Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 43
CHAPTER XLIII.
When poor Georgiana arrived at Rotheles Castle, she was received with much kindness by the earl, her uncle, and with an appearance of it on the part of the countess, such as she had never experienced before. The fact was, that this lady, was so angry with her niece, Lady Allerton, she determined to punish her by adopting, as her heart's chosen, any one of her husband's nieces that might happen to suit her. She had not yet seen one that would; but, as she firmly believed Lady Anne to be exceedingly like herself "in the strong lines of character," by which the selfish, manœuvring, doubling, and cunning traits were meant, she concluded that, out of five daughters, one or more would be found to resemble the mother, whom yet she would not love, for, as Lady Anne's deficiency in what she termed "maternal weakness" would be most remarkable to a sharp, clever, and observing girl, so would she be the first to rebel against her mother in secret, and try to subvert the authority with which she could not contend.
Lady Rotheles was by no means right in her conclusions, because she could not analyze the mind of Lady Anne, which was essentially distinct from her own, by which she measured it. Shakespeare has given us several fools, but no two of them are alike; each was the product of "an imagination all compact," which gave to each his own identity, despite the grand characteristic. And thus did these ladies differ from each other, though both were pretty generally classed by their friends "artful women." So far as Lady Anne was such, she had been made by circumstance and observation, for both nature and education had stamped her as too proud and self-sufficient to stoop for the purpose of obtaining that which she had a right to seize. In the day of her power she was vain, extravagant, unfeeling, and intensely selfish; but her poverty alone taught her as much of cunning as her necessities exacted, or her difficulties compelled, but no more. On the contrary, the countess was cunning by nature, and had so cultivated her faculties, that the "charming simplicity of her character" was constantly the theme of strangers previous to her marriage, and had indeed been the sole cause of it, for the earl, worn out by the passions and impulses, the abilities and sensibilities of his own heart and its errors, the hearts of his preceding wives and their errors, sought only in her the simplicity he could never suspect, and the quiet kindness he had no cause to dread. He was only beginning to find that, as the perfection of art is to conceal art, his lady was so accomplished a person, he might rely as safely on the tinsel she assumed as the gold for which he had given her credit.
The very cunning should never venture to be the very angry. Poor Lady Rotheles was really so imprudent on the late occasion of her niece's elopement as to go into a passion, and to utter such a tirade against her, her lord was roused from his habitual, but not natural listlessness, and became, in consequence, master of sentiments and secrets hitherto most commendably concealed from his cognizance. The former assured him that his discreet lady saw no harm in her niece's conduct save its publicity, which she reprobated as unforgiveable, horrible, damnable; the latter gave him to understand that poor Mary Granard had been completely choused out of her lover by the artful cunning of a woman who despised, whilst she married him, and had for seven long years wasted his property, thwarted his pursuits, ridiculed his attainments, despised his person, and told him how and for what purpose she cajoled him into marriage; a coronet and a fortune being her sole object, save in so far as she had pleasure in thwarting Lady Anne.
"But coronet and fortune are now gone for ever. Miss Aubrey penniless will be cast on the world which despises her; perhaps look to her aunt for charity: but no, miscreant, not a shilling, or a loaf, shall you ever have from me! Not if you are starving, rotting, at my park-gates, shall you have a penny from my porter."
"You are very angry, and talk very wildly, Lady Rotheles. If Emma Aubrey writes to me in a proper manner, she will not be refused help."
The words "writes to me," in a single moment arrested all the fury in the angry woman's breast. "Should she write to her lord, what might she not unfold;" and she saw in an instant how much mischief she must have done in mentioning the affair of Lord Allerton's marriage, since her lord could not fail to know that if she did not assist her niece, she connived at her conduct, to the injury of his sister and his niece. No man less merited such conduct from his wife than Lord Rotheles, for he had been both generous and confiding to an extreme in her case, and deceit was abhorrent to his nature. Unfortified by sound principles, unblessed by parental control, his morals had been lax, and his passions strong, but his disposition was kind and considerate, and the heart, too subject to melt in the eye of beauty, yielded also to the voice of pity. His sins were allied to the heart's tendernesses, not the cruelties which so frequently accompany them; he was rather seduced than the seducer, and there had never been a period in his eventful and unhappy history, when a sensible and good woman might not have rendered him a respectable member of society; but his first step had been wrong, and in losing that first step, which is "a tide in the affairs of men," he had been ever after condemned to be "bound in shallows and in miseries."
