“I have no doubt you will make her a good husband,” replied the Squire. “Take her, and may every blessing attend you both! May your union be happy!”
After tenderly embracing his daughter, and brushing the tears from his eyes, he shook hands cordially with Stanley.
The party was now joined by Lady Talmash, who felt that the moment for her appearance on the scene had arrived.
Flying towards Mildred she embraced her most affectionately.
“I sincerely congratulate you both,” she cried. “You are formed for each other, and your union is sure to be happy. My wishes are now realized, dear Mr. Warburton,” she added, shaking hands with him.
“I think I had better retire,” said the Squire, almost overcome by emotion.
“No, no, dear papa,” cried Mildred. “We cannot part with you just now. Sit down on the sofa — pray sit down?”
“And I’ll sit down beside you, sir, if you’ll allow me,” said Lady Talmash.
“And we’ll sit opposite,” added Stanley, bringing chairs for Mildred and himself.
In a very short time the Squire quite recovered, and looking from one to the other with still glistening eyes, and speaking in rather tremulous tones, said, “I thought I was prepared for this moment, but I find I’m not. I have a good deal to say, but I can’t say it now.”
“Don’t be uneasy, dearest papa,” said Mildred, taking his hand, and pressing it to her lips, “you are not going to lose me. I shall always be near you — always be ready to come to you.”
“It is my sincere wish, sir,” said Stanley, very earnestly, “that when Mildred becomes my wife, she should be as much your daughter as ever.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed the Squire with a choking utterance. “Quite impossible! I don’t expect it — don’t even desire it. But let this be clearly understood — my house will always be your house — and your wife will be as much mistress of it as ever. Come when you will, and stay as long as you please. Your rooms will always be ready for you. My horses and carriages, and all belonging to them, will be at your disposal.”
“Oh! you are too good, dearest papa!” exclaimed Mildred.
“Not a bit, my dear child — not a bit!” he said, tenderly pressing her hand. “I have only lived for you, and all I desire is to see you happy.”
“Do you wish me to keep up Brereton, sir?” asked Stanley.
“Certainly,” replied the Squire. “You must have a house, and can’t have a better house. Besides, you must keep it up for your mother.”
“Exactly my feeling, sir,” replied Stanley; “but I desired to ascertain your wishes.”
“Moreover, Brereton has the great recommendation of being near you, dearest papa,” said Mildred.
“An easy ride, at any rate,” said the Squire, smiling.
“I have not yet had an opportunity of saying anything,” interposed Lady Talmash; “but I have listened with the greatest pleasure to all that has been said. I think Mr. Warburton’s proposition the kindest and best that could be made, and one that cannot fail to be conducive to the happiness of his daughter and her husband.”
“I’m quite sure of it,” exclaimed Stanley.
“So am I,” exclaimed Mildred, again kissing her father’s hand.
“But your ladyship must be included in the arrangement, or it will not be complete,” said the Squire. “We all owe much to you, who have most materially assisted in bringing about this match. Therefore, if you take any interest in the work of your own hands, you must come frequently and see how it prospers.”
“Promise that?” cried Mildred.
“You will ever be welcome,” added Stanley.
“I don’t doubt it,” said Lady Talmash, “therefore I will come, and make a long stay.”
“The longer the better,” said the Squire. “Now Stanley,” he added, “I should recommend you to make all necessary communications to your mother, without delay.”
“It is my intention to do so, sir,” he replied.
“I don’t feel quite certain that what you have to tell her will be altogether agreeable,” said Mildred, “as I am by no means certain that I am such a favourite as I used to be. But never mind. The truth must be told.”
“The truth will enchant her,” said Stanley. “Don’t think otherwise.”
“And Lady Starkey and her niece must be duly informed,” added Mildred.
“They shall,” said Stanley.
“You will see Sir John Lambert at dinner,” said the Squire. “I have just asked him.”
“I am glad of it,” replied Stanley, taking leave.
Mildred went with him to the door, where we fancy a tender salute was given and received, but the Squire and Lady Talmash saw nothing.
CHAPTER XXIX.
WHAT PASSED BETWEEN STANLEY AND HIS MOTHER.
STANLEY shrank from the disagreeable duty he had to perform, but it could not be avoided.
He felt he should be blamed both by his mother and Lady Starkey for the step he had taken, but this was nothing in comparison with the pain which his conduct might possibly inflict upon Rose. He had proceeded too far to retire thus suddenly, and knew not what excuse to offer.
On arriving at the house in Berkeley Square, he learnt from old Minshull, who opened the door, that his mother was within, but that Lady Starkey and her niece had driven out in the brougham.
“I rather fancy they have received some bad news this morning from Sir John Lambert,” said Minshull, “for they have been in low spirits ever since he was here.”
Stanley took no notice of the remark, but desired to be shown to his mother. He found her in the boudoir, and thought she did not receive him with her usual affectionate warmth.
“Has anything happened?” he inquired. “Minshull has just told me that Lady Starkey and Rose looked much depressed, and you don’t seem in particularly good spirits.”
