Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  “Far from it: the aunt is all the aunt of Miss Leicester should be — all the widow of Dr. Leicester ought to be. But her circumstances are not what they ought to be; and by the liberality of a friend, who lends me a house, rent free, and by the resources of my profession, I am better able than Mrs. Leicester is to spare fifteen hundred pounds: therefore, in the recovery of this money I have no personal interest at present. I shall never receive it from her.”

  “Noble! Noble! — just what I could have done myself — once! What a contrast!”

  Buckhurst laid his head down upon his arms flat on the table, and remained for some moments silent — then, starting upright, “I’ll never claim a penny from her — I’ll give it all up to you! I will, if I sell my band for it, by Jove!”

  “Oh! what has your father to answer for, who forced you into the church!” thought Alfred.

  “My dear Buckhurst,” said he, “my dear dean—”

  “Call me Buckhurst, if you love me.”

  “I do love you, it is impossible to help it, in spite of—”

  “All my faults — say it out — say it out — in spite of your conscience,” added Buckhurst, trying to laugh.

  “Not in spite of my conscience, but in favour of yours,” said Alfred, “against whose better dictates you have been compelled all your life to act.”

  “I have so, but that’s over. What remains to be done at present? I am in real distress for five hundred pounds. Apropos to your being engaged in this dilapidation suit, you can speak to Mrs. Falconer about it. Tell her I have given up the thing; and see what she will do.”

  Alfred promised he would speak to Mrs. Falconer. “And, Alfred, when you see your sister Caroline, tell her that I am not in one sense such a wretch — quite, as she thinks me. But tell her that I am yet a greater wretch — infinitely more miserable than she, I hope, can conceive — beyond redemption — beyond endurance miserable.” He turned away hastily in an agony of mind. Alfred shut the door and escaped, scarcely able to bear I his own emotion.

  When they met at dinner, Mrs. Dean Falconer was an altered person — her unseemly morning costume and well-worn shawl being cast aside, she appeared in bloom-coloured gossamer gauze, and primrose ribbons, a would-be young lady. Nothing of that curmudgeon look, or old fairy cast of face and figure, to which he had that morning been introduced, but in their place smiles, and all the false brilliancy which rouge can give to the eyes, proclaimed a determination to be charming.

  The dean was silent, and scarcely ate any thing, though the dinner was excellent, for his lady was skilled in the culinary department, and in favour of Alfred had made a more hospitable display than she usually condescended to make for her husband’s friends. There were no other guests, except a young lady, companion to Mrs. Falconer. Alfred was as agreeable and entertaining as circumstances permitted; and Mrs. Buckhurst Falconer, as soon as she got out of the dining-room, even before she reached the drawing-room, pronounced him to be a most polite and accomplished young man, very different indeed from the common run, or the usual style, of Mr. Dean Falconer’s dashing bachelor beaux, who in her opinion were little better than brute bears.

  At coffee, when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing-room, as Alfred was standing beside Mrs. Falconer, meditating how and when to speak of the object of his visit, she cleared the ground by choosing the topic of conversation, which, at last fairly drove her husband out of the room. She judiciously, maliciously, or accidentally, began to talk of the proposal which she had heard a near relation of hers had not long since made to a near relation of Mr. Alfred Percy’s — Mr. Clay, of Clay-hall, her nephew, had proposed for Mr. Alfred’s sister, Miss Caroline Percy. She was really sorry the match was not to take place, for she had heard a very high character of the young lady in every way, and her nephew was rich enough to do without fortune — not but what that would be very acceptable to all men — especially young men, who are now mostly all for money instead of all for love — except in the case of very first rate extraordinary beauty, which therefore making a woman a prey, just as much one as the other, might be deemed a misfortune as great, though hardly quite, Mrs. Buckhurst said, as she had found a great fortune in her own particular case. The involution of meaning in these sentences rendering it not easy to be comprehended, the dean stood it pretty well, only stirring his coffee, and observing that it was cold; but when his lady went on to a string of interrogatories about Miss Caroline Percy — on the colour of her eyes and hair — size of her mouth and nose — requiring in short a complete full-length portrait of the young lady, poor Buckhurst set down his cup, and pleading business in his study, left the field open to Alfred.

