by Jane Rubino
“And I blame myself for so readily believing him. You know what Charles Smith is. Though his company is lively and entertaining, he is given to exaggeration and susceptible to gossip. Lady Vernon is exceptionally clever and charming, which will always be an affront to ladies who are less so. As for Mrs. Manwaring, it is said that she has a very jealous nature, and it is likely that Manwaring often gives his wife reason to be resentful of his conduct.”
Here some interruption and demand for attention from one of the children put the conversation at an end, and soon after Reginald’s steps were heard in the passage.
Lady Vernon spied him from her window as he strode across the park, and rapidly donning her spencer and bonnet, she hurried down the stairs.
She came upon him, pacing up and down between the hedgerows in great agitation, rereading the letter that had been the subject of his quarrel with his sister.
“I beg your pardon,” Lady Vernon apologized. “I will not intrude upon you. I will take another path.”
“You do not intrude. I have just received a very distressing communication from my father.”
“Are your parents well?” Lady Vernon inquired.
“Yes, although I fear that Catherine’s last letter to my mother has agitated them both.”
“What can she have written that might trouble them? Mrs. Vernon and the children are in good health, and she does not seem to be displeased with Sussex.”
“It is not her situation but our friendship that alarms her,” replied Reginald. “She communicated to our father a belief that I am taken in by your influence and by her husband’s determination always to represent your faults—which my father claims are widely known—in the most softened colors.”
“Charles has done a very poor job of defending me, then, if my errors are widely known. Will you tell me a part of what your father writes? I cannot contradict a charge if I am ignorant of it.”
“Hear what he says, then.” Unfolding the letter, Reginald read:
“You must be sensible that as an only son and the representative of an ancient family, more than your own happiness is at stake in your choice of a partner. Her family and character must be unexceptionable.
“I cannot help fearing that you may be drawn in by one whose behavior toward you arises from her own vanity, because it is not impossible that she may now aim higher than simply to gain the admiration of a man whom she imagined to be prejudiced against her. Lady Vernon is poor and may naturally seek an alliance which may be advantageous to herself. I have been informed that this person has attached herself to you and that your own partiality for her is no secret. If the accounts of your friends have not persuaded you of this woman’s extravagance and dissipation, a father cannot hope to prevail, but I think that your affection for your sister should have been a very strong argument against anything like intimacy with a woman who did, from the most selfish motives, take all possible pains to prevent her marriage to Mr. Vernon.
“If you can give me your assurance of having no design beyond enjoying the conversation of a beautiful and clever woman, I may be restored to some measure of ease while you are away from us.
Lady Vernon met this insult with equanimity. “This is a very strange opinion of me, indeed, and I must confess that I cannot hope to do it justice. To be at once poor and extravagant, dissipated and clever, is more than I can manage, I assure you.”
“You make light of the situation?”
“Can I do otherwise? How would anger and hostility serve me, particularly when they are directed at a man of Sir Reginald deCourcy’s reputation? I would only appear the worse for expressing resentment against a gentleman who is so universally respected. But how can your father, a man to whom I have never even been introduced, have come to these conclusions, particularly if Charles has always represented me in the best light?”
“Something must come from my father’s sister, Lady Hamilton. It was she who informed him that you strongly objected to Mr. Vernon’s marriage to my sister, and that this opposition was widely known.”
“It cannot have been widely known if Sir Frederick and I were ignorant of it,” Lady Vernon replied. “We were not even aware that Charles was acquainted with your sister until we were informed of their engagement, and we learned of it then only when he made us an offer for Vernon Castle. Our only objection to anything was to that, for his offer was very low and our circumstances obliged us to get as fair a price as we could. We might have yielded, even at the expense to ourselves, had we not been confident that a marriage to Miss deCourcy would give Charles the ability to purchase wherever he liked and that he would not even have to depend upon coming in to Churchill Manor in order to be well settled. As for the rest of your father’s letter, I cannot account for it. I can only conclude that whenever an unmarried woman and a single gentleman are under the same roof, someone or other will have them at the altar. Still, your family cannot believe that, as you are engaged to Miss Hamilton.”
