And she pointed with a disdain and a disgust, by no means affected, towards her husband’s paramour.
“Creature indeed!” cried the young woman, now irritated and excited in her turn: “I think I am as honest as you, my lady, at all events.”
“Wretch!” murmured Cecilia between her teeth, as if the sight of the creature filled her with abhorrence and loathing.
Ah! haughty lady! thou could thyself sin through lust: but thou couldst not brook the sight of one who sinned for bread!
The young woman, over-awed by the air of insuperable disgust which marked the proud patrician at that moment, recoiled from her presence, and burst into tears.
“Come, enough of this folly,” said Sir Rupert, impatiently: “we shall have the servants here in a moment. Perhaps you and this gentleman,” he continued, “will step into that room for a moment, while I open the door for my little companion here.”
Lady Cecilia tossed her head disdainfully, darted a look of sovereign contempt upon the abashed Caroline, and beckoned Captain Fitzhardinge to follow her into the adjacent parlour.
Sir Rupert retained the light. He opened the door, the chain of which had only become entangled round the key, and dismissed his paramour, who was delighted to escape from that house where the terrible looks of the lady had so disconcerted her.
The baronet then repaired to the parlour, and, having locked the door to prevent the intrusion of the servants, threw himself upon the sofa.
“Well, on my honour!” he exclaimed, bursting into a loud fit of laughter, “this is one of the most pleasant adventures that ever I heard or read of—’pon my honour!”
“Have you requested me to wait here in order to contribute to your hilarity, sir?” demanded Captain Fitzhardinge, indignantly.
“My dear fellow,” returned the baronet, “let us laugh in concert! Oh! I can assure you that you need fear no law-suits nor pistols from me!”
“Fear, sir!” ejaculated the Guardsman: “I do not understand the word.”
“Well—expect, then, if that will suit you better, my dear captain,” continued Sir Rupert Harborough. “You see that my wife and myself act as we please, independently of each other.”
“Sir Rupert!” exclaimed Cecilia, who was by no means anxious that her lover should be made acquainted with the terms of the agreement into which she and her husband had entered a short time previously, and the nature of which the reader will remember.
“My dear Cecilia,” observed the baronet, “is it not much better that your friend should be made acquainted with the grounds on which you have admitted him as your sworn knight and only love?”
“Cease this bantering, sir,” cried Captain Fitzhardinge. “Have I not already said that I am willing to give you any satisfaction which you may require?”
“And must I again tell you, my dear fellow,” returned the baronet, with an affectation of familiarity, which only made his words the more bitter,—“must I again tell you that I have no satisfaction—that I have none to ask, and you none to give? But I cannot allow you to consider me a grovelling coward:—I must explain to you the grounds on which my forbearance is based.”
“Proceed, sir,” said Captain Fitzhardinge, coolly.
“You will then allow me to retire to my own room?” exclaimed Lady Cecilia, rising from the chair in which she had thrown herself.
“No, my dear,” said the baronet, gently forcing her back into her seat: “you must remain to corroborate the truth of what I am about to state to this gentleman.”
Lady Cecilia resumed the chair from which she had risen, and made no reply.
“In one word, Captain Fitzhardinge,” continued the baronet, “there is a mutual understanding between my wife and myself, that we shall follow our own inclinations, whims, and caprices, without reference to the ties which bind us, or the vows which we pledged at church some years ago. All this may seem very strange: it is nevertheless true. Therefore, I have no more right to quarrel with Lady Cecilia on your account, than she has to abuse me on account of that young person whom you saw in the house just now. Now, then, my dear captain,” continued the baronet, his tone again becoming bitterly ironical, “you may at your ease congratulate yourself upon being the only person that Lady Cecilia has ever loved, and the only one on whom she has ever bestowed her favours with the exception of her husband.”
“Then I am to understand, sir,” said the officer, perfectly astounded at the turn which the affair had taken, “that you do not consider yourself offended or aggrieved by the—the——”
“Not a whit!” ejaculated the baronet. “On the contrary—I have no doubt we shall be excellent friends in future.”
The captain bowed, and rose to depart.
Sir Rupert unlocked and opened the door for him, and then ushered him, with affected politeness, out of the house.
When he returned to the parlour, he found Lady Cecilia red with indignation.
“What means this scene, Sir Rupert,” she said, “after our mutual compact?”
“My dear,” answered the baronet, calmly, “you treated my little friend in a most unpleasant manner, and I thought myself justified in retaliating to a certain extent. Besides, I was compelled to give an explanation to a man who would have otherwise looked upon me as a coward for failing to demand satisfaction of him.”
“But did you not consider that you have rendered me contemptible in his eyes?” demanded Lady Cecilia, burning with spite.
“Never fear,” said the baronet. “Confiding in your sweet assurances that he alone has ever possessed your love, and that he alone, save your husband, has ever been blessed with the proofs of that affection, he will return ere long to your arms. Besides, am I not going to France to-night with my splendid friend, Chichester?”
