“No; I hate dancing,” replied Lord George: “I wish the ladies would take to dancing with one another; I think that would be an excellent scheme.” An aunt of his lordship, who was present, took great offence at this suggestion of her nephew. She had been used to the deference paid in former times to the sex; and she said she could not bear to see women give up their proper places in society. “Really, George,” added she, turning to her nephew, “I wish you would not talk in this manner. The young men now give themselves the strangest airs. Lady S —— , I will expose him; do you know, last night, he was lolling at his full length upon a bench in the ball-room, while three young handsome ladies were standing opposite to him, tired to death.”
“They could not be more tired than I was, I am sure, ma’am.”
“Why, you had not been dancing, and they had.”
“Had they, ma’am? that was not my fault. I did not ask ’em to dance, and I don’t see it was my business to ask ’em to sit down. I did not know who they were, at any rate,” concluded his lordship, sullenly.
“You knew they were women, and as such entitled to your respect.”
Lord George gave a sneering smile, looked at Dashwood, and pulled up his boot.
“Another thing — you were in the house three weeks with Miss Earl last summer; you met her yesterday evening, and you thought proper not to take the least notice of her.”
“Miss, Earl, ma’am; was she there?”
“Yes, close to you, and you never even bowed to her.”
“I did not see her, ma’am.”
“Mrs. Earl spoke to you.”
“I didn’t hear her, ma’am.”
“I told you of it at the moment.”
“I didn’t understand you, ma’am.”
“Besides, ma’am,” interposed Dashwood, “as to Miss Earl, if she meant that my lord should bow to her, she should have curtsied first to him.”
“Curtsied first to him!”
“Yes, that’s the rule — that’s the thing now. The ladies are always to speak first.”
“I have nothing more to say, if that be the case. Lady Augusta, what say you to all this?”
“Oh, that it’s shocking to be sure!” said Lady Augusta, “if one thinks of it; so the only way is not to think about it.”
“An excellent bon-mot!” exclaimed Dashwood. “It’s thinking that spoils conversation, and every thing else.”
“But,” added Lady Augusta, who observed that her bon-mot was not so much admired by all the company as by Dashwood, “I really only mean, that one must do as other people do.”
“Assurément,” said mademoiselle; “not dat I approve of the want of gallantry in our gentlemen, neider. But, I tink, Mademoiselle Earl is as stiff as de poker, and I don’t approve of dat, neider — Je n’aime pas les prudes, moi.”
“But, without prudery, may not there be dignity of manners?” said the old lady, gravely.
“Dignité! — Oh, I don’t say noting against dignité, neider; not but I tink de English reserve is de trop. I tink a lady of a certain rank has always good principes enough, to be sure, and as to the rest qu’importe? — dat’s my notions.”
Mr. Mountague looked with anxiety at Lady Augusta, to see what she thought of her governess’s notions; but all that he could judge from her countenance was that she did not think at all. “Well, she has time enough before her to learn to think,” said he to himself. “I am glad she did not assent to mademoiselle’s notions, at least. I hope she has learnt nothing from her but ‘the true French pronunciation.’”
No sooner was breakfast finished than Lord George —— gave his customary morning yawn, and walked as usual to the window. “Come,” said Dashwood, in his free manner—”come, mademoiselle, you must come down with us to the water-side, and Lady Augusta, I hope.”
“Ay,” whispered Lord George to Dashwood, “and let’s settle our wager about mademoiselle and my blackamore — don’t think I’ll let you off that.”
“Off! — I’m ready to double the bet, my lord,” said Dashwood aloud, and in the same moment turned to mademoiselle with some high-flown compliment about the beauty of her complexion, and the dangers of going without a veil on a hot sunny day.
“Well, Mr. Dashwood, when you’ve persuaded mademoiselle to take the veil, we’ll set out, if you please,” said Lady Augusta.
