‘No, really Sir, I am not so happy.’
‘I fancy then, Sir, I have been misinformed, and beg pardon for the trouble I have presumed to give: but I understood that the young lady who lives with her was a relation of Lord Montreville.’
A ray of fire seemed to flash across the imagination of Delamere, and to inflame all his hopes. He blushed deeply, and his voice faultering with anxiety, he cried —
‘What? — who, Sir? — a young lady? — what young lady?’
‘Miss Mowbray, they tell me, is her name; and I understand, Sir — but I dare say from mistake — that she is of your family.’
Delamere could hardly breathe. He seemed as if he was in a dream, and dared not speak for fear of awaking.
Elkerton, led on by the questions Delamere at length summoned resolution to ask, proceeded to inform him of all he knew; how, where, and how often, he had seen Emmeline, and of his intentions to offer himself a candidate for her favour— ‘for notwithstanding, Sir,’ said he, ‘that Mr. Rochely seems to be fort avant en ses bon graces, I think — I hope — I believe, that his fortune — (and yet his fortune does not perhaps so much exceed mine as many suppose) — his fortune will hardly turn the balance against me; especially if I have the sanction of Lord Montreville; to whom I suppose (as you seem to acknowledge some affinity between Miss Mowbray and his Lordship) it will be no harm if I apply.’
Thro’ the mind of Delamere, a thousand confused ideas rapidly passed. He was divided between his joy at having found Emmeline, his vexation at knowing she was surrounded by rivals, and his fear that his father might, by the application of Elkerton to him, know that Emmeline’s abode was no longer a secret: and amidst these various sensations, he was able only to express his dislike of Elkerton, whose presumption in thinking of Emmeline appeared to cancel the casual obligation he owed to him for discovering her.
‘Sir,’ said he haughtily, as soon as he could a little recover his recollection, ‘I am very well assured that Lord Montreville will not hear any proposals for Miss Mowbray. His Lordship has, in fact, no authority over her; and besides he is at present about to leave his house in Norfolk, and I know not when he will be in town; perhaps not the whole winter; he is now going to visit some friends, and it will be impossible you can have any access to him for some months. As to myself, you will excuse me; I am engaged to dine out.’
He rang the bell, and ordered the servant who entered to enquire for the gentleman’s carriage. Then bowing coolly to him, he went into his dressing room, and left the mortified Elkerton to regret the little success of an attempt which he doubted not would have excited, in the hearts of all those related to Miss Mowbray, admiration at his generosity, and joy for the good fortune of Emmeline: for he concluded, by her being a companion to Mrs. Ashwood, that she had no fortune, or any dependance but on the bounty of Lord Montreville.
Delamere, whose ardent inclinations, whatever turn they took, were never to be a moment restrained, rang for his servants; and dispatching one of them with an excuse to his friends, he sent a second for an hackney-coach. Then ordering up a cold dinner, which he hardly staid to eat, he got into the coach, and directed it to be driven as fast as possible to Clapham Common; where he asked for the house of Mrs. Ashwood, and was presently at the door.
The servant had that moment opened the iron gate, to let out a person who had been to his mistress upon business. Delamere therefore enquiring if Miss Mowbray was at home, entered without ringing, and telling the servant that he had occasion to speak to Miss Mowbray only, the man answered, ‘that she was alone in the dressing room.’ Thither therefore he desired to be shewn; and without being announced, he entered the room.
Instead of finding her alone, he saw her sit at work by a little table, on which were two wax candles; and by her side, with his arm, as usual, over the back of her chair, and gazing earnestly on her face, sat Mr. Rochely.
Emmeline did not look up when he came in, supposing it was the servant with tea. Delamere therefore was close to the table when she saw him. The work dropped from her hands; she grew pale, and trembled; but not being able to rise, she only clasped her hands together, and said faintly, ‘Oh! heaven! — Mr. Delamere!’
‘Yes, Emmeline, it is Mr. Delamere! and what is there so extraordinary in that? I was told you were alone: may I beg the favour of a few minutes conversation?’
