The Ladies": A Shining Constellation of Wit and Beauty Part 12

"What?" he cries. "Do my eyes deceive me? Impossible! But sure I have the happiness to see the daughter of my old friend, and I am honoured beyond expression to welcome her beneath my roof. Where have you been retired?

And what are these two lovely nymphs? Your daughters? No, sure it can't be and you all youth and beauty yourself. Present them."

And while mama blushed and bridled, the magic words were spoke, and the two dropped the gentlest curtseys, and rising, received a salute more than usual warm from his Excellency on either fair blushing cheek. 'Twas observed he lingered an instant on Maria's. Viceroys, too, are human.

'Twas an instantaneous conquest--how could it be otherwise? A moment later they were the centre of a competing crowd of gentlemen, and glances of coldness and aversion raining on them from ladies only a little less fair and now deserted. That his Excellency was the first victim, none could doubt, for when he was not in company with the beauties, he was discoursing of them to others. True it is that he conducted the Dowager Rathconnel to the supper-table, but equally true that he left the lady seated before such dainties as ensure an old age of gout, disengaging himself with a nimble wit that should have appeased her, and sought out the mother of the Graces, devoting himself to memories of old times with a gusto, while Maria and Elizabeth danced and smiled on their adorers, blooming and beautiful.

"My dear Madam," says his Lordship, "how is it possible that you have lived so retired for fifteen years? 'T was not justice to your admirers-- of whom I was ever one. How came it about?"

"Why, your Excellency," says the lady very serious, "'twas not with my good-will. You know well that my late father's good heart was his chief possession; and my husband--alas!"

Sure a pause and downcast eyes are more expressive than any words. His Excellency shook his majestic peruke, and echoed the lady.

"Alas! Cards, horses, the bottle--how many a wife and mother hath had cause to curse that fatal trinity! And 'tis even so, Madam?"

She applied George Anne's laced handkerchief to her eye, then smiled faintly and seeing opportunity, seized it.

"I would not cloud this festive scene, your Excellency, yet why should I reserve from a tried friend that I and my poor daughters--"

"Yes, yes!" cries his Lordship, very impatient.

"--Are here this night in borrowed dress," continues Mrs G. solemnly, "and are indebted even for the shoes upon their feet to the kindness of an actress, Mrs Bellamy."

"Good Ged!" says Lord Harrington, genuinely shocked, and the more so that he had himself known Mrs. Bellamy some years since. "Sure it can't be! I won't believe it. Indeed, we must discourse further of this. Come hither!"

Profoundly interested, he led her to a withdrawing-room and there they fell into so deep discussion that never had he been such a negligent host.

And when Mrs. Gunning left the withdrawing-room, it was with an imperial head held high, and a flush in her cheek which became her so well that the most prying female eye would not give her a day over thirty.

His Excellency led out Maria to a minuet. Twice he took Elizabeth down the country dances. The generous wines had warmed his heart, the glow of beauty kindled it to flame, and it was plain to be seen that his eyes were only for the fair Gunnings. The world followed his example,--when does it otherwise?--and a petal from Maria's rose, a look from the violet dark-lashed eyes of Elizabeth, were the prizes of the night.

A party of n.o.blemen escorted them to the doors on leaving, and 'twas with the utmost difficulty Mrs. Gunning persuaded them it was unnecessary to ride in cavalcade about the coach to Britain Street. When the ladies were gone, they returned to the Banqueting Hall to toast "The Irish Beauties,"

and break their gla.s.ses in their honour until the floor was strewn with broken crystal, and the celebrants were most of them borne speechless to their beds. Indeed, a challenge pa.s.sed between my Lords Cappoquin and Tuam upon a dispute as to which lady was the greater Venus.

Never was such a triumph! And Mrs Gunning, falling into George Anne's arms in Britain Street, declared with tears of joy:--

"You were right, entirely right, my dearest Madam. I am promised a handsome pension on the Irish Establishment, and his Excellency counsels me to transport my girls to London, where, he considers, they may pretend to the highest matches, and promises introductions worthy of them. And, O Madam, playing at faro in the cardroom, I won a milleleva--no less!-- Fifty guineas!--Lord! was ever anyone so happy!"

Tears of sensibility stood in George Anne's eyes. She was one who shared to the full the griefs or triumphs of her friends. She wrung Mrs G.'s hand and embraced the fair conquerors, scorning to mention the rent in Maria's muslin gown, and the stain of wine on Elizabeth's satin. It was a generous heart, and had earned more grat.i.tude than she afterwards received from two, at least, of the ladies.

'Twas amazing to Mrs Gunning and Maria now that ever they had contemplated the stage--so very far below their pretensions; and it took but a week to open the former lady's eyes to the little cracks in George Anne's reputation. She saw plainly that such a friendship could be no aid to their soaring aspirations; and indeed her ambition had now spread its wings to some purpose. The Earl of Harrington having advanced the first installment of her pension, she immediately moved their lodging to the genteeler Mount Street, and Britain Street was forgot, along with George Anne. Sure a mother must be prudent! Elizabeth only forsook not her friend, going to wait upon her and carrying with her many of the posies left in daily homage to her sister and herself. She had little in her power, for money was still none too plenty; but kindness and grat.i.tude smell sweeter even than roses, and these she carried in handfuls straight from a grateful heart to George Anne.