Mr. Mountague, who kept his attention continually upon Lady Augusta, was delighted to see that she waited for the elderly lady, who, at breakfast, had said so much in favour of dignity of manners. Mr. Mountague did not, at this moment, consider that this elderly lady was Lord George’s aunt, and that the attention paid to her by Lady Augusta might possibly proceed from motives of policy, not from choice. Young men of open tempers and generous dispositions are easily deceived by coquettes, because they cannot stoop to invent the meanness of their artifices. As Mr. Mountague walked down to the river, Lady Augusta contrived to entertain him so completely, that Helen Temple never once came into his mind; though he had sense enough to perceive his danger, he had not sufficient courage to avoid it: it sometimes requires courage to fly from danger. From this agreeable tête-à-tête he was roused, however, by the voice of Mlle. Panache, who, in an affected agony, was struggling to get away from Dashwood, who held both her hands—”No! no! — Non! non! I will not — I will not, I tell you, I will not.”
“Nay, nay,” said Dashwood; “but I have sworn to get you into the boat.”
“Ah! into de boat à la bonne heure; but not wid dat vilain black.”
“Well, then, persuade Lord George to send back his man; and you’ll acknowledge, my lord, in that case it’s a drawn bet,” said Dashwood.
“I! not I. I’ll acknowledge nothing,” replied his lordship; and he swore his black Tom should not be sent away: “he’s a capital boatman, and I can’t do without him.”
“Den I won’t stir,” said mademoiselle, passionately, to Dashwood.
“Then I must carry you, must I?” cried Dashwood, laughing; and immediately, to Mr. Mountague’s amazement, a romping scene ensued between this tutor and governess, which ended in Dashwood’s carrying mademoiselle in his arms into the boat, amidst the secret derision of two footmen, and the undisguised laughter of black Tom, who were spectators of the scene.
Mr. Mountague trembled at the thoughts of receiving a wife from the hands of a Mlle. Panache; but, turning his eye upon Lady Augusta, he thought she blushed, and this blush at once saved her, in his opinion, and increased his indignation against her governess. Mademoiselle being now alarmed, and provoked by the laughter of the servants, the dry sarcastic manner of Lord George, the cool air of Mr. Mountague, and the downcast looks of her pupil, suddenly turned to Dashwood, and in a high angry tone assured him, “that she had never seen nobody have so much assurance;” and she demanded, furiously—”how he could ever tink to take such liberties wid her? Only tell me how you could dare to tink of it?”
“I confess I did not think as I ought to have done, mademoiselle,” replied Dashwood, looking an apology to Lady Augusta, which, however, he took great care mademoiselle should not observe. “But your bet, my lord, if you please,” added he, attempting to turn it off in a joke: “there was no scream — my bet’s fairly won.”
“I assure you, sir, dis won’t do: it’s no good joke, I promise you. Ma chère amie, mon coeur,” cried mademoiselle to Lady Augusta—”viens — come, let us go — Don’t touch that,” pursued she, roughly, to black Tom, who was going to draw away the plank that led to the shore. “I will go home dis minute, and speak to Miladi S —— . Viens! viens, ma chère amie!” — and she darted out of the boat, whilst Dashwood followed, in vain attempting to stop her. She prudently, however, took the longest way through the park, that she might have a full opportunity of listening to reason, as Dashwood called it; and before she reached home, she was perfectly convinced of the expediency of moderate measures. “Let the thing rest where it is,” said Dashwood: “it’s a joke, and there’s an end of it; but if you
take it in earnest, you know the story might not tell so well, even if you told it, and there would never be an end of it.” All this, followed by a profusion of compliments, ratified a peace, which the moment he had made, he laughed at himself for having taken so much trouble to effect; whilst mademoiselle rested in the blessed persuasion that Dashwood was desperately in love with her; nay, so little knowledge had she of the human heart as to believe that the scene which had just passed was a proof of his passion.
“I wonder where’s Miladi Augusta? I thought she was wid me all this time,” said she.
“She’s coming; don’t you see her at the end of the grove with Mr. Mountague? We have walked fast,”
“Oh, she can’t never walk so fast as me; I tink I am as young as she is.”
