'No, no; he does not, and if he did, would I listen?'
'No, don't, don't displease him on my account,' cried Mrs. Finch. 'Go and be happy with him; I am not worth caring for, or vexing yourself about!'
The tears stood on her burning cheeks, and Theodora eagerly replied, 'Have no fancies about me. Nothing shall ever make me give up my oldest friend. You ought to know me better than to think I would.'
'You are so unlike those I live with,' said Georgina sadly, as an excuse for the distrust. 'Oh, you don't know what I have gone through, or you would pity me. You are the only thing that has not failed me. There is Jane, with her smooth tongue and universal obligingness, she is the most selfish creature in existence--her heart would go into a nutshell! One grain of sympathy, and I would never have married. It was all her doing--she wanted luxuries! O Theodora, if I had but been near you!'
'Hush, Georgina, this is no talk for a wife,' said Theodora, severely.
'I thought you pitied me!'
'I do, indeed I do; but I cannot let you talk in that way.'
'I never do so: no one else would care to hear me.'
'Now listen to me, Georgina. You say you rely on me as you do on no one else; will you hear me tell you the only way to be happy yourself--'
'That is past,' she murmured.
'Or to stand well in the opinion of others! I am putting it on low grounds.'
'I know what you are going to say--Go and live in the country, and set up a charity-school.'
'I say no such thing. I only ask you to be cautious in your manners, to make Mr. Finch of more importance, and not to let yourself be followed by your cousin--'
Again Georgina burst into her 'thorn crackling' laugh. 'Poor Mark! I thought that was coming. People will treat him as if he was a dragon!'
'I know you mean no harm,' repeated Theodora; 'but it cannot be right to allow any occasion for observations.'
'Now, Theodora, hear me. I dare say Jane has been telling you some of her plausible stories, which do more harm than good, because no one knows which part to believe. There was some nonsense between Mark and me when we were young and happy--I confess that. Perhaps I thought he meant more than he did, and dwelt upon it as silly girls do, especially when they have nothing else to care for. Then came the discovery of all his debts and scrapes, poor fellow, and--I won't deny it--it half killed me, more especially when I found he had been attached to some low girl, and avowed that he had never seriously thought of me--he believed I understood it as all sport. I was very ill. I wish I had died. There was no more to be done but to hate him. My uncle and aunt Edward were horridly savage, chiefly because I hindered them from going to Italy; and Mrs. George Gardner thought I had been deluding Mark! Then Lady Fotheringham asked us, and--it was dull enough to be sure, and poor Pelham was always in the way-- but they were kind comfortable folks. Lady Fotheringham is a dear old dame, and I was in dull spirits just then, and rather liked to poke about with her, and get her to tell me about your brother and his Helen--'
'Why, Jane said you were dying of low spirits!'
'Well, so I was. I hated it excessively sometimes. Jane is not entirely false in that. The evenings were horrid, and Sundays beyond everything unbearable. I confess I was delighted to get away to Bath; but there--if Jane would but have helped me--I would, indeed I would, have been thankful to have gone back to Worthbourne, even if I had had to play at draughts with Pelham for the rest of my days. But Jane was resolved, and all my strength and spirit had been crushed out of me. She would not even let me write to you nor to Lady Fotheringham till it was too late.'
'Well, that is all past,' said Theodora, whose face had shown more sympathy than she thought it right to express in words. 'The point is, what is right now?'
And you see it is folly to say there is any harm or danger in my seeing Mark: he never had any attachment to me seven years ago, nor any other time, and whatever I felt for him had a thorough cure. I am not ashamed to say I am glad he should be here to give him a chance of marrying a fortune. That is the whole story. Are you satisfied?'
'Satisfied on what I never doubted, your own intentions, but no further. You ought to abstain from all appearance of evil.'
'I am not going to give my cousin up to please Lady Albury--no, nor all the Fotheringhams put together! You used to say you did not care for gossip.'
'No more I do, but I care for a proper appearance.'
'Very well--hush--here he comes!
