The Belton Estate Part 39

CLARA AMEDROZ.

CHAPTER XIX.

MISS AMEDROZ HAS ANOTHER CHANCE.

It was on a Sunday morning that Clara's letter reached Aylmer Park, and Frederic Aylmer found it on his plate as he took his place at the breakfast-table. Domestic habits at Aylmer Park had grown with the growth of years till they had become adamantine, and domestic habits required prayers every morning at a quarter before nine o'clock.

At twenty minutes before nine Lady Aylmer would always be in the dining-room to make the tea and open the post-bag, and as she was always there alone, she knew more about other people's letters than other people ever knew about hers. When these operations were over she rang the bell, and the servants of the family, who by that time had already formed themselves into line in the hall, would march in, and settle themselves on benches prepared for them near the side-board,--which benches were afterwards carried away by the retiring procession. Lady Aylmer herself always read prayers, as Sir Anthony never appeared till the middle of breakfast. Belinda would usually come down in a scurry as she heard her mother's bell, in such a way as to put the army in the hall to some confusion; but Frederic Aylmer, when he was at home, rarely entered the room till after the service was over. At Perivale no doubt he was more strict in his conduct; but then at Perivale he had special interests and influences which were wanting to him at Aylmer Park. During those five minutes Lady Aylmer would deal round the letters to the several plates of the inmates of her house,--not without looking at the post-office marks upon them; and on this occasion she had dealt a letter from Clara to her son.

The arrival of the letter was announced to Frederic Aylmer before he took his seat.

"Frederic," said her ladyship, in her most portentous voice, "I am glad to say that at last there is a letter from Belton."

He made no immediate reply, but making his way slowly to his place, took up the little packet, turned it over in his hand, and then put it into his pocket. Having done this, he began very slowly with his tea and egg. For three minutes his mother was contented to make, or to pretend to make, some effort in the same direction. Then her impatience became too much for her, and she began to question him.

"Will you not read it, Frederic?"

"Of course I shall, ma'am."

"But why not do so now, when you know how anxious we are?"

"There are letters which one would sooner read in private."

"But when a matter is of so much importance--" said Belinda.

"The importance, Bel, is to me, and not to you," said her brother.

"All we want to know is," continued the sister, "that she promises to be guided by you in this matter; and of course we feel quite sure that she will."

"If you are quite sure that must be sufficient for you."

"I really think you need not quarrel with your sister," said Lady Aylmer, "because she is anxious as to the--the respectability, I must say, for there is no other word, of a young lady whom you propose to make your wife. I can a.s.sure you that I am very anxious myself,--very anxious indeed."

Captain Aylmer made no answer to this, but he did not take the letter from his pocket. He drank his tea in silence, and in silence sent up his cup to be refilled. In silence also was it returned to him.

He ate his two eggs and his three bits of toast, according to his custom, and when he had finished, sat out his three or four minutes as was usual. Then he got up to retire to his room, with the envelope still unbroken in his pocket.

"You will go to church with us, I suppose?" said Lady Aylmer.

"I won't promise, ma'am; but if I do, I'll walk across the park,--so that you need not wait for me."

Then both the mother and sister knew that the member for Perivale did not intend to go to church on that occasion. To morning service Sir Anthony always went, the habits of Aylmer Park having in them more of adamant in reference to him than they had as regarded his son.

When the father, mother, and daughter returned, Captain Aylmer had read his letter, and had, after doing so, received further tidings from Belton Castle,--further tidings which for the moment prevented the necessity of any reference to the letter, and almost drove it from his own thoughts. When his mother entered the library he was standing before the fire with a sc.r.a.p of paper in his hand.

"Since you have been at church there has come a telegraphic message,"

he said.

"What is it, Frederic? Do not frighten me,--if you can avoid it!"

"You need not be frightened, ma'am, for you did not know him. Mr.

Amedroz is dead."

"No!" said Lady Aylmer, seating herself.

"Dead!" said Belinda, holding up her hands.

"G.o.d bless my soul!" said the baronet, who had now followed the ladies into the room. "Dead! Why, Fred, he was five years younger than I am!"

Then Captain Aylmer read the words of the message:--"Mr. Amedroz died this morning at five o'clock. I have sent word to the lawyer and to Mr. Belton."

"Who does it come from?" asked Lady Aylmer.

"From Colonel Askerton."

Lady Aylmer paused, and shook her head, and moved her foot uneasily upon the carpet. The tidings, as far as they went, might be unexceptionable, but the source from whence they had come had evidently polluted them in her ladyship's judgment. Then she uttered a series of inter-e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, expressions of mingled sorrow and anger.

"There was no one else near her," said Captain Aylmer, apologetically.

"Is there no clergyman in the parish?"

"He lives a long way off. The message had to be sent at once."

"Are there no servants in the house? It looks,--it looks--. But I am the last person in the world to form a harsh judgment of a young woman at such a moment as this. What did she say in her letter, Fred?"

