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

by Jane Rubino

  One morning, a week into her visit, Lady Vernon descended much earlier than usual and espied Vernon in the passage, examining the mail that had just been brought in, giving particular attention to the direction on several of the letters.

  “Are there any letters for me, brother?” Lady Vernon asked.

  He turned upon her with a start and a guilty flush spread over his cheeks. He muttered something about Mrs. Vernon’s expecting a letter from her mother that morning. “Why, yes, here are three—no, four!” said he as he handed them over. “So many letters, and so soon after your arrival, but I expect at least two or three of them are from my niece. Catherine and I shall be very eager to hear how she gets on in town.”

  Lady Vernon made no reply and took her letters to the breakfast table, sensible of the reason for her brother-in-law’s discomfort. If he was anxious that she had confided the particulars of their conversation abroad, she was not inclined to make him comfortable by correcting him.

  The first letter she opened was from Sir James. She had not sent him any word that she meant to go to Sussex until after she had left Frederica at school. Her letter to him had begun:

  You will be very happy to know that I have taken your advice and brought my time at Langford to an end. You will be surprised to learn that I do not remain in London to be near Freddie, and you will be angry when you learn where I have gone. I pray you, cousin, do not take up your pen to reply until you have reconciled these incompatible sensations and are capable of making a rational reply.

  Sir James, however, was too impetuous—upon receiving her letter, he immediately dashed off a reply full of astonishment and anger; Lady Vernon found herself smiling at his excessive expressions, certain that the next day’s post would bring a retraction that was equally immoderate in its remorse and affection. Lady Martin’s letter was more resigned.

  I am excessively disappointed that you did not come to us. I shall have to put up with James until the new year, with nobody to relieve me of his company. But do not be alarmed for me—if he becomes too troublesome, I have only to remark upon the shabbiness of his attire to get him off to his tailor in London. That is always sure to get me a fortnight of peace and quiet.

  The next letter had her address penned with all of the loops and flourishes of a female hand, but when Lady Vernon opened the sheet, she saw that it was from Manwaring. She read, not without amusement, his dismal accounts of the tedium of Langford and his eagerness to quit it for London.

  And when I get to town, you may write to me under the cover of our mutual friend, Alicia Johnson. You need have no fear of our correspondence being intercepted, as Alicia tells me that Mr. Johnson has accepted an invitation from Mr. Lewis deCourcy to pass a few weeks at Bath. Mr. Johnson continues to hate me for taking away his ward when he was so opposed to the match, and I confess that I begin to be on his side. Alicia, however, likes to be on the side of whoever gives her the greater share of participation in a romance. We must not disappoint her.

  The last letter was from Mrs. Johnson.

  Mrs. Johnson to Lady Vernon

  Edward Street, London

  My dear friend,

  We have been very dull here, but it promises to be more exciting, as Manwaring (who has contrived, in spite of Mr. Johnson, to get a letter to me) will come to town before Christmas. He is in a deplorable state and laments over your premature departure from Langford as fervently as Eliza delights in it. I advise you to be as firm with him as you can, lest he commit the grave impudence of attempting to come to you at Churchill. It is said that he will take rooms on Bond Street, and leave Maria and Eliza to shift for themselves. Everything points to a strong desire on both sides to part, and it is only the mutual ambition to get Maria married that keeps them from acting upon it.

  Mr. Johnson leaves London next Tuesday. He is going for his health to Bath. He will stay with Mr. Lewis deCourcy, and during his absence I will be able to choose my own society and receive Manwaring without Mr. Johnson reminding me that I had once made some sort of promise never to invite him to our home. Nothing but my being in the utmost distress for a new gown and some ready money could have extorted such a pledge from me, but I consider my promise to Mr. Johnson as comprehending only that I do not invite Manwaring to sleep in the house or to eat anything beyond a cold luncheon or tea.

