Emmeline Part 33

My mother had that evening another attack; tho' it was much less severe. But as the contraction does not give way to any remedies yet used, the physicians propose sending her to Bath as soon as she is able to bear the journey.

'Thus, my dearest Emmeline, I have punctually related all you appear so anxious to know, on which I leave you to reflect. My mother now sees my brother every day; but he has desired that nothing may be said of the past; and their conversations are short

and melancholy. Fitz-Edward has left London; and Frederic told me, last night, that as soon as the physicians p.r.o.nounce my mother entirely out of danger, he shall go down to you. Ah! my lovely friend! what a trial will his be! But I know _you_ will encourage and support him in the task, however painful, of fulfilling the promise he has given; and my father, who praises you incessantly, says he is _sure_ of it.

Adieu! my dear Miss Mowbray!

your affectionate and attached, AUGUSTA DELAMERE.'

_Berkley-square, March 3._

A few days after the receipt of this letter, Delamere went down to Tylehurst. Dejection was visibly marked in his air and countenance; and all that Emmeline could say to strengthen his resolution, served only to make him feel greater reluctance. To quit her for twelve months, to leave her exposed to the solicitation of rivals who would not fail to surround her, and to hazard losing her for ever, seemed so terrible to his imagination, that the nearer the period of his promised departure grew, the more impossible he thought it to depart.

His ardent imagination seemed to be employed only in figuring the variety of circ.u.mstances which might in that interval arise to separate them for ever; and he magnified these possibilities, till he persuaded himself that nothing but a private marriage could secure her. As he saw how anxious she was that he should strictly adhere to the promises he had given his father, he thought that he might induce her to consent to this expedient, as the only one by which he could reconcile his duty and his love. He therefore took an opportunity, when he had by the bitterness of his complaints softened her into tears, to entreat, to implore her to consent to marry him before he went. He urged, that as Lord and Lady Montreville had both consented to their union at the end of the year, if he remained in the same mind, it made in fact no difference to _them_; because he was very sure that his inclinations would not change, and no doubt _could_ arise but from herself. If therefore she determined then to be his, she might as well consent to become so immediately as to hazard the difficulties which might arise to their marriage hereafter.

Emmeline, tho' extremely affected by his sorrow, had still resolution enough to treat this argument as feeble sophistry, unworthy of him and of herself; and positively to refuse her consent to an engagement which militated against all her a.s.surances to Lord Montreville.

This decisive rejection of a plan, to which, from the tender pity she testified, he believed he should persuade her to a.s.sent, threw him into one of those transports of agonizing pa.s.sion which he could neither conceal or contend with. He wept; he raved like a madman. He swore he would return to his father and revoke his promise; and the endeavours of Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline to calm his mind seemed only to encrease the emotions with which it was torn.

After having exhausted every mode of persuasion in vain, he was obliged to relinquish the hope of a secret marriage, and to attempt to obtain another concession, in which he at length succeeded. He told Emmeline, that if she had no wish to quit him entirely, but really meant to reward his long and ardent affection, she could not object to bind herself to become his wife immediately on his return to England.

Emmeline made every objection she could to this request. But she only objected; for she saw him so hurt, that she had not the resolution to wound him anew by a positive refusal. Mrs. Stafford too, moved by his grief and despair, no longer supported her in her reserve; and as _their_ steadiness seemed to give way _his_ eagerness and importunity encreased, till they allowed him to draw up a promise in these words--'At the end of the term prescribed by Lord Montreville, Emmeline Mowbray hereby promises to become the wife of Frederic Delamere.'

This, Emmeline signed with a reluctant and trembling hand; for tho' she had an habitual friendship and affection for Delamere, and preferred him to all the men she had yet seen, she thought this not strictly right; and felt a pain and repugnance to it's performance, which made her more unhappy the longer she reflected on it.

On Delamere, however, it had a contrary effect. Tho' he still continued greatly depressed at the thoughts of their approaching separation, he yet a.s.sumed some degree of courage to bear it: and when the day arrived, he bid her adieu without relapsing into those agonies he had suffered before at the mere idea of it.

He carried with him a miniature picture of her, and entreated her to answer his letters; which, on the footing they now were, she could not refuse to promise. He then tore himself from her, and went to take leave of his mother, who still continued ill at Bath; and from thence to London, to bid farewel to his father; after which, Fitz-Edward accompanied him as far as Harwich, where he embarked for Holland.

As he had before been the usual tour of France and Italy, he purposed pa.s.sing the summer in visiting Germany, and the winter at Vienna; and early in the spring to set out thro' France on his way home, where he purposed being on the 20th of March, when the year which he had promised his father to pa.s.s abroad would expire.

