The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax Part 28

"But I should have had a right to complain, and I should have complained," said Bessie. "My grandfather and I are friends now, because I have plucked up courage to a.s.sert my right to respect myself and my friends who brought me up; otherwise we must have quarrelled soon."

Mr. Laurence Fairfax smiled: "My father can be obstinately unforgiving.

So he was to my brother Geoffry and his wife; so he may be to me, though we have never had a disagreement."

"I could fancy that he was sometimes sorry for his unkindness to my father. I shall not submit if he attempt to forbid me your house or the joy of seeing my little cousins. Oh, his heart must soften to them soon.

I am glad he saw Justus, the darling!"

Bessie Fairfax had evidently no worldly ambition. All her desire was still only to be loved. Her uncle Laurence admired her unselfishness, and before she left his house at the week's end he had her confidence entirely. He did not place too much reliance on her recollections of Beechhurst as the place where she had centred her affections, for young affections are p.r.o.ne to weave a fine gossamer glamour about early days that will not bear the touch of later experience; but he was sure there had been a blunder in bringing her into Woldshire without giving her a pause amongst those scenes where her fond imagination dwelt, if only to sweep it clear of illusions and make room for new actors on the stage of her life. He said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, with whom he had an important conversation during her visit to Minster Court, that he did not believe she would ever give her mind to settling amongst her north-country kindred until she had seen again her friends in the Forest, and Mr.

Cecil Burleigh began to agree with him. Miss Burleigh did the same.

It was settled already that the recent disclosure must make no alteration in the family compact. Mr. Cecil Burleigh interposed a firm veto when its repeal was hinted at. Every afternoon, one excepted, he called on Miss Fairfax to report the progress of his canva.s.s, accompanied by his sister, and Bessie always expressed herself glad in his promising success. But it was with a cool cheek and candor shining clear in her blue eyes that she saw them come and saw them go; and both brother and sister felt this discouraging. The one fault they found in Miss Fairfax was an absence of enthusiasm for themselves; and Bessie was so thankful that she had overcome her perverse trick of blushing at nothing. When she took her final leave of them before quitting Minster Court, Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that he should probably be over at Abbotsmead in the course of the ensuing week, and Bessie was glad as usual, and smiled cordially, and hoped that blue would win--as if he were thinking only of the election!

He was thinking of it, and perhaps primarily, but his interest in herself was becoming so much warmer and more personal than it had promised to be that it would have given him distinct pleasure to perceive that she was conscious of it.

The report of Mr. Laurence Fairfax's private marriage had spread through city and country, but Bessie went back to Kirkham without having heard it discussed except by Mrs. Betts, who was already so deeply initiated in the family secrets. That sage and experienced woman owned frankly to her young mistress that in her judgment it was a very good thing, looked at in the right way.

"A young lady that is a great heiress is more to be pitied than envied: that is my opinion," said she. "If she is not made a sacrifice of in marriage, it is a miracle. Men run after her for her money, or she fancies they do, which comes to the same thing; and perhaps she doesn't marry at all for suspecting n.o.body loves her; which is downright foolish. Jonquil and Macky are in great spirits over what has come out, and I don't suppose there is one neighbor to Kirkham that won't be pleased to hear that there's grandsons, even under the rose, to carry on the old line. Mrs. Laurence is a dear sweet lady, and the children are handsome little fellows as ever stepped; their father may well be proud of 'em. He has done a deal better for himself the second time than he did the first. I dare say it was what he suffered the first time made him choose so different the second. It is not to be wondered at that the squire is vext, but he ought to have learnt wisdom now, and it is to be hoped he will come round by and by. But whether or not, the deed's done, and he cannot undo it."

Mrs. Betts's summary embodied all the common sense of the case, and left nothing more to be said.

CHAPTER XXIX.

_LADY LATIMER IN WOLDSHIRE_.

Mr. Fairfax welcomed Elizabeth on her arrival with an air of reserve, as if he did not wish to receive any intelligence from Minster Court.

Bessie took the hint. The only news he had for her was that she might mount Janey now as soon as she pleased. Bessie was pleased to mount her the next morning, and to enjoy a delightful ride in her grandfather's company. Janey went admirably, and promised to be an immense addition to the cheerfulness of her mistress's life. Mr. Fairfax was gratified to see her happy, and they chatted cordially enough, but Bessie did not find it possible to speak of the one thing that lay uppermost in her mind.

In the afternoon Mrs. Stokes called, and having had a glimpse of Mr.

Laurence Fairfax's secret, and heard various reports since, she was curious for a full revelation. Bessie gave her the narrative complete, interspersed with much happy prediction; and Mrs. Stokes declared herself infinitely relieved to hear that, in spite of probabilities, the mysterious wife was a quite presentable person.

"You remember that I told you Miss Jocund was a lady herself," she said.

