CHAPTER IX.
AT KOENIGSGRAAF.
Very shortly after this there came a letter from Lady Frances toParadise Row,--the only letter which Roden received from her duringthis period of his courtship. A portion of the letter shall be given,from which the reader will see that difficulties had arisen atKoenigsgraaf as to their correspondence. He had written twice. Thefirst letter had in due course reached the young lady's hands, havingbeen brought up from the village post-office in the usual manner,and delivered to her without remark by her own maid. When the secondreached the Castle it fell into the hands of the Marchioness. Shehad, indeed, taken steps that it should fall into her hands. She wasaware that the first letter had come, and had been shocked at theidea of such a correspondence. She had received no direct authorityfrom her husband on the subject, but felt that it was incumbent onherself to take strong steps. It must not be that Lady Frances shouldreceive love-letters from a Post Office clerk! As regarded LadyFrances herself, the Marchioness would have been willing enough thatthe girl should be given over to a letter-carrier, if she could bethus got rid of altogether,--so that the world should not know thatthere was or had been a Lady Frances. But the fact was patent,--aswas also that too, too-sad truth of the existence of a brother olderthan her own comely bairns. As the feeling of hatred grew upon her,she continually declared to herself that she would have been asgentle a stepmother as ever loved another woman's children, had thesetwo known how to bear themselves like the son and daughter of aMarquis. Seeing what they were,--and what were her own children,--howthese struggled to repudiate that rank which her own were born toadorn and protect, was it not natural that she should hate them, andprofess that she should wish them to be out of the way? They couldnot be made to get out of the way, but Lady Frances might at any ratebe repressed. Therefore she determined to stop the correspondence.
She did stop the second letter,--and told her daughter that she haddone so.
"Papa didn't say I wasn't to have my letters," pleaded Lady Frances.
"Your papa did not suppose for a moment that you would submit toanything so indecent."
"It is not indecent."
"I shall make myself the judge of that. You are now in my care.Your papa can do as he likes when he comes back." There was a longaltercation, but it ended in victory on the part of the Marchioness.The young lady, when she was told that, if necessary, thepostmistress in the village should be instructed not to send on anyletter addressed to George Roden, believed in the potency of thethreat. She felt sure also that she would be unable to get at anyletters addressed to herself if the quasi-parental authority of theMarchioness were used to prevent it. She yielded, on the condition,however, that one letter should be sent; and the Marchioness, not atall thinking that her own instructions would have prevailed with thepost-mistress, yielded so far.
The tenderness of the letter readers can appreciate and understandwithout seeing it expressed in words. It was very tender, full ofpromises, and full of trust. Then came the short passage in whichher own uncomfortable position was explained;--"You will understandthat there has come one letter which I have not been allowed tosee. Whether mamma has opened it I do not know, or whether she hasdestroyed it. Though I have not seen it, I take it as an assurance ofyour goodness and truth. But it will be useless for you to write moretill you hear from me again; and I have promised that this, for thepresent, shall be my last to you. The last and the first! I hopeyou will keep it till you have another, in order that you may havesomething to tell you how well I love you." As she sent it from hershe did not know how much of solace there was even in the writing ofa letter to him she loved, nor had she as yet felt how great was thetorment of remaining without palpable notice from him she loved.
After the episode of the letter life at Koenigsgraaf was very bitterand very dull. But few words were spoken between the Marchioness andher stepdaughter, and those were never friendly in their tone orkindly in their nature. Even the children were taken out of theirsister's way as much as possible, so that their morals should not becorrupted by evil communication. When she complained of this to theirmother the Marchioness merely drew herself up and was silent. Wereit possible she would have altogether separated her darlings fromcontact with their sister, not because she thought that the darlingswould in truth be injured,--as to which she had no fears at all,seeing that the darlings were subject to her own influences,--but inorder that the punishment to Lady Frances might be the more complete.The circumstances being such as they were, there should be no familylove, no fraternal sports, no softnesses, no mercy. There must, shethought, have come from the blood of that first wife a stain ofimpurity which had made her children altogether unfit for the rank towhich they had unfortunately been born. This iniquity on the part ofLady Frances, this disgrace which made her absolutely tremble as shethought of it, this abominable affection for an inferior creature,acerbated her feelings even against Lord Hampstead. The two werealtogether so base as to make her think that they could not beintended by Divine Providence to stand permanently in the way ofthe glory of the family. Something certainly would happen. It wouldturn out that they were not truly the legitimate children of a realMarchioness. Some beautiful scheme of romance would discover itselfto save her and her darlings, and all the Traffords and all theMontressors from the terrible abomination with which they werethreatened by these interlopers. The idea dwelt in her mind till itbecame an almost fixed conviction that Lord Frederic would live tobecome Lord Hampstead,--or probably Lord Highgate, as there was athird title in the family, and the name of Hampstead must for a timebe held to have been disgraced,--and in due course of happy timeMarquis of Kingsbury. Hitherto she had been accustomed to speak toher own babies of their elder brother with something of that respectwhich was due to the future head of the family; but in these days shealtered her tone when they spoke to her of Jack, as they would callhim, and she, from herself, never mentioned his name to them. "IsFanny naughty?" Lord Frederic asked one day. To this she made noreply. "Is Fanny very naughty?" the boy persisted in asking. To thisshe nodded her head solemnly. "What has Fanny done, mamma?" At thisshe shook her head mysteriously. It may, therefore, be understoodthat poor Lady Frances was sadly in want of comfort during thesojourn at Koenigsgraaf.
