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

by Jane Rubino

  It was at this moment that Lady Martin bustled from the shop, amid bows and smiles from the shop owner, which signified that she had made a very costly purchase. She greeted Manwaring and they exchanged the usual civilities, which resolved that the weather was fine, the roads were well dried up, and that it was a very great coincidence to find each other in the same part of the city.

  She then congratulated him upon Maria’s engagement. “I am certain that everyone will rejoice in their good fortune and that they are most certainly equals in everything that contributes to happiness.”

  “I daresay there will be one party who will not be happy to have his uncle married,” said he with a knowing smile, and with a bow he bade the ladies good morning.

  “What can he mean?” inquired Lady Martin of her niece. “‘Not be happy to have his uncle married’? Surely Mr. Reginald deCourcy will not begrudge his uncle any happiness.”

  “I do not think that Mr. Manwaring was speaking of Reginald deCourcy, Aunt. I think that he must mean Charles.”

  “Oh, I had not thought of that. I suppose Charles Vernon is also a nephew in a manner of speaking—and yet why would he care whether or not his wife’s uncle marries?”

  “After Reginald deCourcy, his uncle is next to the entail, before it passes to the female line—and it is not unlike Charles to think first in terms of advantage to himself.”

  “Yes, but to anticipate something so improbable as getting his hands on the deCourcy property! It is a very grasping and selfish manner of looking at things. How I should like to see Churchill Manor restored to a son of yours! James tells me that it has got run down, and it is not seven months since dear Frederick has gone! I would be very happy to give up the prospect of a namesake to have you get back all that you are due.”

  “I do not think there is any prospect of getting it all back, Aunt,” Lady Vernon remarked with a sigh.

  “Why, what do you mean?” demanded Lady Martin with a very penetrating look. “You must not be inscrutable and you know that I do not like to be kept in the dark about anything save for how James spends his time and money when he is out of my sight—the less I know about that, the better.”

  Lady Vernon, with some hesitation, unburdened herself to her aunt regarding her situation, explaining the particulars of her husband’s will and repeating her conversation with Charles in which he had made it clear that her house in London and her modest income were all that she had a right to claim. “I beg you, Aunt, do not judge poor Frederick too harshly.”

  “Aye, poor man. He was so content with the present. Too many men think that tomorrow will always be soon enough to provide for their wives and daughters.”

  “I must take some share of the blame. I never addressed Frederick when I might have.”

  “You did not wish to press your husband when his health was in a precarious state. But Frederick’s wishes for you and Frederica must have been very clear—no man of honor could dispute it. I have never liked Charles Vernon, but I did not think him lost to all obligation to his family. Oh, if I were but a man, I would call him out in an instant!”

  “I beg you, Aunt, you must say nothing to James.”

  Lady Martin nodded sagely. “Yes, yes. James is very slow to mind an insult to himself, but he will avenge an insult to family with no thought to the consequence. Yet what can be done? It is too much to hope that Vernon is a miserly sort and has spent nothing! To think of him running through your money at the card tables! Why, I recall how Admiral Harvey lost a hundred thousand pounds in an evening! It will be another two months before you are confined—even if you should have a son, there may not be a shilling left.” Then perceiving how the subject gave her niece pain, she attempted something like consolation. “There must be some comfort in the expectation that Reginald deCourcy will ask for nothing when he applies to you for Frederica, and so I think our best effort now must be directed toward that. There is nothing like a ball to bring about a proposal of marriage—I daresay I received three proposals the morning after Lord Murray’s ball. Let us run over to the warehouses. A nice white embroidered silk gauze over satin—we must do nothing by halves.”

  chapter fifty-two

  Mr. Vernon to Mrs. Vernon

  Bond Street, London

  My dear wife,

  If I have not been a very regular correspondent, it is because I must suppose that anything of note has already been communicated by Reginald, whose range of acquaintance affords him society and engagements more extensive and varied than my own—even those invitations that come to a gentleman in my profession must often be declined as my modest rooms put it out of my power to reciprocate in the same style. I often think it a great pity that your parents had never thought it prudent to take a house in town, if not for their own pleasure, then for the pleasure and convenience of Reginald and ourselves. Even if I were to leave the banking house (as it is no longer necessary for me to have an occupation), my new situation must require that part of the year be spent in town. To do otherwise would be to deprive our children of the society from which the very best matches will proceed. How such an establishment is to be managed must wait upon a better understanding of how far the income of Churchill Manor will allow it—and yet it would be a great pity not to have an establishment sooner.

