Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  “Twelve copies, Miss Turnbull, at a guinea a-piece! Lord bless me, do you know what you are about, my dear?” said Lady Stock.

  “Perfectly well,” replied our heroine; “I think twelve guineas, or twenty times that sum, would be well bestowed in asserting independence of sentiment, which I understand is the object of this work.”

  A whisper from Lady Bradstone to one of the shopmen, of “Who is that charming woman?” gave our heroine courage to pronounce these words. Lady Stock in great displeasure walked to her carriage, saying, “You are to consider what you will do with your twelve copies, Miss Turnbull; for I am convinced your guardian will never let such a parcel of inflammatory trash into his house: he admires female patriotism, and all that sort of thing, as little as I do.”

  The rudeness of this speech did not disconcert Almeria; for she was fortified by the consciousness that she had gained her point with Lady Bradstone. This lady piqued herself upon showing her preferences and aversions with equal enthusiasm and éclat. She declared before a large company at dinner, that notwithstanding Miss Turnbull was nobody by birth, she had made herself somebody by spirit; and that for her part, she should, contrary to her general principle, which she confessed was to keep a strong line of demarcation between nobility and mobility, take a pride in bringing forward merit even in the shape of a Yorkshire grazier’s daughter.

  Pursuant to this gracious declaration, she empowered a common friend to introduce Miss Turnbull to her, on the first opportunity. When people really wish to become acquainted with each other, opportunities are easily and quickly found. The parties met, to their mutual satisfaction, that very night in the waiting-room of the Opera-house, and conversed more in five minutes than people in town usually converse in five months or years, when it is their wish to keep on a merely civil footing. But this was not the footing on which Miss Turnbull desired to be with Lady Bradstone; she took the utmost pains to please, and succeeded. She owed her success chiefly to the dexterous manner in which she manifested her contempt for her late dear friend Lady Stock. Her having refused an alliance with the family was much in her favour; her ladyship admired her spirit, but little suspected that the contemptuous manner in which she had once been overheard to speak of this banker’s son was the real and immediate cause of his rejection. The phrase—”only Stock the banker’s son” — decided his fate: so much may be done by the mere emphasis on a single word from fashionable lips! Our heroine managed with considerable address in bringing her quarrel with one friend to a crisis at the moment when another was ready to receive her. An ostensible pretext is never wanting to those who are resolved on war. The book to which Miss Turnbull had subscribed was the pretext upon this occasion: nothing could be more indifferent to her than politics; but Lady Bradstone’s party and principles were to be defended at all events. Sir Thomas Stock protested that he might be hurt essentially in the opinion of those for whom he had the highest consideration if a young lady living under his roof, known to be his ward, and probably presumed to be guided by him, should put her name as subscriber to twelve copies of a work patronized by Lady Bradstone. “The mere circumstance of its being dedicated to her ladyship showed what it must be,” Sir Thomas observed; and he made it a point with Miss Turnbull that she should withdraw her name from the subscription. This Miss Turnbull absolutely refused. Lady Bradstone was her confidante upon the occasion, and half-a-dozen notes a day passed between them: at length the affair was brought to the long wished-for crisis. Lady Bradstone invited Miss Turnbull to her house, feeling herself, as she said, bound in honour to bear her out in a dispute of which she had been the original occasion. In this lady’s society Almeria found the style of dress, manners, and conversation, different from what she had seen at Lady Stock’s: she had without difficulty imitated the affectation of Lady Stock, but there was an ease in the decided tone of Lady Bradstone which could not be so easily acquired. Having lived from her infancy in the best company, there was no heterogeneous mixture in her manners; and the consciousness of this gave an habitual air of security to her words, looks, and motions. Lady Stock seemed forced to beg or buy — Lady Bradstone accustomed to command or levy admiration as her rightful tribute. The pride of Lady Bradstone was uniformly resolute, and successful; the insolence of Lady Stock, if it were opposed, became cowardly and ridiculous. Lady Bradstone seemed to have, on all occasions, an instinctive sense of what a person of fashion ought to do; Lady Stock, notwithstanding her bravadoing air, was frequently perplexed, and anxious, and therefore awkward: she had always recourse to precedents. “Lady P —— said so, or Lady Q —— did so; Lady G —— wore this, or Lady H —— was there, and therefore I am sure it is proper.”

