Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works

by Charlotte Smith

  ‘So!’ cried her Ladyship, ‘my son has absented himself! Upon my word, Miss What-d’ye-call-it, (for Mowbray I don’t allow that your name is) you have a great deal to answer for. Pray what amends can you ever hope to make to my Lord, and me, for the trouble you have been the cause of?’

  ‘I sincerely lament it, Madam,’ answered Emmeline, forcing herself to speak; ‘and do assure you it has been on my part involuntary.’

  ‘Oh, no doubt on’t. Your wonderful beauty is the fatal cause. You have used no art, I dare say; no pretty finesse, learned from novels, to inveigle a silly boy to his undoing.’

  ‘If I had been disposed, Madam, to take advantage of Mr. Delamere’s unhappy partiality for me—’

  ‘Oh dear! What you was coy? You knew your subject, no doubt, and now make a merit of what was merely a piece of art. I detest such demure hypocrites! Tell me, — why, if you are not disposed to take advantage of Mr. Delamere’s folly, you do not accept the noble offer made you by this banker, or whatever he is, that my Lord says is worth above an hundred thousand pounds? The reason is evident. A little obscure creature, bred on the Welch mountains, and who was born nobody knows how, does not so easily refuse a man of fortune unless she has some other views. You would like a handsome young man with a title! Yes! you would like to hide your own obscurity in the brilliant pedigree of one of the first families in Europe. But know, presumptuous girl, that the whole house shall perish ere it shall thus be contaminated — know’ —— She grew inarticulate with passion; pride and malignity seemed to choak her; and she stopped, as if to recover breath to give vent to her rage.

  Miss Delamere took the opportunity to speak —

  ‘Indeed, child,’ said she, ‘it is hurting yourself extremely; and I am really sorry you should be so deceived. My brother can never marry you; and as Lord Montreville has brought you up, under the notion of your belonging to a part of his family, we are really interested, my mother and I, in your not going into a bad course of life. If you do not marry this rich city-man, what do you think is to become of you?’

  ‘My Lord Montreville has been so good as to assure me,’ said Emmeline — her words were so faint, that they died away upon her lips.

  ‘What does she say, Fanny?’ asked Lady Montreville.

  ‘Something of my father’s having assured her, Madam.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself, girl,’ resumed her Ladyship, ‘don’t deceive yourself. If you refuse to marry this man who offers to take you, not one shilling shall you ever receive from this family; determine therefore at once; send to the person in question; let him come here, and let an agreement for a settlement be directly signed between Lord Montreville and him. Lord Montreville will in that case give you a fortune. I will hear no objection! I will have the affair closed this morning! I will have it so!’

  Lady Montreville, accustomed to undisputed power in her own family, expected from every body an acquiescence as blind as she found from her tradesmen and servants, who endured her ill-humour and gave way to her caprices. But she forgot that Emmeline was equally unaccustomed to her commands, and free from the necessity of obeying them. The gentlest and mildest temper will revolt against insolence and oppression: and the cruelty and unfeminine insults she had received, concluded by this peremptory way of forcing her into a marriage from which her whole soul recoiled, at length restored to her some portion of that proper spirit and presence of mind which had been frightened from her. Conscious that she deserved none of these ungenerous insults, and feeling herself superior to her who could cruelly and wantonly inflict them, she regained her courage.

  ‘If your Ladyship has nothing more to say,’ said she, rising, ‘I shall have the honour to wish you a good morning; for I believe Mrs. Ashwood has been waiting for me some time.’

  ‘Don’t tell me of Mrs. Ashwood — but tell me where is my son? Where is Delamere?’

  ‘I know not,’ answered Emmeline. ‘I have already told my Lord Montreville that I am entirely ignorant.’

  ‘Nobody believes it!’ said Miss Delamere.

  ‘I am sorry for it,’ replied Emmeline, coolly. ‘If, however, I did know, it is not such treatment, Madam, that should compel me to give any information.’ She then opened the door and walked down stairs. A footman met her, whom she desired to enquire for Mrs. Ashwood’s carriage. Before the man could descend to obey her, a violent ringing was heard. The footman said it was his Lady’s bell, and ran up to answer it; while Emmeline still descending, heard somebody softly calling her. She looked up, and saw Augusta Delamere leaning over the bannisters; she put up her finger as if to prevent Emmeline’s speaking, threw her a letter, and immediately disappeared.