“I’ll tell you why, Stanley,” she repeated very gravely. “You, yourself are the cause of our trouble. We have just seen Sir John Lambert, who tells us you are about to propose to Mildred Warburton. Have you done so?”
“I have proposed, mother, and have been accepted,” he replied. “I have come to give you the news.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” she replied, with something like a groan. “You have made a great mistake.”
“How so, mother?” he cried. “I ought to esteem myself singularly fortunate — and most persons will think me so. There are hundreds of young men who would contend with me for Mildred’s hand. Bear in mind she is a great heiress, and a great beauty.”
“And likewise a great flirt,” replied Mrs. Brereton, sharply. “She will make you wretched. How has she behaved to you of late, eh?”
“Never mind! She has satisfactorily explained her conduct.”
“Impossible,” cried Mrs. Brereton. “You have succumbed to her fascinations — that is the long and short of it.”
“No more of this, mother, if you love me. I tell you Mildred has accepted me.”
“And I repeat I am very sorry for it You might have had a very charming girl, who really loves you, and would have made you happy, and your choice would have pleased both myself and Lady Starkey; but you have given her up for this coquette who has made you her dupe, and is laughing at you in her sleeve.”
“Mother, I cannot allow even you to speak of Mildred in such terms,” cried Stanley, angrily.
But she heeded him not.
“No wonder I am hurt and disappointed,” she continued. “You have thrown away a life of real conjugal happiness, for one of constant, jealous, torture.”
“Mother! pray, dear mother!” he cried, vainly trying to stop her.
“You have acted like a fool, I tell you. Ere long you will deeply repent what you have done, and then you will call to mind my words.”
“Since you persist in this violent language, mother, I must take my leave,” he said. “On calm reflection you will see you have gone a great deal too far. Tell Lady Starkey and Rose that
I have been here, and deeply regret not to have seen them.”
“You will not be disappointed,” said his mother, as the door opened, and the two persons he had mentioned came in.
Now there was no escape, and he must bear the worst Lady Starkey appeared almost as much displeased with him as did his mother; but though Rose looked sad she did not seem resentful.
Stanley was greatly touched by her evident affection.
“So you have committed yourself, I suppose?” cried Lady Starkey. “The coquette has gained her point.”
“If your ladyship means that Miss Warburton has accepted me, it is perfectly true,” replied Stanley.
On hearing this distinct avowal, Lady Starkey regarded him with scorn, while Rose gave him a look that cut him to the heart His anguish was perceptible to all, and caused a slight reaction in his favour.
“Leave us for a few moments, dearest aunt,” whispered Rose to Lady Starkey, “and take Mrs. Brereton with you.”
Her ladyship complied without a word of remonstrance.
“Stanley,” said Rose, as soon as they were alone, “dear Stanley, for I will call you so, as this will be our last interview, I will not reproach you for the cruel deceit you have practised upon me.”
“It was no deceit — I swear it,” he cried passionately.
“Add not perjury to wrong,” she said, “or you will make me hate you. You have given me greater pain by your thoughtlessness — for I will use no harsher term — than I ever yet endured. But I forgive you, and it was to tell you so that I have detained you.”
“Thank you for that word,” he cried, in a voice half-suffocated by emotion. “Oh! thank you!”
“May you be happy!” she murmured, regarding him with tender anxiety. “I do not think you will — but you shall have my prayers.”
As she uttered the last words her strength completely failed her, and she would have fallen had not Stanley caught her in his arms.
Greatly alarmed, he bore her to a couch — but before he could place her upon it she had become insensible.
He was rushing out of the room to summon assistance, when Lady Starkey and his mother entered and instantly perceiving what had occurred, the former flew towards the sofa, while Mrs. Brereton hurried off for some restoratives.
Stanley did not quit the room, but as he regarded the fainting girl, he bitterly reproached himself, and his resolution was almost shaken.
CHAPTER XXX.
MILDRED’S MARRIED LIFE.
MORE than a year has passed, and a great deal has occurred during the interval.
The first and most important event we have to record is Stanley’s marriage with the lovely Mildred Warburton, which took place as soon as all necessary legal and other arrangements could be made, at Chester Cathedral, in compliance with the Squire’s wishes, he having always declared that he should like his daughter to be married in the same revered pile as her mother and grandmother had been.
The wedding was almost private. Neither Mrs. Brereton nor Lady Starkey were present at the ceremony; the former, who had not quitted town, pleading illness in excuse for non-attendance, and the latter coldly declining the invitation sent her.
The absence of two persons, so dear to him, was a great trouble to Stanley, but did not appear to give his bride, or her father, much concern.
The honeymoon was spent by the happy pair on the Continent, chiefly in Switzerland. They were accompanied by Lady Talmash, who proved an invaluable friend; since, by her judicious care and management, she prevented any disagreement from occurring between them.
Of course, it was quite impossible to prevent the lovely young bride from being pleased by the expressions of admiration with which her appearance was everywhere greeted, but Lady Talmash contrived to keep all objectionable persons at a distance.
