Lady Vernon and Her Daughter: A Novel of Jane Austen's Lady Susan

by Jane Rubino

  Sir Reginald found Miss Vernon very different from the wretch edly educated young woman described in his daughter’s letters to his wife. It was only Miss Vernon’s natural diffidence and a disinclination toward show that prevented her accomplishments from being more generally known. Her nature was not so inscrutable, however, as to conceal a certain look of pensive admiration whenever Reginald’s name was spoken, and Sir Reginald began to think that it would be no hardship at all to regard her as a daughter.

  He began to want to know more of her history, and as a means of encouraging her to speak, he would direct her attention to some feature of the grounds and inquire whether there was any similarity to Churchill Manor.

  “It is more like Vernon Castle than Churchill Manor,” Miss Vernon would reply, and by inviting her to describe the similarities of the two estates, he obtained a description of the Staffordshire property and her own understanding (related with gentle candor that was careful to lay no blame upon her father) of how it had been lost.

  “I am very sorry, for your own sake,” said he, “as the property might have been settled on you and the loss of your home in Sussex would have been less.”

  “There are some losses that can never be lessened—and there is no advantage to myself that can compensate me for the loss of a most beloved parent.”

  He was touched by the sincerity of expression; he did not believe that his own passing would produce such a response from Catherine. “I do not speak of the grief that the death of an excellent husband and father, friend and landlord, must produce, but of the material alteration in your circumstances.”

  “Very few of my sex are so independent that they will never experience a material alteration in their fortunes. We are often impoverished when we lose a parent and sometimes enriched when we acquire a husband. One plight is certain to bring misery and the other is no assurance of happiness.”

  “An advantageous match does not ensure happiness, it is true,” observed Sir Reginald, “and yet happiness must have something to live upon.”

  “Yes, sir, but I am of the opinion that only women who are left with nothing to live upon can be so desperate as to put that something before all other considerations.”

  “Then it is fortunate that you are not left desperate,” said he with a smile. “Sir Frederick was always spoken of as the most affectionate and generous of fathers, and Catherine has often written to us of Charles’s generosity toward your mother and yourself. I confess that I have not always had confidence in my son-in-law’s better nature, but perhaps it is that he has never had occasion to put it into practice.”

  “I have always found nature to be remarkably consistent,” replied Frederica gravely.

  The old gentleman detected Miss Vernon’s uneasiness, and after one or two attempts to encourage her to say something of her uncle’s conduct toward herself and Lady Vernon, he abandoned the subject and asked instead how far a spray of lemon water and clove oil would ward off beetles and ants.

  When they parted in the hallway, however, Sir Reginald went immediately to his chamber and sat down to write a letter to his son.

  Sir Reginald deCourcy to MR. deCourcy

  Parklands Manor, Kent

  My dear Reginald,

  You know that prevarication is not in my nature, and I cannot begin a subject with all of the prelude and nicety that often serves only to give anxiety to the object. I must therefore lay my concerns before you without vacillation.

  At the time of your sister’s marriage, there appeared no objection to Mr. Vernon other than some anxiety for the difference in age, as Catherine was three and twenty and Mr. Vernon a dozen or more years older. The disparity in itself was not greater than is often met with, and indeed in temperament they did appear to suit—yet for a gentleman who is a second son to come to the age of five and thirty with no profession and no residence beyond his set of rooms in town displayed a character wanting in proper ambition, one that looked entirely to a fortunate marriage or to the acquisition of the Vernon entail to provide for his comfort.

  That your sister’s fortune was a significant inducement for him to marry her, I did not doubt; that efforts were made to shield me from the many rumors of his extravagance, I also cannot gainsay, but it was not until after their marriage that I heard anything of wretched companions and wasteful habits, and I continued to hope that the influence of a wife and family would prevail over temptation, and that my good brother’s giving Charles a profession would instill in him a sense of responsibility.

  I knew very little of the relationship between Charles and his elder brother, and most of that came from Charles himself, as Catherine had no wish to know them—this may have been influenced by the jealousy a woman will feel when she is not a first choice (for I had heard that Charles had sought the hand of his sister-in-law). I had also heard (though I did not know how to credit it at the time) that Charles had enticed his brother into the speculation that had compelled Sir Frederick to sell Vernon Castle in order to reconcile his debts.

  In forwarding an acquaintance with Miss Vernon, I have observed that any discussion of Vernon Castle or, more particularly, her uncle is steadily avoided and with an aversion for the latter subject that is very unusual from one who is, in all other respects, genteel, prudent, and self-possessed.

  It would grieve me exceedingly to think that Charles may have used Lady Vernon and her daughter ill in any way, and yet it would grieve me more to know that such was the case and I had done nothing to repair it. Your Uncle deCourcy may be of some service to you in this—he was acquainted not only with Sir Frederick Vernon but with Lady Vernon’s father.

  I will say in closing that I like Miss Vernon very much, but I am compelled to close my letter—there is no room to express the extent of my regard for her. She and Miss Manwaring talk of their visit ending inside a fortnight, and my brother writes to say that he means to travel to Parklands in order to bring them to town himself.

