Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife Part 68

'Suppose she wished for nothing better,' said Arthur, good-humouredly.

'I can't allow such things. Such a monopoly of our Guardsmen after two years' marriage is beyond bearing! What would they say to you in France?'

'We don't follow French fashions,' said Arthur, his gay tone making his earnest like jest. 'I am going to take my ladies home. I shall see for the carriage, Violet.'

'Mrs. Martindale will learn my maxim--Never bring a husband to an evening party. There is nothing so much in the way.'

'Or that would be so glad to be let off,' said Arthur, going.

'You don't mean to take them away? That is the climax of all your crimes. Quite unallowable.'

'Many things unallowable are done,' said Arthur; 'and I don't allow her to be over-tired.'

'"Barbare",' began Mrs. Finch, but with a bow, as if it was a compliment, he was gone in search of the carriage. She sat for a moment silent, then said, 'Well, I must forgive him. I never thought to see him so careful of anything. How happy Theodora seems in your "menage". Quite a different creature; but perhaps that is from another cause?'

Violet made a little attempt at a laugh.

'I am glad of it,' said Mrs. Finch, heartily. 'It is a horrid stiff place for her at home, is it not? And I am delighted she should escape from it. How she got consent, I can't imagine; and Theodora has notions of her own, and would do nothing without.'

'Lord Martindale has a very high opinion of Mr. Fotheringham.'

'I am not surprised. I read that book--a wonder for me, and was perfectly "eprise". But I did not think a genius with empty pockets would have gone down at Martindale; and he is a bit of a bear, too, they say, though perhaps Theodora likes him the better for that.'

'Perhaps she does.'

'I hope he is worthy of her. He is the great pride of the old folks at Worthbourne. One heard of Percy's perfections there morning, noon, and night, till I could have hated the sound of his name. Very generous of me to ask him here to-night, is it not? but I wish he would have come. I want to judge of him myself. I could not bear all not to be perfect with Theodora.'

There was little occasion for Violet to speak, Mrs. Finch always kept the whole conversation to herself; but she could not but perceive that though the exaggeration and recklessness of style were unpleasing, yet it really was frank and genuine, and Theodora's declaration that Georgina was far preferable to Jane was less incomprehensible.

The evening was over, much to her relief; but there remained Theodora's bold undertaking to tell Mrs. Finch of Percy's refusal to visit her.

Any one else would have let the subject drop, but Theodora thought this would be shabby and cowardly, and was resolved not to shrink from warning her friend.

She found Georgina looking over some cards of invitation, with an air of great dissatisfaction, and almost the first words that greeted her were, 'Have you a card for Lady Albury's party?'

'Yes; I heard Violet ask Arthur if he should be at home for it.'

'Very strange! We left our cards, I know, yet they never asked us to their party this week, and now seem to have missed us again. I wished particularly to go, for one is sure to meet all that is worth seeing, your knight among the rest. They are prim, strait-laced, exclusive people themselves; but it is a house worth going to.'

'I did not remember that you knew them.'

'Oh! yes, we did; we used to be there pretty often when we lived with my Uncle Edward; and it is not that they do not think my poor old man good enough for them, for we went to their parties last year. So, Mrs.

Martindale has a card, you say!'

Theodora's colour rose as she said, 'Georgina, I am going to say what no one else will tell you. It is not your marriage, but you must take care--'

The crimson of Mrs. Finch's cheeks, and the precipitation with which she started to her feet, would have disconcerted most persons; but Theodora, though she cast down her eyes, spoke the more steadily. 'You must be more guarded and reserved in manner if you wish to avoid unkind remarks.'

'What--what--what?' cried Georgina, pa.s.sionately; 'what can the most ill-natured, the most censorious, accuse me of?'

'It is not merely the ill-natured,' said Theodora. 'I know very well that you mean no harm; but you certainly have an air of trying to attract attention.'

'Well, and who does not? Some do so more demurely and hypocritically than others; but what else does any one go into company for? Do you expect us all to act the happy couple, like Captain and Mrs. Martindale the other night? You should have brought your own Percy to set us the example!' said she, ending with a most unpleasant laugh.