About the end of August the Marquis returned. He had hung on inLondon till the very last days of the Session had been enjoyed, andhad then pretended that his presence had been absolutely required atTrafford Park. To Trafford Park he went, and had spent ten miserabledays alone. Mr. Greenwood had indeed gone with him; but the Marquiswas a man who was miserable unless surrounded by the comforts ofhis family, and he led Mr. Greenwood such a life that that worthyclergyman was very happy when he was left altogether in solitude byhis noble friend. Then, in compliance with the promise which he hadabsolutely made, and aware that it was his duty to look after hiswicked daughter, the Marquis returned to Koenigsgraaf. Lady Franceswas to him at this period of his life a cause of unmitigated trouble.It must not be supposed that his feelings were in any way akin tothose of the Marchioness as to either of his elder children. Both ofthem were very dear to him, and of both of them he was in some degreeproud. They were handsome, noble-looking, clever, and to himselfthoroughly well-behaved. He had seen what trouble other elder sonscould give their fathers, what demands were made for increasedallowances, what disreputable pursuits were sometimes followed, whatquarrels there were, what differences, what want of affection andwant of respect! He was wise enough to have perceived all this, andto be aware that he was in some respects singularly blest. Hampsteadnever asked him for a shilling. He was a liberal man, and wouldwillingly have given many shillings. But still there was a comfortin having a son who was quite contented in having his own income. Nodoubt a time would come when those little lords would want shillings.And Lady Frances had always been particularly soft to him, diffusingover his life a sweet taste of the memory of his first wife. Of thepresent Marchioness he was fond enough, and was aware how much shedid for him to support his position. B
ut he was conscious ever ofa prior existence in which there had been higher thoughts, granderfeelings, and aspirations which were now wanting to him. Of thesesomething would come back in the moments which he spent with hisdaughter; and in this way she was very dear to him. But now therehad come a trouble which robbed his life of all its sweetness. Hemust go back to the grandeur of his wife and reject the tendernessof his daughter. During these days at Trafford he made himself veryunpleasant to the devoted friend who had always been so true to hisinterests.
When the battle about the correspondence was explained to him byhis wife, it, of course, became necessary to him to give his ordersto his daughter. Such a matter could hardly be passed over insilence,--though he probably might have done so had he not beeninstigated to action by the Marchioness.
"Fanny," he said, "I have been shocked by these letters."
"I only wrote one, papa."
"Well, one. But two came."
"I only had one, papa."
"That made two. But there should have been no letter at all. Do youthink it proper that a young lady should correspond with,--with,--agentleman in opposition to the wishes of her father and mother?"
"I don't know, papa."
This seemed to him so weak that the Marquis took heart of grace, andmade the oration which he felt that he as a father was bound to utterupon the entire question. For, after all, it was not the letterswhich were of importance, but the resolute feeling which had givenbirth to the letters. "My dear, this is a most unfortunate affair."He paused for a reply; but Lady Frances felt that the assertion wasone to which at the present moment she could make no reply. "It is,you know, quite out of the question that you should marry a young manso altogether unfitted for you in point of station as this youngman."
"But I shall, papa."
"Fanny, you can do no such thing."
"I certainly shall. It may be a very long time first; but I certainlyshall,--unless I die."
"It is wicked of you, my dear, to talk of dying in that way."
"What I mean is, that however long I may live I shall consider myselfengaged to Mr. Roden."
"He has behaved very, very badly. He has made his way into my houseunder a false pretence."
"He came as Hampstead's friend."
"It was very foolish of Hampstead to bring him,--very foolish,--aPost Office clerk."
"Mr. Vivian is a clerk in the Foreign Office. Why shouldn't oneoffice be the same as another?"
"They are very different;--but Mr. Vivian wouldn't think of sucha thing. He understands the nature of things, and knows his ownposition. There is a conceit about the other man."