  I am, etc.,

  Reginald deCourcy

  chapter fifty

  REGINALD HAD ALWAYS BEEN A FAITHFUL CORRESPONDENT to both of his parents; letters from Parklands, however, came more frequently from his mother than from his father. Upon receiving word from her son, Lady deCourcy would immediately take up her pen, and having hurried her letter to the post, she would recall one or two more words of advice or caution and dispatch a second or even third reply; her husband, on the other hand, wrote only when a particular item of news, or a matter of grave urgency, warranted.

  Reginald, therefore, opened his father’s letter with some apprehension and read it so eagerly that he scarcely took all of it in on the first perusal. Indeed, it was the closing paragraph that impressed him—there is no room to express the extent of my regard for her. He read it over many times before he returned his attention to the rest of the letter.

  He was struck by his father’s words; at the time of Catherine’s marriage, Reginald had supposed that his father’s consent to the union had implied his approval. The apprehension expressed in his father’s letter recalled conversations and incidents from Reginald’s visit to Churchill that had not perturbed him individually but that now collected into a troublesome whole.

  He immediately took up his pen to write to his father.

  Mr. deCourcy to Sir Reginald deCourcy

  Wimpole Street, London

  My dear Sir,

  I have this moment received your letter. I must confess that it compels me to look back upon incidents that (as they were intermingled with so many pleasant interludes) I can only view as ominous in light of your inquiry. These I will lay before you.

  I had not been long in Sussex when I learned that my friendship with Lady Vernon had given rise to a rumor that I meant to make her an offer of marriage and also that her daughter was on the verge of an engagement to her cousin, Sir James Martin. Such rumors are not uncommon—the world has little patience for people who do not marry when they are free to do so—and yet they often spoke of poverty as L
ady Vernon’s motive for wishing an advantageous union for herself and her daughter. That the survivors of Sir Frederick Vernon should be distressed for money did not seem likely, and yet more than once did Catherine suggest that Lady Vernon had come to Sussex on purpose to beg Charles for his financial assistance and that Miss Vernon was being urged upon Sir James because Sir Frederick had left her with nothing. Of Sir Frederick’s will, I know nothing, yet however improbable were Lady Vernon’s designs, sir, I gradually became convinced that her distress was very real, and though she is in possession of a very handsome house in town, that was settled on her by Lady Martin. I cannot find that anything of significance was left to her by her husband.

  Several days after Miss Vernon’s arrival, Sir James Martin came to Churchill Manor. One evening at dinner he inquired after a portrait of Sir Frederick, which had hung in the gallery for many years beside those of Churchill’s previous masters, and it was revealed that Charles had ordered this portrait removed to one of the attics! Such an affront to his brother and his line! Lady Vernon must have felt the insult, and yet in all the time I was at Churchill, I never heard her utter a word of protest or reproach.

  There are other incidents that, while not rising to the level of reprehensible conduct, do not speak well for the master of an estate. There seemed a callousness in the dismissal of many old family retainers; the property is poorly maintained; and the neighbors and tenants, to whom my brother, as master, owes some attention and hospitality, are neglected as well.

  I wish, for my sister’s sake, that I could express a firm conviction that such lapses and omissions rise from my brother’s new and unfamiliar responsibilities as master of Churchill Manor; and yet, as my own circle of acquaintance has increased (for I was but seventeen at the time of Catherine’s marriage) and more of my time is spent among our mutual associates, I see how far his imprudence—his indiscretions—are known. I know that these have often embraced money matters, but can you believe—as you suggest in your letter—that my brother may have taken license with a trust that was meant to benefit Lady Vernon and her daughter? I wish, for the sake of Catherine and the children, that I could protest it at once. All I can say is that I do not know how such a thing can be easily proved and that any attempt at redress may only reveal that any fortune has been lost to my brother’s extravagance.

  For Lady Vernon’s sake, I wish that something material might be done, but for Miss Vernon I think that a want of fortune will be no obstacle to her happiness. She is such a superior young lady that no gentleman of discernment would seek anything but her person in applying for her hand.

  I am very happy to hear that she has secured your affection and your regard. Lady Vernon depends upon her returning to town in the early part of March, and I hope by that time you, sir, will part from her on such terms as will make you look favorably on the possibility of a more lasting connection.

  I am, etc.,

  R deC

  chapter fifty-one

  London proved to be less disagreeable than Lady Martin had feared, save for the necessity of leaving her cards at the houses of some connections whom she had not dropped, as their coming to London every season and her staying in Derbyshire had kept acquaintance at bay. She would read the newspapers or The Lady’s Magazine at the breakfast table and declare that there was no taste in politics nor sense in fashion. She was never without some kind of handiwork, and her fingers were so adept that they did not slow when her eyes wandered to the window and she exclaimed, “Only look at that muff that Miss Millbanke carries! I declare it goes to her knees!”—“Why, there is Mrs. Ferrars driving by, and both she and her pug in bottle-green velvet! I declare it suits the pup’s complexion better than her own!”—“There goes Mrs. Mapleton, as big as life, when I had every reason to suppose that she was dead!”