  The spirits of Emmeline were again greatly hurried by this transient view of her friend. She put the letter hastily into her pocket, and was got down into the hall, where she spoke to another footman to see for her carriage; but the man whom she had met on the stairs, now came to say his Lady must see her again. Emmeline answered that she had already made her friend wait, and must beg to be excused returning to her Ladyship this morning. The man however said, that he dared not disobey his Lady, nor call up the chariot.

  Emmeline, alarmed at the idea of being detained, advanced towards the door, told the porter (who had not heard this dialogue,) to open it, and walked resolutely into the street.

  The two footmen followed her to the door; but contented themselves with looking after her, without attempting to stop her.

  ‘She is pretty enough, however,’ said one to the other, ‘to excuse our young Lord.’

  ‘The devil’s in’t if she is not,’ answered the other.

  Emmeline heard this; and between vexation at their impertinence, and fear of their following her, she found her whole strength again forsake her.

  She walked on however towards Charles-Street, looking round for Mrs. Ashwood’s carriage, but could not see it. She was totally unacquainted with the streets, where she had never been on foot before; but recollected that she might get an hackney-coach, which was the more necessary, as snow was falling fast, and her muslin cloaths were already wet almost through.

  She was picking her way, still in some hopes of seeing the carriage, when an hackney-coach passed empty. Emmeline looked wishfully towards it. The man stopped, and asked if she wanted a coach? She answered yes, as eagerly as if she had been afraid of a disappointment; and hurrying into it, told the man to drive to Clapham.

  Just as he was mounting the box, another hack passed, and a young officer who was in it looked earnestly into that where Emmeline sat; then calling to his driver to stop, he leaped out, and Emmeline saw Fitz-Edward at the door of her coach.

  ‘Miss Mowbray!’ said he— ‘Is it possible! alone and in this equipage, in Berkley-Square! Where is Delamere?’

  Before Emmeline had time to answer him he had opened the coach door.

  ‘It snows too much,’ said he, ‘for a comfortable conference, unless you will give me leave to sit by you; where are you going to?’

  ‘To Clapham,’ answered Emmeline.

  ‘Oh! take me with you,’ said he. ‘I have a thousand things to say to you.’

  He gave her no time to refuse: but flinging half a crown to the man who had driven him, he got into the coach which she was in, and ordered the man to shut the door and go where he had been directed.

  Emmeline was vexed at this incident, as she was too uneasy to wish for the presence of any one, and impatient to open the letter in her pocket. But Fitz-Edward was not easily discouraged; and possessed, together with perfect good breeding, a fortunate sort of assurance with which nobody was ever long displeased.

  He enquired after Mrs. Stafford with a degree of interest for which Emmeline felt inclined to love him. She related all she knew of her; and her eyes reassumed their lustre, while she told him how soon she was likely to see her. He then renewed his questions about Delamere.

  Emmeline could not dissemble; and indeed saw in this case no reason why she should. She therefore told him in
genuously all that had happened since they met at Swansea; most of which he already knew from Delamere. He watched her looks however while she was speaking; and by her blushes, her manner, and the softness of her eyes, he thought he saw evidently enough that Delamere was no longer indifferent to her. Her indignation at the treatment she had just received from his mother and sister, dyed her cheeks with crimson while she related it; but when she returned to speak of Delamere, she forgot her anger, and seemed to feel only pity and tenderness.

  Fitz-Edward, a most perfect judge of female hearts, made his observations on all this, with which he knew he should most effectually gratify his friend; and in his insinuating way, he said all he could think of to encrease her compassion for her lover, and inflame her resentment against those who impeded a union, which he was pretty sure Emmeline now wished for, as well as Delamere.

  CHAPTER III

  When they arrived at Clapham, Emmeline found Mrs. Ashwood was not yet returned. Fitz-Edward entreated her to sing to him; and either was, or pretended to be, in raptures at her improvement since they had met in the summer.