But the bloom and summer of life had passed by, and since retrospection could redeem no folly, much less present any consolation, he desired only to forget it, and to dwell, as far as he was able, in the Castle of Indolence, save when the Castle of Rotheles was animated by the presence of some really worthy person, whose name was surrounded by the halo of virtue and talents. In such periods, he was proud and happy as the monarch who cried in his sleep, "I have gotten Themistocles, the Athenian!" He became active, hospitable, full of conversational power, displayed extensive information, and much of that hopeful spirit which be longs to an earlier period; in fact, he felt as if he could redeem the past, as if his affections and abilities could still be exercised for the benefit of his fellow-men in the manner befitting his rank, but the stimulus withdrawn, the effect subsided; not, however, without leaving benefit which might have been most happily improved, had not his lady bent all her powers and wishes to one single aim—her own pecuniary interest.
Our readers will see at once that Lady Rotheles was completely disappointed in any hope she might have formed on the subject of rendering her husband's niece a substitute for her own. She had, however, the consolation of perceiving that if there was nothing to hope, there was nothing to fear, from Georgiana; and she consoled herself by the power she must possess over the actions of the little fool who might be made useful in many ways, without comprehending she was so.
In this, the "lady promised herself too much." Georgiana, like all her sisters, had an excellent capacity, and a sound understanding; indeed, abilities and good taste were indigenous in the family; but it may be observed, that all cunning, artful people invariably set down those who do not practise their own gifts, as being very poor creatures, a kind of contemptible second-rate human beings. A learned man can allow abilities in a mere rustic, an author or an artist admire a man devoted to a science of which they are ignorant; but that class who work their way mole-wise in the dark, always look down on the children of light as if their integrity was ignorance, and their plain dealing deficiency; they rank innocence with silliness, and believe no one speaks truth but those who have not wit enough to invent a lie.
Lady Rotheles by no means despised Lady Anne Granard, as she did her daughters, but she disliked her exceedingly, and had great pleasure in setting her talents to work to thwart her wishes, sneer at her follies, render her brother angry with her, and contrive a whole multitude of petty inconveniences, which might either prevent their receiving her annual visit, or render it very unpleasant to her. The great matter of all, however, was that of spiriting up the earl's resolution to curtail her income, and this, as we have seen, she had, at length, effected; less, however, from her influence than Lady Anne's own folly. Though the earl did not suspect his lady of being the adept she was, yet he had long known she disliked his sister, which he accounted for from the circumstance of Lady Anne's superior personal attraction; the countess, though with a pretty face and at least ten years younger, cutting comparatively no figure when placed beside the tall and graceful form of Lady Anne, whose beautiful bust and slender waist never failed to attract admiration.
From the time the possibility of her niece writing to her husband took possession of Lady Rotheles's mind, she had really never known a happy hour when awake, and her dread of post-time amounted to a perfect fever, as it was that of breakfast, when she could not take possession of the letters without showing her anxiety. So perfectly easy was Lord Rotheles on the subject, that she might have examined all and secreted half without inquiry on his part; but the mind makes its own scourges, and poor Georgiana could not cast a look towards either of them, when taking off the envelopes, without being suspected of some way playing into her uncle's hands, for it was plain that every day of his life she became of more value to him; for she not only read his letters, but generally wrote the answers.
At length Lady Rotheles became so sensible that her anxiety was making her seriously ill, that she laid the matter before Georgiana, imparting her desire to become possessed of any letter her misguided niece might write, purely to save dear Rotheles from the vexation it would not fail to cause him, by reminding him of circumstances in his own early life of an afflicting nature. "Besides, she can only write for the purpose of getting money out of him—and he is not rich; he has been obliged to curtail Lady Anne's allowance, you know; and surely it would be very improper to give that wicked woman money which might be so much better bestowed on his own sister?"