A troubled look passed over Reginald’s countenance. “There is no engagement. Since we were children, my parents and the Hamiltons intended us for each other, but I have made no proposal to my cousin.”
“When you do address her, your father will be more at ease.”
Reginald made no reply.
“But,” Lady Vernon added with great perception, “if you are not inclined to marry her, you only prolong your family’s groundless hopes and the expectations of Miss Hamilton when you do not make your wishes plain.”
“It is not an easy thing to disappoint one’s family.”
Lady Vernon smiled. “You must think better of your family. My family had settled on someone other than Sir Frederick for me, yet when inclination drew me to another, no estrangement from my parents resulted from it.”
“Because they yielded to your preference,” he remarked. “And perhaps my own would do the same if there was any young lady I preferred to my cousin, but alas, I cannot even argue that I am partial to another.”
“Still, you must not delay a response to your father. If you cannot bring yourself to disappoint him in his hopes just yet, you must at least tell him plainly that there is no foundation for his present fears. You must not allow gossip to injure his peace of mind.”
He admitted to the soundness of her advice, which was given without any of the attendant arguments and sermonizing that Catherine would have thought necessary. They returned to the house and parted in the hallway, he to write to his father, and she to reflect upon how different her opinion was of Reginald deCourcy than it had been only a fortnight earlier. As they advanced toward something like confidence, she discovered a thoughtfulness of manner and expression that she liked very much, and though he was not without faults, they were principally the faults of youth rather than understanding. If he was too quick to form an opinion, he was always ready to admit his error, and if he was often too inquisitive and demanding of particulars, he was never uncivil.
She could no longer disallow Alicia Johnson’s expectations—indeed, Lady Vernon now was thinking of Reginald and marriage together, but the partner she had chosen for him was not herself (however flattered by her friend’s conviction that it was in her power) but Frederica. Though little exposed to society, her daughter was Reginald’s equal in education and refinement, and though her fortune was insignificant, she was the daughter of Sir Frederick Vernon and the niece of Lady Martin. If Reginald was not bound by honor or promise to his cousin, and if his father asked only that he choose a woman of unexceptionable family and character, was not Frederica a worthy choice?
“He appears a willful young man,” declared Wilson, “but there is something to be said for a spirit that has borne up against Mrs. Vernon and Lady deCourcy. The right young lady might take away that last bit of conceit in his manner, and then I will like him almost as well as I do Sir James. But,” she added, “if he believes that Miss Frederica is intended for Sir James, he will not put himself forward.”
“I think he would put himself f
orward because he believes she is intended for another, and if he is persuaded that she is opposed to the match, so much the better. He has the deCourcy stubbornness after all, and will go after what he thinks he cannot get.”
chapter twenty-seven
Mrs. Johnson to Lady Vernon
Edward Street, London
My dear Susan,
I wish you the very best greetings of the season and suspect that this may be among the last letters in which I will address you in the name of “Vernon,” as, despite your protestations, you are likely to take up another name in the coming year. Until that time I caution you to be on your guard against Manwaring. He is so determined to avoid Eliza in town that he talks of accompanying Maria when she goes to Billingshurst in January—he will take any excuse that brings him down to Sussex, and if he comes as far as Billingshurst, he will be teasing you to get him admitted to Churchill. A little jealousy is a good thing, but Manwaring’s may lead him to press his suit in a manner that will strain your understanding with Mr. deCourcy.
Miss Vernon continues as obstinate as ever, and her opposition to marrying Sir James—which is talked of everywhere—ought to be very provoking to Maria Manwaring, who has tried to get him for so many years. And yet they are fast friends! What a perverse world it is!
