Lord Melbury, abruptly breaking from Mr Giles, hurried out of the room; which alone prevented the same action from Juliet, whose face suddenly exhibited horrour rather than affright. But she felt that to fly the uncle, at a moment when she might seem to pursue the nephew, might be big with suspicious mischief; and, though shaking with terrour, she placed herself as if she were examining a small landscape, behind an immense screen, which in summer, as well as in winter, nearly surrounded the sofa of Mrs Ireton. And hence she hoped, when his lordship should be entered, to steal unnoticed from the room.
‘This is a stroke that surpasses all the rest!’ faintly cried Mrs Ireton; ‘that Lord Denmeath, whom I have not seen these seven ages, should renew his acquaintence at an epoch of such strange disorder in my house! He will never believe this apartment to be mine! it will not be possible for him to believe it. He’ll conclude me in some lodging. He’ll imagine me the victim of some dreadful reverse of fortune. He is so little accustomed to see me in any motley group! He can so little figure me to himself as a person in a general herd!’
‘Well, I, for one, am here by mere accident, to be sure,’ said Miss Bydel; ‘but, however, I did not come in from mere curiosity, I assure you, Mrs Ireton; for I knew nothing of Lord Denmeath’s being to come. However, as I happen to be here, I sha’n’t be sorry to see his lordship, if I sha’n’t be in anybody’s way, for I never happened to be where he was before. Only I can’t think what Lord Melbury went off so quick for; unless it was to shew his uncle the way up stairs. And if it was for that, it was pretty enough of him.’
‘No, no, you’ll be in nobody’s way, Mrs Bydel,’ said Mr Giles; ‘don’t be afraid of that. Here’s abundance of room for us all. The apartment’s a very good apartment for that.’
Mrs Ireton now, impatiently ringing the bell, demanded, of a servant, what he had done with Lord Denmeath; adding, ‘I should be glad, Sir, to be informed! very glad, I must confess; for, perhaps, as you have been so good as to shew a visitor of one of my people into the drawing-room, you may have thought proper to usher a visitor of mine into the kitchen?’
His lordship, the servant answered, had been met by Lord Melbury, upon alighting from the coach, and had stept with him into the dining-parlour.
Mrs Maple exulted that she could now, at last, have an opportunity to clear herself of his lordship, about the many odd appearances which had so long stood against her: while Ireton, who had espied the effort of Juliet to escape notice, called out, ‘I don’t know where the devil I have put my hat;’ and suddenly pushing towards her, with a blustrous appearance of search, gave her a mischievous nod, as she started back from his bold approach, and encircled her completely within the broad leaves of the screen.
She suffered this malicious sport in preference to attempting any resistance; though vexed at the noise which she must now unavoidably make in removing.
She was scarcely thus enclosed, when Lord Denmeath was announced.
Her heart now beat so violently with terrour, that her shaking hand could scarcely grasp a leaf of the screen, as she tried to make an opening for letting herself out, while his lordship was returning a reception of fawning courtesy, by some embarrassed and ambiguous apologies, relative to the motives of his visit. And when, at length, she succeeded, she was deterred from endeavouring to abscond, by seeing Harleigh, with his hand upon the door, making his bow.
Mrs Maple, interfering, would not permit him to depart; clamorously declaring, that he was the properest person to give an account to his lordship of this adventurer, as he must best know why he had forced them to take such a body into their boat.
With deep agitation, and blushing anxiety, Juliet now unavoidably heard Harleigh answer, ‘I can but repeat to his lordship what I have a thousand times assured these ladies, that I have not the smallest knowledge whence this young lady comes, nor whom she may be. I can only, therefore, reply to these enquiries from my mental perceptions. These convince me, through progressive observations, that she is a person of honour, well educated, accustomed to good society, highly principled, and noble minded. You smile, my lord! But those only who judge without conversing with her, or converse without drawing forth her sentiments, can annex any disparaging doubt to the mystery of her situation. Her conduct has rather been exemplary than irreproachable from the moment that she has been cast upon our knowledge; though she has suffered, during that short interval, distress of almost every description. Her language is always that of polished life; her manners, even when her occupations are nearly servile, are invariably of distinguished elegance; yet, with all their softness, all their gentleness, she has a courage that, upon the most trying occasions, is superiour to difficulty; and a soul that, even in the midst of injury and misfortune, depends upon itself, and is above complaint. Such, my lord, I think her! not, indeed, from any certain documents; but from a self-conviction, founded, I repeat, upon progressive observations; which have the weight with me, now, of mathematical demonstration.’
