Friendship and Folly: The Merriweather Chronicles Book I

by Meredith Allady

  As Lady Thomasin had several times held forth in the presence of these gentlemen at Merrion House without suffering any sort of interruption, she made no difficulty about adding them to her table, but Major Merrion, when he heard of it, advised his sister to warn them against expressing any opinion they were not prepared to defend to the death. “For you know,” said he, “that Father does not feel as if he has become properly acquainted with a man, until he has quarreled with him.”

  **

  Chapter XXXIII

  It was discovered that those whom his lordship preferred to his own grandchildren were a Lord N______ and his wife, Mr. J_____ (M.P. for ____shire), his wife and two daughters, and a certain military gentleman, whom I shall call Colonel Nichols. (This was not his name, but a person bearing such an appellation once did me a grave disservice, so I take this opportunity of exacting a harmless and trifling revenge, by attaching it to one who, in this narrative, plays no very amiable role.) The son of one of Lord Meravon’s oldest friends, Colonel Nichols was at that time preparing to exchange his red coat for a political seat, and as it was one of the chief matters of dissension between them, that the Earl could not persuade Major Merrion to do this very thing, the Colonel afforded, by his very existence, a fine beginning for conflict; but Major Merrion had long ago grown wise to the provocations of his parent, and merely smiled at the introduction, and began to speak of the condition of the roads.

  Lord Meravon, having no love for the sort of ton parties to which he had consigned his granddaughter, had seldom seen her “in society,” and as he observed how charmingly she looked, and how quickly she had even the rather sour-faced Lady N_____ smiling at her, it became clear, at least to Ann, that he regretted not having assembled a larger circle of persons to admire her. Having first drawn his sister’s attention to Julia’s appearance, and received her rather perfunctory assent to his praises, he then moved on to Mr. Lenox, and gloatingly inquired “if he had ever seen a young lady better able to break a man’s heart?” His lordship doubtless did not intend the description literally; probably it was no more than a phrase he had impulsively seized on, in a moment of swelling pride; but he certainly sounded as if the thought of his granddaughter causing some unnamed gentleman’s utter misery was perfectly delightful to him. In any event, it was not the sort of silly remark likely to find favor with Mr. Lenox. He agreed politely enough, but the first expression of his eyes at hearing the pleasantry, though instantly banished, was not lost on his questioner, who glared in surprise, and would perhaps have quarreled with him then and there, had Lord Merivale not come up at that precise moment.

  But the Earl had an excellent memory for offenses, implied or inferred, real or imagined, and they were not long at dinner, before it was noticeable, that he was taking rather more interest in Mr. Lenox, than in any other person present. At first it was indirect, as if even he did not dare openly assail a near total stranger before the first remove, and was satisfied if he could but bring a more general conflict close enough to force his adversary into stepping back from it. The Parrys soon perceived what their relative was about, and built a bulwark of inconsequential and diversionary speech around their friend; but once or twice a still-twitching point of contention escaped their vigilance, and venturing too near Mr. Lenox, was knocked efficiently on the head by that young man. Lord Meravon took the interference of his family in good part, it being no more than he expected; but he evidently saw in Mr. Lenox’s disinclination to further their acquaintance by a violent altercation a subtle insult to his hospitality, and abandoning his scruples with the second remove, gleefully set himself to enrage.

  But Mr. Lenox, having, one must suppose, developed something of an immunity to thorned words from living in the same house with his mother and his brother, listened to Lord Meravon’s with an indifference, which caused that gentleman to eye him with increasing vexation, and devote the rest of the meal, entirely to the discovery of some topic over which he could be made to lose his temper. It proved to be a thankless business, for he was not interested in Standing Order, No. 30; pleaded ignorance concerning West Indian accounts; and admitted to such correct and moderate opinions on Lord Melville, the Roman Catholic Petition, and Buonaparte, that even his lordship could do nothing with them.

