Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works

by Charlotte Smith

  ‘Lord! I’ll answer for’t,’ answered the cook; ‘ifackins, I believe Madam, if she was fairly left to herself, is always as glad to see you as can be – I’ll go up now, if you please, and let her know you be here.’

  This courteous offer Orlando readily accepted; and in a few moments Martha returned. ‘Well, Martha, may I go up?’ enquired he. ‘Yes, you may,’ replied Martha; ‘but Madam’s not in one of her sugar-plum humours, I can tell you. – She’ve got the gout in her foot, and she’ve got some vagaries in her head about your going to visit her innimies: you’ll have a few sour looks, I doubt – but, Lord! Master Orlando, you’ve such a good-looking pleasant countenance, that I’ll defy the witch of Endor to be anger’d long with you.’

  Then, thanking his ambassadress for the trouble she had taken, and being somewhat encouraged by her opinion of the powers of his countenance, he walked up stairs.

  He tapped at the door, as was his custom; and was, by the shrill sharp voice of Mrs Lennard, directed to come in. He was struck, on entering the room by the sight of Monimia, who stood near the fire watching the moment when a saucepan, in which some medicine Mrs Rayland was causing to be made, should be ready to remove. Without, however, noticing her, he approached his venerable cousin, in whose countenance, which seemed to have gained no additional sweetness, he did not read a very favourable answer to his enquiry of – how she found herself?

  ‘No matter how,’ replied she with abrupt asperity, ‘if it had been of any consequence to you, you would have asked yesterday, I suppose.’

  ‘I was detained all day by my father, Madam; and I do most truly assure you (and never was any declaration more sincere than this of Orlando), that I was very unhappy at being detained all day from the Hall.’

  ‘Humph!’ cried Mrs Rayland, ‘your new friends no doubt made you amends. I thought, Sir, you had known that when people go there, I never desire to see them here, not I. I wish, if you like such acquaintance, you had taken the hint. But perhaps you thought that you might take to your brother’s courses, and no harm done. For my part, I shall wash my hands of any concern about it, let what will be the end on’t.’

  Orlando now began with calmness, yet without any thing like sycophant submission, to account for his father’s having been led by the entreaties of General Tracy, to whom he thought himself much obliged, to break through a resolution he had taken never to visit at Carloraine Castle: – ‘a resolution,’ added Orlando, ‘that he now heartily wishes he had adhered to, as he found the society such as he neither approves for me, or can endure for himself. I assure you, Madam, he never intends to repeat an experiment, which nothing but his wishes to oblige the General made him consent to now.’

  ‘Well,’ said Mrs Rayland, a little appeased, ‘it is very wonderful to me that General Tracy, a man of family, can associate with these low-bred upstarts – people who always will give one the notion of having got into the coaches they were designed to drive – But so goes this world! Money does every thing – money destroys all distinctions! – Your Creoles and your East India people over-run every body – Money, money does every thing.’

  ‘There is one thing, however, Madam,’ answered Orlando, ‘that it does not seem to have done – It does not appear to me to have given this Mr Stockton, either the mind or the manners of a gentleman.’

  ‘Indeed, child!’ cried the old lady: ‘Well, I am glad that you learn to distinguish. – Poor wretch! I’ve heard that his father walked up out of Yorkshire without shoes, and was taken by some rich packer to clean his warehouse, and go on errands. Well, so it is in trade! – So you think him vulgar and ill-bred? – But I suppose you had a very profuse entertainment: you can remember the dishes?’

  Orlando could with difficulty help smiling at the pains Mrs Rayland took to feed her disquiet, by obtaining minute particulars of the man whose ostentatious display of wealth so continually offended her. He assured her, however, that he was, in regard to the variety of ornaments of a table, so little of an adept, that, though he knew there was both turtle and venison, he could not tell the name of any other dish. ‘But I believe, Madam,’ said he, ‘there was almost every thing that at this time of the year comes to table, dressed every way that could be imagined.’

