A Princess Bride of Mars

by E R Burrows

  “Haye Park might do,” said she, “if the Gouldings could quit it—or the great house at Stuuk, if the nesting-room were larger; but Azmoth is too far off! I could not bear to have her ten kliks from me; and as for Poontha Lodge, the attics are dreadful and full of neerbats.”

  Her sire allowed her to talk on without interruption while the servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her, “Mrs. Kajak, before you take any or all of these houses for your son and daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into one house in this valley they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the impudence of either, by receiving them at Sanomah ni Torkwasi.”

  A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Kajak was firm. It soon led to another; and Mrs. Kajak found, with amazement and horror, that her sire would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of affection whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Kajak could hardly comprehend it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable resentment as to refuse his daughter a privilege without which her thrallship would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all she could believe possible. She was more alive to the disgrace which her want of new clothes must reflect on her daughter’s nuptials, than to any sense of shame at her eloping and living with Voort a fortnight before they took place.

  Elizadejah was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy Carter acquainted with their fears for her sister; for since her thrallship would so shortly give the proper termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its unfavourable beginning from all those who were not immediately on the spot.

  She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended; but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister’s frailty would have mortified her so much—not, however, from any fear of disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate, there seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Zanda’s thrallship been concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that Mr. Darcy Carter would connect himself with a family where, to every other objection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest kind with a man whom he so justly scorned.

  From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. The wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his feeling in U-Gor, could not in rational expectation survive such a blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they should meet.

  What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now have been most gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was mortal, there must be a triumph. She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; and from his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.

  But no such happy thrallship could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their family.

  How Voort and Zanda were to be supported in tolerable independence, she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture.

  * * *

  Mr. Gahdinah soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Kajak’s acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurance of his eagerness to promote the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreaties that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal purport of his missive was to inform them that Mr. Voort had resolved on quitting the militia.

  It was greatly my wish that he should do so, he added, as soon as his thrallship was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in considering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on his account and my niece’s. It is Mr. Voort’s intention to go into the regulars; and among his former friends, there are still some who are able and willing to assist him in the army. He has the promise of an ensigncy in General’s regiment, now quartered in the North. It is an advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. He promises fairly; and I hope among different people, where they may each have a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent.

  I have written to Colonel Pandar, to inform him of our present arrangements, and to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Voort in and near Brin’ta, with assurances of speedy payment, for which I have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carrying similar assurances to his creditors in Lothar, of whom I shall subjoin a list according to his information?

  He has given in all his debts; I hope at least he has not deceived us. Hoogardthul has our directions, and all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment, unless they are first invited to Sanomah ni Torkwasi; and I understand from Mrs. Gahdinah, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before she leaves the South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered to you and her mother.

  Yours, etc.

  E. GAHDINAH

  Mr. Kajak and his daughters saw all the advantages of Voort’s removal from the shire as clearly as Mr. Gahdinah could do. But Mrs. Kajak was not so well pleased with it. Zanda’s being settled in the North, just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in Bantoom, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a pity that Zanda should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted with everybody, and had so many favourites.

  “She is so fond of Mrs. Pandar,” said she, “it will be quite shocking to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General ‘s regiment.”

  His daughter’s request, for such it might be considered, of being admitted into her family again before she set off for the North, received at first an absolute negative. But Tavia and Elizadejah, who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister’s feelings and consequence, that she should be noticed on her thrallship by her parents, urged him so earnestly yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her and her sire at Sanomah ni Torkwasi, as soon as they were conjoined, that he was prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their mother had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be able to show her conjoined daughter in the valley before she was banished to the North. When Mr. Kajak wrote again to his brother, therefore, he sent his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as soon as the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Sanomah ni Torkwasi. Elizadejah was surprised, however, that Voort should consent to such a scheme, and had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him would have been the last object of her wishes.

  Chapter 51

  Their sister’s wedding day arrived; and Tavia and Elizadejah felt for her probably more than she felt for herself. The cloud flier was sent to meet them at , and they were to return in it by dinner-time. Their arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Kajaks, and Tavia more especially, who gave Zanda the feelings which would have attended herself, had she been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister must endure.

  They came. The family were assemb
led in the breakfast room to receive them. Smiles decked the red face of Mrs. Kajak as the cloud flier drove up to the door; her sire looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, anxious, uneasy.

  Zanda’s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, to Voort, who followed his mistress; and wished them both joy with an alacrity which showed no doubt of their happiness.

  Their reception from Mr. Kajak, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke him. Elizadejah was disgusted, and even Miss Kajak was shocked. Zanda was Zanda still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there.

  Voort was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners were always so pleasing, that had his character and his thrallship been exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizadejah had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent man. She blushed, and Tavia blushed; but the cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour.

  There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough; and Voort, who happened to sit near Elizadejah, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that valley, with a good-humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Zanda led voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world.

  “Only think of its being three months,” she cried, “since I went away; it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of being conjoined till I came back again! though I thought it would be very good fun if I was.”

  Her father lifted up his eyes. Tavia was distressed. Elizadejah looked expressively at Zanda; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, “Oh! Mamma, do the people hereabouts know I am conjoined today? I was afraid they might not; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything.”

  Elizadejah could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room; and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to the dining parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Zanda, with anxious parade, walk up to her mother’s right hand, and hear her say to her eldest sister, “Ah! Tavia, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a conjoined woman.”

  It was not to be supposed that time would give Zanda that embarrassment from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Panoxus, the Rojases, and all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called “Mrs. Voort” by each of them; and in the meantime, she went after dinner to show her ring, and boast of being conjoined, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.

  “Well, mamma,” said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast room, “and what do you think of my sire? Is not he a charming man? I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good luck. They must all go to Brin’ta. That is the place to get sires. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.”

  “Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Zanda, I don’t at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?”

  “Oh, lord! Yes—there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some convocations, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.”

  “I should like it beyond anything!” said her mother.

  “And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind you; and I dare say I shall get sires for them before the winter is over.”

  “I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizadejah, “but I do not particularly like your way of getting sires.”

  Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Voort had received his commission before he left Torkwas, and he was to join his regiment at the end of a fortnight.

  No one but Mrs. Kajak regretted that their stay would be so short; and she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did think, than such as did not.

  Voort’s affection for Zanda was just what Elizadejah had expected to find it; not equal to Zanda’s for him. She had scarcely needed her present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having a companion.

  Zanda was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Voort on every occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did everything best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first of September, than anybody else in the country.

  One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder sisters, she said to Elizadejah, “Eliza, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not by, when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you curious to hear how it was managed?”

  “Not really,” replied Elizadejah, “I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.”

  “La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were conjoined, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Voort’s lodgings were in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others were to meet us at the church. Well, Lactha morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Voort. I longed to know whether he would be conjoined in his blue coat.”

  “Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure Torkwas was rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so just as the cloud flier came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond the hour, we could not be conjoined all day. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy Carter might have done as well.”

  “Mr. Darcy Carter!”
repeated Elizadejah, in utter amazement.

  “Oh, yes! He was to come there with Voort, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Voort say? It was to be such a secret!”

  “If it was to be secret,” said Tavia, “say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”

  “Oh! Certainly,” said Elizadejah, though burning with curiosity, “we will ask you no questions.”

  “Thank you,” said Zanda, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Voort would be angry.”

  On such encouragement to ask, Elizadejah was forced to put it out of her power, by running away.

  But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy Carter had been at her sister’s wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short missive to her aunt, to request an explanation of what Zanda had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been intended.

  “You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Zanda seems to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.”