"The Jocunds are an old Norminster family, and we knew a Dr. Jocund in India. It was an odd thing for Miss Jocund to turn milliner; still, it must be much more comfortable than dependence upon friends. There is nothing so unsatisfactory as helpless poor relations. Colonel Stokes has no end of them. I wish they would turn milliners, or go into Lady Angleby's scheme of genteel mistresses for national schools, or do anything but hang upon us. And the worst is, they are never grateful and never done with."

"Are they ashamed to work?"

"No, I don't think shame is in their way, or pride, but sheer incompetence. One is blind, another is a confirmed invalid."

"Then perhaps Providence puts them in your lot for the correction of selfishness," said Bessie laughing. "I believe if we all helped the need that belongs to us by kindred or service, there would be little misery of indigence in the world, and little superfluity of riches even amongst the richest. That must have been the original reading of the old saw that sayeth, 'Charity should begin at home.'".

"Oh, political economy is not in my line," cried Mrs. Stokes, also laughing. "You have caught a world of wisdom from Mr. Cecil Burleigh, no doubt, but please don't shower it on me."

Bessie did not own the impeachment by a blush, as she would have done a week ago. She could hear that name with composure now, and was proving an apt pupil in the manners of society. Mrs. Stokes scanned her in some perplexity, and would have had her discourse of the occupations and diversions of Brentwood, but all Bessie's inclination was to discourse of those precious boys in Minster Court.

"They are just of an age to be play-fellows with your boys," she said to the blooming little matron. "How I should rejoice to see them racing about the garden together!"

Bessie was to wish this often and long before her loving desire was gratified. If she had not been prea.s.sured that her grandfather did, in fact, know all that was to be known about the children, nothing in his conduct would have betrayed it to her. She told the story in writing to her mother, and received advice of prudence and patience. The days and weeks at Abbotsmead flowed evenly on, and brought no opportunity of asking the favor of a visit from them. Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton drove over to luncheon, and Bessie and her grandfather returned the civility.

Sir Edward Lucas came to call and stayed a long time, planning his new town for colliers: Miss Fairfax said a word in praise of steep tiled roofs as more airy than low roofs of slate, and Sir Edward was an easy convert to her opinion. Mr. Cecil Burleigh came twice to spend a few days, and brought a favorable report of his canva.s.s; the second time his sister accompanied him, and they brought the good news that Lady Latimer was at Brentwood, and was coming to Hartwell the following week.

Bessie Fairfax was certainly happier when there was company at Abbotsmead, and she had a preference for Miss Burleigh's company; which might be variously interpreted. Miss Burleigh herself considered Miss Fairfax rather cold, but then Bessie was not expansive unless she loved very fondly and familiarly. One day they fell a-talking of Mr. Laurence Fairfax's wife, and Miss Burleigh suggested a cautious inquiry with a view to obtaining Bessie's real sentiments respecting her. She received the frankest exposition of them, with a bit of information to boot that gave her a theme for reflection.

"I think her a perfect jewel of a wife," said Bessie with genuine kindness. "My uncle Laurence and she are quite devoted to one another.

She sings like a little bird, and it is beautiful to see her with those boys. I wish we had them all at Abbotsmead. And she is _so_ pretty--the prettiest lady I ever saw, except, perhaps, one."

"And who was that one?" Miss Burleigh begged to know.

"It was a Miss Julia Gardiner. I saw her first at Fairfield at the wedding of Lady Latimer's niece, and again at Ryde the other day."

"Oh yes! dear Julia was very lovely once, but she has gone off. The Gardiners are very old friends of ours." Miss Burleigh turned aside her face as she spoke. She had not heard before that Miss Fairfax had met her rival and predecessor in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's affections: why had her dear Cecil been so rash as to bring them in contact and give her the opportunity of drawing inferences? That Bessie had drawn her inferences truly was plain, from a soft blush and glance and a certain tone in her voice as she mentioned the name of Miss Julia Gardiner, as if she would deprecate any possible idea that she was taking a liberty. The subject was not pursued. Miss Burleigh wished only to forget it; perhaps Bessie had expected a confidential word, and was abashed at hearing none, for she began to talk with eagerness, rather strained, of Lady Latimer's promised visit to Hartwell.

Lady Latimer's arrival was signalized by an immediate invitation to Mr.

Fairfax and his granddaughter to go over and lunch on a fixed day.

Bessie was never so impatient as till the day came, and when she mounted Janey to ride to Hartwell she palpitated more joyously than ever she had done yet since her coming into Woldshire. Her grandfather asked her why she was so glad, but she found it difficult to tell him: because my lady had come from the Forest seemed the root of the matter, as far as it could be expressed. The squire looked rather glum, Macky remarked to Mrs. Betts; and if she had been in his shoes wild horses should not have drawn her into company with that proud Lady Latimer. The golden harvest was all gone from the fields, and there was a change of hue upon the woods--yellow and red and russet mingled with their deep green. The signs of decay in the vivid life of Nature could not touch Bessie with melancholy yet--the spring-tides of youth were too strong in her--but Mr. Fairfax, glancing hither and thither over the bare, sunless landscape, said, "The winter will soon be upon us, Elizabeth. You must make the best of the few bright days that are remaining: very few and very swift they seem when they are gone."