Lord Montreville, by obtaining this delay thought there was every probability that his attachment to Emmeline would be conquered. And his Lordship, as well as Lady Montreville, determined to try in the interval to procure for Emmeline some unexceptionable marriage which it would not be possible for her to refuse. They imagined, therefore, that their uneasiness on this head was over: and Lady Montreville, whose mind was greatly relieved by the persuasion, was long since out of all danger from the fits which had so severely attacked her; but the contraction of her joints which they had occasioned, was still so painful and obstinate, that the physicians seemed to apprehend it might be necessary to send her Ladyship to the waters of Barege.

In the mean time, Lord Montreville had obtained a post in administration which encreased his income and his power. Sir Richard Crofts possessed a lucrative employment in the same department; and his eldest son was become extremely necessary, from his a.s.siduity and attention to business, and more than ever a favourite with all Lord Montreville's family, with whom he almost entirely lived.

A lurking _penchant_ for Fitz-Edward, which had grown up from her earliest recollection almost insensibly in the bosom of Miss Delamere, had been long chilled by his evident neglect and indifference: she now fancied she hated him, and really preferred Crofts, every way inferior as he was.

While the want of high birth and a t.i.tle, which she had been taught to consider as absolutely requisite to happiness, made her repress every tendency to a serious engagement, she was extremely gratified by his flattery; and when among other young women (from whom he affected not to be able to stifle his unhappy pa.s.sion,) she was frequently told how much he was in love with her, she was accustomed to answer--'Ah! poor fellow; so he is, and I heartily pity him.'

But while Lord and Lady Montreville thought Crofts's attendance on their daughters quite without consequence, he and his father insinuated an intended connection between him and one of them, with so much art, that tho' it never reached the ears of the family it was universally believed in the world.

A young n.o.bleman who had pa.s.sed the greater part of his life in the army, where he had lately signalized himself by his bravery and conduct, now returned to England on being promoted to a regiment; and having some business to transact with Lord Montreville in his official capacity, he was invited to the house, and greatly admired both the Miss Delameres, whose parties he now joined at Bath.

Crofts soon afterwards obtaining a short respite from his political engagement, went thither also; and tho' Miss Delamere really thought Lord Westhaven quite unexceptionable, she had been so habituated to behave particularly to Crofts, that she could not now alter it, or perhaps was not conscious of the familiar footing on which she allowed him to be with her.

Lord Westhaven, who had at first hesitated between the sprightly dignity of the elder sister, and the soft and more bewitching graces of the younger, no sooner saw the conduct of Miss Delamere towards Crofts, than his doubts were at an end. Her faults of temper had been hitherto concealed from him, and he believed her heart as good as her sister's; indeed, according to the sentimental turn her discourse frequently took, he might have supposed it more refined and sublime. But when he observed her behaviour to Crofts, he thought that she must either be secretly engaged to him, or be a decided coquet. Turning therefore all his attention to Augusta, he soon found that her temper was as truly good as her person was interesting, and that the too great timidity of her manner was solely owing to her being continually checked by her mother's partiality to her sister.

A very short study of her character convinced him she was exactly the woman calculated to make him happy. He told her so; and found her by no means averse to his making the same declaration to her father and mother.

Lord Montreville received it with pleasure; and preliminaries were soon settled. In about six weeks, Lord Westhaven and Miss Augusta Delamere were married at Bath, to the infinite satisfaction of all parties except Miss Delamere; who could not be very well pleased with the preference shewn her younger sister by a man whose morals, person, and fortune, were all superior to what even her own high spirit had taught her to expect in a husband.

Crofts, tho' he saw all apprehensions of having Lord Westhaven for a rival were at an end, could not help fearing that so advantageous a match for the younger, might make the elder more unwilling to accept a simple commoner with a fortune greatly inferior.

The removal, however, of Lady Westhaven gave him more frequent opportunities to urge his pa.s.sion. Lady Montreville was now going to Barege, Bath having been found less serviceable than was at first hoped for; and Delamere was written to to meet her Ladyship and her eldest daughter at Paris, in order to accompany them thither.

Peace having been in the interim established, Lord Westhaven found he should return no more to his regiment, and purposed with his wife to attend Lady Montreville part of the way, and then to go into Switzerland, where his mother's family resided, who had been of that country.

Lady Westhaven was extremely gratified by this scheme; not only because she was delighted to wait on her mother, but because she hoped it would help to dissipate a lurking uneasiness which hung over the spirits of her Lord, and which he told her was owing to the uncertain and distressing situation of a beloved sister. But whenever the subject was mentioned, he expressed so much unhappiness, that his wife had not yet had resolution to enquire into the nature of her misfortunes, and only knew in general that she was unfortunately married.