Until that union can be accomplished, we are all diverted by a courtship of another sort. The youngest Miss Hamilton gave up her Christmas visit to Parklands Manor on purpose to stay in town and carry on a flirtation with Charles Smith! His wooing is copied out of the worst sort of romantic novel, but as she never can read two pages before she is overcome with boredom, she finds his flattery quite original and is silly enough to think that he would take her if she did not come with thirty thousand!
If nobody intervenes to prevent it, I suspect she will do something foolish. What a delicious scandal it would be to have the eldest Miss Hamilton cheated out of a match with deCourcy and the youngest throw herself away on Mr. Smith.
Adieu!
Your affectionate friend,
Alicia Johnson
Lady Vernon could only shake her head at her friend’s stubborn conviction that a marriage with Reginald deCourcy was her object.
“Is your letter from Miss Vernon?” inquired Reginald politely (as they were at the breakfast table).
“No, it is from my friend Mrs. Johnson.”
“I do not think that you have had one letter from Miss Vernon in all the time you have been with us,” observed Catherine. “Our mother writes to me that Lady Hamilton has had a half dozen letters from Lucy since she has been at school.”
“Perhaps,” Reginald said with a smile, “Miss Vernon does not possess our cousin’s freedom of expression and quantity of paper.”
“I am sure that anything Frederica would like to say will keep until I go to London,” said Lady Vernon.
“Oh, but it is too early to talk of your departure!” cried Charles, who did not wish her gone until she had got Reginald to make her an offer. “We will not think of your leaving us, do you not agree, my dear?”
Catherine did not agree. She looked eagerly toward the date when Lady Vernon and Reginald would be divided before any real harm was done. She said nothing until Lady Vernon left the room and then immediately exclaimed, “How very deficient our niece must be in her education! Not one letter all this month! Such a negligent correspondent! Such indifference to duty and decorum does not speak well for the manner in which she was brought up.”
“You judge the custom of all daughters by your own, Catherine,” said Reginald. “Perhaps it is not that Miss Vernon writes too seldom but that you write too often.”
Catherine favored him with a reproving glance. “Indeed, one cannot write too often,” she replied. “I begin to understand Lady Vernon’s eagerness to hurry along her daughter’s engagement. It is likely that Miss Vernon is so wanting in character that she is past reform, and Lady Vernon may want her married before Sir James can find it out.”
“And yet,” protested Reginald, “a cousin who has known her since she was a child must be more sensible of Miss Vernon’s defects than we, who have never met her. So we must hope for Sir James’s sake that she is not beyond reform.”
“And let us hope that other gentlemen of fortune know better what is due to their families,” Catherine replied.
“I will go upstairs and write to our mother this minute.” He laughed and left the table.
Catherine could not conceal her chagrin. She had suffered her husband’s affection for his brother, which had him always running up to Portland Place or off to the country at Sir Frederick’s invitation, but it was exasperating to have him imposed upon by Lady Vernon and to see Reginald apprehended in her coldhearted ambition.
“Reginald is too blind, and you are too little in Lady Vernon’s company to see how artful she is,” Catherine protested to her husband. “One is too apt not to look beyond a gentle, frank, and even affectionate manner to see the deception beneath it.”
“And what would be the purpose of such deception?” inquired Charles.
“To reverse all that Reginald has heard of her. With that happy command of the language which is so often used to make black appear white, she has even persuaded him that she is fond of her daughter—and yet why does she come to us and leave Miss Vernon in London? How many successive springs did she divert herself in town while Miss Vernon was left in Staffordshire to the care of her governess and servants? Oh, if only she had been left rich! She would have been the object of so many lovers that she would not think to engage in a flirtation with one who is ten years younger than herself!”
Charles could make no reply, for what would his wife have said if she knew how far he had exerted to keep Lady Vernon from being left rich, and that he was attempting to promote the very union to which Catherine so strenuously objected?
chapter twenty-eight
While Lady Vernon was being abused by her sister-in-law, she and Wilson walked to the parsonage and retrieved a long letter from Frederica.