"Dear Lady Rotheles, how good you are to think of mamma; I am sure, if you are her friend in the matter, we can get my lord to forgive her, and send her the same he used to do. As to the person that was Lady Allerton, depend upon it she will be no trouble to him, for she is gone to the East Indies with the colonel."
Lady Rotheles shrieked with delight. "The East Indies! Who told you so?"
"The Naval and Military Gazette, which is the best of all information, because it always knows the truth, and tells the truth. My brother Penrhyn happened to have one in his pocket when he brought me hither. I will shew it to you."
Suiting the action to the word, Georgiana quickly placed the precious document in the hands of the countess, who could scarcely refrain from weeping for joy. Her auditor was quite surprised at the sensibility she displayed by warmly kissing her, and declaring "she had given her new life in the immeasurable relief afforded, and that she should henceforward consider her as her dearest and best loved niece, the one who must supply to her love the worthless Henrietta."
After these protestations, Georgiana trusted that some day, when her mother was named, Lady Rotheles would take the opportunity of saying something in her behalf, which might, at least, have the effect of softening her uncle's feelings towards her; but time passed, and nothing of the kind taking place, she ventured to beg the countess would have the goodness to say "something which would enable her to follow and explain circumstances which would show that mamma was little if at all to blame."
"My dear girl! you cannot suppose I have neglected to speak of your mamma when alone with Rotheles, which is indeed the only time that a wife can properly speak of family affairs with her husband. At this time, I grieve to tell you, he is so extremely angry with her, that all which you or I can do with good effect is not to mention her name, or start any subject likely to lead to it. You made me happy one day by a paragraph in a newspaper, and I am sorry to make you unhappy through the same medium; but, the fact is, Lady Anne's name is mentioned in the Morning Post in a way which has disturbed Lord Rotheles exceedingly,"
The countess spoke the truth for once, but not the whole truth. The earl was vexed and disturbed—as well he might—he had, from the time of Georgiana's arrival, sent her out on horseback with a careful groom; and, the preceding morning, as soon as she was gone, Lady Rotheles said, as she handed the paper to her lord, "My dear, I wish you to look over the Morning Post, that we may burn it before Georgiana returns; there is a paragraph saying, that the Duchess of C——, Lady Anne Granard, and others, are getting up a fancy bazaar—fancy fair, I mean—at Brighton, which is expected to be a very gay thing, as the daughters and nieces of the ladies concerned are all the loveliest of the beau monde. Of course, Georgiana will desire to go thither, to shew off, with Helen and her mamma, and I am quite sure she has not strength for any thing of the kind."
"Fancy fair!" exclaimed her lord, angrily—"how can you name such a thing to me?"
"My dear Rotheles, it pains me to do so, certainly; but if your own sister can engage in a fancy fair, your nieces Helen and Louisa exhibit themselves at a fancy fair, surely I may call on your strength of mind and your kindness to save our sweet Georgiana from the injuries a fancy fair may bring upon her!"
Nothing could be better managed than this speech, because it complimented his lordship on that quality, in which, being notoriously deficient, he wished every body to give him credit for possessing. It also exhibited his sister, at whom he had been angry, but towards whom his gentler thoughts had been returning ever since Georgiana arrived, in the light of an extravagant, and, what was worse, an unfeeling and indelicate woman, forgetful of that circumstance which had inflicted anguish unutterable on her only brother, and rendered him for years a reckless and worthless man. Now that he was endeavouring to consign all the past to oblivion, and, by "leading a new life," establishing a new character, this act of madness and folly on her part could hardly fail to recall his great grief, his great error, and increase the difficulties of her own situation. To all this he added the irreparable injury she would do her daughters; he would venture to say, "no grandson of Sir Edward Hales would henceforward think for a moment of the degraded daughter of Lady Anne Granard."
As these thoughts, or such as these, poured from his lips, his lady took care to give them the point and impression which might convert a passing pet into an abiding resentment; but, in order to convince him how sincerely she wished well to his innocent nieces, she seized the first pause in his rapid condemnation of the mother to say,
"But we can save Georgiana, my dear, from a folly alike injurious to her health and her hopes—for hopes she has, poor thing, I am certain; and, if she abstains from the fancy fair when the rest of her family are there, will it not prove her superior sense of propriety and all that?"