  “Near-sighted glasses! Do you never use them, Mr. Percy?” said Mrs. Dean Falconer, as she thought Alfred’s eyes fixed upon her spectacles, which lay on the table.

  No — he never used them, he thanked her: he was rather far-sighted than short-sighted. She internally commended his politeness in not taking them up to verify her assertion, and put them into her pocket to avoid all future danger.

  He saw it was a favourable moment, and entered at once into his business — beginning by observing that the dean was much out of spirits. The moment money was touched upon, the curmudgeon look returned upon the lady; and for some time Alfred had great difficulty in making himself heard: she poured forth such complaints against the extravagance of the dean, with lists of the debts she had paid, the sums she had given, and the vow she had made, never to go beyond the weekly allowance she had, at the last settlement, agreed to give her husband.

  Alfred pleaded strongly the expense of law, and the certainty, in his opinion, of ultimate defeat, with the being obliged to pay all the costs, which would fall upon the dean. The dean was willing to withdraw his claim — he had promised to do so, in the most handsome manner; and therefore, Alfred said, he felt particularly anxious that he should not be distressed for five hundred pounds, a sum for which he knew Mr. Falconer was immediately pressed. He appealed to Mrs. Falconer’s generosity. He had been desired by the dean to speak to her on the subject, otherwise he should not have presumed — and it was as a professional man, and a near relation, that he now took the liberty: this was the first transaction he had ever had with her, and he hoped he should leave the vicarage impressed with a sense of her generosity, and enabled to do her justice in the opinion of those who did not know her.

  That was very little to her, she bluntly said — she acted only up to her own notions — she lived only for herself.

  “And for her husband.” Love, Alfred Percy said, he was assured, was superior to money in her opinion. “And after all, my dear madam, you set me the example of frankness, and permit me to speak to you without reserve. What can you, who have no reason, you say, to be pleased with either of your nephews, do better with your money, than spend it while you live and for yourself, in securing happiness in the gratitude and affection of a husband, who, generous himself, will be peculiarly touched and attached by generosity?”

  The words, love, generosity, generous, sounded upon the lady’s ear, and she was unwilling to lose that high opinion which she imagined Alfred entertained of her sentiments and character. Besides, she was conscious that he was in fact nearer the truth than all the world would have believed. Avaricious in trifles, and parsimonious in those every-day habits which brand the reputation immediately with the fault of avarice, this woman was one of those misers who can be generous by fits and starts, and who have been known to give hundreds of pounds, but never without reluctance would part with a shilling.

  She presented the dean, her husband, with an order on her banker for the money he wanted, and Alfred had the pleasure of leaving his unhappy friend better, at least, than he found him. He rejoiced in having compromised this business so successfully, and in thus having prevented the litigation, ill-will, and disgraceful circumstances, which, without his interference, must have ensued.

  The gratitude of Mrs. Leicester and her niece was delightful. The aunt urge
d him to accept what he had been the means of saving, as part of her niece’s fortune; but this he absolutely refused, and satisfied Mrs. Leicester’s delicacy, by explaining, that he could not, if he would, now yield to her entreaties, as he had actually obtained the money from poor Buckhurst’s generous repentance, upon the express faith that he had no private interest in the accommodation.

  “You would not,” said Alfred, “bring me under the act against raising money upon false pretences?”

  What Alfred lost in money he gained in love. His Sophia’s eyes beamed upon him with delight. The day was fixed for their marriage, and at Alfred’s suggestion, Mrs. Leicester consented, painful as it was, in some respects, to her feelings, that they should be married by the dean in the parish church.