  Poor Manwaring! In his letter, he gives me such histories of his wife’s jealousy! Silly woman, to expect constancy from so charming a man! But she was always silly; intolerably so, in marrying him at all. She was the heiress to a large fortune and nothing else—neither looks, nor good humor, nor sense—she might have had a title and instead settled for a man without a shilling to his name!

  I do not in general share the feelings of Mr. Johnson, but when I heard of what she threw away, I quite understand his resolve never to forgive her.

  I have had Miss Vernon twice to tea and once to dine—a difficult enterprise, as the conditions under which Miss Summers’s charges are permitted to leave the premises are very strict. Your daughter bade me to send you her love and says that she has directed a letter to you by way of the parsonage.

  Your affectionate friend,

  Alicia Johnson

  Lady Vernon had been anxious that she had received no word from Frederica, and rising from the table, she announced her intention to walk to the parsonage and call upon Mrs. Chapman.

  Charles Vernon seemed very much alarmed. Though he was not comfortable in his sister-in-law’s presence, he did not like to think of her running all over the county and engaging the sympathy of the neighbors. “But see how dark the sky is!” he protested. “It will surely rain.”

  “It is only a passing cloud or two.”

  “Then perhaps Catherine will accompany you. Do you not wish to call upon Mrs. Chapman, Catherine?”

  “Indeed, no,” replied his wife. “I called upon her only last week—my mother does not call upon the parsonage at Parklands Manor above twice a month.”

  “I would not take Mrs. Vernon away from her more pressing obligations,” said Lady Vernon mildly. “I will take Wilson with me.”

  “If you will wait, I will call for the gig and drive you myself,” Charles offered.

  “That will not accommodate three of us,” Lady Vernon reminded him. “But you are most welcome to walk with us, brother, and we may stop at the churchyard on the way. I ought to have visited Frederick’s gravesite upon my arrival. I must not neglect it any longer.”

  Charles immediately recollected some urgent letters of business that must be written that morning, and stammering an apology for withdrawing his offer, he hurried from the room.

  Lady Vernon and Wilson made their way along the neglected road, where it was passable, and crossed lawns and fields, where it was not, until the white fence surrounding the graveyard was in view, and when Lady Vernon saw the stone marker, with nothing upon it but a few humble blossoms, tokens that must have been left by some kindly tenant or villager, she began to weep. Wilson waited patiently while her mistress had her cry and then helped Lady Vernon to wipe her eyes and adjust her veil before they continued on to the parsonage.

  Mrs. Chapman was delighted to see them both but declared that she was very surprised to hear that they had walked from Churchill Manor. “For Mrs. Barrett and I called at Churchill Manor not two days ago, and Mr. Vernon informed us that you were too fatigued from your parting from Miss Vernon and your travels for any visiting at all.”

  Lady Vernon did her best to conceal her astonishment. “I am sure that you misunderstood—I will always be happy to see my old friends while I am at Churchill. I quite depend upon it.”

  Mrs. Chapman then produced a letter from Miss Vernon. “I got a very pretty note from Frederica—how handsomely she expresses herself—and she enclosed this sheet for you. How I do miss her! Only last year she got my little hothouse going so well that Mr. Chapman and I shall have strawberries into January. What a pity Mr. Vernon has lost most of your groundsmen—I am afraid that Miss Vern
on’s gardens and greenhouses have quite gone down since your departure.”

  Lady Vernon took her leave soon after this exchange, but not before she had got Mrs. Chapman’s promise to wait upon her at Churchill Manor.

  As they walked back, Lady Vernon opened her letter and read it aloud to Wilson.

  Miss Vernon to Lady Vernon

  Wigmore Street, London

  My dear Madam,

  You will forgive this expedient for sending my letter, but I do not know who takes in the post at my uncle’s house—I do not think that he would scruple to open my letters.

  I am getting along well enough here. Each morning we are tutored in deportment and elocution, French, arithmetic, and music, and in the afternoon it is needlework, drawing, and handwriting, after which we are left alone until tea. The other girls employ this time in gossip or trimming bonnets or filigree work, or practicing the new steps taught by the dancing master, who visits once a week. The library is a very poor one, and I do not think I have seen any of the girls take up a book unless it is one of their own novels, which they read aloud and exchange among one another.