Tears resistless, yet benign, flowed down the cheeks of Juliet in listening to this defence; and, while she endeavoured to disperse them, before she ventured from her retreat, Lord Denmeath began an enquiry, whether this young person had regularly refused to say who she was; or whether she had occasionally made any partial communication; or given any hints relative to her family or connexions.
Juliet was now in an agony of mind indescribable. She had hoped to glide away with the general party unobserved; but Harleigh had kept constantly at the door till he made his exit; which, now, was so crowdingly followed by that of every one, except Mrs Ireton and his lordship, that the delay ended in making her, individually, more conspicuous. Yet, to overhear, unsuspectedly, a conversation believed to be private, even though she knew herself to be its subject, was dishonour: hastily, therefore, though shaking in every limb, she forced herself from without the screen.
Mrs Ireton shrieked and sunk back upon the sofa, crying out, ‘Oh, my lord, she’s here! — Concealed to listen to us! — What a shock! — I shall feel it these three years!’
Juliet fleetly crossed the drawing-room, without daring to raise her head; but Lord Denmeath, passing quickly before her, as if intending to open the door, held the handle of the lock, while, steadily examining her as he spoke, he said, ‘Will you give me leave, Ma’am, to see you for a few minutes to-morrow?’
Juliet made not, nor even attempted to make any answer: terrour was painted in every line of her face, and she trembled so violently, that she was forced to catch by the back of a chair, to save herself from falling.
‘I hope, Ma’am,’ said Lord Denmeath, ‘you are not ill?’ and, approaching her with a look of compassion, added, in a whisper, ‘I know you! — but be not frightened. I will not hurt you. I will speak to you to-morrow alone, and arrange something to your advantage.’
Juliet seemed utterly overcome, and remained motionless.
‘Compose yourself,’ continued Lord Denmeath, speaking louder, and turning towards the wondering Mrs Ireton; ‘I will see you when and where you please to-morrow.’
Mrs Ireton, whose own curiosity knew not how to brook any delay, now recovered sufficient strength to rise; and, begging that his lordship would not postpone his business, she passed into her boudoir; the door of which, however, Lord Denmeath failed not to remark, was shut without much vigour.
Lowering, therefore, his tone till, even to Juliet, it was scarcely audible, ‘We cannot,’ he said, ‘converse here with any openness; but, if you are not your own enemy, you may make me your friend; though I cannot but take ill your coming over against my advice and injunctions, and thus insidiously introducing yourself to my nephew and niece.’
Juliet here looked up, with an air of self-vindication; but Lord Denmeath steadily went on.
‘I have for some time suspected who you were, though but vaguely; yet, attributing your voyage to the officious counsel of the Bishop, I contented myself, for the moment, with putting a stop to your intercourse with my credulous young rel
ations. But other information has reached me; and reached me at the very moment when Mrs Howel, — when, indeed, my nephew and niece themselves had acquainted me with the meeting at Arundel Castle. I will talk upon all these matters in detail to-morrow morning. I have only to demand, in the interval, that you will neither speak nor write to Lord Melbury. I have already obtained his promise to be quiet till our conference is over. But I know that there are ways and means to induce a young man to forget his engagements. I hope you will try none such. Where can we have our conversation?’
‘No where, my lord!’ to the utter astonishment of Lord Denmeath, and even to her own, Juliet now, with sudden spirit, answered: but the courage which had been subdued by apprehension, was revived, during the preceding harangue, by strong glowing indignation.
‘What is it,’ when amazement would give him leave to speak, ‘what is it,’ Lord Denmeath said, ‘that you mean?’