  ‘Kickshaws, and French frippery, spoiling wholesome dishes. If I had my health,’ cried Mrs Rayland as if animated anew with a truly British spirit – ‘if I had my health, I would ask the favour of General Tracy to dine at Rayland Hall. Indeed I would request his company to the tenants’ feast at my own table, and shew him, if he is too young a man to remember it, what an old English table was, when we were too wise to run after foreign gewgaws, and were content with the best of every thing dressed in the English fashion by English people.’

  Orlando had a thousand reasons to promote a plan as unexpected as it was desirable. Besides the hope he had that the conversation of the General might reconcile Mrs Rayland to a plan for his independence, and engage her to contribute to its being advantageously carried into execution, he was amused with the idea of seeing together two such originals as Mrs Rayland and General Tracy; and he knew, that as the latter was a man of family, and so very polite, he should not risk their mutually disliking each other by bringing them together; or at least that, if such a circumstance should happen, those manners, which both piqued themselves on possessing, would prevent their shewing it. – For these, and for many other reasons, he eagerly seized on the hint Mrs Rayland had dropped. ‘Dear Madam,’ cried he, ‘I heartily hope you will be well enough. The General would be greatly flattered by such a distinction! I know that nothing would oblige him so much. When is the tenants’ feast to be? I wish, if it is fixed, you would permit me to be your messenger to-morrow, and to carry him an invitation.’

  ‘Truly, child,’ replied Mrs Rayland, whose anger seemed to be quite evaporated, ‘I am so out of the use of having company, that I don’t know well what to say to it. I find my people have fixed the tenants’ feast for Thursday next, that is, this day week; and if I were sure of being quite well – Lennard, what do you think of the matter?’

  Lennard, who loved nothing better than great dinners, in which she was of so much consequence, answered, ‘Why, indeed, Ma’am, I think you’ll be quite well enough – nay, I could venture to say so positively. Your foot is getting better apace; and in other respects, when you have been free from pain for a while, I have not known you better these many years.’

  ‘Well, Orlando, then,’ resumed the old lady, ‘we’ll consider of it, and let you know to-morrow. – You have taken to your bed below again, I find?’

  ‘I have, Madam, with your permission.’

  ‘Well, then, you may come and breakfast with me; and for to-night, order what you please for your supper in your own room.’

  Orlando, rejoiced to be thus reconciled, now wished her a good night, and retired; casting, as he went, a melancholy glance toward Monimia, who, quite unnoticed by either of the ladies, had stood the whole time with her eyes fixed on the fire, and her beautiful arms exposed to its scorching heat, while she was employed in watching the important preparation that was boiling. But Monimia herself, far from feeling her situation, would have undergone infinitely more inconvenience, for as many hours as she now had done minutes, to have enjoyed the satisfaction of hearing Orlando’s voice, even when his words were not addressed to her, and of observing the favour he was in with Mrs Rayland; whose anger, however she seemed desirous of cherishing it, was put to flight on the first apology of her young favourite.

  CHAPTER VI

  THE meeting of the evening promised to be undisturbed. It was long since Orlando had seen his Monimia quietly seated by the fire in the Study; and now that he was once more to enjoy that happiness, he could not determine to embitter it by speaking of the probability there was that he was soon to leave her, and enter on a new mode of life. He could, when they were actually together, the less resolve to speak of this, as Monimia appeared in unusual spirits; and from what she had observed of Mrs R
ayland’s behaviour to him, in the interview at which she had been present, she found reason for forming more sanguine hopes than she had ever yet indulged, that their delicious visions were not chimerical; and that Orlando, if not master of Rayland Hall, would yet be amply provided for by the favour of its present possessor.

  Instead, therefore, of destroying these flattering visions, which lent to the lovely features of Monimia the most cheerful animation, he endeavoured to divest his own mind of the painful reflections it had of late entertained; and instead of talking of what was to happen, he wished to fortify the mind of Monimia against whatever might happen, by giving her a taste for reading, and cultivating her excellent understanding. The books he had given her, the extracts she had made from them, and her remarks, afforded them conversation, and gave to Orlando exquisite delight. He had animated the lovely statue, and, like another Prometheus, seemed to have drawn his fire from heaven. The ignorance and the prejudices in which Monimia had been brought up, now gave way to such instruction as she derived from Addison and other celebrated moralists. She understood, and had peculiar pleasure in reading, the poets, which Orlando had selected for her; and when she repeated, in a fascinating voice, some of the passages she particularly admired, Orlando was inspired with the most ardent wish to become a poet himself.