  We may receive visitors in the open salon but may not go out on our own, and if we are invited anywhere, a carriage must be sent for us. I have been to the theater once with several of the other young ladies, and have gone to Edward Street twice to drink tea and once to dine tête-à-tête with Mrs. Johnson. She laid down a good many hints about Sir James and myself and asked questions that I did not know how to answer. I turned the conversation aside as well as I could, and fortunately there is enough going on at Miss Summers’s to supply the diversion.

  Lucy Hamilton is immensely popular and receives many invitations, but the only ones she accepts are those where she expects to meet with Mr. Charles Smith, who, it is said, has come to London on purpose to pursue her. It seems that Mr. Smith has been very much in the company of Mr. Reginald deCourcy, which cannot speak well for that gentleman—at Langford, Mr. Smith was so artificial and vain that his friends must be equally so. I do not envy Miss Lavinia Hamilton her prospective husband.

  Lucy teases me a great deal about my “beau,” and will call me “Lady Martin,” and the other girls follow suit. They are all convinced that I have been sent here because I have refused Sir James and think that I am a great fool to set myself against someone who is so handsome and rich.

  Please give my warmest affection to Miss Wilson. When you write to me again, you must let me know how my forcing garden and greenhouse fare.

  Your obedient daughter,

  Frederica Vernon

  Wilson listened and then remarked sagely, “If Sir James knows how far everyone thinks of him as Miss Vernon’s suitor, it may give him another cause to be angry.”

  “My cousin has always been rumored to be marrying some young lady or another. He laughed at the gossip regarding Frederica and himself when we were all at Langford—indeed, he encouraged it—and I am glad for anything that reminds Charles Vernon that we have an influential relation who takes our welfare to heart, particularly when he tries to keep us from old friends like Mrs. Chapman and Mrs. Barrett. Why, look! There he is now in his gig, waiting for us upon the road.”

  Vernon was, indeed, sitting in his vehicle, and when he caught sight of the two women, he slapped the reins and drew up beside them.

  “How long you have been gone! Come, take the place beside me—Miss Wilson will excuse you, I am sure, and you look very tired.”

  “We are almost at the avenue, and the walking does me good.”

  Vernon was not content to leave them alone and so he reined in the vehicle and walked the horse beside the two women. “You must tell me who you saw. Did you see the Reverend Mr. Chapman?”

  “Only Mrs. Chapman.”

  “And no one else?”

  “No one. I took the liberty of asking her to wait upon us at Churchill. I understand that she and Mrs. Barrett attempted to visit and were turned away.”

  “Oh, surely not! I am sure that I only told them that you were still fatigued from your journey. There will always be time for visiting.”

  Lady Vernon was spared the necessity of a reply, for as they had got to the drive, a curricle raced toward the house at such an impossible speed that the women were forced to step away for fear of being caught under its wheels. Lady Vernon wondered at a person who drove with such disregard for those in his path.

  “Reginald!” cried Vernon.

  “It is Mrs. Vernon’s brother, Mr. deCourcy,” Wilson said in a low voice to her mistress.

  The driver, observing the lady standing behind his brother, jumped down and handed the reins to the little groom who had struggled to keep pace with his master.

  Reginald deCourcy was a very handsome young man. His eyes were the same color as his sister’s, but where Mrs. Vernon’s gaze was languid and indifferent, Reginald’s was penetrating and lively. He was taller than Vernon, and he moved with the assurance of one who was very pleased with himself and defied anyone else to be displeased with him.