‘That I will not trouble your lordship to offer me directions that I may not be at liberty to follow. I have already, my lord, a guide; and one to whose judgment I shall submit implicitly. That Bishop, whom your lordship is pleased to call officious, is my first, best, and nearly only friend; and if ever again I should be so blest as to meet with him, his opinion shall be my law, — as his benediction will be my happiness!’
In great emotion, yet with unappalled dignity, she was departing; but Lord Denmeath, with an air of surprize, stopping her, said, ‘You are then a Papist?’
‘No, my lord, I am firmly a Protestant! But, as such, I am a Christian; so, and most piously, yet not illiberally, is the Bishop.’
‘What is it, — tell me, if you please, that this Bishop purposes? To renew those old claims so long ago vainly canvassed? Can he imagine he will now have more influence than when possessed of his episcopal rank and fortune? Set him right in that point. You will do him a friendly turn. And permit me to do a similar one by yourself. I know the whole of your situation!’
Juliet started.
‘I have just had information which I meant to communicate to you, accompanied with offers of mediation and assistance; but you are sufficient to yourself! or your champion, the Bishop, makes all other aid superfluous! Suffer me, nevertheless, to intimate to you, that you will do well to return, quietly and expeditiously, to the spot whence you came. You may else make the voyage less pleasantly!’
The colour which resentment and exertion had just raised in the cheeks of Juliet, now faded away, and left them nearly as white as snow. Lord Denmeath, softening his voice and manner, and changing the haughty air of his countenance into something that approached to kindness, went on more gently.
‘I did not mean to alarm, but to befriend you. I allow not only for your youth and inexperience, but for the false ideas with which you have been brought up. If it had not pleased the Bishop to interfere, all would have been amicably arranged from the first. Take, however, a little time for reflection. Think upon the enormous risk which you run! — a fine young woman, like you, — and you are, indeed, a very fine young woman; flying from her house and home—’
Juliet, shaking, shuddering, hid her face, and burst into tears.
‘I see that it is not impossible to work upon you,’ he continued; ‘I will beg Mrs Ireton, therefore, to let us converse to-morrow where we may canvass the matter at leisure. The road is still open for you to affluence and credit. It will make me very happy to be your conductor. You will find I am authorized so to be. Make yourself, therefore, as easy as you can, and depend upon my best offices. We will certainly meet to-morrow morning.’
He then bowed to her, and moved towards the boudoir; which Mrs Ireton, appearing accidentally to open the door that had never been shut, quitted, to receive him; while Juliet, in speechless disorder, retired.
CHAPTER LXVI
Upon quitting the drawing-room, to mount to her chamber, Juliet caught a glance of Ireton, ascending the staircase to the second story.
Apprehensive that he was watching for an opportunity to again torment her, she turned into a small apartment called the Print Closet, of which the door was open; purposing there to wait till he should have passed on.
There, however, she had no sooner entered, than, examining the beautiful engravings of Sir Robert Strange, she perceived Harleigh.
Eagerly and with delight he advanced, and sought, once more, to take her hand. A look of solemnity repressed him; but ’twas a solemnity mixt with sorrow, not anger.
‘Generous Mr Harleigh!’ she faintly articulated, while endeavouring to disperse the tears that again strove to find their way down her cheeks; ‘can you then, thus unabatedly preserve your good opinion of an unknown Wanderer, ... who seems the sport of insult and misfortune?’
Almost dissolved with tender feelings at this question, Harleigh, gently overpowering her opposition, irresistibly seized her hand, repeating, ‘My good opinion? my reverence, rather! — my veneration is yours! — and a confidence in your worth that has no limits!’
Ashamed of the situation into which a sudden impulse of gratitude had involuntarily betrayed her, the varying hues of her now white, now crimson cheeks manifested alternate distress and confusion; while she struggled incessantly to disengage her hand; but the happy heart of Harleigh felt so delightedly its possession, that she struggled in vain.
‘Yet, let not that confidence,’ he continued, ‘be always the offspring of fascination! Give it, at length, some other food than conjecture! not to remove doubts; I have none! but to solve difficulties that rob me of rest.—’
‘I am sorry, Sir, very sorry, if I cause you any uneasiness,’ said Juliet, resuming her usual calmness of manner; yet with bent down eyes, that neither ventured to meet his, nor to cast a glance at the hand which she still fruitlessly strove to withdraw; ‘but indeed you must not detain me; — no, not a minute!’