  Lady Thomasin alone remained unaware of the contest, being too much involved in her own declamations, to have any attention left over for her brother’s. The rest of the company was either amused or irritated, but all were employed, to a greater or lesser extent, in pretending that the conflict (or pursuit of one) did not exist. When Lady Frances at length succeeded in hinting her aunt into retiring, Julia was the only one who displayed any reluctance to quit the table; and once in the drawing-room, she could not settle to anything, having left her mind in the dining room so entirely, as to be useless in any other. To Ann’s suggestion that they look through the music-books, that they might be ready with some calming piece if asked to play, she only made the agitated reply, “Yes; no; as you please,” and the next instant exclaimed, though only so that Ann could hear, “This is beyond anything! That he should be subjected to such abuse! There is no excuse for it! I am sure I hope he may lose his temper, and Grandpapa blush for it! That he should treat a guest so! That we should have invited him to this!”

  Ann could not help being a little surprised at her vehemence, and hesitated before giving her opinion, “that Mr. Lenox did not appear to her to be paying much heed to Lord Meravon’s impertinences; and if he did not find them distressing, there was no reason why Julia should.”

  She was happy to see that her words had some effect; Julia bit her lip, and after a little silence, said more calmly, “You are right. Perhaps he may even find amusement in Grandfather’s more outrageous attempts to provoke him. I am sure many of them were absurd enough. But”--with a sigh--“I still think it hard, that with such a home, with so many opportunities already in his life for self-restraint, that he should not even be able to eat his dinner without being given more of them! And there is no saying, you know, that Grandfather will not eventually touch upon a subject, that he can not turn aside, or ignore, or laugh away. There is nothing to be done, I suppose. But I hope they will not linger.”

  As often happens with wishes of this sort, her expressing it served only to mark the beginning of its disappointment. They talked in a desultory fashion of everything but that which most possessed their minds, until, despite her encouraging words to Julia, Ann became at length tolerably convinced, of one of the gentlemen having murdered the other, leaving the rest standing around conferring over the best fashion in which to explain the matter to Bow Street, and impart the news to the ladies; the only thing against this conclusion being, that there had been no sound of struggle carried to the drawing-room, and she could not quite bring herself to believe in the Earl’s involvement in any affair, that was not accompanied by a great deal of noise.

  When at last the door opened, Ann’s feelings had been so wrought upon, that she more than half expected--really, she did not know what she did expect, but it was not that Lord Merivale should enter, and Lord Merivale alone. Julia stilled beside her, and the other ladies appeared rather disconcerted as well. He could not help being aware of at least some of their feelings on the occasion, and smiled round at them in a self-deprecating fashion, as he approached Lady Frances to explain that he had been sent by Mr. Parry, to ask her to come to him in the blue room, as Sir Warrington had unhappily been taken unwell, and her experience in such matters was greatly desired. She rose and hastened after the servant in a silence which showed the preoccupation of her thoughts, leaving her nephew once more the object of the seven pairs of eyes, that had followed her progress across the room with something very like envy.

  Julia half-rose with her mother, but then sank back, as if doubting the compliance of her knees. She had lost the color of her previous indignation, and her natural color as well, and the hand that Ann touched was cold and trembling. Her cousin, having delivered his message, look
ed, next, to her, and at this she found a low voice in which to ask him what had happened.

  His smile, thought Ann, held a hint of rue, but he replied, that it was nothing that would not soon be well. “Sir Warrington had been overtaken by a trifling indisposition, and his brother had judged it best to see him home immediately. Probably there was not the slightest need for his dear aunt to trouble herself, but Mr. Parry, with a pleasing partiality, was absolutely persuaded that no one else was so capable as she, of ascertaining that a man had everything necessary to his comfort on the journey home.”

  His manner was unhurried; his air carried conviction. When Lady Thomasin, Lady N______ and the ladies J_____ saw that his account was good for the ear, and that it was pleasant to the feelings, and an account to be desired to make one easy, they all elected to partake of it, and with looks and gestures, invited Lord Merivale to come across and be believed. He accepted their invitation, and seating himself, gave them an audience before whom they could display their compassion, by “poor young manning!” each other, shaking their heads, and offering various suggestions as to the probable cause of the baronet’s sudden indisposition. Lady Thomasin nobly sacrificed the reputation of her table, and her husband’s cellar, blaming first the soup, and then a certain heavy wine which she had strongly advised him against serving. Perhaps three or four minutes were taken up in this fashion, and then, the tenderness of their hearts being satisfied, they were happy to let the matter go, and begin to speak of the Magnificent Fete that was to be held at Vauxhall in celebration of the King’s Birthday.