"A man should be conceited, papa. Nobody will think well of himunless he thinks well of himself."
"He came to me in Park Lane."
"What! Mr. Roden?"
"Yes; he came. But I didn't see him. Mr. Greenwood saw him."
"What could Mr. Greenwood say to him?"
"Mr. Greenwood could tell him to leave the house,--and he did so.There was nothing more to tell him. Now, my dear, let there be nomore about it. If you will put on your hat, we will go out and walkdown to the village."
To this Lady Frances gave a ready assent. She was not at all disposedto quarrel with her father, or to take in bad part what he had saidabout her lover. She had not expected that things would go veryeasily. She had promised to herself constancy and final success; butshe had not expected that in her case the course of true love couldbe made to run smooth. She was quite willing to return to a conditionof good humour with her father, and,--not exactly to drop her loverfor the moment,--but so to conduct herself as though he were notparamount in her thoughts. The cruelty of her stepmother had soweighed upon her that she found it to be quite a luxury to be allowedto walk with her father.
"I don't know that anything can be done," the Marquis said a few daysafterwards to his wife. "It is one of those misfortunes which dohappen now and again!"
"That such a one as your daughter should give herself up to a clerkin the Post Office!"
"What's the use of repeating that so often? I don't know that thePost Office is worse than anything else. Of course it can't beallowed;--and having said so, the best thing will be to go on just asthough nothing had happened."
"And let her do just what she pleases?"
"Who's going to let her do anything? She said she wouldn't write, andshe hasn't written. We must just take her back to Trafford, and lether forget him as soon as she can."
The Marchioness was by no means satisfied, though she did not knowwhat measure of special severity to recommend. There was once atime,--a very good time, as Lady Kingsbury thought now,--in which ayoung lady could be locked up in a convent, or perhaps in a prison,or absolutely forced to marry some suitor whom her parents shouldfind for her. But those comfortable days were past. In a prisonLady Frances was detained now; but it was a prison of which theMarchioness was forced to make herself the gaoler, and in which herdarlings were made to be fellow-prisoners with their wicked sister.She herself was anxious to get back to Trafford and the comforts ofher own home. The beauties of Koenigsgraaf were not lovely to her inher present frame of mind. But how would it be if Lady Frances shouldjump out of the window at Trafford and run away with George Roden?The windows at Koenigsgraaf were certainly much higher than those atTrafford.
They had made up their mind to return early in September, and theexcitement of packing up had almost commenced among them when LordHampstead suddenly appeared on the scene. He had had enough ofyachting, and had grown tired of books and gardening at Hendon.Something must be done before the hunting began, and so, withoutnotice, he appeared one day at Koenigsgraaf. This was to the intensedelight of his brothers, over whose doings he assumed a power whichtheir mother was unable to withstand. They were made to gallop onponies on which they had only walked before; they were bathed in theriver, and taken to the top of the Castle, and shut up in the dungeonafter a fashion which was within the reach of no one but Hampstead.Jack was Jack, and all was delight, as far as the children wereconcerned; but the Marchioness was not so well pleased with thearrival. A few days after his coming a conversation arose as to LadyFrances which Lady Kingsbury would have avoided had it been possible,but it was forced upon her by her stepson.
"I don't think that Fanny ought to be bullied," said her stepson.
"Hampstead, I wish you would understand that I do not understandstrong language."
"Teased, tormented, and made wretched."
"If she be wretched she has brought it on herself."
"But she is not to be treated as though she had disgraced herself."
"She has disgraced herself."
"I deny it. I will not hear such a word said of her even by you."The Marchioness drew herself up as though she had been insulted. "Ifthere is to be such a feeling about her in your house I must ask myfather to have her removed, and I will make a home for her. I willnot see her broken-hearted by cruel treatment. I am sure that hewould not wish it."
"You have no right to speak to me in this manner."
"I surely have a right to protect my sister, and I will exercise it."
"You have brought most improperly a young man into the house--"
"I have brought into the house a young man whom I am proud to call myfriend."
"And now you mean to assist him in destroying your sister."
"You are very wrong to say so. They both know, Roden and my sisteralso, that I disapprove of this marriage. If Fanny were with me Ishould not think it right to ask Roden into the house. They wouldboth understand that. But it does not follow that she should becruelly used."
"No one has been cruel to her but she herself."
"It is easy enough to perceive what is going on. It will be muchbetter that Fanny should remain with the family; but you may besure of this,--that I will not see her tortured." Then he tookhimself off, and on the next day he had left Koenigsgraaf. It may beunderstood that the Marchioness was not reconciled to her radicalstepson by such language as he had used t
o her. About a weekafterwards the whole family returned to England and to Trafford.
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