Enchanted by the mildness of this remonstrance, little as its injunction met his wishes; ‘Half a minute, then!’ he gaily replied, ‘accord me only half a minute, and I will try to be contented. Suffer me but to ask,—’
‘No, Sir, you must ask me nothing! There is no question whatever I can answer!—’
‘I will not make one, then! I will only offer an observation. There is a something — I know not what; nor can I divine; but something there is strange, singular, — very unusual, and very striking, between you and Lord Melbury! Pardon, pardon my abruptness! You allow me no time to be scrupulous. You promise him your confidence, — that confidence so long, so fervently solicited by another! — so inexorably withheld!—’
‘I earnestly desire,’ cried Juliet, recovering her look of openness, and raising her eyes; ‘the sanction of Lord Melbury to the countenance and kindness of Lady Aurora.’
‘Thanks! thanks!’ cried Harleigh; who in this short, but expressive explanation, flattered himself that some concern was included for his peace; ‘’Tis to that, then, that cause, — a cause the most lovely, — he owes this envied pre-eminence? — And yet, — pardon me! — while apparently only a mediator — may not such a charge, — such an intercourse, — so intimate and so interesting a commission, — may it not, — nay, must it not inevitably make him from an agent become a principal? — Will not his heart pay the tribute—’
‘Heaven forbid!’ interrupting him, cried Juliet.
‘Thanks! thanks, again! You do not, then, wish it? You are generous, noble enough not to wish it? And frank, sweet, ingenuous enough to acknowledge that you do not wish it? Ah! tell me but—’
‘Mr Harleigh,’ again interrupting him, cried Juliet, ‘I know not what you are saying! — I fear I have been misunderstood. — You must let me be gone!’ —
‘No!’ answered he, passionately; ‘I can live no longer, breathe no longer, in this merciless solicitude of uncertainty and obscurity! You must give me some glimmering of light, some opening to comprehension, — or content yourself to be my captive!—’
‘You terrify me, Mr Harleigh! Let me go! — instantly! instantly! — Would you make me hate—
’ She had begun with a precipitance nearly vehement; but stopt abruptly.
‘Hate me?’ cried Harleigh, with a look appalled: ‘Good Heaven!’
‘Hate you? — No, — not you!... I did not say you!—’
‘Who, then? who then, should I make you hate? — Lord Melbury?—’
‘O no, never!— ’tis impossible! — Let me be gone! — let me be gone!—’
‘Not till you tell me whom I should make you hate! I cannot part with you in this new ignorance! Clear, at least, this one little point Whom should I make hate you?—’
‘Myself, Sir, myself!’ cried she, trembling and struggling. ‘If you persist in thus punishing my not having fled from you, at once, as I would have fled from an enemy!’
He immediately let go her hand; but, finding that, though her look was instantly appeased, nay grateful, she was hastily retreating, he glided between her and the door, crying, ‘Where, — at least deign to tell me! — Where may I see, — may I speak to you again?’
‘Any where, any where!’ — replied she, with quickness; but presently, with a sudden check of vivacity, added, ‘No where, I mean! — no where, Sir, no where!’ —
‘Is this possible!’ exclaimed he. ‘Can you, — even in your wishes, — can you be so hard of heart?’ —
‘It is you,’ said she reproachfully, ‘who are hard of heart, to detain me thus! — Think but where I am! — where you are! — This house — Miss Joddrel — What may not be the consequence? — Is it Mr Harleigh who would deliver me over to calumny?’
Harleigh now held open the door for her himself, without venturing to reply, as he heard footsteps upon the stairs; but he permitted his lips to touch her arm, for he could not again seize her hand, as she passed him, eagerly, and with her face averted. She fled on to the stairs, and rapidly ascended them. Harleigh durst now follow; but he pursued her with his eyes. He could not, however, catch a glance, could not even view her profile, so sedulously her head was turned another way. Disappointment and mortification were again seizing him; till he considered, that that countenance thus hidden, had she been wholly unfearful of shewing some little emotion, had probably, nay, even purposely, been displayed.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 328