  About half an hour after four, Mrs. Ashwood came in; and throwing open the parlour door, asked Emmeline, in no very sweet accent, ‘Why she had given her the trouble to go in her carriage to Berkley-Square, if she intended going home by any other conveyance?’

  Mrs. Ashwood was subject to causeless fits of ill-humour, to which Emmeline was a good deal accustomed; and concluding she was now seized with some sudden discomposure of temper, mildly answered, ‘That she supposed there had been a mistake; for that the chariot did not come for her at the appointed time.’

  ‘Mistake!’ replied the other lady, sharply; ‘I don’t know as to mistake; but if you had chosen it, you might have staid dinner with Lady Montreville.’

  Emmeline, without seeming to attend to the asperity of the address, desired to introduce Colonel Fitz-Edward.

  As this short dialogue had passed without Mrs. Ashwood’s having entered the room, she had not seen the stranger, who now advanced towards her.

  The title of Colonel, added to his military air and handsome figure, seemed to gain at once her favourable opinion; and her countenance losing the unpleasing expression of ill-temper, immediately put on its best smile, and an affectation of softness and complacency with which she frequently adorned it.

  She seemed to consider the handsome young soldier as a conquest worthy all her ambition; and finding he was the most intimate friend of Delamere, had no apprehension that his admiration would be diverted by the youth and attractions of Emmeline.

  Fitz-Edward presently understood her character; and with admirable adroitness acted the part of a man afraid of being too much charmed. He cast an arch look at Emmeline; then made to the Lady of the house some compliments so extravagant, that only the weakest vanity could prevent her seeing its ridicule. But Fitz-Edward, who found in a moment that nothing was too gross to be believed, fearlessly repeated the dose; and before dinner came in, she was in the best humour imaginable, and pressed him so earnestly to partake of it, that, after an apology for sitting down in his morning dishabille, he consented.

  The same unlimited flattery was continued during dinner by Fitz-Edward, and received by the lady with the same avidity; and Emmeline, tho’ half-angry with him for the pleasure he seemed to take in making Mrs. Ashwood absurd, could not help being amused with the scene.

  Before their repast ended, she was so much charmed with her new acquaintance, and so much longed to shew him to her female friends, and her other admirers, that she could not forbear pressing him to stay to a card party, which she was to have in the evening.

  He loved the ridiculous; and, influenced by a vanity as silly as that he delighted to expose, he took pleasure in shewing how extremely absurd he could make women appear, who were not on other occasions void of understanding. Tho’ he had really business with Lord Montreville, who had left several messages at his lodgings desiring to see him, and was going thither when Emmeline met him, yet he accepted Mrs. Ashwood’s invitation, on condition of being allowed to go home to dress.

  He was no sooner gone than she flew to her toilet, and Emmeline to a second perusal of the letter she had received from Augusta Delamere.

  ‘I am forbidden to see you, my dearest Emmeline; and perhaps may not have an opportunity of giving you this. My heart bleeds for you, my sweet friend. I fear my father will be prevailed upon wholly to abandon you. They are all inventing schemes to force you into a marriage with that odd-looking old Rochely. He has been here once or twice, and closetted with my father; and part of the scheme of to-day is, to persuade you to dine here with him. But I am almost sure you will not stay; for unless my mother can command herself more before you than she does when she is talking about you, I think you will be frightened away. I am certain, my dear Emmeline, from what I have heard, tho’ they say but little before me, that no endeavours will be omitted to drive you to marry Rochely; and that they will persecute you every way, both by persuasions, and by distressing you. But be assured, that while Augusta Delamere has any thing, you shall share it. Indeed I love you, not only as if you were my sister, but, I think, better. Ah! why are there such unhappy impediments to your being really so? At present I foresee nothing but perplexity; and have no dependance but on you. I know you will act as you ought to do; and that you will at last prevail with Delamere to act right too. Whoever loves you, cannot long persist in doing ill; and surely it is very ill done, and very cruel, for Delamere to make us all so unhappy. I need not tell you to arm yourself with fortitude against the attacks that will be made upon you. You have more fortitude and resolution than I have. Situated as you have been, I know not what I should have done; but I fear it would not have been so worthy of praise as the noble and disinterested part you have acted; which, tho’ unaccompanied with the thousand amiable qualities of heart and understanding you possess, would ever command the esteem and admiration of your faithful and affectionate

  Augusta Delamere.’