  Alfred brought his bride to town, and as soon as they were established in their own house, or rather in that house which Mr. Gresham insisted upon their calling their own, Lady Jane Granville was the first person to offer her congratulations. — Alfred begged his sister Caroline from Lady Jane, as he had already obtained his father’s and mother’s consent. Lady Jane was really fond of Caroline’s company, and had forgiven her, as well as she could; yet her ladyship had no longer a hope of being of use to her, and felt that even if any other offer were to occur — and none such as had been made could ever more be expected — it would lead only to fresh disappointment and altercation; therefore she, with the less reluctance, relinquished Caroline altogether.

  Caroline’s new sister had been, from the time they were first acquainted, her friend, and she rejoiced in seeing all her hopes for her brother’s happiness accomplished by this marriage. His Sophia had those habits of independent occupation which are essential to the wife of a professional man, and which enable her to spend cheerfully many hours alone, or at least without the company of her husband. On his return home every evening, he was sure to find a smiling wife, a sympathizing friend, a cheerful fireside. — She had musical talents — her husband was fond of music; and she did not lay aside the accomplishments which had charmed the lover, but made use of them to please him whom she had chosen as her companion for life. Her voice, her harp, her utmost skill, were ready at any moment, and she found far more delight in devoting her talents to him than she had ever felt in exhibiting them to admiring auditors. This was the domestic use of accomplishments to which Caroline had always been accustomed; so that joining in her new sister’s occupations and endeavours to make Alfred’s evenings pass pleasantly, she felt at once as much at home as if she had been in the country; for the mind is its own place, and domestic happiness may be naturalized in a capital city.

  At her brother’s house, Caroline had an opportunity of seeing a society that was new to her, that of the professional men of the first eminence both in law and medicine, the men of science and of literature, with whom Alfred and Erasmus had been for years assiduously cultivating acquaintance. They were now happy to meet at Alfred’s house, for they liked and esteemed him, and they found his wife and sister sensible, well-informed women, to whom their conversation was of real amusement and instruction; and who, in return, knew how to enliven their leisure hours by female sprightliness and elegance. Caroline now saw the literary and scientific world to the best advantage: not the amateurs, or the mere show people, but those who, really excelling and feeling their own superiority, had too much pride and too little time to waste upon idle flattery, or what to them were stupid, uninteresting parties. Those who refused to go to Lady Spilsbury’s, or to Lady Angelica Headingham’s, or who were seen there, perhaps, once or twice in a season as a great favour and honour, would call three or four evenings every week at Alfred’s.

  The first news, the first hints of discoveries, inventions, and literary projects, she heard from time to time discussed. Those men of talent, whom she had heard were to be seen at conversaziones, or of whom she had had a glimpse in fine society, now appeared in a new point of view, and to the best advantage; without those pretensions and rivalships with which they sometimes are afflicted in public, or those affectations and singularities, which they often are supposed to assume, to obtain notoriety among persons inferior to them in intellect and superior in fashion. Instead of playing, as they sometimes did, a false game to amuse the multitude, they were obliged now to exert their real skill, and play fair with one another.

  Sir James Harrington tells us, that in his days the courtiers who played at divers games in public, had a way of exciting the admiration and amazement of the commoner sort of spectators, by producing heaps of golden counters, and seeming to stake immense sums, when all the time they had previously agreed among one another, that each guinea should stand for a shilling, or each hundred guineas for one: so that in fact two modes of calculation were used for the initiated and uninitiated; and this exoteric practice goes on continually to this hour, among literary performers in the intellectual, as well as among courtiers in the fashionable world.

  Besides the pleasure of studying celebrated characters, and persons of eminent merit, at their ease and at her own, Caroline had now opportunities of seeing most of those objects of rational curiosity, which with Lady Jane Granville had been prohibited as mauvais ton. With men of sense she found it was not mauvais ton to use her eyes for the purposes of instruction or entertainment.