  On the contrary, Lady Bradstone never quoted authorities, but presumed that she was a precedent for others. The one was eager to follow, the other determined to lead, the fashion.

  Our heroine, who was by no means deficient in penetration, and whose whole attention was now given to the study of externals, quickly perceived these shades of difference between her late and her present friend. She remarked, in particular, that she found herself much more at ease in Lady Bradstone’s society. Her ladyship’s pride was not so offensive as Lady Stock’s vanity: secure of her own superiority, Lady Bradstone did not want to measure herself every instant with inferiors. She treated Almeria as her equal in every respect; and in setting her right in points of fashion never seemed to triumph, but to consider her own knowledge as a necessary consequence of the life she had led from her infancy. With a sort of proud generosity, she always considered those whom she honoured with her friendship as thenceforward entitled to all the advantages of her own situation, and to all the respect due to a part of herself. She now always used the word we, with peculiar emphasis, in speaking of Miss Turnbull and herself. This was a signal perfectly well understood by her acquaintance. Almeria was received every where with the most distinguished attention; and she was delighted, and absolutely intoxicated, with her sudden rise in the world of fashion. She found that her former acquaintance at Lady Stock’s were extremely ambitious of claiming an intimacy; but this could not be done. Miss Turnbull had now acquired, by practice, the power of looking at people without seeming to see them, and of forgetting those with whom she was perfectly well acquainted. Her opinion of her own consequence was much raised by the court that was paid to her by several young men of fashion, who thought it expedient to marry two hundred thousand pounds.

  How quickly ambition extends her views! Our heroine’s highest object had lately been to form an alliance with a man of fashion; she had now three fashionable admirers in her train, but though she was flattered by their attention, she had not the least inclination to decide in favour of any of these candidates. The only young man of her present acquaintance who seemed to be out of the reach of her power was Lord Bradstone; and upon the conquest of his heart, or rather his pride, her fancy was fixed. He had all his mother’s family pride, and he had been taught by her to expect an alliance with a daughter of one of the first noble families in England. The possibility of his marrying a grazier’s daughter had never entered into his or Lady Bradstone’s thoughts: they saw, indeed, every day, examples, among the first nobility, of such matches; but they saw them with contempt. Almeria knew this, and yet she did not despair of success: nor was she wrong in her calculations. Lord Bradstone was fond of high play — his taste for gaming soon reduced him to distress — his guardian was enraged, and absolutely refused to pay his lordship’s debts. What was to be done? — He must extricate himself from his difficulties by marrying some rich heiress. Miss Turnbull was the heiress nearest at hand. Lord Bradstone’s pride was compelled to yield to his interest, and he resolved to pay his addresses to the Yorkshire grazier’s daughter: but he knew that his mother would be indignant at this idea; and he therefore determined to proceed cautiously, and to assure himself of the young lady’s approbation before he should brave his mother’s anger.

  The winter was now passed, and her ladyship invit
ed Miss Turnbull to accompany her to Cheltenham; — her son was of the party. Our heroine plainly understood his intentions, and her friendship for Lady Bradstone did not prevent her from favouring his views: neither was she deterred by her knowledge of his lordship’s taste for play, so ardent was her desire for a coronet. The recollection of Frederick Elmour sometimes crossed her imagination, and struck her heart; but the pang was soon over, and she settled her conscience by the reflection, that she was not, in the least degree, bound in honour to him — he had set her entirely at liberty, and could not complain of her conduct. As to Ellen — every day she determined to write to her, and every day she put it off till to-morrow. At last she was saved the trouble of making and breaking any more resolutions: for one evening, as she was walking with Lady Bradstone and her noble admirer, in the public walk, she met Miss Elmour and her brother.

