Books: Love and Life
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> Love and Life
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Harriet could not long more for such a meeting than did Aurelia, and
there was, it must be owned, a little relief, that it was Harriet, and
not the severer judge, Betty, who thus awaited her. She could hardly
brook the delay until the evening, and even wondered whether it were
not a wife's privilege to anticipate the hour; but she did not venture,
and only hovered about impatient for Jumbo's summons. She came in with
a rapid movement that led Mr. Belamour to say, "Ha, my fair visitor, I
perceive that you have some tidings to bring to-day."
Everything was rapidly poured out, and she anxiously awaited the
decision. She had little hope of being allowed to go to Gracechurch
Street, and did not press for it; but she could not refrain from
showing her earnest desire for the sight of her sister, so that it
was plain that it would have been a cruel disappointment to her, if
she had been prevented from meeting the newly-married couple. She
detected a certain sound of annoyance or perplexity in the tones
that replied, and her accents became almost plaintively imploring
as she concluded, "Pray, pray, sir, do not deny me."
"No, my child, I could not be cruel enough for a refusal," he
answered; "I was but considering how most safely the thing may be
contrived. I know it would be your wish, and that it would seem
more befitting that you should act as hostess for your sister, but
I fear that must be for another time. This is not my house, and
there are other reasons for which it would be wiser for you to
receive no one here."
"It will be quite enough for me if I may only go to Brentford to
meet my dear, dear Harriet."
"Then be it so, my child. Present my compliments to Mrs. Arden,
and entreat her to excuse the seeming inhospitality of the invalid."
Aurelia was overflowing with joy at the anticipated meeting, wrote a
delighted letter to make the appointment, and skipped about the dark
stairs and passages more like the butterfly she was than like Madam
Belamour; while Fay and Letty found her a more delightful playfellow
than ever, recovering all the animation she had lost during the last
weeks. Her only drawback to the pleasure was that each intervening
evening convinced her more strongly that Mr. Belamour was uneasy and
dissatisfied about the meeting, which he could not prohibit. On the
previous night he asked many questions about her sister, in especial
whether she were of an inquisitive disposition.
"That rather depends on how much she has to say about herself,"
returned Aurelia, after some reflection. "She likes to hear about
other people's affairs, but she had much rather talk of her own."
This made Mr. Belamour laugh. "Considering," he said, "how recently
she has undergone the greatest event of a woman's life, let us hope
that her imagination and her tongue may be fully occupied by it during
the few hours that you are to pass together. It seems hard to put any
restraint on your ingenuous confidence, my sweet friend; but I trust
to your discretion to say as little as you can contrive of your
strange position here, and of the infirmities and caprices of him
whose name you have deigned to bear."
"Sir, do you think I could?"
"It is not for my own sake, but for yours, that I would recommend
caution," he continued. "The situation is unusual, and such
disclosures might impel persons to interfere for what they thought
your interest; but you have promised me your implicit trust, and
you will, I hope, prove it. You can understand how painful would
be such well-meaning interference, though you cannot understand
how fatally mischievous it would be."
"I had better say I can tell her nothing," said Aurelia, startled.
"Nay, that would excite still greater suspicion. Reply briefly and
carefully, making no mysteries to excite curiosity, and avert the
conversation from yourself as much as possible."
Man of the world and brilliant talker as he had been, he had no
notion of the difficulty of the task he had imposed on the simple
open-hearted girl, accustomed to share all her thoughts with her
sister; and she was too gay and joyous to take full note of all
his cautions, only replying sincerely that she hoped that she
should say nothing amiss, and that she would do her best to be
heedful of his wishes.
In spite of all such cautions, she was too happy to take in the notion
of anxiety. She rose early in the morning, caring for the first time
to array herself in the insignia of her new rank. Knowing that the
bridle-path lay through parks, woodlands and heaths, so that there was
no fear of dust, she put on a dainty habit of white cloth, trimmed and
faced with blue velvet, and a low-crowned hat with a white feather. On
her pretty grey horse, the young Madam Belamour was a fair and gracious
sight, as she rode into the yard of the Red Lion at Brentford. Harriet
was at the window watching for her, and Mr. Arden received her as she
sprang off her steed, then led her up to the parlour, where breakfast
was spread awaiting her.
"Aurelia, what a sweet figure you make," cried Harriet, as the sisters
unwound their arms after the first ecstasy of embracing one another
again. "Where did you get that exquisite habit?"