HE was Mr. Gardner, and whether it was that Mrs. Finch was more guarded, or that her pleading influenced Theodora's judgment, nothing passed that could excite a suspicion that anything remained of the former feeling between the cousins. It was in truth exactly as Mrs. Finch said; for whatever were her faults, she was perfectly frank and sincere, clinging to truth, perhaps out of opposition to her sister. Mark was not a man capable of any genuine or strong affection; and as Theodora rightly perceived, the harm of Georgina's ways was not so much what regarded him, as in the love of dissipation, the unguarded forward manner with all gentlemen alike, and the reckless pursuit of excitement. There was a heart beneath, and warmth that might in time be worked upon by better things.
'It is a great pity that people will drop her,' she said to Violet. 'The more she is left to that stamp of society, the worse it is for her whole tone of mind.'
Violet agreed, pitied, and wished it could be helped; but whenever they met Mrs. Finch in company, saw it was not wonderful that people did not like her.
Mr. Gardner was, on the contrary, a general favourite. Every one called him good for nothing; but then, he was so very amusing! Violet could never find this out, shrank from his notice, and withdrew as much as possible from his neighbourhood; Emma Brandon generally adhering closely to her, so as to avoid one whom she viewed as a desperate designer on the Priory.
It was in parties that Violet chiefly saw Emma this spring. Theodora's presence in Cadogan-place frightened her away; and, besides, her mornings were occupied by Miss Marstone's pursuits. Lady Elizabeth made no objection to her sharing in these, though sometimes not fully convinced of the prudence of all the accessories to their charities, and still less pleased at the influence exercised by Theresa over her daughter's judgment.
Emma's distaste to society was now far more openly avowed, and was regarded by her not as a folly to be conquered, but a mark of superiority. Her projects for Rickworth were also far more prominent. Miss Marstone had swept away the veil that used to shroud them in the deepest recess of Emma's mind, and to Violet it seemed as if they were losing their gloss by being produced whenever the friends wanted something to talk about. Moreover, Emma, who was now within a few months of twenty-one, was seized with a vehement desire to extort her mother's consent to put them at once in execution, and used to startle Violet by pouring out lamentations over her promise, as if it was a cruel thraldom. Violet argued that the scheme was likely to be much better weighed by taking time to think.
'It has been the thought of my life! Besides, I have Theresa's judgment; and, oh! Violet, mamma means it well, I know; but she does not know what she asks of me! Think, think if I should die in the guilt of sacrilege!'
'Really, Emma, you should not say such dreadful things. It is not your doing.'
'No; but I reap the benefit of it. My grandfather bought it. Oh! if it should bring a curse with it!'
'Well, but, Emma, I should think, even if it be wrong to hold it, that cannot be your fault yet. You mean to restore it; and surely it must be better to keep it as yet, than to act directly against your mother's wishes.'
'I don't mean to act against her wishes; but if she would only wish otherwise!'
'Perhaps it is the best preparation to be obliged to wait patiently.'
'If it was for any good reason; but I know it is only because it would better suit mamma's old English notions to see me go and marry in an ordinary way, like any commonplace woman, as Theresa says. Ah! you would like it too, Violet. It is of no use talking to you! As Theresa says,
the English domestic mind has but one type of goodness.'
Violet did not like to hear her dear Lady Elizabeth contemned; but she had no ready answer, and humbly resigned herself to Emma's belief that she was less able to enter into her feelings than that most superior woman, Theresa Marstone.
CHAPTER 15
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice.
When Arthur went with his regiment to Windsor, the ladies intended to spend their evenings at home, a rule which had many exceptions, although Violet was so liable to suffer from late hours and crowded rooms, that Lady Elizabeth begged her to abstain from parties, and offered more than once to take charge of Theodora; but the reply always was that they went out very little, and that this once it would not hurt her.
The truth was that Theodora had expressed a decided aversion to going out with the Brandons. 'Lady Elizabeth sits down in the most stupid part of the room,' she said, 'and Emma stands by her side with the air of a martyr. They look like a pair of respectable country cousins set down all astray, wishing for a safe corner to run into, and wondering at the great and wicked world. And they go away inhumanly early, whereas if I do have the trouble of dressing, it shall not be for nothing. I ingeniously eluded all going out with them last year, and a great mercy it was to them.'