  Ann and Julia remained apart, united in their disbelief. Ann could only gaze at the chattering circle of femininity around Lord Merivale with scornful amazement, but Julia’s vision was elsewhere, as she soon demonstrated by rising; and having whispered, “I must go to them, Ann. I must,” quitted the room so swiftly and quietly, that no one else seemed to mark her going. Ann hesitated to follow her, despite the preference she must always give, to a room with Parrys, over a room without them; and in that hesitation, Julia had gone, and Ann somehow did not like to draw attention to her having done so, by crossing the room as well. This reluctance was obscurely, but distinctly felt; more rational, was her aversion to going in search of a scene, the players of which all promised to be, if not ill, at least enraged, remorseful, or distressed in some fashion.

  **

  Chapter XXXIV

  Any hope Ann might have entertained, of Sir Warrington’s indisposition being of the inconsequential nature implied by Lord Merivale, was at once laid aside by the demeanor of the rest of the gentlemen. When they at last arrived, the Earl wore the half-ashamed, half-cross look of a boy whose “harmless teasing” has gone too far and resulted in his discomfiture, leaving him chiefly annoyed with the one whom he has harmed; St. Bees, Lord N______ and Mr. J_____ looked gravely uncomfortable; and Colonel Nichols, as if he did not know where to look. Major Merrion’s features, which nature had cast in rather daunting angles to begin with, were now so marked by anger, that Mrs. J_____ nervously quitted her chair, upon his only coming to stand in the same quarter of the room. Of a Parry, or a Lenox, there was no sign.

  The ladies around Lord Merivale were not, perhaps, as pleased as Ann to have their chitter-chatter disturbed. Having put all thought of unpleasantness behind them so successfully, they were not at all happy to see it catching up to them, as it were, with the entrance of those more closely acquainted with it. There was no question that Sir Warrington was to be pitied, but they had done that, generously so: and now, having commended him to the care of his brother, and even released Lady Frances to assist him, they ought surely to be allowed to forget him and his (really, rather tedious) afflictions. As most of the gentlemen were only too pleased to take up this view of the matter, the drawing-room soon presented the appearance of any polite company drinking tea, despite the ill-grace of one or two, who showed a shocking tendency to allow the baronet’s troubles to affect their spirits for longer than it took them to affix a sympathetic adjective to his name.

  Ann, as one of these difficult persons, was not long in seeking out Major Merrion, who was the other. He had taken himself and a cup of coffee off to a corner, where he was attempting to recover his temper, without discernible success. His scowl, as Ann advanced, was truly fearsome.

  “Dear sir,” said she, “do not frown at me so blackly! It will do you no good, for I am too much consumed with curiosity to be frightened into leaving before you have told me what I wish to know. Moreover, if you will but tell me the cause of your ire, I promise I will think precisely as you do on every point, and gladly join in denigrating the motives and intellect of whomever you care to name.”

  “A noble offer!” said he, his expression lightening. “Greater loyalty hath no woman, than to loathe those who irritate her friends.”

  Despite these words, he was not easily persuaded to give her an opportunity of demonstrating her loyalty, saying that he could see no profit in repeating a scene, that should never have taken place the first time. But he did not speak with any of his former grimness of manner, or with any great finality, and Ann therefore felt free to tease him as much as she liked on the subject, in the hope that his purpose might come to an end before his patience.

  “Very well,” said she. “It shall be as you please. Perhaps you are right, and it is better so. I am now at liberty to imagine every one horridly and completely at fault--Lord Meravon surpassing himself in quarrelsomeness, Mr. Lenox giving way to uncontrolled temper, and Sir Warrington a shuttlecock between them, with yourself and the other gentleman sitting as so many blocks, not lifting a hand to prevent them; whereas, had you told me the truth, I should probably then have had to think well of at least one of the parties involved.” Then, as he only smiled in response to this, a closed smile that said he was not to be drawn, she added, “But I should like to know (and it is such a little thing, surely you need not scruple to answer it) the subject, over which they at last came to blows.”

  “They did not come to blows.”