  I am very glad to hear that my father-in-law is in improved health, and it occurs to me that if he is fit enough to travel, he may well wish to consult with one of the superior physicians in town. There are several very fine houses to let, and I am certain that I could find one that would suit Sir Reginald in every way. I know that my uncle goes to Parklands very soon to fetch your two young visitors back to London, and I think very little persuasion on your part will be wanted to have your father return with them. Lady deCourcy, I know, does not like London and will wish to continue with you and the children at Parklands—you may both be assured that if Sir Reginald does come to town, I will be very happy to attend him in any way he likes.

  I think that our Uncle deCourcy would also like to have his brother in town for a reason that will come as a very great surprise to you—here is a bit of news! It is being said that he has come to an understanding with Lady Martin! I have this from Mrs. Johnson—I dined with the Carrs two nights ago and she was of the party—and it was declared to be a settled thing that our uncle is to marry. As this is news that cannot be withheld indefinitely from his family, I believe that Mr. deCourcy means to surprise you all with the news when he comes to Kent—you may have the advantage of him now, as I now know that we are both of the opinion that such surprises are very disagreeable things. Indeed, this news would be a most unpleasant surprise if it were to have an injurious effect upon our own fortunes—the deCourcy family can only benefit, however, as it is said that Lady Martin has something in her own right, which, if it does not come to a husband, would likely be settled upon Lady Vernon or her daughter. Indeed, the house in town that Lady Vernon now occupies was settled upon her by Lady Martin, thus putting it out of Sir Frederick’s power to direct that all of his property pass to his heir (which, I am certain, would have been his wish). Indeed, I think it is Lady Vernon who could do well with a comfortable set of rooms more easily than I, as she does not give any parties or dinners and leaves it entirely to her aunt to repay all of their calls.

  I have, on occasion, stopped at Portland Place, but spoken only to Lady Martin, who said that Lady Vernon was unwell and could not receive visitors. I have heard that she is visited very regularly by a prominent physician, and, my dear wife, though I would not indulge your hopes prematurely, who is to say what may come of that? The influenza is not nearly so widespread as it is rumored—nobody of consequence has died of it—but if she were to be the first, we can hope for no better outcome of her inevitable marriage to Reginald, as it might leave him in possession of the Portland Place residence yet without the encumbrance of such a wife. The loss would, of course, take its toll upon such a sensitive nature as Reginald’s and likely keep him from ever marrying im
prudently again. I must write no more, for to do so would unreasonably excite our hopes by fixing them upon an event that may not come to pass.

  Of Reginald, I can write very little. In town our obligations and associates take us into very different circles. I see him occasionally at White’s.

  I have taken your rings to Rundell’s, and the stones have all been reset as you have directed.

  Your devoted husband,

  Charles Vernon

  Catherine Vernon read this letter more certain than ever of her husband’s solicitous and accommodating nature. To think of Sir Reginald’s health, to offer to attend to him in town, and even to offer her the hope that the wretchedness of Reginald’s union with Lady Vernon might be short-lived, exceeded all of her former notions of her husband’s benevolence.

  She was very surprised, however, to hear that her Uncle deCourcy might think of marrying at so comfortable and settled a stage of his life, a feeling that was shared by Lady deCourcy, to whom she read her letter.