"It came down from London with another, a dark blue," said Aurelia.
"I suppose Mr. Belamour ordered them, for they came with my horse.
It is the first time I have worn it."
"Ah! fine things are of little account when there is no one to see
them," said Mrs. Arden, shaking her head in commiseration.
She was attired in a grey riding-dress with a little silver lace about
it, and looked wonderfully plump and well, full of importance and
complacency, and with such a return of comeliness that Aurelia would
hardly have recognised the lean, haggard, fretful Harriet of the
previous year. Her sentiment and romance, her soft melancholy and
little affectations had departed, and she was already the notable
prosperous wife of a beneficed clergyman, of whose abilities she was
very proud, though she patronised with good-humoured contempt his
dreamy, unpractical, unworldly ways.
The questions poured forth from Aurelia's heart-hunger about brother,
sister and home, were answered kindly and fully over the breakfast-
table; but as if Harriet had turned that page in her life, and
expected Aurelia to have done the same, every now and then exclaiming:
"La! you have not forgotten that! What a memory you have, child!"
She wanted much more to talk of the parsonage and glebe of Rundell
Canonicorum, and of how many servants and cows she should keep, and
showed herself almost annoyed when Aurelia brought her back to
Carminster by asking whether Eugene had finished his Comenius, and
if the speckled hen had hatched many chickens, whether Palmer had
had his rheumatic attack this spring, or if the Major's letter to
Vienna had produced any tidings of Nannerl's relation. Harriet
seemed only to be able to reply by an effort of memory, and was far
more desirous of expatiating on the luxuries at alderman Arden's,
and the deference with which she had been treated, in contrast to
the indignity of Lady Belamour's neglect.
It was disappointing to find that her father had heard nothing from
my Lady about the settlement of the Manor House.
"Was the promise in writing?" asked Mr. Arden, who had been silent
all this time.
"Certainly, in a letter to me."
"I recommend you to keep it carefully until Mr. Wayland's return,"
said Mr. Arden: "he will see justice done to you."
"Poor Mr. Wayland! When he does return, I pity him; but it is his
own fault for leaving his lady to herself. Have you ever seen the
gallant colonel, sister?"
"Never."
"Ah! most like he is not much at Bowstead. But do not folk talk
there?"
"My dear," said Mr. Arden, "you would do well to imitate your honoured
father's discretion on certain points."
"Bless me, Mr. Arden, how you startled me. I thought you were in a
brown study." She winked at Aurelia as if to intimate that she meant
to continue the subject in his absence, and went on; "I assure you, I
had to be on the alert all the way to take care he looked at the sign-
posts, or we might have been at York by this time. And in London,
what do you think was all my gentleman cared to go and see? Why, he
must needs go to some correspondents of his who are Fellows of the
Royal Society. I took it for granted they must be friends of his
Majesty or of the Prince of Wales at the least, and would have had
him wait for his new gown and cassock; but la! it was only a set of
old doctors and philosophers, and he wished to know what musty
discoveries they had been making. That was one thing he desired in
London, and the other was to hear that crazy Parson Wesley preach a
sermon hours long!"
"I was well rewarded in both instances," said Mr. Arden gravely.
Aurelia did not take advantage of the opportunity of shining in the
eyes of her new brother-in-law by showing her acquaintance with the
discussions on electricity which she had studied for Mr. Belamour's
benefit, nor did she speak of Dr. Godfrey's views of Wesley and
Whitfield. Had she so ventured, her sister would have pitied her,
and Mr. Arden himself been somewhat shocked at her being admitted
to knowledge unbecoming to a pretty young lady. Intellect in ladies
would have been a startling idea, and though very fond of his wife,
he never thought of her as a companion, but only as the mistress of
his house and guardian of his welfare.
The dinner was ordered at one, and at three Aurelia would ride home,
while Mr. and Mrs. Arden went on about twelve miles to the house of
a great grazier, brother to the Alderman's wife, where they had been
invited to make their next stage, and spend the next day, Sunday,
when Harriet reckoned on picking up information about cattle, if she
were not actually presented with a cow or a calf. They went out and
walked a little about the town, where presently they met Mrs. Hunter.
Aurelia met her puzzled stare with a curtsey, and she shouted in her
hearty tone "Miss Delavie!--I mean Mrs. Belamour! Who would have
thought of seeing you here!"