  With Mrs. Alfred Percy she saw every thing in the best manner; in the company of well-informed guides, who were able to point out what was essential to be observed; ready to explain and to illustrate; to procure for them all those privileges and advantages as spectators, which common gazers are denied, but which liberal and enlightened men are ever not only ready to allow, but eager to procure for intelligent, unassuming females.

  Among the gentlemen of learning, talents, and eminence in Alfred’s own profession, whom Caroline had the honour of seeing at her brother’s, were Mr. Friend, the friend of his early years at the bar; and that great luminary, who in a higher orbit had cheered and guided him in his ascent. The chief justice was in a station, and of an age, where praise can be conferred without impropriety, and without hurting the feelings of delicacy or pride. He knew how to praise — a difficult art, but he excelled in it. As Caroline once, in speaking of him, said, “Common compliments compared to praise from him, are as common coin compared to a medal struck and appropriated for the occasion.”

  About this time Mr. Temple came to tell Alfred, that a ship had been actually ordered to be in readiness to carry him on his intended embassy; that Mr. Shaw had recovered; that Cunningham Falconer had no more excuses or pretences for delay; despatches, the last Lord Oldborough said he should ever receive from him as envoy, had now arrived, and Temple was to have set out immediately; but that the whole embassy bad been delayed, because Lord Oldborough had received a letter from Count Altenberg, giving an account of alarming revolutionary symptoms, which had appeared in the capital, and in the provinces, in the dominions of his sovereign, Lord Oldborough had shown Mr. Temple what related to public affairs, but had not put the whole letter into his hands. All that he could judge from what he read was, that the Count’s mind was most seriously occupied with the dangerous state of public affairs in his country. “I should have thought,” added Mr. Temple, “that the whole of this communication was entirely of a political nature, but that in the last page which Lord Oldborough put into my hand, the catch-words at the bottom were Countess Christina.”

  Alfred observed, “that, without the aid of Rosamond’s imagination to supply something more, nothing could be made of this. However, it was a satisfaction to have had direct news of Count Altenberg.”

  The next day Mr. Temple came for Alfred. Lord Oldborough desired to see him.

  “Whatever his business may be, I am sure it is important and interesting,” said Mr. Temple; “by this time I ought to be well acquainted with Lord Oldborough — I know the signs of his suppressed emotion, and I have seldom seen him put such force upon himself to appear calm, and to do the business of the day, before he should yield his mind to what presse
d on his secret thoughts.”

  CHAPTER XXXVII.

  When Alfred arrived, Lord Oldborough was engaged with some gentlemen from the city about a loan. By the length of time which the negotiators stayed, they tried Alfred’s patience; but the minister sat with immoveable composure, till they knew their own minds, and till they departed. Then, the loan at once dismissed from his thoughts, he was ready for Alfred.

  “You have married, I think, Mr. Alfred Percy, since I saw you last — I congratulate you.”

  His lordship was not in the habit of noticing such common events; Alfred was surprised and obliged by the interest in his private affairs which this congratulation denoted.

  “I congratulate you, sir, because I understand you have married a woman of sense. To marry a fool — to form or to have any connexion with a fool,” continued his lordship, his countenance changing remarkably as he spoke, “I conceive to be the greatest evil, the greatest curse, that can be inflicted on a man of sense.”

  He walked across the room with long, firm, indignant strides — then stopping short, he exclaimed, “Lettres de cachet! — Dangerous instruments in bad hands! — As what are not? — But one good purpose they answered — they put it in the power of the head of every noble house to disown, and to deprive of the liberty to disgrace his family, any member who should manifest the will to commit desperate crime or desperate folly.”

  Alfred was by no means disposed to join in praise even of this use of a lettre de cachet, but he did not think it a proper time to argue the point, as he saw Lord Oldborough was under the influence of some strong passion. He waited in silence till his lordship should explain himself farther.

  His lordship unlocked a desk, and produced a letter.

  “Pray, Mr. Percy — Mr. Alfred Percy — have you heard any thing lately of the Marchioness of Twickenham?”

  “No, my lord.”