Emmeline knew not what to reply. She saw him dart an angry and disdainful look at poor Rochely; who, alarmed by the entrance of a stranger that appeared on such a footing of familiarity, and who possessed the advantages of youth and a handsome person, had retreated slowly towards the fire, and now surveyed Delamere with scrutinizing and displeased looks; while Delamere said to Emmeline— ‘if you have no particular business with this gentleman, will you go into some other room, that I may speak to you on an affair of consequence?’
‘Sit down’ said Emmeline, recovering her surprize; ‘sit down, and I will attend you presently. Tell me, how is your sister Augusta?’
‘I know not. She is in Yorkshire.’
‘And Lord Montreville?’
‘Well, I believe. But what is all this to the purpose? can I not speak to you, but in the presence of a third person?’
Unequivocal as this hint was, Rochely seemed determined not to go, and Delamere as resolutely bent to affront him, if he did not.
Emmeline therefore, who knew not what else to do, was going to comply with his request of a private audience, when she was luckily relieved by the entrance of Mrs. Ashwood and the tea table.
Mrs. Ashwood, surprized at seeing a stranger, and a stranger whose appearance had more fashion than the generality of her visitors, was introduced to Mr. Delamere; a ceremony he would willingly have dispensed with; and having made his bow, and muttered something about having taken the liberty to call on his relation, he sat down by Emmeline, and in a whisper told her he must and would speak to her alone before he went.
Emmeline, to whose care the tea table was allotted when Miss Galton happened not to be at Mrs. Ashwood’s, now excused herself under pretence of being obliged to make tea; and while it was passing, Mrs. Ashwood made two or three attempts to introduce general conversation; but it went no farther than a few insignificant sentences between her and Mr. Rochely.
Delamere, wholly engrossed by the tumultuous delight of having recovered Emmeline, and by contriving how to speak to her alone, thought nothing else worthy his attention; and sat looking at her with eyes so expressive of his love, that Rochely, who anxiously watched him, was convinced his solicitude was infinitely stronger than his relationship only would have produced.
He had at length learned, by constant attention to every hint and every circumstance that related to Emmeline, who she was; and had even got from Mrs. Ashwood a confused idea of Delamere’s attachment to her, which the present scene at once elucidated.
Rochely saw in him not only a rival, but a rival so dangerous that all his hopes seemed to vanish at once. Unconscious, ‘till then, how very indiscreetly he was in love, he was amazed at the pain he felt from this discovery; and with a most rueful countenance, sat silent and disconcerted.
Mrs. Ashwood, used to be flattered and attended to, was in no good humour with Mr. Delamere, who gave her so little of his notice: and never perhaps were a party more uncomfortable, ‘till they were enlivened by the entrance of Miss Galton and Mr. Hanbury, with another gentleman.
They were hardly placed, and had their tea sent round, before a loud ring was heard, and the servant announced ‘Mr. Elkerton.’
Mr. Elkerton came dancing into the room; and having spoken to Mrs. Ashwood and Emmeline, he slightly surveyed the company, and sat down.
He was very near sighted, and affected to be still more so; and Delamere having drawn his chair out of the circle, sat almost behind Emmeline; while the portly citizen who had accompanied Mr. Hanbury sat forward, near the table; Delamere was therefore hardly seen.
Elkerton began to tell them how immoderately he was fatigued. �
��I have been over the whole town,’ said he, ‘to-day. In the morning I was obliged to attend a boring appointment upon business relative to my estate in Kent; and to meet my tenants, who disagreed with my steward; and then, I went to call upon my old friend Delamere, Lord Montreville’s son, in Pall-Mall; we passed a very chearful hour discoursing of former occurrences when we were together at Turin. Upon my word, he is a good sensible young man. We have renewed our intimacy; and he has insisted upon my going down with him to his father’s house in Norfolk.’
Emmeline suspended her tea making, and looked astonished.
Mrs. Ashwood seemed surprized.
But Delamere, who had at first felt inclined to be angry at the folly and forwardness of Elkerton, was now so struck with the ridicule of the circumstance, that he broke into a loud laugh.
