Lady Vernon and Her Daughter: A Novel of Jane Austen's Lady Susan

by Jane Rubino

  Frederica would make no answer, and Lady Vernon replied, “My dear brother, Frederica and I are grateful for your kindness, but it would be too great a sacrifice for me to be deprived of both husband and daughter. I know that Mrs. Vernon, who is said to be the best of mothers, will understand why we would not wish to be separated just now. As for our removal, I do not think that more than two or three weeks will be necessary. I must beg you and Mrs. Vernon for your forbearance until then.”

  Vernon did not believe that it was of any consequence to Lady Vernon whether her daughter remained at Churchill or was sent to a school in town. But he bowed and murmured, “Mrs. Vernon and I will always be happy to receive you at Churchill, should you find yourself left with no better place to go,” and took his leave, saying that he must see that all had been made ready for their visitors’ departure.

  “My uncle talks as though our visitors leave today!” cried Frederica. “Surely they will remain a week at least! The Clarkes have had a long journey, and it will be very difficult for Mr. deCourcy to return so immediately to Bath.”

  Lady Vernon dispatched Wilson to the servants’ quarters, and she returned in a matter of minutes, declaring, “So it is! They are all to leave this afternoon! Mr. Vernon has ordered the carriages for two o’clock.”

  Frederica was shocked into silence at her uncle’s selfish inhospitality. Lady Vernon rose immediately. “Help me with my dress, Wilson. I must go down. I hope that they do not hasten their departure on our account. They cannot think that it is we who want them gone.” Quickly submitting to the arranging of her hair and her gown, she accompanied Frederica to the drawing room, where the party had assembled.

  Sir James approached as soon as they were seated. “My dear Susan,” he began in a low voice, “my situation here is tenuous, for Vernon wants us gone, and I cannot impose myself upon him. Come away with us to Ealing Park. You may stay as long as you like, and you will not be hurried into a decision as to where you will settle.”

  Eliza Manwaring spied a vacant chair beside Sir James and hurried Maria into it. (For she had brought the girl to the unhappy gathering expressly to throw her at the gentleman.) “My dear Lady Vernon, we hope that you and Miss Vernon will come to us at Langford. There may be some sport, but it will keep the men out of the way, and there will be some young people to keep Miss Vernon company. And you may be sure, Sir James, that you and Lady Martin will always be welcome to visit.” Mrs. Manwaring then solicited the support of Mr. Lewis deCourcy, who had drawn his chair up to the group. “Do you not think, sir, that it would be the best plan for Lady Vernon and her daughter to come to Somerset? I am sure that you would not have her open her house in town at this time of year.”

  “Indeed, no, but I hope that you, Lady Vernon, and your daughter will give me a share of your time and come to Bath,” replied Mr. deCourcy. “I do nothing but ramble about in that large house upon the Crescent, with a barouche that sits idle while my footman and horses go to fat! The air and the waters would put some roses back into your cheeks, Miss Vernon, and you might help me determine what can be grown in my garden—I can do nothing with it.”

  “I thank you for your offer, sir,” murmured Frederica.

  “Will you not take a turn with me now?” continued the gentleman as he rose from his chair. “I have heard so much about the forcing gardens at Churchill and the groundsmen give you all the credit for it. I would be very sorry to be off without seeing what you have done. Come, I will take you both,” he added, offering one arm to Frederica and the other to Miss Manwaring. “I do not have the opportunity to parade about with two such elegant young ladies. I am sure that you can indulge an old gentleman for a quarter of an hour.”

  The two girls exchanged shy smiles as they allowed themselves to be escorted from the room by Mr. deCourcy.

  “My dear Susan, will you let me sit with you for a few minutes?” asked Mrs. Clarke, and Sir James yielded his chair to her and walked over to the window, where he gazed out with a look of sober concentration while Eliza Manwaring endeavored to determine whether Miss Vernon or Miss Manwaring was the object of his attention.

  “How much time will it take you to settle your affairs here, my poor Susan?” inquired Mrs. Clarke.

  “Much of that will depend upon Mr. and Mrs. Vernon.”