So going to a royal ball was all Theodora vouchsafed to do under Lady Elizabeth's protection; and as her objections could not be disclosed, Violet was obliged to leave it to be supposed that it was for her own gratification that she always accompanied her; although not only was the exertion and the subsequent fatigue a severe tax on her strength, but she was often uneasy and distressed by Theodora's conduct. Her habits in company had not been materially changed by her engagement; she was still bent on being the first object, and Violet sometimes felt that her manner was hardly fair upon those who were ignorant of her circumstances. For Theodora's own sake, it was unpleasant to see her in conversation with Mr. Gardner; and not only on her account, but on that of Lord St. Erme, was her uncertain treatment of him a vexation to Violet.
Violet, to whom Theodora's lovers were wont to turn when suffering from her caprice, was on very friendly terms with the young Earl. He used to come and stand by her, and talk to her about Wrangerton, and seemed quite amused and edified by her quiet enthusiasm for it, and for Helvellyn, and her intimacy with all the pictures which he had sent home and almost forgotten. His sister was another favourite theme; she was many years younger than himself, and not yet come out; but he was very desirous of introducing her to Mrs. and Miss Martindale; and Violet, who had heard of Lady Lucy all her life, was much pleased when a day was fixed for a quiet dinner at Mrs. Delaval's, the aunt with whom she lived. How Mrs. Moss would enjoy hearing of it!
The day before was one of the first hot days of summer, and Violet was so languid that she looked forward with dread to the evening, when they were to go to a soiree at Mrs. Bryanstone's, and she lay nursing herself, wishing for any pretence for declining it. Theodora coming in, declared that her going was out of the question; but added, 'Georgina Finch is to be there, she will call for me.'
'I shall be better when the heat of the day is over.'
'So you may, but you shall not go for all that. You know Arthur is coming home; and you must save yourself for your Delavals to-morrow.'
'I thank you, but only'--she hesitated--'if only you would be so kind as to go with Lady Elizabeth.'
'I will manage for myself, thank you. I shall not think of seeing you go out to-night. Why, I went out continually with Georgina last summer'--as she saw Violets look of disappointment.
'Yes, but all is not the same now.'
'The same in effect. I am not going to attend to nonsensical gossip. Georgina is what she was then, and the same is right for me now as was right last year. I am not going to turn against her--'
'But, Theodora,' said Violet's weak voice, 'Percy said he hoped you never would go out with her; and I said you never should, if I could help it.'
Never was Theodora more incensed than on hearing that Percy and this young girl had been arranging a check on her actions, and she was the more bent on defiance.
'Percy has nothing to do with it,' she began; but she was interrupted by a message to know whether Lady Elizabeth Brandon might see Mrs. Martindale.
Her entrance strengthened Theodora's hands, and she made an instant appeal to her, to enforce on Violet the necessity of resting that evening. Lady Elizabeth fully assented, and at once asked Theodora to join her.
'I thank you, I have another arrangement,' she said, reckless of those entreating eyes; 'I am to go with Mrs. Finch.'
'And I believe I shall be quite well enough by and by,' said Violet.
'My dear, it is not to be thought of for you.'
'Yes, Lady Elizabeth, I trust her to you to make her hear reason,' said Theodora. 'I shall leave her to you.'
Poor Violet, already in sufficient dread of the evening, was obliged to endure a reiteration of all its possible consequences. Lady Elizabeth was positively grieved and amazed to find her, as she thought, resolutely set upon gaieties, at all risks, and spared no argument that could alarm her into remaining quietly at home, even assuring her that it was her duty not to endanger herself for the sake of a little excitement or amusement. Violet could only shut her eyes to restrain the burning tears, and listen, without one word in vindication, until Lady Elizabeth had exhausted her rhetoric, and, rising, with some coolness told her she still hoped that she would think better of it, but that she wished her husband was at home.
Violet would fain have hid her face in her good friend's bosom, and poured out her griefs, but she could only feel that she was forfeiting for ever the esteem of one she loved so much. She held out, however. Not till the door had closed did she relax her restraint on herself, and give way to the overwhelming tears. Helpless, frightened, perplexed, forced into doing what might be fatal to her! and every one, even Arthur, likely to blame her! The burst of weeping was as terrified, as violent, as despairing as those of last year.