  The honor of being received by Lady Martin and the opportunity of getting a look at Lady Vernon had many of these curiosities calling at Portland Place and coming away with gossip that was as excessively delightful as it was inaccurate; Sir James Martin was such a regular visitor that his engagement to Miss Vernon must be very close to being made public, and Mr. Reginald deCourcy was likewise so frequently at Portland Place that his intention to marry Lady Vernon was a certainty. Even the visits of Mr. Lewis deCourcy were attributed by some to matrimonial design—was it not possible that his long friendship with Lady Martin had ripened into love? To be sure, his visits might have no other purpose than to advise Lady Vernon on how she might invest the very great legacy left to her by Sir Frederick, and yet it was more delightful to think that aunt, niece, and grand-niece might all be bound for the altar.

  By Dr. Driggs’s calculation, it would be another ten weeks before Lady Vernon’s confinement, and he did not object to her taking the air so long as she was neither compelled to sit in one attitude for more than an hour nor to climb in and out of the carriage too frequently, and provided the wind was not too brisk, nor the coach too warm, nor the air too wet, nor her shoes too thin. Lady Martin regarded all such decrees with patient disdain—some were too apt to forget that babies had come into the world long before anybody had thought to make a profession of writing receipts for dyspepsia and occasionally taking a pulse—but she was determined that nothing should be overlooked in providing for her niece.

  The spell of rain ended, and one particularly mild morning Lady Martin announced that she had given orders for her carriage. “We both want an airing, and there is no better way of avoiding callers than being elsewhere when they arrive. I have it in mind to go to Rundell’s to purchase a pair of nice bracelets for Frederica to wear to the ball. Ah, me! My first season, when I was sixteen, I went to fifty balls and an equal number of musical parties and concerts and picnics. So many lively young men, and yet”—she sighed—“I settled upon your uncle. But he was a very good man, for all his gravity.”

  Lady Martin had been so long from London that every change intrigued her. “How many more shops there are than when I was here last! Stop. I must see the ostrich plumes upon that bonnet!”—“Ah, just see those caricatures! Why, I daresay I know who that is without getting down to have a closer look!”

  They made their way to Ludgate Hill at last, and Lady Vernon elected to sit in the carriage while her aunt went in to give her order for the bracelets. The part of town was very near to where she had lived as a girl, and she was absorbed in looking round the street and indulging in some pleasing memories when a rap at the carriage door brought her back to the present.

  Lady Vernon was startled to see Manwaring standing beside the carriage, and pulling her lap robe higher upon her, she rolled down the glass to bid him good morning.

  “What an excellent piece of luck to meet with you here! I would have called upon you today for I have the most astonishing piece of news. I think you will like to have the advantage of Alicia Johnson—for once, you will be able to surprise her.”

  “It must be something very particular.”

  “It is, indeed. I have been applied to for Maria’s hand—can you believe my good fortune? To have her out for five seasons at least, and thinking that I should have her on my hands forever! And you will never guess who the gentleman is!”

  “I think it is Mr. Lewis deCourcy.”

  The look of dejection upon his face brought her very near to laughing.

  “Yes,” he said. “I confess that when the gentleman addressed me, I thought it was all a great joke! He was so very solemn! But he laid out his reasons for wishing to marry her very soundly, and what is more, he asks not a penny for her and will settle on her very handsomely. Of course, I gave my consent at once, though it is a very unequal match, but felicity in even the most equal matches is a matter of luck. And it will be a great comfort to me to have her so rich, for he is rolling in money and has never done more than purchase a very pretty house in Bath and some nice horses and carriages. And Maria asks for so little that they will not spend a quarter of what he brings in.”

  “I am very happy
to think that your sister will be so well settled.”

  “And may I say that I am equally happy for Miss Vernon? It will be a great relief to you when her engagement to Sir James is announced—once she and Maria are married, we will both be at liberty to do as we like.”

  Lady Vernon evaded this approach to familiarity by inquiring whether it was the business of Maria’s engagement that brought him into the city.

  “Yes, indeed. There is a very fine diamond brooch that our mother had entrusted to me for Maria and it needs to be properly cleaned. I saw no occasion to present it to her before this, and I daresay there were times when I gave some thought to changing it for paste!” He laughed. “And in this part of the city, and Rundell being as discreet as he is, I have no doubt that I might have got away with it!”

  “Save for those not infrequent pangs of conscience when your sister wore a brooch that your mother had entrusted to you and that you exchanged for paste.”

  “Yes,” he replied, “and yet, if I could be assured that they were very infrequent, and the intervals between excessively delightful, I think that I could bear the inconvenience.”

  “Your notion of conscience is a strange one! An inconvenience! And I suppose you would call it a blessing, then, to have no conscience at all?”

  “To be entirely without one? Oh, yes! For when conscience has not kept a fellow from doing wrong, it may yet awaken afterward and subject him forever to the fear of discovery. It is better to do without.”