  “I hope that you will think of coming to us—you would be put to no expense there, I assure you, and would it not be comforting to be in a place where you and Sir Frederick were once so happy? Unless the business of weddings will give you pain. It seems that neighborliness has done its work, and the sons of Colonel Edwards have asked for our girls. Anne is to marry Phillip and Mary will take Frank, and the Colonel only waits upon the weddings to be off to a more congenial climate, for he is very much afflicted with rheumatism and pleurisy.”

  Lady Vernon knew that Colonel Edwards was the gentleman who had purchased Vernon Castle, and Mrs. Clarke had occasionally mentioned him in her letters as a genteel and solicitous neighbor.

  “I believe he told Sir James that he means to be gone by January at the very latest, and then—why may Sir James not give Vernon Castle back to you?”

  “How can my cousin give me Vernon Castle?” inquired Lady Vernon, puzzled.

  “Oh, dear!” cried Mrs. Clarke. “I quite forgot! I was not to speak of it. Mr. Clarke will be so angry! But he knows that he ought not to tell me anything he does not want repeated! Yes, it is all his fault—oh, Mr. Clarke, see what you have done!” she called across the room, which caused that gentleman to duck his head in embarrassment, although he did not know why.

  “Pray, what interest does my cousin have in the Edwardses’ property?” entreated Lady Vernon.

  “But it is not the Edwardses’! Of course, I would know nothing of the matter had not Miss Drake mentioned something to me. She is the daughter of the solicitor in Sudbury, the one who arranged it all for Sir James. It was done with great discretion, but of course when Miss Drake heard of it, she could not keep it to herself. There are some who cannot be trusted with a secret! But, of course, it was not such a secret, for when I mentioned it to Mr. Clarke, he told me that he had known of it from the first! He who goes nowhere and takes no interest at all in gossip! How provoking! And, of course, Colonel and Mrs. Edwards were such a well-bred couple and dressed so fine, and their horses and carriage were so handsome that everyone took it as a matter of course that they were not mere tenants. I cannot imagine why Sir James wanted it to be kept such a secret, unless he did not wish for Lady Martin to think that he had bought the property as a place to put her after he marries. And though we much preferred to have you at Vernon Castle, the Edwardses have turned out to be a blessing, for I have got two sons-in-law out of it. But why do you look so distressed?”

  Lady Vernon could not conceal her mortification. “When we were obliged to sell the property, I asked my cousin only to assist us in finding a purchaser. It was not ever our intention to solicit relief. We were quite determined against taking any charity from my cousin or Lady Martin.”

  “Oh, I am sure it was not done out of charity. I am sure that Sir James acted from the very best of motives.”

  Lady Vernon’s grief over the loss of her husband could not bear even the possibility that her cousin’s actions had cast Sir Frederick as a beggar. “My dear Phoebe, I am afraid that I am not equal to company,” she declared, rising from her chair. “If you would be so kind as to make my excuses, I will avail myself of Mr. deCourcy’s excellent advice and take a turn in the air.”

  Lady Vernon slipped outside and walked down the avenue under the canopy of heavy shade. She had got as far as the steward’s lodge and was about to strike out into the road when she heard a quick step and a voice calling out her name. She turned to see Robert Manwaring hurrying toward her.

  “I have found you!” he said as he fell into step beside her. “We had supposed that you meant to walk with Miss Vernon and Mr. deCourcy and Maria. I am very glad to find you alone, as I have not had the opportunity t
o express to you personally how deeply I feel for your loss.”

  He offered her his arm with easy gallantry. “I know that all of your friends have petitioned for a share of your time, but you must allow me to add to Eliza’s arguments in favor of Langford. Think of the advantage to Miss Vernon—at Langford, she will have Maria for company, and there may be some young people about who will keep her from dwelling upon her sorrow. You may come as soon as you like and go away at once if the situation does not please you. Indeed, there will be nothing to hold you, but for …”

  Here he broke off with a glance that held too much meaning to be directed toward a new widow.