“This is cruel, Sir Rupert. If an accident made you acquainted with the conversation which passed between us——”
“An accident, indeed!” interrupted Sir Rupert Harborough, laughing affectedly. “ ’Pon my honour, the entire adventure is one of the drollest that ever occurred! But let us say no more upon the subject! Adhere to the compact on your side, and do not insult my friends——”
“But a prostitute in my house!” ejaculated Lady Cecilia, still loathing the idea.
“And my wife’s paramour in my house!” cried Sir Rupert.
“Oh, there is something refined in an amour with one’s equal,” said Lady Cecilia; “but a wretch of that description——”
“Enough of this!” cried the baronet. “The servants are already about: let us each retire to our own rooms.”
And this suggestion was immediately adopted.
CHAPTER CXXIV.
THE INTRIGUES OF A DEMIREP.
LADY CECILIA retired to her own chamber, locked the door, threw herself upon the bed, and burst into tears.
Oh, at that moment how she hated her husband;—how she hated herself!
She wept not in regret of her evil ways: she poured forth tears of spite when she thought of the opinion that her new lover must form of her, after the explanation given by Sir Rupert.
For Captain Fitzhardinge was rich and confiding; and the fair patrician had calculated upon rendering him subservient alike to her necessities and her licentiousness.
But, now—what must he think of one who bestowed upon him those favours that were alienated from her husband by a formal compact? What opinion could he entertain of a woman who sinned deliberately by virtue of an understanding with him whom she had sworn to respect and obey?
It could not be supposed that the morality of Captain Fitzhardinge was of a very elevated nature; but in the occurrence of that morning there was something calculated to shock the mind the least delicate—the least refined.
Yes—Lady Cecilia wept; for she thought of all this!
And then her rage against her husband knew no bounds.
“The wretch—the cowardly wretch!” she exclaimed aloud, as she almost gnashed her teeth with rage: “was he not born to be my ruin? From the moment that I saw him first until the present hour, has he not been an evil genius in my way? Yes—oh! yes: he is a demon sent to torture me in this world for my faults and failings! Seduced by him when I was very young, I might have been plunged into disgrace and infamy, had not my father purchased his consent to espouse me. Then the large sum that was paid to save my honour was squandered in the payment of his debts, or in ministering to his extravagances. Now, what is our position? what is my position? Shunned by my own father and mother, I am left dependent on him who knows not how to obtain enough for himself; or else I—I, the daughter of a peer, must sell myself to some Mr. Greenwood or Captain Fitzhardinge for the means to support my rank! Oh! it is atrocious: I begin to loathe myself! Would that I were the mistress of some wealthy man who would be constant and kind towards me, rather than the wife of this beggared baronet!”
Lady Cecilia rose from the bed, advanced towards the mirror, and smoothed her hair. Then she perceived that her eyes were red with weeping.
“Absurd!” she exclaimed, a contemptuous smile curling her lips; “why should I shed tears upon the past which no human power can recall? Rather let me avail myself of the present, and endeavour to provide for the future. Am I not young? and does not my glass tell me that I am beautiful? Even the immaculate—the taintless—the exemplary rector of Saint David’s paid me a compliment on my good looks when I met him at Lady Marlborough’s, a few days ago. Yes—and methought that if the most evangelical of evangelical clergymen of the Established Church could for a moment be moved by my smile,—if that admired preacher, who publicly avows that he refrains from marriage upon principle,—if that holy minister who is quoted as a pattern to his class, and an example for the whole world,—if he could whisper a word savouring of a compliment in my ear, and then seem ashamed of the moment of weakness into which his admiration had betrayed him;—if my charms could effect so great a miracle as this, what may they not do for me in helping me on to fortune?”
She paused and considered herself for some minutes in the glass opposite to her.
“Yes,” she cried, again breaking silence, “I will no longer remain in the same house with my unprincipled and heartless husband: I will no longer breathe the tainted atmosphere which he inhabits. His very name is associated in my mind with forgery and felony! I will break the shackle which yet partially binds me to him; I will emancipate myself from the restraint and thraldom wherein I now exist. Fitzhardinge is rich and loving; perhaps he may still feel the influence of the silken chain which I threw around his heart. We will see! If he come gladly back to my feet, my aim is won: if not—well,”—and she smiled, complacently,—“there are others as rich, as handsome, and as easily enchained as he!”
Lady Cecilia proceeded to her desk and wrote the following note:—
“Come to me, dearest Fitzhardinge, at three precisely this afternoon: I have much to say respecting the specious falsehoods which Sir Rupert uttered this morning in order to conceal the natural cowardice of his disposition. He was afraid to involve himself in a quarrel with you; and he excused his unmanly forbearance by means of assertions that reflected upon me. Come, then, to me at three; I shall be alone, and at home only to you.”
This note was immediately conveyed to Captain Fitzhardinge by Cecilia’s lady’s-maid, who was the confidant of her mistress’s intrigues.
Having despatched her missive, the baronet’s wife proceeded to the duties of the toilet.