Miss Vernon to Lady Vernon
Wigmore Street, London
My dear Madam,
The separation from you, at this particular time of the year, is made bearable by the company of some friends from Staffordshire. I have had the pleasure of seeing Anne and Mary Clarke, who are now Mrs. Frank Edwards and Mrs. Phillip Edwards; they were married only two days ago, and were in town to pass a few days before departing for a honeymoon in Brighton.
Mrs. Johnson, upon learning that I had been visited by acquaintances from Staffordshire, pressed me to introduce them to her, and she invited all of us to drink tea at Edward Street. Her latest scheme is to have the sort of salon where people of fashion come together. She fills up her drawing room with people and Mr. Johnson hides away in his library. It is not my notion of conjugal felicity, but for them it appears to be a very effective arrangement.
She is as silly as ever, but I have discovered that Mr. Johnson is not the ogre that he was made out to be. On my most recent visit, Mrs. Johnson invited me to examine the library, as her husband was not at home. I was looking over an edition of Mr. Darwin’s The Botanic Garden when Mr. Johnson appeared. I immediately begged pardon, and I remarked upon the excellence of his collection, which is far superior to the library at Miss Summers’s. He made some gruff reply. “Mrs. Johnson tells me that Sir Frederick left you enough to get all the books you like—of course, there is no sum that will replace an excellent parent.” He then hemmed a bit and said that I may borrow any of his books if I promised to return them in good time, and that if Mrs. Johnson ever had more people than I could bear to put up with in her parlor, I was welcome to make use of his library.
I confess that I do not find him an ill-looking man, and if a gentleman’s taste and refinement can be inferred from his library, Mr. Johnson is a very superior person. His efforts to make some sort of conversation with me were awkward, but not at all coarse or ill bred, and after inquiring how I passed my time at Miss Summe
rs’s, he asked whether I had any particular friends.
“I am particularly friendly with Maria Manwaring. She does not go to school, but I hope to see her now that she has accompanied her sister-in-law to town.” I did not realize my error until I had uttered the words. The gentleman gave a sort of sigh and made some remark about the evils of making a bad match.
I replied that a bad match may have been formed with the very best intentions, and that it was an unhappy situation when the penitence that the errant party must feel was aggravated by a more general censure. “And in any case,” I added (though I cannot believe my boldness in speaking so), “I do not think that the censure ought to comprehend someone who was only a child at the time of her brother’s marriage.”
Mr. Johnson hemmed once again and then said, “If this person—Miss Manwaring—is a particular friend of yours, I cannot object—indeed, I do not object to anything at all. I keep out of the way entirely. Mrs. Manwaring was a very good sort of girl at one time, but nothing will ruin a good disposition like a bad match.”
I did not think that I ought to give an opinion on the subject, so I merely thanked him again for the offer of his library and joined Mrs. Johnson once more.
My uncle was in town last week on some matter of business, and he called at Wigmore Street, but I saw nothing of him. I dare not hope that his business was anything that might benefit us or that he has had any change of heart where we are concerned—or any heart at all.
Please give my warmest regards to Miss Wilson.
Your obedient daughter,
Frederica Vernon
From the window of his study, Charles Vernon spied Lady Vernon walking slowly down the avenue, leaning upon Wilson for support. Her regular visits to Sir Frederick’s grave were becoming a source of irritation to Vernon, as he was persuaded that they were done as a reproach to him. If, he reasoned, Lady Vernon would not so regularly indulge her misery she might turn all of her energies toward the heir to Parklands, who was one of the richest young men in all of England. Her beauty had been proof against her trials, and when she exerted her full powers, there was no lady more charming. Lately, however, she chose not to exert; instead, she would spend much of the morning in her apartments or walking to the churchyard, often not joining the family until dinnertime. In the evening, her spirits did revive, but it would take more than a few hours of clever conversation after dinner to reverse the effects of many hours’ seclusion. Vernon did not doubt that Reginald admired her, but that admiration must be hurried apace to love if an offer of marriage was to be made before one or the other of them took leave of Churchill.