  “I am quite shocked,” she declared. “There were one or two very eligible young ladies whom he might have married, though I do not think that Elinor Metcalfe was ever among them. Well, I cannot blame your uncle. If an opportunity to increase his wealth should come his way, it is his duty to take it, for the sake of you and Reginald, who inherit his money and property when he goes. Her motives are more incomprehensible to me, for being so comfortable a widow, what reason can she have to marry again? Could she be so fond of your uncle that she would sacrifice every worldly advantage to feeling? Your father will be quite shocked—I daresay it will set him back a great deal. He does not bear anything like a surprise as well as you and I do.”

  Lady deCourcy was very soon called upon to suffer a surprise, however, when, from her dressing-room window, she saw her son alight from Lewis deCourcy’s carriage. She ran straightaway to Catherine’s apartments, crying out, “Reginald is come! What can have compelled him to come away from town with his uncle? Can it be that he and Lady Vernon have parted? It is too much to hope for! I must go down directly—you must hurry and dress. Miss Vernon is somewhere about the grounds with your father! Call Miss Manwaring to help with the children.”

  She then ran downstairs and out the door to meet the two gentlemen. “My dear boy! You have come back again! Oh, how will your father bear the pleasure of seeing you home again so soon! I fear it will send him back to his bed! But how long do you stay—you must not hurry back to town.”

  “I am afraid that we stay only a very short time, Mother. We are charged to bring Miss Vernon and Miss Manwaring back to town.” He then inquired after Sir Reginald and was told that he was somewhere on the grounds with Miss Vernon, whereupon Reginald walked out to find them while Lady deCourcy hurried back upstairs to Catherine.

  “How does Reginald appear?” inquired Catherine. “How are his spirits? Is he very low? Can Lady Vernon’s spell over him be broken?”

  “It is almost too much to hope for—and yet there was no need for him to accompany your uncle unless he wished to get away from London. Your uncle’s prudent decision to marry Lady Martin must have awakened Reginald to the necessity of choosing dispassionately and with regard to his family—perhaps I may write to my dear sister Hamilton that all is not lost.”

  Reginald, meanwhile, had been directed by the groundskeepers toward the summerhouse. There he spied his father and Miss Vernon examining some of the water plants upon one of the ornamental ponds. He was delighted to see his father in such improved health, for his color was robust and when he spoke his voice was clear and strong.

  The elder gentleman was attending to Miss Vernon as she pronounced one of the plants to be a water hawthorn, “as there are very few pond plants that will show any bloom this early—the scent of vanilla, too, pronounces it most certainly to be water hawthorn.”

  Sir Reginald began to inquire whether the plant was known to have any curative properties when he spied his son. He greeted him warmly and said, “I trust that your journey was easy and that I will find my brother well.”

  “In health and in spirit, I have never seen him better,” replied Reginald. “And,” he added, addressing Miss Vernon with a knowing smile, “I hope the same may be said for your friend, Miss Manwaring?”

  “I think that the very same may be said for her, sir.”

  Mr. deCourcy then told Miss Vernon that he had seen her mother and aunt only the day before and was gratified to hear his father inquire, “I hope that you left them both in very good health—and I hope that you, Miss Vernon, will convey my thanks to them for giving up your company these four weeks so that you might study the curiosities of Kent.”

  They found the rest of the party in the sitting room, and for half an hour Lady deCourcy kept them from anything like conversation by declaring again and again that the month had gone by very fast and that if the young ladies were of a mind to stay another fortnight, they would not at all be in the way. “Lady Vernon can certainly spare her daughter, and Miss Manwaring has only her brother and Mrs. Manwaring in town—and sisters and brothers are more often apart unless some unfortunate circumstance of economy should compel them to live together.”

  “I cannot say whether you are right in the general sense,” replied Reginald with a smile, “but I think that in this particular case, we must yield to Mr. Manwaring’s affection for his sister and Lady Vernon’s for her daughter. In any case, when there is to be such a private ball in London as Sir James Martin means to give, I cannot think that even Miss Vernon’s delight in the curiosities of Kent would have her prefer the country over town.”