'Georgina, you must not expect to see Percy. He has rigid notions; he always avoids people who seek much after fashion and amus.e.m.e.nt, and (I must say it) he will not begin an acquaintance while you go on in this wild way.'

'So!' exclaimed Georgina. 'It is a new thing for the gentlemen to be particular and fastidious! I wonder what harm he thinks I should do him!

But I see how it is: he means to take you away, turn you against me, the only creature in this world that ever cared for me. Are not you come to tell me he forbids you ever to come near me!'

'No, no; he does not, and if he did, would I listen?'

'No, don't, don't displease him on my account,' cried Mrs. Finch. 'Go and be happy with him; I am not worth caring for, or vexing yourself about!'

The tears stood on her burning cheeks, and Theodora eagerly replied, 'Have no fancies about me. Nothing shall ever make me give up my oldest friend. You ought to know me better than to think I would.'

'You are so unlike those I live with,' said Georgina sadly, as an excuse for the distrust. 'Oh, you don't know what I have gone through, or you would pity me. You are the only thing that has not failed me. There is Jane, with her smooth tongue and universal obligingness, she is the most selfish creature in existence--her heart would go into a nutsh.e.l.l!

One grain of sympathy, and I would never have married. It was all her doing--she wanted luxuries! O Theodora, if I had but been near you!'

'Hush, Georgina, this is no talk for a wife,' said Theodora, severely.

'I thought you pitied me!'

'I do, indeed I do; but I cannot let you talk in that way.'

'I never do so: no one else would care to hear me.'

'Now listen to me, Georgina. You say you rely on me as you do on no one else; will you hear me tell you the only way to be happy yourself--'

'That is past,' she murmured.

'Or to stand well in the opinion of others! I am putting it on low grounds.'

'I know what you are going to say--Go and live in the country, and set up a charity-school.'

'I say no such thing. I only ask you to be cautious in your manners, to make Mr. Finch of more importance, and not to let yourself be followed by your cousin--'

Again Georgina burst into her 'thorn crackling' laugh. 'Poor Mark! I thought that was coming. People will treat him as if he was a dragon!'

'I know you mean no harm,' repeated Theodora; 'but it cannot be right to allow any occasion for observations.'

'Now, Theodora, hear me. I dare say Jane has been telling you some of her plausible stories, which do more harm than good, because no one knows which part to believe. There was some nonsense between Mark and me when we were young and happy--I confess that. Perhaps I thought he meant more than he did, and dwelt upon it as silly girls do, especially when they have nothing else to care for. Then came the discovery of all his debts and sc.r.a.pes, poor fellow, and--I won't deny it--it half killed me, more especially when I found he had been attached to some low girl, and avowed that he had never seriously thought of me--he believed I understood it as all sport. I was very ill. I wish I had died. There was no more to be done but to hate him. My uncle and aunt Edward were horridly savage, chiefly because I hindered them from going to Italy; and Mrs. George Gardner thought I had been deluding Mark! Then Lady Fotheringham asked us, and--it was dull enough to be sure, and poor Pelham was always in the way--but they were kind comfortable folks. Lady Fotheringham is a dear old dame, and I was in dull spirits just then, and rather liked to poke about with her, and get her to tell me about your brother and his Helen--'

'Why, Jane said you were dying of low spirits!'

'Well, so I was. I hated it excessively sometimes. Jane is not entirely false in that. The evenings were horrid, and Sundays beyond everything unbearable. I confess I was delighted to get away to Bath; but there--if Jane would but have helped me--I would, indeed I would, have been thankful to have gone back to Worthbourne, even if I had had to play at draughts with Pelham for the rest of my days. But Jane was resolved, and all my strength and spirit had been crushed out of me. She would not even let me write to you nor to Lady Fotheringham till it was too late.'

'Well, that is all past,' said Theodora, whose face had shown more sympathy than she thought it right to express in words. 'The point is, what is right now?'

And you see it is folly to say there is any harm or danger in my seeing Mark: he never had any attachment to me seven years ago, nor any other time, and whatever I felt for him had a thorough cure. I am not ashamed to say I am glad he should be here to give him a chance of marrying a fortune. That is the whole story. Are you satisfied?'