"I am here to meet my sister--Mrs. Arden. Let me--let me present
you," said Aurelia in obedience to an imperious sign from her sister,
going through the form for the first time, while Harriet volubly
declared her happiness in making Mrs. Hunter's acquaintance, and
explained how they were on their way to take possession of Mr. Arden's
rectory of Rundell Canonicorum, the words rolling out of her mouth
with magnificent emphasis. "I congratulate you, ma'am," said Mrs.
Hunter, cordially, "and you too, my dear," she added, turning to
Aurelia. "I would have been out long ago to call on you--a sort of
relation as you are now, as I may say--but it was kept all so mum,
one never knew the time to drink your health; and my Cousins Treforth
wouldn't so much as give me a hint. But la! says I, why should you
talk about artfulness? I'm right glad poor Mr. Amyas should find a
sprightly young lady to cure him of his mopishness. Never mind them,
my dear, if they do look sour on you. I'll come over one of these
days and talk to them. Now, I must have you come in to take your
dinner with us. The Doctor will be right pleased to find you. I'll
take no excuse. I thank Heaven I'm always ready whoever may drop in.
There's spring chicken and sparrow-grass."
However, on hearing their dinner was ordered at the inn, the good lady
was satisfied that to dine with her was impossible; but she insisted
on their coming in to partake of wine and cake in her best parlour.
This, however, was a little more than Mr. Arden could endure, he made
an excuse about seeing to the horse, and escaped; while Mrs. Hunter
led the two sisters to her closely shut-up parlour, wainscoted, and
hung with two staring simpering portraits of herself and her husband,
clean as soap could make it, but smelling like a long closed box.
She went to a cupboard in the wall, and brought out a silver salver,
a rich cake, glasses and wine, and pouring out the wine, touched the
glass with her lips, as she wished health and happiness to the two
brides before her.
"We shall soon have another wedding in the family, if report speaks
true," she added. "They say--but you should be the best informed,
Madam Belamour--
"We hear nothing of the matter, ma'am," said Aurelia.
"That's odd, since Mr. Belamour is young Sir Amyas's guardian; and
they cannot well pass him over now he has begun life again as it
were," laughed Mrs. Hunter. "'Tis said that my Lady is resolved
the wedding shall be within six weeks."
There are two words to that question," said Harriet, oracularly; "I
know from good authority that young Sir Amyas is determined against
the match."
"But is it true, ma'am," cried Mrs. Hunter, eagerly, "that my Lady
and the Countess of Aresfield met at Bath, and that my Lady is to
have 3,000 pounds down to pay off her debts before her husband
comes home, the day her son is married to Lady Arabella?"
"Every word of it is true, ma'am," said Harriet, importantly.
"Well now, that folk should sell their own flesh and blood!"
"How have you heard it, sister Harriet?" asked Aurelia.
"From a sure hand, my love. No other than Mrs. Dove. She is wife to
my Lady's coachman," explained Mrs. Arden to her hostess, "and nurse
to the two children it is her pleasure to keep with her."
"Dear good Nurse dove!" cried Aurelia, "did she come to see you?"
"Yes, that did she! So I have it from the fountain-head, as I may
say, that the poor young gentleman's hand and heart are to be made
over without his will, that so his mother may not have such a
schedule of debts wherewith to face her husband on his return!"
"Her jewels have been all paste long ago, I know very well," said
Mrs. Hunter, not to be outdone; "though, would you believe it, Doctor
Hunter is like all the men, and will believe nothing against her!
But this beats all the rest! Why, I have it from my maid, who is
sister to one of the servants at the boarding-school in Queen Square,
whither they have sent the Lady Belle, that she is a regular little
shrew. She flew at one of the young ladies like a wild cat, because
she did not yield place to her at once, and scratched her cheeks till
the blood ran down, and tore out whole handfuls of her hair. She was
like one possessed, and they had to call the lackey before they could
get her safe tied down in bed, where they kept her on bread and water,
trying to get her to make her apology; but not a word could be got
out of her, till they had to yield the point lest she should fall
sick."
Aurelia mentally applauded her own discretion in not capping this
with Mrs. Dove's former tale, and only observing that the marriage
could not take place before the young baronet was of age, without
the consent of his personal guardian, Mr. Belamour.
"You will excuse me, my dear, in speaking of your husband, but he has
so long been incapable of acting, that they say his consent can be
dispensed with."