  Very different was the way in which his elder brother passed this evening. Tormented with fear and remorse, that unfortunate young man had returned to his long-deserted home, for no other reason than because he had, during his northern expedition, lost to his companions every guinea that he could by any means raise, and had besides contracted with them a very considerable debt of honour. He knew not how to apply to his father, whom he had already impoverished; yet his pride would not let him return to Mr Stockton’s, whither some of the party were again gone, till he had the means of satisfying their demands against him. In this emergency he came home, in hopes of finding some pretence to procure the money of his mother, whom he believed he could persuade to borrow it for him of her brother Mr Woodford, as she had done a less considerable sum once before; or at all events to gain a few days, in which he might consider what to do.

  It was to the dejection he felt on the awkward circumstances to which he had reduced himself, that the gravity and steadiness of manner was owing, which his father took for contrition and reformation. It lasted, however, no longer than till the next evening, when, after tea, Mrs Somerive as usual, in order to amuse the General, proposed cards – Mr Somerive, however, having a person with him upon business from whom he could not disengage himself, and Orlando having returned to Rayland Hall immediately after dinner, there was not enough to make a whist table (as none of the young ladies played), and therefore young Somerive proposed to the General to sit down to piquet.

  To this proposal he of course consented, and, either from chance or design, the General lost every party, and had presently paid to his antagonist twelve guineas. Animated by this success, especially as it was against a man who was known to be in habits of playing at the first clubs, Philip Somerive again proposed playing after supper. Fortune continued to be propitious; and when his father, mother and sisters retired, at a later hour than ordinary, he still continued at the table, where he was now a winner of about fifty guineas.

  They were no sooner out of his way, than the true spirit of gaming, which their presence had checked, broke out.

  ‘This is poor piddling work, General!’ exclaimed he: ‘Do you not think hazard a better thing?’

  The General answered coolly, that it certainly was; ‘but,’ added he, ‘I suppose my good host would think his house polluted by having the necessary instruments in it. He has no other dice, I dare swear, than those in the back-gammon table.’

  ‘Oh! as to that,’ answered young Somerive, ‘I am always provided with an apparatus in case of emergency – there is no travelling without such a resource – I have the pretty creatures up stairs. What say you, General – shall we waste an hour with them?’

  ‘With all my heart,’ replied Tracy. ‘Let us see if you are as much befriended by chance, as you have been by skill.’

  Young Somerive now produced from his travelling portmanteau a box and dice: he put a green cloth over the table, that the rattling of them might not be heard in the house; and then telling the servants that none need sit up but the General’s servant, they began to play, and continued at it till morning broke, with various success – But on quitting it, Somerive found himself a very considerable gainer, and retired to his bed flushed with the hope that the General, all veteran as he appeared, and calmly as he played, was a pigeon, from whose wings he might pluck the feathers which were wanting to repair his own.

  The General, who only wanted a study of his character, and to whom hundreds were as nothing when he had any favourite project in view, was now perfectly assured that, by losing money to him, or by supplying him with it when he lost it to others, this young man would become wholly subservient to his wishes, however contrary to honour or conscience. He did not dislike play, though he never regularly pursued it; and had one of those cool heads in such matters, which had prevented his ever suffering by it. He had generally been a winner, and particularly in betting: – he frequented, when he was in London, all the houses where high play is carried on; and was so much accustomed to see thousands paid and received at these places as matters of course, that he held the trifle he had paid to Philip Somerive the evening before as not worth remembering. It was therefore with some surprise that he heard Mr Somerive, who had called him apart the next morning, express, in very forcible terms, his great concern that his son had won so large a sum of him. If the General felt any concern, it was that Philip should have been unguarded enough to speak of it. He soon, however, learned that Mr Somerive alluded solely to the fifty guineas he had won at piquet, and that of the subsequent transactions of the evening he knew nothing. This therefore he carefully concealed, and, assuring Mr Somerive that he had almost forgot they played at all, conjured him not to be uneasy about it.