  She accosted Ellen with great eagerness; but it was plain to her friend’s discerning eyes that her joy was affected. After repeating several times that she was quite delighted at this unexpected meeting, she ran on with a number of commonplace questions, commencing and concluding with, “When did you come? — How long do you stay? — Where do you lodge?”

  “We have been here about a fortnight, and I believe we shall stay about a month longer.”

  “Indeed! — A month! — So long! — How fortunate! — But where are you?”

  “We lodge a little out of the town, on the road to Cirencester.”

  “How unfortunate! — We are at such a shocking distance! — I’m with Lady Bradstone — a most charming woman! — Whom are you with?”

  “With my poor father,” said Ellen; “he has been very ill lately, and we came here on his account.”

  “Ill! — Old Mr. Elmour! — I’m extremely concerned — but whom have you to attend him? — you should send to town for Dr. Grant — do you know he is the only man now? — the only man Lady Bradstone and I have any dependence on — if I were dying, he is the man I should send for. Do have him for Mr. Elmour, my dear — and don’t be alarmed, above all things — you know it’s so natural, at your father’s age, that he should not be as well as he has been — but I distress you — and detain you.”

  Our heroine, after running off these unmeaning sentences, passed on, being ashamed to walk with Ellen in public, because Lady Bradstone had whispered, “Who is she?” — Not to be known in the world of fashion is an unpardonable crime, for which no merit can atone. Three days elapsed before Miss Turnbull went to see her friends, notwithstanding her extreme concern for poor Mr. Elmour. Her excuse to her conscience was, that Lady Bradstone’s carriage could not sooner be spared. People in a certain rank of life are, or make themselves, slaves to horses and carriages; with every apparent convenience and luxury, they are frequently more dependent than their tradesmen or their servants. There was a time when Almeria would not have been restrained by these imaginary impossibilities from showing kindness to her friends; but that time was now completely past. She was, at present, anxious to avoid having any private conversation with Ellen, because she was ashamed to avow her change of views and sentiments. In the short morning visit which she paid her, Almeria talked of public places, of public characters, of dress and equipages, &c. She inquired, indeed, with a modish air of infinite sensibility, for poor Mr. Elmour; and when she heard that he was confined to his bed, she regretted most excessively that she could not see him; but a few seconds afterwards, with a suitable change of voice and countenance, she made an easy transition to the praise of a new dress of Lady Bradstone’s invention. Frederick Elmour came into the room in the midst of the eulogium on her ladyship’s taste — she was embarrassed for a moment; but quickly recovering the tone of a fine lady, she spoke to him as if he had never been any thing to her but a common acquaintance. The dignity and firmness of his manner provoked her pride; she wished to coquet with him — she tried to excite his jealousy by talking of Lord Bradstone: but vain were all her airs and inuendoes; they could not extort from him even a sigh. She was somewhat consoled, however, by observing in his sister’s countenance the expression, as she thought, of extreme mortification.

  A few days after this visit, Miss Turnbull received the following note from Miss Elmour:

  “MY DEAR ALMERIA,

  “If you still wish that I should treat you as a friend, show me that you do, and you will find my affection unaltered. If, on the contrary, you have decided to pursue a mode of life, or to form connexions which make you ashamed to own any one for a friend who is not a fine lady, let our intimacy be dissolved for ever — it could only be a source of mutual pain. My father is better to-day, and wishes to see you. Will you spend this evening with him and with Your affectionate ELLEN ELMOUR?”

  It happened that the very day Miss Turnbull received this note, Lady Bradstone was to have a concert, and Almeria knew that her ladyship would be offended if she were to spend the evening with the Elmours: it was, as she said to herself, impossible, therefore, to accept of Ellen’s invitation. She called upon her in the course of the morning, to make an apology. She found Ellen beside her father, who was seated in his arm-chair: he looked extremely pale and weak: she was at first shocked at the change she saw in her old friend, and she could not utter the premeditated apology. Ellen took it for granted that she was come, in consequence of her note, to spend the day with her, and she embraced her with affectionate joy. Her whole countenance changed when our heroine began at last to talk of Lady Bradstone and the concert — Ellen burst into tears.