"You are right, Lady Rotheles, quite right. As to looking at the paper which shews Lady Anne in so unamiable and blameable a point of view, I shall not; so take it out of my sight, and burn it as soon as you please. And I beg of you, if any more nonsense about her and her daughters appears in the papers, let them be kept out of my sight. It is not my strength of mind (exert it as I may) that will prevent me from experiencing dyspepsia, if such follies as these are exhibited before me."
Although Lady Rotheles had thus with good effect defeated Georgiana's wishes and hopes with respect to her mother, yet she could lay the "flattering unction to her soul" that she wished to promote the poor girl's happiness by marrying her to Lieutenant Hales. The venerable Sir Edward was one of those persons whose acquaintance, or rather whose friendship, Lord Rotheles would give the world to gain. In days past he had loved the son and honoured the father, and he believed that he had been held in sincere regard by both. It was a consolation to believe that Lord Meersbrook, in his glorious but short career, knew little or nothing of his own; but Sir Edward must, for he had an estate which joined the Rotheles property, and occasionally brought him into the neighbourhood, when the doors of the castle were always thrown open to him, but never yet had he accepted an invitation, though it had always been refused so courteously as to justify the repetition. It was now rumoured in the country that he was coming for the last time, and would be accompanied by his heir, the young Lord Meersbrook; and the earl hoped that the presence of his niece might induce them at length to accept his invitation, especially as there was on the spot nothing suitable as a residence for the young lord, though the old baronet had put up with poor accommodation from an old tenant whom he valued.
Under these circumstances, in Lord Rotheles' opinion, nothing could be more mal-à-propos than Lady Anne's conduct; therefore, he felt every putting off of the Brighton fancy fair as a kind of reprieve, and instead of having the papers burned or kept out of his sight, he soon eagerly examined every one, in hopes to find that the whole affair was quashed; but this satisfaction did not occur. Despite of himself, he felt a degree of pleasure when Lady Anne was admired, or pitied for being overcome with the heat, and carried out by an Italian nobleman and Lord Meersbrook: but above all things did he rejoice to find that "her ladyship's lovely and accomplished daughters were, from unforeseen circumstances, not present."
"God bless them all! They know nothing of their uncle's mishap, which, perhaps, in the eternal whirl of fashionable life, is really obliterated from its annals; but they have the good sense and delicacy to refrain from what is, in fact, a matrimonial market I am quite certain Georgiana had not a single wish to join them, and it is plain Helen had none. How strange it seems that my sister should have less sense than her daughters; but, be it remembered, neither of us had parents within our memory: there lies the grand, the irremediable misfortune of our lives. It is a plain case that, let her errors be what they may, she is an admirable mother: where can a sweeter creature than this poor Georgiana be found? So modest, she thinks the secret of her poor little heart is safe in its inmost recesses, yet so sensitive, if ever a sailor or a man-of-war is named, the blood mounts to her brow.
"But Anne never had a heart herself, so how should she feel for her daughters? If Granard never won her love, doubtless she was invulnerable; and it is certain he did not; for, if she had really loved a man so admirable both in mind and person, she could not have preferred the gauds of life to him and his love, especially when Heaven had granted her so large and so sweet a family.
"No! to me, and me alone, was given the sensitiveness which should have been divided between both, the bitter sweet, and sweet bitter, which has been the charm of my life, yet the ruin of my happiness.
"Happiness! what is happiness?—a dream! But to be respectable, to be virtuous, to receive the warm grasp of a good man's hand, to be surrounded by a tenantry who say, 'my lord is an example to every body'—when you speak in the House, to know no man says, 'he talks better than he acts'—'I wish I could take his hand freely'—these are the things one wants to receive or to avoid. What an immense difference there is in one's estimate of desirable objects at twenty-three and fifty-three!
"Would I had been a father!—how much could I have taught my son!—he is denied, and it is right he should be, undoubtedly. I am a not religious man, but I do feel that to this decree I ought to bow in humility. Let me, then, take care of these dear girls; they are the children of my blood, the children of my only sister and my sincere and virtuous friend. Yes! I will take care of the girls; it is the one comfort of my life that I am doing so."