Relying on her ladyship’s remarkable tact and discretion, Stanley felt quite easy in regard to his beautiful wife, and was amused rather than annoyed at the sensation she excited. He was vain enough to think that in point of good looks he was inferior to none of her numerous admirers — and such, indeed, was the fact Meantime, his passionate attachment to her increased, and was fully requited, for she loved him then with an ardour quite equal to his own.
On their return from the wedding trip, they went to Beaucliffe; the restorations at Brereton Hall, not being sufficiently advanced to allow them to take up their abode there with any degree of comfort But they really lost nothing by this step, for the worthy Squire did everything in his power to make them happy, and quite succeeded in his efforts. It would have been strange indeed, if he had not, for he let them have entirely their own way.
Since she was sixteen, Mildred had been mistress of the house, and her marriage had heightened her influence rather than diminished it.
Lady Talmash was still with them, and likely to remain; for her importance to the general comfort being fully recognised and appreciated.
Mrs. Brereton delayed her return till the restorations of the old house should be completed, Lady Starkey having most kindly and considerately extended her invitation to that time.
We must mention that poor Rose had not, as yet, recovered from the shock she had received. She had been seriously ill, but was now slowly improving under the tender care of her aunt The Squire kept as much company as formerly, but was more careful in the selection of his guests, or rather, he always consulted Mildred and Lady Talmash about them.
Stanley never interfered in the arrangements, and sometimes did not even know who was invited. When he wanted information, he generally applied to Glossop, the butler.
Old Minshull had been sent to Brereton Hall to superintend the workmen, and carefully attended to his masters instructions. Stanley’s great fear was that after all had been done Mildred would not like the place as well as Beaucliffe.
His apprehensions were shared by Lady Talmash — her ladyship having heard many remarks on the subject from Mildred, who secretly dreaded the anticipated change of abode.
The young mistress of Brereton took little interest in the alterations of the ancient mansion. When she visited the place she spent most of the time in the garden, which had now been completely put in order, and really looked most charming.
However, she did one thing. She ordered new stables to be built on the model of those at Beaucliffe. But she could not be induced to give any directions as to the interior of the house. When Stanley spoke to her on the subject, she always replied laughingly, “Oh! do just what you please, dearest boy. I’m sure to like it.”
Her husband did not feel quite certain as to that, but hoped she might And now we must ask rather a serious question. Had Stanley, since his marriage, ever thought of Rose? We must answer in the affirmative. He reproached himself for his conduct towards her, but endeavoured, though vainly, to banish her image from his mind. His mother, in her letters, never alluded to the forsaken girl; but he learnt from Minshull that she had been dangerously ill. He could only attribute her illness to one cause; and the questions, put by him to the old servant, confirmed the opinion.
“I should say, sir,” observed Minshull, “that Miss Rose has been suffering from disease of the heart. At one time both Lady Starkey and your mother quite despaired of her. Heaven be praised! She’s better now.”
Stanley echoed the prayer. Had she died, his breast would have always been torn by remorse.
Fortunately, he was spared this infliction. But he could not forgive himself for the suffering he had caused her; though he recalled, with some satisfaction, her declaration that she forgave him.
At length, the restoration of Brereton Hall was complete. But Mildred showed no anxiety to quit her father’s house, nor did he seem inclined to part with her, but told Stanley they must remain with him a few months longer.
As he could not very well do otherwise, the master of Brereton assented — though rather reluctantly.
Completely renovated and re-furnished — so far as was needful — and with excellent taste, the old hall
really looked beautiful. But beautiful as it was, it did not attract Mildred, and it was entirely owing to her persuasions that her father told his son-in-law that he could not part with them.
By this time, Mrs. Brereton, the elder, had returned to her abode, and was delighted with the improvements made in it. Nor did she object to arrangements that left her as much mistress of the mansion as before. She provided herself with an establishment, which, though not large, quite sufficed for her wants, and obviated the necessity of further expense in this particular for the present.
CHAPTER XXXI.
DARCY RECEIVES AN INVITATION TO BEAUCLIFFE.
Now that his mother had returned, Stanley generally spent a portion of each day at Brereton, replenishing the empty shelves of the library with old books, which he had bought — contemplating the family portraits, writing letters, or pacing to and fro in the gallery, and looking into almost every chamber.
Though he made no sort of complaint, his mother did not think he looked happy; and at length, though not without misgiving, ventured to question him on the subject They were sitting together in the great banquetting-hall, where no dinner had been given since its restoration, but which really looked magnificent with its old hangings and furniture. They were sitting, we say, near the large bay-window, when Stanley, who had not been very communicative that morning, lapsed into a gloomy silence.
“You don’t seem in very good spirits to-day, Stanley,” said his mother. “Has anything happened?”
As he took no notice of the question, she repeated it, and tapped him on the shoulder.
Nothing has happened more than usual,” he replied.
“I am afraid you are not happy, my dear boy,” she said, regarding him anxiously.
“What makes you think so?” he cried, sharply. “Your looks. Ever since my return I have noticed a change in the once joyous expression of your countenance. I have said nothing to you about it, because I feared to displease you. But this morning you look so unhappy that I cannot hold my tongue. If you have any trouble, you may safely confide it to me.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 801