It smoothed not her own path in Mount Street, for Mrs Gunning's pride grew with what fed it, and though admiration was plenty, offers were few. It might be that the enmity of the Dublin ladies stood in their way, for certain it is that Mrs G. was never a favourite. Where she judged well to flatter, she flattered too openly; where she disliked and saw no gain, she insulted; and many gentlemen would have retired from her acquaintance, but for Maria's frolicsome gaiety and the sweetness of Elizabeth. It gained ground about the city that there was much scheming in Mount Street with a view to rich husbands, and it smirched the girls as well as their mama, and put thorns in their way. It made the men bolder than they should be, and the women cold.

Maria was the hardier and took it as a necessity of their situation; but the milder Elizabeth wept often on George Anne's kind bosom over the insults (as she took it) which Mrs Gunning received with rapture, as hopeful signs of love. And, whatever the actress's own case might be, 'tis certain she showed more delicacy in dealing with the girl than did her lady mother.

Nor had she much comfort from Mr Harry's letters. His father remained adamant; and though he writ, 'twas more carelessly, and a rumour reached Dublin that coupled his name with the great fortune Miss Hooker, and was generally took for truth. Mrs Gunning greeted it with pleasure, regarding Mr Harry as a gone-by and much below her hopes; but though Elizabeth's heart was not wounded, her pride was pierced to the quick. It seemed that all the world conspired to humiliate her, and she asked herself what was the use of beauty, if it meant this and no more. She sighed and left his last letter unanswered.

Miss Maria too had her troubles. My Lord Errington pursued her with ardour, and his handsome rakish face and gallant impudence drew the pretty moth towards the heat and flame of a dangerous candle. Folly, no more, but his lady took her vengeance in scandals that spread about the town, and a duel was fought that did Maria no good and kept off worthier pretenders to her hand; and indeed it was not a day too soon when the family packed up their belongings and changed the air to London. The girls outshone all others--true! but 'twas thought more in beauty than discretion, for Elizabeth must needs sink with her family. The world draws not nice distinctions.

But to say they were courted in London is to say little. They broke triumphant upon the town, supported by letters from his Excellency, and the town received them with frenzy, as it might the great Italian singer or the new lions at the Tower, or what not. Amongst the greatest, the Duke of Hamilton put himself at their disposal, urged thereto by a particular letter from my Lord Harrington and his own love of beauty. He dangled about them daily, and it must be owned that from the first moment of meeting Mrs Gunning fixed the eye of cupidity on his Grace. For of all the matches of the Kingdom James Hamilton was the greatest available. Duke of Brandon in England, of Chatelherault in France, of Hamilton in Scotland, of vast possessions, of suitable age and gallant presence, a princess need not have disdained his hand. A great prince, indeed, and knowing it possibly too well,'t was he to dazzle a girl's eye and carry her heart by storm! For hearts--it was never supposed his Grace possessed one; at least, he wore it not on his sleeve, but was ever cold and haughty, though it was well known he liked a pretty woman as well as any--short of the wedding ring. He hung about the new beauties as a gentleman will, until wagers began to be laid at White's as to which had caught his favour, and where would fall the handkerchief of the Grand Bashaw.

Meanwhile, his attentions made them more than ever the mode, and the town gallants swarmed about them like bees, at the a.s.semblies where they figured, attended by my Lord Duke in ribbon and star. As the days went by, however, the anxious mother observed that his preference was for Elizabeth, and that he had no thought to interfere with my Lord Coventry, who could not keep his eyes off Maria, though he committed himself no further than the Duke. Indeed, stories were now freely circulated concerning Britain Street and the poverty and shifts of the family, and wagers were laid that neither the one n.o.bleman nor the other looked for more than a few months' amus.e.m.e.nt with the two loveliest girls in England.

Mrs. Gunning was openly called the Adventuress, and it was a favourite sport with some ladies to imitate her Irish accent and carnying ways with those she would please; and doubtless Maria angled a little too openly for her lord. They were, in short, easy game for the mockers, and Elizabeth shrunk daily more into the shade. It appeared as if it would be the Dublin story over again.

Mr. Harry came at once to their lodging on his return from Yorkshire, and to be sure, had not a word to say of Miss Hooker. He would have saluted Elizabeth, but she drew back with a curtsey, her manner sweet and cold as an autumn dawn with a touch of winter in the air. He found her changed, and no wonder, and said as much with some anger.

"It should not surprise you, Harry," says she serenely. "I am now eighteen, and have seen the world, as you have also. Our betrothal was a child's game. I like you too well to be your ruin. Marry Miss Hooker, of whom I hear. 'Tis your best way, and obedience to parents a plain duty."