Captain Aylmer had devoted two hours of consideration to the letter before the telegram had come to relieve his mind by a fresh subject, and in those two hours he had not been able to extract much of comfort out of the doc.u.ment. It was, as he felt, a stubborn, stiff-necked, disobedient, almost rebellious letter. It contained a manifest defiance of his mother, and exhibited doctrines of most questionable morality. It had become to him a matter of doubt whether he could possibly marry a woman who could entertain such ideas and write such a letter. If the doubt was to be decided in his own mind against Clara, he had better show the letter at once to his mother, and allow her ladyship to fight the battle for him;--a task which, as he well knew, her ladyship would not be slow to undertake. But he had not succeeded in answering the question satisfactorily to himself when the telegram arrived and diverted all his thoughts. Now that Mr.

Amedroz was dead, the whole thing might be different. Clara would come away from Belton and Mrs. Askerton, and begin life, as it were, afresh. It seemed as though in such an emergency she ought to have another chance; and therefore he did not hasten to p.r.o.nounce his judgment. Lady Aylmer also felt something of this, and forbore to press her question when it was not answered.

"She will have to leave Belton now, I suppose?" said Sir Anthony.

"The property will belong to a distant cousin,--a Mr. William Belton."

"And where will she go?" said Lady Aylmer. "I suppose she has no place that she can call her home?"

"Would it not be a good thing to ask her here?" said Belinda. Such a question as that was very rash on the part of Miss Aylmer. In the first place, the selection of guests for Aylmer Park was rarely left to her; and in this special case she should have understood that such a proposal should have been fully considered by Lady Aylmer before it reached Frederic's ears.

"I think it would be a very good plan," said Captain Aylmer, generously.

Lady Aylmer shook her head. "I should like much to know what she has said about that unfortunate connection before I offer to take her by the hand myself. I'm sure Fred will feel that I ought to do so."

But Fred retreated from the room without showing the letter. He retreated from the room and betook himself to solitude, that he might again endeavour to make up his mind as to what he would do. He put on his hat and his great-coat and gloves, and went off,--without his luncheon,--that he might consider it all. Clara Amedroz had now no home,--and, indeed, very little means of providing one. If he intended that she should be his wife, he must furnish her with a home at once. It seemed to him that three houses might possibly be open to her,--of which one, the only one which under such circ.u.mstances would be proper, was Aylmer Park. The other two were Plaistow Hall and Mrs.

Askerton's cottage at Belton. As to the latter,--should she ever take shelter there, everything must be over between him and her. On that point there could be no doubt. He could not bring himself to marry a wife out of Mrs. Askerton's drawing-room, nor could he expect his mother to receive a young woman brought into the family under such circ.u.mstances. And Plaistow Hall was almost as bad. It was as bad to him, though it would, perhaps, be less objectionable in the eyes of Lady Aylmer. Should Clara go to Plaistow Hall there must be an end to everything. Of that also he taught himself to be quite certain. Then he took out Clara's letter and read it again. She acknowledged the story about the woman to be true,--such a story as it was too,--and yet refused to quarrel with the woman;--had absolutely promised the woman not to quarrel with her! Then he read and re-read the pa.s.sage in which Clara claimed the right of forming her own opinion in such matters. Nothing could be more indelicate;--nothing more unfit for his wife. He began to think that he had better show the letter to his mother, and acknowledge that the match must be broken off. That softening of his heart which had followed upon the receipt of the telegraphic message departed from him as he dwelt upon the stubborn, stiff-necked, unfeminine obstinacy of the letter. Then he remembered that nothing had as yet been done towards putting his aunt's fifteen hundred pounds absolutely into Clara's hands; and he remembered also that she might at the present moment be in great want. William Belton might, not improbably, a.s.sist her in her want, and this idea was wormwood to him in spite of his almost formed resolution to give up his own claims. He calculated that the income arising from fifteen hundred pounds would be very small, and he wished that he had counselled his aunt to double the legacy. He thought very much about the amount of the money and the way in which it might be best expended, and was, after his cold fashion, really solicitous as to Clara's welfare. If he could have fashioned her future life, and his own too, in accordance with his own now existing wishes, I think he would have arranged that neither of them should marry at all, and that to him should be a.s.signed the duty and care of being Clara's protector,--with full permission to tell her his mind as often as he pleased on the subject of Mrs. Askerton. Then he went in and wrote a note to Mr. Green, the lawyer, desiring that the interest of the fifteen hundred pounds for one year might be at once remitted to Miss Amedroz. He knew that he ought to write to her himself immediately, without loss of a post; but how was he to write while things were in their present position? Were he now to condole with her on her father's death, without any reference to the great Askerton iniquity, he would thereby be condoning all that was past, and acknowledging the truth and propriety of her arguments. And he would be doing even worse than that. He would be cutting the ground absolutely from beneath his own feet as regarded that escape from his engagement which he was contemplating.

What a cold-hearted, ungenerous wretch he must have been! That will be the verdict against him. But the verdict will be untrue.

Cold-hearted and ungenerous he was; but he was no wretch,--as men and women are now-a-days called wretches. He was chilly hearted, but yet quite capable of enough love to make him a good son, a good husband, and a good father too. And though he was ungenerous from the nature of his temperament, he was not close-fisted or over covetous. And he was a just man, desirous of obtaining nothing that was not fairly his own. But, in truth, the artists have been so much in the habit of painting for us our friends' faces without any of those flaws and blotches with which work and high living are apt to disfigure us, that we turn in disgust from a portrait in which the roughnesses and pimples are made apparent.

But it was essential that he should now do something, and before he sat down to dinner he did show Clara's letter to his mother.