir Sedley; he felt flattered ... he felt softened; he thought Camilla looked unusually lovely; he began to wonder at the coldness of Mandlebert, and to lament that the first affections of so fair a creature should be cast away.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 202