  “No, no, of course they did not. What I meant to say, to ask, was by what means Lord Meravon succeeded in angering Mr. Lenox? He went through such a variety of subjects before we retired, that I cannot think of any one he missed, that might have proved more effectual in provoking a quarrel: unless he can have begun to question the character of the gentleman’s mother? Perhaps he claimed to have once heard the expression ‘I’m fair pitch-kettled’ escape her lips?”

  Major Merrion shook his head, tucking down his mouth at the corners in an effort to appear serious.

  “No? I thought it could not have been that,” said Ann. “But perhaps, then, he spoke slightingly of Mr. Lenox’s particular young lady?”

  “I was not aware that such a person existed.”

  “Neither was I, but need our ignorance dictate reality? Kitty, you know, is quite convinced that she does, from his inexplicably declining to fall violently in love with Julia. But if it was not that, I think I must have it--it was a horse that did it, was it not? I daresay someone may have told Lord Meravon of the worthless Curran, and there is nothing that offends a gentleman more than the imputation of his being a poor judge of horseflesh. Come, tell me I am right. Your father began to twit him on Curran’s obvious deficiencies--Mr. Lenox, being unable to deny the charge, sought to establish his argument by ‘noise and command’--and that is what has upset Sir Warrington.”

  At this Major Merrion began to laugh, and said, “This is too sad. What will you propose next? If you must know, after fruitlessly beating any number of bushes, Father seemed suddenly to recollect that the man was from Ireland, and might conceivably be possessed of strong feelings, one way or the other, concerning the rebellion. Now, what have I said? You look amazed.”

  “I am amazed,” she replied; “for I had collected that Mr. Lenox was at University during the whole of it. Nor has he ever seemed to me, to be particularly attached to the land of his birth; and indeed, why should he be, with such a mother
to see that he was kept from it as much as possible, from his earliest years? And without a doubt she did away with any homesick thoughts he might have been so foolish as to harbor, by writing long, peevish accounts of all the inconveniences and trials he was being spared by her forethought in sending him away. Oh, but wait! Perhaps his father was killed in it; I seem to recollect some talk of that nature from Lady Thomasin. Certainly, if a man’s father is murdered by peasants during a revolt, he may be excused for a display of feeling at mention of it.”

  “The sentiment does you credit. However, the fate of his father, tragic or otherwise, played no role in the conversation.”

  Ann, waiting for him to continue, perceived, after a few moments, that he had no intention of doing so, and exclaimed, aghast, “My dear Major, you cannot stop there!”

  Major Merrion considered it, and not being a cruel man, saw that he really could not; and with a look that said he was not at all deceived by her artless expression, at last allowed himself to be inveigled into satisfying her curiosity.

  No doubt he intended to make his report in a brief and soldierly fashion, but as Ann, by her eagerness and her questions, succeeded in expanding it into a narrative of tolerable length and detail, I will defer it to the next chapter.

  **

  Chapter XXXV

  He began by quizzing Ann concerning her general knowledge of the uprising, and when, after a small hesitation, she brought forth the fatal arrest of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the anatomical ignorance of the luckless Mr. Tone, he shook his head, and chided her for being little different than the majority of her countrymen, who “take considerably less interest in the affairs of modern Ireland, than those of ancient Egypt.” He then delivered a short lecture on the causes and catalysts of the rebellion, which, as this is not a history in that sense of the word, and also because Ann, having, in fact, no great interest in such a topic, could not have repeated his chief points if requested three days later, I will not attempt to include here, but will go at once to the summation of his lecture, which ran thus, “This was its origin; its continuance was no better. Indeed, it was a grievously ill-conducted business from beginning to end, and one must credit it solely to the kindness of Providence, that General Humbert did not arrive with a good many more ships than he did, to find all of Catholic Erin ready to take him up on his offer of assistance in ‘throwing off the English yoke.’ The Castle was indecisive; the landowners hysterical and bloodthirsty by turns; the army untrained, and, if given its head, which it often was, more of a danger to itself and the innocent than the foe; and the rebels themselves by and large a confused, resentful, desperate mob, whom one could easily have pitied, had the viciousness of their conduct not made it impossible. There were exceptions, of course; but you can see that Father had for once found a topic, where he might legitimately deplore nearly every aspect of it, without being accused of mere contentiousness.”