CHAPTER XI

Emmeline had now lost her lover, at least for some time; and one of her friends too was gone where she could seldom hear of her. These deprivations attached her more closely than ever to Mrs. Stafford. Mr.

Stafford was gone to town; and except now and then a short and melancholy visit from Fitz-Edward, to whom Delamere had lent his house at Tylehurst, they saw n.o.body; for all the neighbouring families were in London. They found not only society but happiness together enough to compensate for almost every other; and pa.s.sed their time in a way particularly adapted to the taste of both.

Adjoining to the estate where Mrs. Stafford resided, a tract of forest land, formerly a chase and now the property of a collegiate body, deeply indents the arable ground beyond it, and fringes the feet of the green downs which rise above it. This part of the country is called Woodbury Forest; and the deep shade of the beech trees with which it is covered, is broken by wild and uncultured glens; where, among the broom, hawthorn and birch of the waste, a few scattered cottages have been built upon sufferance by the poor for the convenience of fewel, so amply afforded by the surrounding woods. These humble and obscure cabbins are known only to the sportsman and the woodcutter; for no road whatever leads through the forest: and only such romantic wanderers as Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline, were conscious of the beautiful walks which might be found among these natural shrubberies and solitary shades. The two friends were enjoying the softness of a beautiful April morning in these woods, when, in pa.s.sing near one of the cottages, they saw, at a low cas.e.m.e.nt half obscured by the pendant trees, a person sitting, whose dress and air seemed very unlike those of the usual inhabitants of such a place.

She was intent on a paper, over which she leaned in a melancholy posture; but on seeing the two ladies approach, she started up and immediately disappeared.

Tho' the distance at which they saw her, and the obscurity of the window, prevented their distinguishing the features of the stranger, they saw that she was young, and they fancied she was beautiful. The same idea instantly occurred to Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline; that it was some unfortunate young woman, whom Mr. Stafford had met with and had concealed there. Something of the same sort had happened once before, and Mrs. Stafford's anxiety and curiosity were both awakened by this incident. Tho' the latter was a pa.s.sion she never indulged where it's object was the business of others, she could not repress it where it was excited by suspicion of a circ.u.mstance which so nearly concerned herself.

Nor could she conceal from Emmeline her fears on this occasion; and Emmeline, tho' unwilling to encrease them, yet knew enough of her husband's conduct to believe they were too well founded.

Mrs. Stafford had been accustomed to buy poultry of the woman who lived at this cottage, and therefore went in, in hopes of finding some vestige of the person they had seen, which might lead to an enquiry. But they found nothing but the usual humble furniture and few conveniences of such an house; and Mrs. Stafford forbore to enquire, lest the person she had seen might be alarmed and take more effectual means of concealment.

But unable to rest, and growing every moment more desirous to know the truth, and to know it before her husband, whom she expected in a few days, returned, she arose very early the next morning, and, accompanied by Emmeline, went to the cottage in the forest.

The man who inhabited it was already gone out to his work, and the woman to a neighbouring town to buy necessaries for her family. The door was open; and the ladies received this intelligence from three little children who were playing before it.

They entered the low, smoky room, usually inhabited by the family. And Mrs. Stafford, with a beating heart, determining to be satisfied, opened a door which led from it, into that, at the window of which she knew the stranger had appeared; and which the people of the house dignified with the appellation of their parlour.

In this room, on the brick floor, and surrounded by bare walls, stood a bed, which seemed to have been brought thither for the accommodation of some person who had not been accustomed to such an apartment.

Mrs. Stafford saw, sleeping in it, a very young woman, pale, but extremely beautiful; and her hand, of uncommon delicacy, lay on the white quilt--A sight, which gave her pain for herself, and pity for the unfortunate person before her, affected her so much, that having stood a moment in astonishment, she stepped back to the place where Emmeline sat, and burst into tears.

The noise, however trifling, brought from above stairs a person evidently a lady's maid, of very creditable appearance, who came down hastily into the room where Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline were, saying, as she descended the stairs--'I am coming immediately, my Lady.' But at the sight of two strangers, she stopped in great confusion; and at the same moment her mistress called to her.

She hastened, without speaking, to attend the summons; and shut the door after her. After remaining a few moments, she came out again, and asked Mrs. Stafford if she wanted the woman of the house?

To which Mrs. Stafford, determined whatever it cost her to know the truth, said--'No--my business is with your lady.'

The woman now appeared more confused than before; and said, hesitatingly--'I--I--my lady--I fancy you are mistaken, madam.'

'Go in, however, and let your mistress know that Mrs. Stafford desires to speak to her.'

The maid reluctantly and hesitatingly went in, and after staying some time, came back.

'My mistress, Madam, says she has not the pleasure of knowing you; and being ill, and in bed, she hopes you will excuse her if she desires you will acquaint her with your business by me.'