  ‘I know, my dear General,’ said Somerive, ‘I know perfectly well that this is a mere trifle to you; but to my son it may, nay it will have the worst consequence. He is, I see with an aching heart, too much devoted to play – Success only nourishes this ruinous passion – and distressed as I have been, and indeed am, by his conduct, I should rather have paid an hundred pounds for him than have seen him win fifty.’

  The General endeavoured to quiet, on this head, the apprehensions of the unhappy father, by telling him that he saw nothing in the young man that was not at his age, and with his prospects, very excusable. ‘It is surely,’ said he, ‘hazardous, my good friend, to check your son too much. If home is rendered utterly unpleasant to him, his volatility seeks resource abroad; and there you know how many designing people beset a young man of his expectations.’

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Somerive, ‘what are his expectations? He has impressed you, I see, my dear Sir, with the same idea which has in fact undone him, and will undo us all. What expectations has he that can in the least be relied upon, unless it be of this small estate, which he is already dismembering, and which will soon disappear – ah! very soon indeed, in the hands of a gamester.’

  ‘Tie it up, then,’ said the General.

  ‘I cannot,’ answered Somerive, ‘for it is entailed, and, except my wife’s jointure of an hundred a year, which with difficulty I contrived to settle upon her, he may dissipate it all, and I have no doubt but he will.’

  ‘You judge, I think, too hardly of him. Something is surely to be forgiven him, who has always been told that he must be heir to the great property of the Raylands, and possess one of the largest landed estates in the country.’

  ‘O! would to heaven he never had been told so!’ said Mr Somerive with a deep sigh. ‘If ever, my dear General, he should talk to you about it, pray endeavour to wean him from expectations so ruinous, and, I think, so fallacious. It is true that I am heir at law to all the estates of Sir Orlando
Rayland my grandfather, in default of Sir Hildebrand’s daughters having issue, but not if the survivor of them disposes of it by will, for the whole is hers without any restriction; and there is not the least chance of her dying without a will, for I know she is never without one: and the people who surround her take especial care that her own family shall be excluded from it.’

  ‘You do not then suppose,’ said the General, ‘you do not believe it possible that these people, by whom I conclude you mean those old servants of whom I have heard you speak, have interest enough with her to secure to themselves so large a property as Mrs Rayland possesses. I should think it more likely that, though she will probably give them considerable legacies, she will leave the estate to the next heir; her pride will urge her to this, perhaps, on the condition of his taking the name of Rayland.’

  ‘I fear, not,’ answered Mr Somerive. ‘She has a very singular temper, and has always been taught that the sister of her father Sir Hildebrand disgraced herself by marrying my father. She has on a thousand occasions given me to understand, that the small portion of the Rayland blood which I have the honour to boast, is much debased by having mingled with that of a plebeian; and that the blood of my children being still a degree farther removed from the Raylands, she cannot consider them as belonging to the family, which is in her opinion extinct – She means therefore to perpetuate its remembrance by the only method in which she believes she can do it worthily; and, after giving her servants considerable legacies – perhaps something to Orlando – to have recourse to the common refuge of posthumous pride, and, with her large landed estates, to endow an hospital, which shall be called after her name.’

  The General exclaimed loudly against such a method of settling her property; but, after hearing on what Mr Somerive founded his opinion, he agreed that it seemed but too probable. ‘And yet,’ added he, ‘it appears to be more the interest of these servants, by whom you say she is governed, that the estate should descend to an individual – particularly that of the old housekeeper, who, from what I can make out of the scraps I have picked up here and there about this Monimia, seems to have a plan of drawing in your youngest son to marry her; and of course it must be her wish, that he should be Mrs Rayland’s heir.’