This employment, breakfast, the newspaper, and a novel, wiled away the time until about one o’clock, when Lady Cecilia, having ascertained that her husband had gone out half an hour previously, descended to the drawing-room.
She was attired in a simple and unpretending manner; but then she knew that this style became her best.
She was determined to captivate that day; and certainly she had seldom appeared to greater advantage.
Her rich auburn hair,—of a hue as warm as the disposition which it characterised,—fell in long hyperion ringlets upon her sloping shoulders: her blue eyes were expressive of a feeling of languid voluptuousness; and her pure complexion was set off by the dark dress that she wore.
The time-piece upon the mantel had scarcely struck two, when a loud double-knock at the front-door resounded through the house.
Lady Cecilia started from her seat, for she had forgotten to instruct the servants “that she was only at home to Captain Fitzhardinge.” But she was too late to remedy her neglect; the summons was already answered ere she had gained the landing on which the drawing room opened.
She accordingly returned to the sofa, and composed herself to receive the visitor, whoever it might be.
In a few moments the servant announced the Earl of Warrington.
With this nobleman Lady Cecilia was only very slightly acquainted, she having met him on two or three occasions, some years previously, at her father’s house.
“I must apologise, Lady Harborough, for this intrusion,” said the earl; “but I trust to your kindness to pardon me in that respect, and to afford me a little information concerning a matter which has suddenly assumed an air of importance in my eyes.”
“No apology is necessary for the honour which your lordship confers upon me by visiting my humble abode,” answered Lady Cecilia; “and with regard to the subject to which your lordship alludes, I shall be happy to furnish any information in my power.”
“Your ladyship’s courtesy encourages me to proceed,” continued the earl. “Forgive me if I must direct your attention to one of those pieces of gossip—I will not say scandal—which so often becomes current in the sphere in which we move. I allude to an anecdote relative to a certain mysterious remittance of a thousand pounds which was forwarded to Sir Rupert Harborough, and which your ladyship undertook to disburse for his advantage.”
“Your lordship places the matter in as delicate a way as possible,” said Lady Cecilia, affecting to laugh heartily in order to conceal the shame which she really experienced at this reference to her unworthy action; “but it was only a pleasant trick which I played Sir Rupert. The truth is, Sir Rupert is not the most generous man towards his wife and when I found that some honourable person was repaying him a debt contracted a long time previously, I thought that, as the amount fell so providentially into my hands, I could not do better than appropriate it to the liquidation of the arrears of pin-money due to me.”
“Very just, madam,” said the Earl, forcing himself to smile at the incident which Lady Cecilia represented in the light of a venial little advantage by a wife against her husband. “I believe that the amount was forwarded anonymously?”
“To tell you the candid truth, my lord,” answered Lady Cecilia, “the whole affair was so strange and romantic, that I kept, as a great curiosity, the letter which accompanied the bank-note. If you possess any interest in the matter——”
“Your ladyship knows that I am not seeking this information without some object,” said the earl, emphatically. “Would it be indiscreet,” he added, in a less serious tone, “to request a glimpse at that great curiosity?”
“Oh! by no means,” returned Lady Cecilia, who affected to treat the whole matter as an excellent joke; then, rising from her seat, she hastened to her work-box, and in a few moments produced the letter. “It was not so scented with musk when I received it,” she added, laughing; “but it was redolent of a far more grateful flavour—that of this world’s mammon.”
“I believe mammon is the deity whom we all more or less adore,” observed the Earl of Warrington, gallantly taking up the tone of chit-chat, rather than formality, which Lady Cecilia endeavoured to infuse into the conversation: then, as he received the letter from her hand, he said, “May I b
e permitted to read it?”
“Oh, certainly, my lord: and, if you have any curiosity in the matter, you are welcome to retain it,” answered Lady Cecilia.
“With your leave, I will do so,” said the earl.
“And now that I have replied to all your lordship’s queries,” continued Lady Cecilia, “may I ask one in my turn?”
The earl bowed, and smiled.
“Who was the indiscreet eave’s-dropper or tale-bearer that gave your lordship the hint concerning this business?” asked the baronet’s wife.
“Methinks that your ladyship has been at no pains to conceal the affair,” said the earl: “and what hundreds have talked about cannot well be charged against an individual tale-bearer.”
“Nay, my lord, I mentioned it but to two persons,” exclaimed Cecilia. “The first was to Sir Rupert Harborough—in a moment of pique; and the other was to—a—a—particular friend——”
“I am not indiscreet enough to ask for names,” interrupted the earl, rising; and he hastened to take his leave, ere Lady Cecilia could reiterate her question relative to the person who had communicated to him the fact of the intercepted thousand pounds.
It was now nearly three o’clock; and Lady Cecilia again composed herself to receive Captain Fitzhardinge.
Punctual to the hour, the officer was introduced into the drawing-room.
But his manner, instead of being all love and tenderness, was simply polite and friendly.
“Fitzhardinge,” said the lady, “I perceive that you have allowed yourself to be prejudiced against me.”
The Mysteries of London Volume 1 Page 127