But she was not, as then, inconsolable; and as the first agitation spent itself she resumed her self-command, checked her sobs by broken sentences of prayer, growing fuller and clearer, then again soft and misty, till she fairly cried herself to sleep.
She slept only for a short interval, but it had brought back her composure, and she was able to frame a prayer to be directed to do right and be guarded from harm; and then to turn her mind steadily to the decision. It was her duty, as long as it was in her power, to be with her husband's sister, and guard her from lowering herself by her associates. She was bound by her promise to Percy, and she could only trust that no harm would ensue.
'If it should,' thought poor Violet, 'I may honestly hope it is in the way of what I believe my duty; so it would be a cross, and I should be helped under it. And if the Brandons blame me--that is a cross again. Suppose I was to be as ill again as I was before-- suppose I should not get through it--Oh! then I could not bear to have wilfully neglected a duty! And the next party? Oh! no need for thinking of that! I must only take thought for the day.'
And soon again she slept.
Theodora had gone out so entirely convinced that Violet would relinquish her intention, that, meeting Mrs. Finch, she arranged to be taken up at eleven o'clock.
On returning home she heard that Mrs. Martindale was asleep; and, as they had dined early, she drank coffee in her own room, and read with the Brogden girl, as part of her system of compensation, intending to spare further discussion by seeing Violet no more that night. She proceeded to dress her hair--not as helplessly as at first, for the lessons had not been without fruit; but to-night nothing had a good effect. Not being positively handsome, her good looks depended on colour, dress, and light; and the dislike to failure, and the desire to command attention, made it irritating to find her hair obstinate and her ornaments unbecoming; and she was in no placid state when Violet entered the room, ready dressed.
'Violet! This
is too foolish!'
'I am a great deal better now, thank you.'
'But I have settled it with Georgina; she is coming to call for me.'
'This is not out of her way; it will make no difference to her.'
'But, Violet, I will not let you go; Arthur would not allow it. You are not fit for it.'
'Yes, thank you, I believe I am.'
'You believe! It is very ridiculous of you to venture when you only believe,' said Theodora, never imagining that those mild weary tones could withstand her for a moment. 'Stay at home and rest. You know Arthur may come at any time.'
'I mean to go, if you please; I know I ought.'
'Then remember, if you are ill, it is your fault, not mine.'
Violet attempted a meek smile.
Theodora could only show her annoyance by impatience with her toilette. Her sister tried to help her; but nothing suited nothing pleased her--all was untoward; and at last Violet said, 'Is Percy to be there?'
'Not a chance of it. What made you think so?'
'Because you care so much.'
Somehow, that saying stung her to the quick, and the more because it was so innocently spoken.
'I do not care,' she said. 'You are so simple, Violet, you fancy all courtships must be like your own. One can't spend six years like six weeks.'
The colour rushed painfully into Violet's face, and she quitted the room. It was a moment of dire shame and grief to Theodora, who had not intended a taunt, but rather to excuse her own doings; and as the words came back on her, and she perceived the most unmerited reproach they must have conveyed, she was about to hurry after her sister, explain, and entreat her pardon. Almost immediately, however, Violet returned, with her hands full of some beautiful geraniums, that morning sent to her by Mrs. Harrison.
'See!' said she; 'I think a wreath of these might look well.'
Theodora trusted the blush had been the work of her own guilty fancy, and, recollecting how often Mrs. Nesbit's innuendoes had glanced aside, thought it best not to revive the subject. She did not estimate even the sacrifice it was to part with the glowing fragrant flowers, the arrangement of which had freshened Violet's spirits that evening when not in tune for other occupation; and she did not know that there was one little sigh of fellow-feeling at their destiny of drooping and fading in the crowd and glare. Their brilliant hues had great success, and set off the deep black eyes and hair to unusual advantage when woven by those dexterous fingers. The toilette was complete, and Theodora as kind as she could be, between shame at her own speech and dislike to being softened by little female arts.
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