"You were not so wise in Dublin," replies Mr. Lepel, casting a jealous eye on the fair monitress. If her looks had changed it was to a more radiant sweetness, and there was that in the way her long silken lashes lay on her fair cheek that dwarfed Miss Hooker's fortune. He had better have kept his distance from the siren, he thought with bitterness. But sure a little pleasant dallying could hurt neither Miss Hooker nor his father--a summer pastime and no more; and if the tales flying about town were but the half of them true, he might hope for this, especially with the past pleading for him in Elizabeth's tender heart. Sure there was a softening in her glance. He pushed his chair somewhat nearer and took her hand. She withdrew it, and removed her seat farther away.

"Is my Elizabeth angry with her Harry," cries he with a fine dramatic air.

"Does she forget those happy days when we were all to one another? What is Miss Hooker or Miss Any-person to come between us? What--"

"Your future wife, as I understand," says Elizabeth, perfectly calm. "No, Mr Lepel--I know the world now, better than I could wish" (she sighed), "and I desire not your attentions. I--"

But Mr Lepel broke in, pale and furious.

"And is it thus you speak, you heartless jade? Clothes, jewels, b.a.l.l.s, 'tis these you value. Is there a woman alive that will not sell her soul for the like? O G.o.d, why are fair faces made to madden us? Now I have seen you once more, how can I return to that flat-faced--"

She rose, with a wave of her hand that dismissed him; but he ranted on in a towering pa.s.sion of wrath and grief. It had all burst up anew in his heart, in and for a moment. He believed himself hardly used indeed.

"Could I bury my father and inherit his land, you would not use me thus.

It is all a cursed thirst for gold, and you are for sale like an Eastern slave. Who is the highest bidder? But I know well. What am I to compare with--"

"His Grace the Duke of Hamilton!" announces Mrs Abigail, very demure in her pinners at the door; and in walks his Grace, magnificent in manners and dress, and Mr Lepel's fury stopped on a breath, though he could not regain countenance as readily as Elizabeth. She rose to meet the visitor-- a rose in June; and he might take the blush of anger which was due to Mr Lepel for a welcome to himself.

What could Mr Harry do but draw back, stammering and looking foolish under the cold glance Duke Hamilton bestowed on him. Prudence counselled, "Withdraw. What do you here?" Angry Love retorted, "Here I stay. What!

Shall I leave the field to a rival?" And so, flung himself in a chair glaring defiance, Elizabeth palpitating between the two. 'Twas not surprising that she drew nearer to the Duke, as if for protection; that there was an imploring softness in her face as she looked up to him; that she saw him greater, handsomer, stronger than ever, beside this idle and futile young man who had reviled her. The carelessness of his glance at Mr Lepel seemed to fling his pretensions in the mud--his haughty coolness to degrade the young man; and to such thoughts women are responsive. If her heart was touched before, the dart went deeper now She held her head higher, deerlike, and wasted no words on the unwelcome guest.

The two gentlemen, seeing neither could outstay the other, departed presently together, Mr Lepel saying with a.s.sumed lightness as he bowed, hat in hand, at the door: "We had not the pleasure to see Madame la mere, your Grace, and no doubt but she is slipped away on some hunting errand. I wonder what new fox is broke cover. Half the world bets on my Lord Coventry still!"

The Duke returned not his salute, and Lepel could not tell whether or no his arrow had gone home through the armour of chilly pride and silence. He himself strode angry and ashamed down the street.

That same evening a Council of Three was held in the lodging, Mrs. Gunning with her mask of smiles laid by, Maria fretful, Elizabeth grave and retired in her own thoughts. The ladies had but the one bedroom, with a little closet for the youngest adjoining.

"Girls," says Mrs Gunning, "'Tis time I spoke plain. This six weeks in town hath reduced my purse till I am frighted to look in it; and what have we to show? Young women with not half your looks are married and settled since we came hither. We have had a vast deal of froth and flutter, but nothing solid. Were it possible to live on sweetmeats and dress in posies, we have a fine prospect, but not else. I see nought before us but Britain Street--or worse.", Maria shrugged her white shoulders.

"What more can we do, mama? Sir James Ramsden has offered marriage, and Captain Golightly; and Mr. Lennox has asked Elizabeth, and Mr. Lepel--"

"What signifies all that?" cries Mrs. Gunning. "Don't let them slip.

They'll serve for the future perhaps, if all fails. Elizabeth, I command you on your duty that you please Mr. Lepel, though not more than sufficient to content him. If we can't better him--But, Maria, what said my Lord Coventry to you at Lady Lowther's ball? I saw him very earnest."

"Nothing that mightn't be in the news-prints, mama. His breed of black shorthorns filled his thought and tongue. I protest I loathed the man's folly. 'Tis an insipid creature when all's said."

"No man with a coronet is insipid. He is grave and reserved, and I would he had been Elizabeth's admirer rather than yours, for they could have sat silent in a corner together. But what of the Duke, child? My hopes are sadly sunk."

Elizabeth flamed in a blush, less beautiful than painful. A sore heart was behind it. She replied not. Mrs. Gunning frowned.

"Well, girls, you're easy enough, but so am not I. Now therefore listen while I speak my mind."