  ‘Do not write to me till you hear from me again; as I should incur great displeasure if known to correspond with you.

  A. D.’

  Charmed as Emmeline was by the tender solicitude and affectionate simplicity of her beloved friend, the pleasure this letter gave her was very much abated by learning that the domestic infelicity of Lord Montreville’s family fell particularly heavy on her. She now recollected what Mrs. Ashwood had said on her first entrance into the room, when she returned home; and concluded from thence that she had seen Lady Montreville, tho’ her whole attention was so immediately engrossed by the Colonel, that she had no more named it. She therefore grew anxious to hear what had been said; and her own toilet being very soon over, she sent to desire admittance to that of Mrs. Ashwood; on receiving which, she attended her, and begged to know whether she had seen Lady Montreville, and what had passed?

  Mrs. Ashwood was in so happy a disposition, that she hesitated not to oblige her; and while she finished the important business of accommodating a pile of black feathers, jet and crape, upon her head, ‘the mockery of woe’ which she did not even affect to feel, she gave Emmeline the following account, interlarded with directions to her woman.

  ‘Why, my dear, you must know that when I got to Gainsborough’s [more to the left] he had unluckily a frightful old judge, or a bishop, or some tedious old man with him, and I was forced to wait: I cannot tell what possessed me, but I entirely forgot that I was to send the chariot back for you. So the chariot [put it a little forwarder] staid. I thought the tiresome man, whoever he was, would never have gone; however he went at last [raise the lower curl] and then I sot. You cannot think how much the likeness is improved! So when I had done [give me the scraper; here is some powder on my eye-brow] I went away, thinking to call on you; but as I went by Butler’s, I remembered that I wanted some pearl-coloured twist to finish the purse I am doing for Hanbury. I was almost an hour matching it. Well, then I thought as I was so near Frivolité’s door, I might as wel
l call and see whether she had put the trimming on the white bombazeen, as you know we agreed would be most the thing. There were a thousand people in the house; you know there is never any possibility of getting out of that creature’s room under an hour.’ [Oh! heaven! thought Emmeline, nor is there any end to the importance you affix to trifles which interest nobody else.] ‘So, however, at last I got to Berkley-Square, and stopped at the door. The man at the door said you was gone. I thought that very odd, and desired another servant go up and see, for I concluded it was some mistake. After a moment or two, the footman came down again, and said if I was the Lady Miss Mowbray lived with, his Lady desired I would walk up. Upon my word it is a noble house! When I got into the room, there was Lady Montreville and her daughters. Her Ladyship was extremely polite, indeed; and after some discourse, “Mrs. Ashwood,” said she, “you know Miss Mowbray’s situation: I assure you I sent for her to-day with no other view in the world but for her own good, and you know, [dear me! here is a pimple on my chin that is quite hideous; give me a patch.] you know that for her to refuse Mr. Rochely is being absolutely blind to her own interest; because you must suppose, Mrs. Ashwood, that she is only deceiving herself when she entertains any thoughts of my son; for that is a thing that never can happen, nor ever shall happen; and besides, to give my Lord and me all this trouble, is a very ungrateful return to us for having brought her up, and many other obligations she has received at our hands; and will be the ruin of herself; and the greatest perverseness in the world. You, Mrs. Ashwood, are, I hear, a very sensible woman [where is the rouge box?] and I dare say, now you know how agreeable it would be to me and my Lord to have Miss Emmeline come to her senses about Mr. Rochely, you will do your endeavours to persuade her to act reasonably; and then, tho’ she has behaved very disrespectful and very ill, which is only to be forgiven on account of her knowing no better, I shall countenance her, and so will my Lord.” This was, as near as I remember, Emmeline, what my Lady said to me. You know [the milk of roses is almost out] you know I could not refuse to tell her I would certainly talk to you. I was surprised to find her Ladyship so obliging and affable, as you had told me she is reckoned so very proud. She ordered her gentleman to give me a ticket for a rout and a supper her Ladyship gives on Tuesday three weeks; and she said, that as she did not doubt but that you would discover your own interest by that time, I should take one for you. Look you, here it is.’