  Lady Vernon had never encouraged Manwaring’s flirtation unless to ignore it entirely had been encouragement. Still, she did not reject his proposal immediately. A departure from Churchill was inevitable and she and Frederica must go somewhere. Until the matter of her income was addressed and she knew what she would have to live on, she must accept the hospitality of one of her friends. She could not consider going to Ealing Park while the thought of Sir James’s deception was still fresh in her mind. She might go to the Clarkes’, and in fact, that seemed the pleasantest and most comforting option, but to be in the vicinity of Vernon Castle might aggravate her emotions rather than compose them. Bath would be hot and desolate at this time of year, and though Lady Vernon knew that Mr. deCourcy’s invitation was well intentioned and sincere, she believed that the arrival of two ladies and their necessary attendants would be too great a disruption for a quiet bachelor household. No one was in town save for Alicia Johnson, and Lady Vernon believed that Mr. Johnson was the sort of misanthrope whose hospitality could not be depended upon, even by a mother and daughter in mourning.

  Langford, for all its drawbacks, seemed the least unfavorable situation for her, and the most favorable for Frederica, and as they returned to the house, Lady Vernon gave Manwaring her consent. He was so delighted to win his point that the first words uttered were improperly joyous before he remembered the occasion that had prompted the invitation and became somber once more.

  Sir James did his best to conceal his surprise when his cousin announced that upon leaving Churchill Manor, she and Frederica would go to Langford. He could not address her privately until the carriages were ordered and the party were saying their farewells. “I did not think you would seriously consider going to Langford, Susan. I do not like the scheme at all. The Manwarings keep a great deal of company and—forgive me—Manwaring admires you too much for a married man. Your situation will not protect you, for he may think that you are all the more susceptible for being unencumbered and may behave in a way that will distress you and embarrass Freddie.”

  “Forgive me, cousin,” she returned with some warmth, “but I am no longer certain that you have ever understood what will distress or embarrass me or my family.”

  “I understand enough to know how Vernon’s rudeness must make you uneasy—to send your friends and relations away—he has a very strange notion of hospitality and charity.”

  “I neither expect nor desire charity, cousin, as any of my acquaintance ought to understand. Nothing could be so offensive to my husband’s memory as to have his wife and daughter become the objects of charity.”

  Sir James looked upon her with bewilderment and made no reply. He concluded that it was too early to expect any moderation in her grief. Within a few weeks, he would no doubt receive a letter from her expressing a change of heart and a desire to come to Derbyshire.

  Lady Martin bustled up to them and gave her niece a hearty embrace. “If they do not suit you at Langford, you will always have a home with us. Come, James, we cannot delay or we will be on the road after sunset and then who knows what will befall us!”

  Sir James kissed his cousin’s hand and then addressed Frederica, insisting that she be a faithful correspondent and assuring her that it would take only a line from her to bring him to their aid.

  The carriages departed, the women retired to their rooms. They did not come down to dine, and so Charles Vernon dined alone, eating little and drinking a good deal of Sir Frederick’s excellent port.

  chapter twelve

  On the following day, Lady Vernon rose from her bed and went directly to her writing desk, where she sat down to calculate how little of her husband’s debt was outstanding, how far his rents had increased, and how frugally they had lived over the last half-dozen years. By these tallies, she determined that Sir Frederick may have left as much as thirty thousand pounds with his estate.

  Lady Vernon resolved to address Charles at the earliest opportunity on the matter of how she was to be recompensed; she was sensible of the indelicacy of raising the subject so soon after her husband’s funeral, but she could not trust the firmness of his promises as far as Sir Frederick had. If his memory of them was not fixed while she and Frederica were before him, it must dissipate when they were out of his sight.

  Vernon steadily avoided all discourse by keeping himself away from the house as much as possible. For the first days after his brother’s funeral, he rode out very early or found some concern that took him into Churchill, and at last, with no notice whatsoever, he departed for London, where the unhappy presence of his sister and niece were not always before him. There, the society and its diversions soon eased him into the conviction that whatever assurances he may have given his brother had only been the sort of necessary lies one is compelled to give to an invalid. Would not a gentleman who had a wife and four young children to maintain (and who must keep himself in some style when he was in town) need far more than a widow who was not without rich relations, and a daughter who was of an age when she would soon marry?