Dashwood assented, at the same time pondering upon the consequences of the attachment which he saw rising in Mr. Mountague’s mind for Lady Augusta. If a man of sense were to gain an influence over her, Dashwood feared that all his hopes would be destroyed, and he resolved to use all his power over mademoiselle to prejudice her, and by her means to prejudice her pupil against this gentleman. Mademoiselle’s having begun by taking him for an apothicaire, was a circumstance much in favour of Dashwood’s views, because she felt herself pledged to justify, or at least to persist, in her opinion, that he did not look like un homme comme il faut.
In the mean time Mr. Mountague was walking slowly towards them with Lady Augusta, who found it necessary to walk as slowly as possible, because of the heat. He had been reflecting very soberly upon her ladyship’s late blush, which, according to his interpretation, said, as plainly as a blush could say, all that the most refined sense and delicacy could dictate. Yet such is, upon some occasions, the inconsistency of the human mind, that he by no means felt sure that the lady had blushed at all. Her colour was, perhaps, a shade higher than usual; but then it was hot weather, and she had been walking. The doubt, however, Mr. Mountague thought proper to suppress; and the reality of the blush, once thoroughly established in his imagination, formed the foundation of several ingenious theories of moral sentiment, and some truly logical deductions. A passionate admirer of grace and beauty, he could not help wishing that he might find Lady Augusta’s temper and understanding equal to her personal accomplishments. When we are very anxious to discover perfections in any character, we generally succeed, or fancy that we succeed. Mr. Mountague quickly discovered many amiable and interesting qualities in this fair lady, and, though he perceived some defects, he excused them to himself with the most philosophic ingenuity.
“Affectation,” the judicious Locke observes, “has always the laudable aim of pleasing:” upon this principle Mr. Mountague could not reasonably think of it with severity. “From the desire of pleasing,” argued he, “proceeds not only all that is amiable, but much of what is most estimable in the female sex. This desire leads to affectation and coquetry, to folly and vice, only when it is extended to unworthy objects. The moment a woman’s wish to please becomes discriminative, the moment she feels any attachment to a man superior to the vulgar herd, she not only ceases to be a coquette, but she exerts herself to excel in every thing that he approves, and, from her versatility of manners, she has the happy power of adapting herself to his taste, and of becoming all that his most sanguine wishes could desire.” The proofs of this discriminative taste, and the first symptoms of this salutary attachment to a man superior to the vulgar herd, Mr. Mountague thought he discerned very plainly in Lady Augusta, nor did he ever forget that she was but eighteen. “She is so very young,” said he to himself, “that it is but reasonable I should constantly consider what she may become, rather than what she is.” To do him justice, we shall observe, that her ladyship at this time, with all the address of which so young a lady was capable, did every thing in her power to confirm Mr. Mountague in his favourable sentiments of her.
Waiting for some circumstance to decide his mind, he was at length determined by the generous enthusiasm, amiable simplicity, and candid good sense which Lady Augusta showed in speaking of a favourite friend of hers, of whom he could not approve. This friend, Lady Diana, was one of the rude ladies who had laughed with so much ill-nature at Helen’s white and black shoes at the archery ball. She was a dashing, rich, extravagant, fashionable widow, affecting bold horsemanlike manners, too often “touching the brink of all we hate,” without exciting any passions allied to love. Her look was almost an oath — her language was suitable to her looks — she swore and dressed to the height of the fashion — she could drive four horses in hand — was a desperate huntress — and so loud in the praises of her dogs and horses, that she intimidated even sportsmen and jockeys. She talked so much of her favourite horse Spanker, that she acquired amongst a particular set of gentlemen the appellation of my Lady Di Spanker. Lady Augusta perceived that the soft affectations remarkable in her own manners were in agreeable contrast in the company of this masculine dame; she therefore cultivated her acquaintance, and Lady S —— could make no objection to a woman who was well received every where; she was rather flattered to see her daughter taken notice of by this dashing belle; consequently, Lady Di. Spanker, for by that name we also shall call her, frequently rode over from Cheltenham, which