The eyes of the company were turned towards him, and Elkerton with great indignation took his glass to survey who it was that had thus violated the rules of good breeding; but great was his dismay and astonishment, when he beheld the very Delamere, of whom he had spoken with so much assurance, rise up, and advancing towards him, make a grave bow. —
‘Sir,’ said Delamere, very solemnly, ‘I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for your good opinion of me; nor my happiness to hear you intend to honour me with a visit at Audley Hall. Upon my word you are too obliging, and I know not how I shall shew my gratitude!’
The ironical tone in which this was delivered, and the discomposed looks of the distressed Elkerton, explained the matter to the whole company; and the laugh became general.
Elkerton, tho’ not easily disconcerted, could not stand it. After a sort of apology to Delamere, he endeavoured to reassume his consequence. But he had been too severely mortified; and in a few minutes arose, and under pretence of being engaged to a rout in town, went away, nobody attempting to stop him.
Rochely, who hated Elkerton, could not forbear to triumph in this discomfiture. He spoke very severely of him as a forward, impertinent, silly fellow, who was dissipating his fortune.
The old citizen heartily joined in exclaiming against such apostates from the frugality of their ancestors. ‘Sir,’ said he to Rochely, ‘we all know that you are a prudent man; and that cash at your house is, as it were, in the Bank. Sir, you do honour to the city; but as to that there Mr. Elkerton, one must be cautious; but for my part, I wonder how some people go on. To my certain knowledge his father didn’t die so rich as was supposed — no — not by a many thousands. Sir, I remember him — (and I am not ashamed to say it, for every body knows I have got my money honestly, and that it’s all of my own getting) — but, Sir, I remember that man’s father, and not a many years ago neither, carrying out parcels, and sweeping the shop for old Jonathan Huggins. You knew old Jonathan Huggins: he did not die, I think, ‘till about the year forty-one or two. You remember him, to be sure?’
Rochely, ever tremblingly alive when his age was called in question, yet fearing to deny a fact which he apprehended the other would enter into a convincing detail to prove, answered that ‘he slightly remembered him when he was quite a boy.’
But his evasion availed him nothing. The old citizen, Mr. Rugby, was now got upon his own ground; and most inhumanly for the feelings of poor Rochely, began to relate in whose mayoralty old Jonathan Huggins was sheriff, and when he was mayor; who he married; who married his daughters; and how he acquired an immense fortune, all by frugality at setting out; and how one of his daughters, who had married a Lord against the old man’s will, had spent more in one night than his father did in a twelvemonth.
Delamere, who sat execrating both Jonathan Huggins and his historian, at length lost all patience; and said to Emmeline, in an half whisper, ‘I can bear this no longer: leave these tedious old fools, and let me speak to you for two minutes only.’
Emmeline knew not how to refuse, without hazarding some extravagance on the part of Delamere. But as she did not like the appearance of leaving the room abruptly, she desired Mrs. Ashwood would give her permission to order candles in the parlour, as Mr. Delamere wished to speak with her alone.
As soon as the servant informed her they were ready, she went down: and Delamere followed her, having first wished Mrs. Ashwood a good night; who was too much displeased with the little attention he had shewn her, to ask him to supper, tho’ she was very desirous of having a man of his fashion in the list of her acquaintance.
Delamere and Emmeline were no sooner alone, than he began to renew, with every argument he thought likely to move her, his entreaties for a private marriage. He swore that he neither could or would live without her, and that her refusal would drive him to some act of desperation.
Emmeline feared her resolution would give way; for the comparison between the people she had lately been among, and Delamere, was infinitely favourable to him. Such unabated love, in a man who might chuse among the fairest and most fortunate of women, was very seducing; and the advantages of being his wife, instead of continuing in the precarious situation she was now in, would have determined at once a mind more attentive to pecuniary or selfish motives.
But Emmeline, unshaken by such considerations, was liable to err only from the softness of her heart.