"Aye, poor cousin Amyas Belamour!" said Mrs. Hunter. "He was the only
man who ever durst resist my Lady's will before, and you see to what
she has brought him!"
"Her son is resisting her now," said Harriet; "and our good Dove says
it makes her blood boil to see the way the poor young gentleman is
treated. He, who was the darling for whom nothing was good enough a
while ago, has now scarce a place in his mother's own house. She is
cold and stately with him, and Colonel Mar, the Lady Belle's brother,
being his commanding officer, there is no end to the vexations and
annoyances they give him, both at home and in his quarters. Mrs. Dove
says his own man, Grey, tells her it is a wonder how he stands out
against it all! And a truly well-bred young gentleman he is. He
came to pay me his call in Gracechurch Street only yesterday, knowing
our kindred, and most unfortunate was it that I was stepped out to
the office to speak as to our boxes being duly sent by the Buckingham
wain; but he left his ticket, and a message with the servant, 'Tell
my cousin, Mrs. Arden,' he said, 'that I much regret not having seen
her, and I should have done myself the honour of calling sooner to
inquire for her good father, if I had known she was in town."
"Well, I have never seen the young gentleman since he was a mere
child," said Mrs. Hunter. "His mother has bred him to neglect his
own home and relations, but I am sorry for him."
"They say," continued Harriet significantly, "that they are sure there
is some cause for his holding out so stiffly--I verily believe My Lady
suspected--"
"O hush, Harriet!" cried Aurelia, colouring painfully.
"Well, it is all over now, so you need not be offended," said Harriet,
laughing. "Besides, if my Lady had any such notion when she brought
about your marriage, she must be disappointed, for the young spark
is as resolute as ever."
"And no wonder, if he knows what the lady is like," said Aurelia.
"Ah! he has admitted as much to the King."
"To the King!" cried both auditors.
"Oh yes! you know my Lady is very thick with my Lady Suffolk, and
she persuaded the King to speak to him at the levee. '_Comment_',
says his majesty in French, 'are you a young rebel, sir, that refuse
the good things your mother provides you?' Not a whit was my young
gentleman moved. He bowed, and answered that he was acting by the
desire of his guardian. Excuse me, sister, but the King answered--'A
raving melancholic! That will not serve your turn, sir. Come to your
senses, fulfil your mother's bond, and we'll put you on the Duke's
staff, where you may see more of service than of home, or belike get
into gay quarters, where you may follow any other _fantaisie_ if that
is making you commit such _betises!_' At that Sir Amyas, who is but
an innocent youth, flamed up in his cheeks till they were as red as
his coat, and said his honour was engaged; on which his majesty swore
at him for an idiot, and turned his back. Every word of this Mrs.
Dove heard Colonel Mar tell my Lady--and then they fell to rating the
poor youth, and trying to force out who this secret flame may be; but
his is of the same stuff as his mother, adamantine and impervious.
And now the Colonel keeps him on hard duty continually, and they watch
him day and night to find out what places he haunts. But bless me,
Mrs. Hunter, is the church clock striking? We must be gone, or my
good man will be wondering where we are."
Mrs. Hunter would fain have kept them, and the last words and
compliments were of long duration, while Aurelia looked on in some
surprise at the transformation of all Harriet's languishing affected
airs into the bustling self-importance of Mrs. Arden. She was however
much occupied with all she had heard, and was marvelling how her
sister began again as soon as they were in the street again. "You
are very discreet, Aurelia, as it becomes a young married lady, but
have you no notion who this innamorata of the baronet may be?"
"No, indeed, how should I?"
"I thought he might have confided in your husband, since he makes so
sure of his support."
"He has only once come to visit Mr. Belamour, and that was many
months ago."
"It is strange," mused Harriet; "Mrs. Dove says she would have taken
her Bible oath that it was you, and my Lady believed as much, or she
would not have been in such haste to have you wedded. Nay, I'll
never believe but he made his confidences to Betty when he came to
the Manor House the Sunday after you were gone, though not a word
could I get from her."
"It must have been all a mistake," said Aurelia, not without a little
twinge at the thought of what might have been. "I wish you would not
talk of it."
"Well he could have been but a fickle adorer--'tis the way of men,
my dear, for he must have found some new flame while his mother and
the Colonel were both at the Bath. They have proof positive of his
riding out of town at sundown, but whither he goes is unknown, for he
takes not so much as a groom with him, and he is always in time for
morning parade."
"Poor young man, it is hard to be so beset with spies and watchers,"
said Aurelia.