  Miss Vernon’s blush was understood only by Reginald; Lady deCourcy supposed that it was a mark of chagrin at the mention of Sir James Martin, and she declared that Miss Vernon was of an age when the loss of one ball was of no consequence. “If she should stay another month, she may accompany Catherine to town, as there are some small errands and purchases that I wish her to make, and if at the end of that, Miss Vernon does not like to be left in town, she may come with me to my sister Hamilton’s at Gisbourne—I am certain that she would find it very picturesque. Indeed, the parsonage is one of the prettiest cottages in all of England, do you not think so, Reginald?”

  “I think that everybody will always think cottages to be pretty and charming, save for those who are compelled to live in them.”

  “Nonsense,” declared Catherine. “I am very sorry that I have been compelled to leave Parklands Cottage—though it is so spacious and well appointed that it is an affront to call it a cottage at all—and Kent is much more to my liking than Sussex.”

  Sir Reginald saw a pained look pass over Miss Vernon’s countenance. “I must think that it is your fondness for your mother and me that influences your attachment, Catherine, and Miss Vernon can feel no less for Churchill Manor. Affection will always make a castle even of a cottage. But even if Gisbourne’s parsonage were a palace, I do not think that Miss Vernon can put off her return to London, as I understand that the ball Sir James Martin gives is in her honor.”

  “And it is an honor that is not undeserved,” added Lewis deCourcy.

  Lady deCourcy and her daughter said no more, and soon afterward the party broke up to allow the gentlemen to rest and refresh themselves after their journey and the young ladies to attend to packing their belongings for the return to London.

  chapter fifty-three

  Sir Reginald repaired to his son’s apartments and asked his brother to join them. “I think, brother, that I may be frank with you. I have laid my misgivings before Reginald and your long-standing acquaintance with Lady Vernon must make you a party to them. Many things that Miss Vernon has said—but more particularly what she has not said—have made me uncomfortable with Charles’s manner of dealing with her and Lady Vernon after Sir Frederick’s death.”

  Lewis deCourcy looked very grave and gave a brief account of his interview with Lady Vernon on the subject when she had stopped at Bath. “Charles may not have done wrong in doing le
ss than was stipulated by Sir Frederick’s will—I am only surprised that he has not done more. I know that the terms of the will were such as made sense at the time it was drawn, and indeed there is some merit in keeping fortune and property together.”

  “Yes,” agreed Sir Reginald. “I would be remiss if I did not leave a good portion of money with Parklands, as I wish always for Reginald to keep it in proper style. But if the residue should be insufficient for Lady deCourcy’s comfort, I know that you, Reginald, would need no written document to compel you to do right.”

  “I would not wish to remove any advantage from my niece and her children,” said Lewis deCourcy, “but I have often thought that it was a great pity that Sir Frederick and Lady Vernon did not have a son. If only Miss Vernon had been a boy—”

  “I am sure that my son cannot agree with you there,” said Sir Reginald, smiling. “Charles has written to Catherine and suggested that I come to town for the benefit of a London practitioner, which I am inclined to do.”

  “That cannot be necessary, brother. I have not seen you in such excellent health for some time.”

  “For that, I credit Miss Vernon. Indeed, I do not think that I have ever been less in need of doctoring than in this past month. Charles’s invitation is given only with the object of securing a more comfortable situation at my expense—but he does not anticipate the price I mean to exact for his convenience.”

  chapter fifty-four

  The party did not reassemble again until dinner, and Sir Reginald immediately announced his intention of accompanying his son and brother to town.

  Lady deCourcy endeavored to express something like concern and protest—“You are not in health to stand the journey, I think” and “There is talk of the influenza in London”—but after one or two more attempts, she decided that having Sir Reginald go to town would entail no difficulty or sacrifice on her own part, and that her time with Catherine might be even more pleasant when free of those inescapable attentions one is obliged to direct toward one’s husband.