Delamere unhappy — Delamere wearing out in hopeless solicitude the bloom of life, was the object she found it most difficult to contend with: and feeble would have been her defence, had she not considered herself as engaged in honour to Lord Montreville to refuse his son, and still more engaged to respect the peace of the family of her dear Augusta.
Strengthened by these reflections, she refused, tho’ in the gentlest manner, to listen to such proposals; reproached him, tho’ with more tenderness in her voice and manner than she had yet shewn, for having left Audley Hall without the concurrence of Lord Montreville; and entreated him to return, and try to forget her.
‘Let me perish if I do!’ eagerly answered Delamere. ‘No, Emmeline; if you determine to push me to extremities, to you only will be the misery imputable, when my mistaken parents, in vain repentance, hang over the tomb of their only son, and see the last of his family in an early grave. It is in your power only to save me — You refuse — farewel, then — I wish no future regret may embitter your life, and that you may find consolation in being the wife of some one of those persons who are, I see, offering you all that riches can bestow. Farewel, lovely, inhuman girl! be happy if you can — after having sacrificed to a mistaken point of honour, the repose and the life of him who lived only to adore you.’
So saying, he suddenly opened the door, and was leaving the room. But Emmeline, who shuddered at the picture he had drawn of his despair, and saw such traces of its reality on his countenance, caught his arm.
‘Stay! Mr. Delamere,’ cried she, ‘stay yet a moment!’
‘For what purpose?’ answered he, ‘since you refuse to hear me?’
He turned back, however, into the room; and Emmeline, who fancied she saw him the victim of his unfortunate love, could no longer command her tears.
Delamere threw himself at her feet, and embraced her knees.
‘Oh Emmeline!’ cried he, weeping also, ‘hear me for the last time. Either consent to be mine, or let me take an eternal adieu!’
‘What would you have me do? good God! what is it you expect of me?’
‘To go with me to Scotland to-morrow — to night — directly!’
‘Oh, no! no! — Does not Lord Montreville depend upon my honour? — can I betray a trust reposed in me?’
‘Chimeras all; founded in tyranny on his part, and weakness on yours. He had no right to exact such a promise; you had no right to give it. But however, send to him again to say I have seen you — summons him hither to divide us — you may certainly do so if you please; but Lord Montreville will no longer have a son; at least England, nor Europe, will contain him no longer — I will go where my father shall hear no more of me.’
‘Will it content you if I promise you not to write to Lord Montreville, nor to cause him to be
written to; and to see you again?’
‘When?’
‘To-morrow — whenever you please.’
Delamere, catching at this faint ray of hope, promised, if she would allow him to come thither when he would, he would endeavour to be calm. He made her solemnly protest that she would neither write to Lord Montreville, or procure another to do it; and that she would not leave Mrs. Ashwood without letting him know when and whither she went; and if by any accident his father heard of his having found her, that she would enter into no new engagements to conceal herself from him.
Having procured from her these assurances, which he knew she would not violate, and having obtained her consent to see him early the next morning, he at her request agreed to take his leave; which he did with less pain than he had ever before felt at quitting her; carrying with him the delightful hope that he had made an impression on her heart, and secure of seeing her the next day, he went home comparatively happy.
Emmeline, who had wept excessively, was very unfit to return to the company; but she thought her not appearing again among them would be yet more singular. She therefore composed herself as well as she could; and after staying a few minutes to recollect her scattered spirits, she entered the room where they were at cards.
Rochely, who was playing at whist with Mrs. Ashwood, Mr. Rugby, and Mr. Hanbury, looked anxiously at her eyes; and presently losing all attention to what he was about, and forgetting his game, he played so extremely ill, that he lost the rubber.
The old cit, who had three half crowns depending, and who was a determined grumbler at cards, fell upon him without mercy; and said so many rude things, that Rochely could not help retorting; and it was with some difficulty Mrs. Ashwood prevented the grossest abuse being lavished from the enraged Rugby on the enamoured banker; who desiring to give his cards to Miss Galton, got up and ordered his carriage.
Emmeline sat near the fire, with her handkerchief in her hand, which was yet wet with tears.
Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works Page 40