  “My dear child,” said Mr. Elmour, putting his hand upon his daughter’s, which rested upon the arm of his chair, “I did not expect this weakness from you.”

  Miss Turnbull, impatient to shorten a scene which she had neither strength of mind to endure nor to prevent, rose to take leave.

  “My dear Ellen,” said she, in an irresolute tone, “my dearest creature, you must not distress yourself in this way — I must have you keep up your spirits. You confine yourself too much, indeed you do; and you see you are not equal to it. Your father will be better, and he will persuade you to leave him for an hour or two, I am sure, and we must have you amongst us; and I must introduce you to Lady Bradstone — she’s a charming woman, I assure you — you would like her of all things, if you knew her. Come — don’t let me see you in this way. Really, my dear Ellen, this is so unlike you — I can assure you that, whatever you may think, I love you as well as ever I did, and never shall forget my obligations to all your family; but, you know, a person who lives in the world, as I do, must make such terrible sacrifices of their time — one can’t do as one pleases — one’s an absolute slave. So you must forgive me, dear Ellen, for bidding you farewell for the present.”

  Ellen hastily wiped away her tears, and turning to Almeria with an air of dignity, held out her hand to her, and said, “Farewell for ever, Almeria! — May you never feel the want of a sincere and affectionate friend! — May the triumphs of fashion make you amends for all you sacrifice to obtain them!”

  Miss Turnbull was abashed and agitated — she hurried out of the room to conceal her confusion, stepped into a carriage with a coronet, drove away, and endeavoured to forget all that had passed. The concert in the evening recalled her usual train of ideas, and she persuaded herself that she had done all, and more than was necessary, in offering to introduce Ellen to Lady Bradstone. “How could she neglect such an offer?”

  A few days after the concert, Almeria had the pleasure of being introduced to Lady Bradstone’s four daughters — Lady Gabriella, Lady Agnes, Lady Bab, and Lady Kitty. Of the existence of these young ladies Almeria had scarcely heard — they had been educated at a fashionable boarding-school; and their mother was now under the disagreeable necessity of bringing them home to live with her, because the eldest was past seventeen.

  Lady Gabriella was a beauty, and determined to be a Grace — but which of the three Graces, she had not yet decided.

  Lady Agnes was plain, and resolved to be a wit.

  Lady Ba
b and Lady Kitty were charming hoydens, with all the modern simplicity of fourteen or fifteen in their manners. Lady Bab had a fine long neck, which was always in motion — Lady Kitty had white teeth, and was always laughing; — but it is impossible to characterize them, for they differed in nothing from a thousand other young ladies.

  These four sisters agreed in but one point — in considering their mother as their common enemy. Taking it for granted that Miss Turnbull was her friend, she was looked upon by them as being naturally entitled to a share of their distrust and enmity. They found a variety of causes of complaint against our heroine; and if they had been at any loss, their respective waiting-maids would have furnished them with inexhaustible causes of quarrel.

  Lady Bradstone could not bear to go with more than four in a coach.—”Why was Miss Turnbull always to have a front seat in the coach, and two of the young ladies to be always left at home on her account?”—”How could Lady Bradstone make such a favourite of a grazier’s daughter, and prefer her to her own children as a companion?” &c.

  The young ladies never discouraged their attendants from saying all the ill-natured things that they could devise of Miss Turnbull, and they invented a variety of methods of tormenting her. Lady Gabriella found out that Almeria was horridly ugly and awkward; Lady Agnes quizzed her perpetually; and the Ladies Bab and Kitty played upon her innumerable practical jokes. She was astonished to find in high life a degree of vulgarity of which her country companions would have been ashamed: but all such things in high life go under the general term dashing. These young ladies were dashers. Alas! perhaps foreigners and future generations may not know the meaning of the term!