"Most true," said Harriet, "but I am monstrous glad you are safe
married like me, child, so that no one can accuse us. Such romantic
affairs are well enough to furnish a course of letters to the _Tatler_,
or the _Gentlewomen's Magazine_, but I am thankful for a comfortable
life with my good man."
Therewith they reached their inn, where Harriet, having satisfied
herself that the said good man was safe within, and profiting by the
unwonted calm to write his inaugural sermon, took Aurelia to her
bedroom to prepare for dinner, and to indulge in further confidences.
"So, Aurelia, I can report to my father that you are looking well,
and as cheerful as can be expected."
"Nay, I have always told you I am happy as the day is long."
"What, when you have never so much as seen your husband?"
"Only at our wedding, and then he was forced to veil his face from
the light."
"Nor has he ever seen you?"
"Not unless he then saw me."
"If he were not then charmed enough to repeat the view, you are the
most cruelly wasted and unworthily matched--"
"Hush, sister!" broke out Aurelia in eager indignation.
"What! is a lovely young creature, almost equal to what I was before
my cruel malady, to waste her bloom on a wretched old melancholic,
who will not so much as look at her!"
"Harriet, I cannot hear this--you know not of what you are talking!
What is my poor skin-deep beauty--if beauty it be--compared with the
stores of goodness and wisdom I find in him?"
"La! child, what heat is this? One would really think you loved him."
"Of course I do! I love and honour him more than any one I ever met--
except my dear father."
"Come, Aura, you are talking by rote out of the marriage service. You
may be open with me, you know, it will go no further; and I do long to
know whether you can be truly content at heart," said Harriet with real
affection.
"Dear sister," said Aurelia, touched, "believe me that indeed I am.
Mr. Belamour is kindness itself. He is all he ever promised to be
to me, and sometimes more."
"Yet if he loved you, he could never let you live moped up there. Are
you never frighted at the dark chamber? I should die of it!"
"The dark does not fright me," said Aurelia.
"You have a courage I have not! Come, now, were you never frighted
to talk with a voice in the dark?"
"Scarcely ever!" said aurelia.
"Scarcely--when was that?"
"You will laugh, Harriet, but it is when he is most--most tender and
full of warmth. Then I hardly know him for the same."
"What! If he be not always tender to my poor dear child, he must be
a wretch indeed."
"O no, no, Harriet! How shall I ever make you understand?" cried
Aurelia. "Never for a moment is he other than kind and gentle. It
is generally like a father, only more courtly and deferential, but
sometimes something seems to come over him, and he is--oh! I cannot
tell you--what I should think a lover would be," faltered Aurelia,
colouring crimson, and hiding her face on her sister's shoulder,
as old habits of confidence, and need of counsel and sympathy were
obliterating all the warnings of last night.
"You silly little chit! Why don't you encourage these advances?
You ought to be charmed, not frightened."
"They would ch---I should like it if it were not so like two men
in one, the one holding the other back."
Harriet laughed at this fancy, and Aurelia was impelled to defend it.
"Indeed, Harriet, it is really so. There will be whispers--oh, such
whispers!"--she sunk her voice and hid her face again--"close to my
ear, and--endearments--while the grave voice sounds at the other end
of the room, and then I long for light. I swooned for fright the
first time, but I am much more used to it now."
"This is serious," said Harriet, with unwonted gravity. "Do you
really think that there is another person in the room?"
"I do not feel as if it could be otherwise, and yet it is quite
impossible."
"I would not bear it," said her sister. "You ought not to bear it.
How do you know that it is not some vile stratagem? It might even
be the blackamoor!"
"No, no, Harriet! I know better than that. It is quite impossible.
Besides, I am sure of this--that the hands that wedded me are the
same hands that caress me," she added, with another blushing effort,
"strong but delicate hands, rather hard inside, as with the bridle.
I noticed it because once I thought his hands soft with doing nothing
and being shut up."
"That convinces me the more, then, there is some strange imposition
practised upon you," said Harriet, anxiously.
"Oh, no!" said Aurelia, inconsistently; "Mr. Belamour is quite
incapable of doing anything wrong by me. I cannot let you have such
shocking notions. He told me I must be patient and trust him, though
I should meet with much that was strange and inexplicable."
"This is trusting him much too far. They are playing on your
inexperience, I am sure. If you were not a mere child, you would
see what a shocking situation this is."
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