  Soon Vernon was persuaded that there had been no promise at all, only an informal understanding that Lady Vernon and her daughter would not starve.

  Lady Vernon could not believe that Charles meant to stay away from Churchill Manor until after she and Frederica departed, but when a week passed with no word from him, she dispatched a letter to his address in town.

  She did not post this letter but sent it with the housekeeper who was to take charge of the Portland Place residence, and instructed her to carry it directly to Mr. Vernon’s lodgings in town. She would dearly have loved to send the portrait of Sir Frederick to Portland Place as well, but she conceded that its place was in the gallery at Churchill among those of his forebears, and so contented herself with a likeness of him set into her locket.

  She then turned her attention to separating her personal possessions from what property belonged to Churchill and distributing Sir Frederick’s clothing to the menservants and the poor. There were gloves to be dyed and bonnets to be divested of trimming and swans-down and lined with crepe. She and Frederica took leave of the neighborhood, exchanging particularly affectionate farewells with the Chapmans.

  Instead of any reply from Charles, Lady Vernon received a visit from Mr. Barrett, the attorney from the village of Churchill. He hemmed and hawed a great deal and presented Mrs. Barrett’s compliments and after making every possible observation upon her loss and the weather and what a pretty note their housekeeper had got from Mrs. Bentley, who had married Lady Martin’s doctor, and how Mrs. Barrett had so often joked that she had rather married a doctor or an apothecary at least, “as seven children will go through so many illnesses and sprains and fevers that it would be a great savings if their father were in the trade, while the cost of bringing them all up upon the earnings of a country lawyer would leave them nothing left over to bequeath to any of them,” he got around to the purpose of his visit.

  “It would have been a great benefit to address the family together, but Mr. Vernon was obliged to be in town and he was most particular that you know how matters stand before you depart.” He then gave her the dubious satisfaction of knowing that her calculations had been quite on the mark, and that Sir Frederick had, indeed, left a fortune of some thirty thousand pounds—which, owing to the language of his will, was to be disposed entirely upon Churchill’s he
ir.

  “The generosity of your relations, in adding to your settlement at the time of your marriage, when added to the three thousand pounds given over to you by Sir Frederick at the time that Vernon Castle was first purchased …” He groped about for words, which trailed off into something like “… your house in town … the kindness of your relations … the Martins may always be depended upon …”

  This remark served only to call up Lady Vernon’s aversion to charity—she would not allow Mr. Barrett to suppose that she was left so indigent as to have to beseech the Martins’ aid. She assured him that she would be able to manage very well and conveyed her warmest regards to Mrs. Barrett.

  The following day Lady Vernon and Frederica walked to the churchyard to lay flowers upon Sir Frederick’s grave, and the day after, with a last, unhappy glance at her family home, Lady Vernon, accompanied by her daughter and Wilson, set off for Langford.

  Volume II

  Langford and Churchill

  chapter thirteen

  The journey from Churchill to Langford was to take the ladies through Bath, where they would stop for the night at the home of Lewis deCourcy.

  When they had dined, Wilson retired to her sewing and Miss Vernon was invited to form her opinion of the rose garden. Lady Vernon took the opportunity to discuss the matter of her finances with Mr. deCourcy. He listened carefully and asked a good many questions about the particulars of the language of Sir Frederick’s will, then made every attempt to alleviate her anxiety.

  “I am not ready to believe that you have any real need for concern yet,” said he, “though your acquaintance with Mrs. Manwaring’s situation must make you sensible of the evils of having your money under the control of one who deliberately withholds it from the intended object. There may be some working of the law that must take place before Charles can make good on any promises given to Sir Frederick. An inheritance will always come with some matters of unfinished business, and in my experience, the law does nothing so well as prolonging what ought to be swift. I advise you to wait a little longer—once Mrs. Vernon and the family are settled, Charles will be at leisure to address those points of honor that his more pressing obligations have deferred. In another month or very shortly thereafter, this will all be resolved, and if it is not, I will be more than happy to intercede on your behalf.”