was some miles distant from S —— Hall. One morning she called upon Lady Augusta, and insisted upon her coming out to try her favourite horse. All the gentlemen went down immediately to assist in putting her ladyship on horseback: this was quite unnecessary, for Lady Diana took that office upon herself. Lady Augusta was all timidity, and was played off to great advantage by the rough raillery of her friend. At length she conquered her fears so much as to seat herself upon the side-saddle; her riding mistress gathered up the reins for her, and fixed them properly in her timid hands; then armed her with her whip, exhorting her, “for God’s sake, not to be such a coward!” Scarcely was the word coward pronounced, when Lady Augusta, by some unguarded motion of her whip, gave offence to her high-mettled steed, which instantly began to rear: there was no danger, for Mr. Mountague caught hold of the reins, and Lady Augusta was dismounted in perfect safety. “How now, Spanker!” exclaimed Lady Di., in a voice calculated to strike terror into the nerves of a horse—”how now, Spanker!” and mounting him with masculine boldness of gesture—”I’ll teach you, sir, who’s your mistress,” continued she; “I’ll make you pay for these tricks!” Spanker reared again, and Lady Di. gave him what she called “a complete dressing!” In vain Lady Augusta screamed; in vain the spectators entreated the angry amazon to spare the whip; she persisted in beating Spanker till she fairly mastered him. When he was perfectly subdued, she dismounted with the same carelessness with which she had mounted; and, giving the horse to her groom, pushed back her hat, and looked round for applause. Lord George, roused to a degree of admiration, which he had never before been heard to express for any thing female, swore that, in all his life, he had never seen any thing better done; and Lady Di. Spanker received his congratulations with a loud laugh, and a hearty shake of the hand. “Walk him about, Jack,” added she, turning to the groom, who held her horse; “walk him about, for he’s all in a lather; and when he’s cool, bring him up here again. And then, my dear child,” said she to Lady Augusta, “you shall give him a fair trial.”
“I! — Oh! never, never!” cried Lady Augusta, shrinking back with a faint shriek: “this is a trial to which you must not put my friendship. I must insist upon leaving Spanker to your management; I would not venture upon him again for the universe.”
“How can you talk so like a child — so like a woman?” cried her friend.
“I confess, I am a very woman,” said Lady Augusta, with a sigh: “and I fear I shall never be otherwise.”
“Fear!” repeated Mr. Mountague, to whom even the affectation of feminine softness and timidity appeared at this instant charming, from the contrast with the masculine intrepidity and disgusting coarseness of Lady Diana Spanker’s manners. The tone in which he pronounced the single word fear was sufficient to betray his fee
lings towards both the ladies. Lady Di. gave him a look of sovereign contempt. “All I know and can tell you,” cried she, “is, that fear should never get a-horseback.” Lord George burst into one of his loud laughs. “But as to the rest, fear may be a confounded good thing in its proper place; but they say it’s catching; so I must run away from you, child,” said she to Lady Augusta. “Jack, bring up Spanker. I’ve twenty miles to ride before dinner. I’ve no time to lose,” pulling out her watch: “faith, I’ve fooled away an hour here; Spanker must make it up for me. God bless you all! Good bye!” and she mounted her horse, and galloped off full speed.
“God bless ye! good bye to ye, Lady Di. Spanker,” cried Dashwood, the moment she was out of hearing. “Heaven preserve us from amazons!” Lord George did not say, Amen. On the contrary, he declared she was a fine dashing woman, and seemed to have a great deal of blood about her. Mr. Mountague watched Lady Augusta’s countenance in silence, and was much pleased to observe that she did not assent to his lordship’s encomium. “She has good sense enough to perceive the faults of her new friend, and now her eyes are open she will no longer make a favourite companion, I hope, of this odious woman,” thought he. “I am afraid, I am sadly afraid you are right,” said Lady Augusta, going up to the elderly lady, whom we formerly mentioned, who had seen all that had passed from the open windows of the drawing-room. “I own I do see something of what you told me the other day you disliked so much in my friend, Lady Di.;” and Lady Augusta gave the candid sigh of expiring friendship as she uttered these words.
“Do you know,” cried Dashwood, “that this spanking horsewoman has frightened us all out of our senses? I vow to Heaven, I never was so much terrified in my life as when I saw you, Lady Augusta, upon that vicious animal.”
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 399