  The gentlemen greeted each other formally, and Reginald was introduced to Lady Vernon. She observed that Reginald’s bow was somewhat frosty and his address just short of outright impertinence. Her own curtsy was perfectly graceful and polite, which had the desired effect of making him conscious of his incivility, and he seemed close to making some sort of apology when his attention was diverted by his two nephews, who came running down the avenue. He was obliged to take each one in turn and toss him into the air and exclaim at how heavy and tall he had got since he had last seen him. He then lifted them both into the curricle and made a place for himself, and allowing each boy to put a hand on the reins, he guided the carriage, at a more moderate pace, down the drive.

  Vernon excused himself and scrambled back into the gig, hurrying it after Reginald’s curricle in a manner that brought the women very near to laughter.

  “He is quite handsome,” Wilson observed as she accompanied Lady Vernon down the drive.

  “Yes, and he thinks well of himself, to be sure,” Lady Vernon replied. “His greeting was certainly very cool. I imagine that his sister has given him a very pretty opinion of me.”

  The observation was soon confirmed in a conversation that Lady Vernon overheard not long after. She went up to her apartments to write a reply to her daughter and had got as far as

  You are very good in suffering Mrs. Johnson’s notice. We must take it as a mark of her friendship for me, and I ask you to sacrifice a little of your time on my account. A reprieve from Miss Summers’s education can do you no harm. For the first week, we were very quiet. Now, however, our party is enlarged by Mrs. Vernon’s brother. He is very handsome

  when, as the room had got quite warm, she paused to open the casement window above her little writing table. Directly below was a network of slate paths that ran beside the hedgerow, and Mrs. Vernon and her brother walked up and down in earnest conversation.

  “We were obliged to receive her, Reginald,” Mrs. Vernon was saying. “What else could we do? Charles was always so attentive to his brother, always spending more effort than he ought in trying to keep up the relationship, and now extending his generosity to his brother’s widow. In my opinion, money is at the root of her coming to Churchill—she cannot live within her income and so means to impose upon Charles.”

  “And by his act of charity, your husband admits into your household the most accomplished flirt in all of England. I know from Charles Smith that at Langford she behaved so atrociously that every woman in the household was miserable and wishing her gone.”

  “You are mistaken there, I think. Eliza Manwaring would not keep up a correspondence if that were so.”

  “Well, you do not see the letters. They may be from Manwaring himself, for it is said that he is quite smitten with her. Smith tells me that Mrs. Manwaring was made utterly wretched, and that Miss Manwaring, who was in a fair way to catching Sir James Martin, was thwarted by Lady Vernon’s determination to attach him to her daug
hter. Have you met her?”

  “No. Lady Vernon has placed her in school in London. Oh, if you could but see her attentions to my children! The hypocrisy of interest and affection from a woman who has neglected her own child—but I am not deceived.”

  “I must say,” Reginald said, somewhat reluctantly, “that as much as I have heard of Lady Vernon’s beauty, I was ill prepared for how close it came to truth. But it is what allows her to deceive so many—people will always be taken in by a beautiful woman but never by a plain one.”

  After this remark, the pair moved out of Lady Vernon’s hearing, and she took up her pen once more with a mixture of satisfaction and anger. The latter emotion overwhelmed the former. A lady will always take pleasure in a compliment, particularly if she was not meant to hear it, as such a remark would be more genuine than one made to her face. The insult to Frederica, however, annulled any satisfaction, and it was in an ill humor that she continued her letter to her daughter.

  and lively, but insolent; perhaps when I have inspired him with a greater respect for us than the kind opinions of his sister and his friends have encouraged, he may become agreeable. There is an exquisite pleasure in making a person acknowledge his prejudices—it is just the project to occupy my time and to prevent my feeling so acutely the separation from those whom I love.

  chapter twenty-four

  Reginald deCourcy came to Churchill Manor with a premeditated aversion toward Lady Vernon, expressed in a certain condescension, which the lady answered with calmness and reserve. Her manner was so free of vanity, pretension, or levity that Reginald began to wonder whether he might have placed an improper degree of confidence in Lady Hamilton’s assertions and Charles Smith’s gossip. He resolved to make out her character for himself and began to seek opportunities to engage her in conversation.