Hartwell was as secluded amongst its evergreens and fir trees now as at midsummer, but in the overcast day the house had a dull and unattractive aspect. The maiden sisters sat in the gloomy drawing-room alone to receive their guests, but after the lapse of a few minutes Lady Latimer entered. She was dressed in rich black silk and lace--carefully dressed, but the three years that had pa.s.sed since Bessie Fairfax last saw her had left their mark. Bessie, her heart swelling, her eyes shining with emotion, moved to meet her, but Lady Latimer only shook hands with sweet ceremoniousness, and she was instantly herself again. The likeness that had struck the maiden sisters did not strike my lady, or, being warned of it, she was on her guard. There was a momentary silence, and then with cold pale face she turned to Mr. Fairfax, congratulated him on having his granddaughter at home, and asked how long she had been at Abbotsmead. Soon appeared Mr. Oliver Smith, anxious to talk election gossip with his neighbor; and for a few minutes Bessie had Lady Latimer to herself, to gaze at and admire, and confusedly to listen to, telling Beechhurst news.

"Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie charged me with innumerable kind words for you--Jack wants you to go home before he goes to sea--Willie and Tom want you to make tails for their kites--Miss Buff will send you a letter soon--Mr. Wiley trusts you have forgiven him his forgetfulness of your message."

"Oh no, I have not. He lost me an opportunity that may come again I know not when," said Bessie impetuously.

"I must persuade your grandfather to lend you to me for a month next spring, when the leaves are coming out and the orchards are in blossom; or, if he cannot spare you then, when the autumn tints begin."

"Oh, thank you! But I think the Forest lovely at all seasons--when the boughs are bare or when they are covered with snow."

Bessie would have been glad that the invitation should come now, without waiting for next year, but that was not even thought of. Lady Latimer was looking towards the gentlemen, more interested in their interests than in the small Beechhurst chat that Bessie would never have tired of.

After a few minutes of divided attention my lady rose, and _a propos_ of the Norminster election expressed her satisfaction in the career that seemed to be opening for Mr. Cecil Burleigh:

"Lord Latimer thought highly of him from a boy. He was often at Umpleby in the holidays. He is like a son to my old friend at Brentwood; Lady Angleby is happy in having a nephew who bids fair to attain distinction, since her own sons prefer obscurity. She deplores their want of ambition: it must be indeed a trial to a mother of her aspiring temper."

So my lady talked on, heard and not often interrupted; it was the old voice and grand manner that Bessie Fairfax remembered so well, and once so vastly reverenced. She did not take much more notice of Bessie. After luncheon she chose to pace the lawn with her brother and Mr. Fairfax, debating and predicting the course of public affairs, which shared her thoughts with the government of Beechhurst. Bessie remained indoors with the two quiet sisters, who were not disposed to forsake the fireside for the garden: the wood-fire was really comfortable that clouded afternoon, though September was not yet far advanced. Miss Charlotte sat by one of the windows, holding back the curtain to watch the trio on the lawn, and Bessie sat near, able to observe them too.

"Dear Olympia is as energetic as ever, but, Juliana, don't you think she is contracting a slight stoop to one side?" said Miss Charlotte. Miss Juliana approached to look out.

"She always did hang that arm. Dear Olympia! Still, she is a majestic figure. She was one of the handsomest women in Europe, Miss Fairfax, when Lord Latimer married her."

"I can well imagine that: she is beautiful now when she smiles and colors a little," said Bessie.

"Ah, that smile of Olympia's! We do not often see it in these days, but it had a magic. All the men were in love with her--she made a great marriage. Lord Latimer was not one of our oldest n.o.bility, but he was very rich and his mansion at Umpleby was splendid, quite a palace, and our Olympia was queen there."

"We never married," said Miss Charlotte meekly. "It would not have done for us to marry men who could not have been received at court, so to speak--at Umpleby, I mean. Olympia said so at the time, and we agreed with her. Dear Olympia was the only one of us who married, except Maggie, our half-sister, the eldest of our father's children--Mrs.

Bernard's mother--and that was long before the great event in our family."

Bessie fancied there was a flavor of regret in these statements.

Miss Juliana took up the thread where her sister had dropped it: "There is our dear Oliver--what a perfect gentleman he was! How accomplished, how elegant! If your sweet aunt Dorothy had not died when she did, he might have been your near connection, Miss Fairfax. We have often urged him to marry, if only for the sake of the property, but he has steadfastly refused to give that good and lovely young creature a successor. Our elder brother also died unmarried."

Miss Charlotte chimed in again: "Lady Latimer moved for so many years in a distinguished circle that she can throw her mind into public business.