Chapter XVII
It was many days before Miss Taverner could be restored to the enjoyment of composure, and long before the evils of her journey ceased to be felt. She struggled to support her spirits, but they were quite worn down, and although she might assume an air of calm cheerfulness, her reflections were all mortifying, and her heart very heavy.
Peregrine’s arrival in Brighton, half an hour later than her own, brought her no comfort. What had passed between him and Worth she did not ask, nor he divulge. He came to her sulky, half-defiant, half-shamefaced, ready to abuse Worth, but reluctant to discuss the cause of their disagreement. It was evident that Worth had not spared him. Judith’s spirits sank still lower. She felt herself to have bred dissension between the two men, and no acknowledgment now (which would indeed have been hard to make) of having deserved Worth’s censure would avail to soften Peregrine’s indignation. No good could come of talking over the affair; it must be left to time to remedy the harm that had been done. Nor could she expect Peregrine to see it all as she did. He was conscious of having done wrong, perhaps secretly sorry for it, but it was after all no great matter: he could forget everything but Worth’s part in it in a very short while, and sally forth with tolerable light-heartedness to take a look at Brighton.
When Mrs. Scattergood was set down at the house it was some hours later, and Judith was able to meet her with the appearance at least of composure. But it was a hard case to be obliged to listen to her reproaches, and to give her some account of what had passed at Cuckfield. But even Mrs. Scattergood could not talk for ever, and by the time they sat down to dinner she was ready to forget it all, and turn her thoughts to what Brighton offered in the way of entertainment.
The house on the Marine Parade was neat, and sufficiently commodious to satisfy its tenants. They could have wished that the drawing-rooms had been more handsome, but were obliged to admit that the furnishings of the whole, though not rich, were above what was generally to be found in houses let out for hire at the seaside. The want of elegance was soon remedied by the arrangement of all the pretty trifles and hangings which Mrs. Scattergood had had the forethought to bring from Brook Street in one of her many trunks. The first evening passed quietly in making themselves at home; both ladies went early to bed, the elder to place slices of raw veal on her face to prevent wrinkles, and the younger to lie awake half the night in fruitless reflection.
This wretchedness could not long endure. In the morning the sight of the sun sparkling on the sea produced an alleviation; and the air, which was fresh and salt-tanged, invigorated the spirits. Some feeling of lowness must still remain, but misery could not persist. It was in anticipation of a day of interest and pleasure that Judith joined her brother and Mrs. Scattergood in the breakfast-parlour.
From the circumstance of her eyes having been full of tears when her chaise had driven into Brighton the day before, Judith had been hardly conscious of her surroundings, and had not even looked up to see the Pavilion, which was placed to catch the traveller’s gaze immediately upon entering the town. That must therefore be the first object of their morning’s walk, and soon after breakfast the two ladies set out together, accompanied as far as the Steyne by Peregrine, who was bound for Ragget’s club.
Five minutes’ walk along the sea-front brought them to the southern end of the Steyne, and a view, though not the best, of the Pavilion was at once obtained. They bent their steps inland, and began to walk up the glazed red-brick pavement of the Steyne, past the neat gardens laid out in geometrical designs, past Donaldson’s Circulating Library, until Pavilion Parade was reached, and they stood immediately before the gleaming and costly edifice itself.
The Pavilion, which had been built for the Prince Regent by Mr. Henry Holland, occupied a frontage of four hundred and eighty feet, and stood in ten acres of ground. It had been designed in accordance with a vague idea conceived by the Prince upon being sent a present of some Chinese wallpaper, and startling and original was the result. At first glance the sight-seeing visitor might well imagine himself to have strayed into some land of make-believe, so gorgeous and unconventional was the palace. The Greek, the Moorish, and the Russian styles predominated. It was fronted by an Ionic colonnade and entablature; a succession of green-roofed domes and minarets rose above a running battlement that surmounted the upper line of the whole building; and two cones, equal in height to the central and largest dome, crowned each wing. The pinnacles and the minarets, which were placed at every angle of the structure, were made of Bath stone, the rest of the palace of stuccoed brick. In front of each of the wings was an open arcade composed of arches, separated by octagonal columns, and ornamented by trellis-work. The entrance was upon the western side, but the principal front, which Mrs. Scattergood and Miss Taverner were gazing at, was to the east, and opened on to a lawn, which was separated from the parade by a low wall, and a dwarf enclosure. A captious critic had once remarked, on first seeing the palace, that it was as though St. Paul’s had littered, and brought forth a brood of cupolas, but no such profane thought crossed Miss Taverner’s mind. If the Pavilion had not been conceived with quite that simplicity of taste which was proper, it was not for her to cavil; she was not to be setting up her judgment in opposition to Mr. Holland’s.
“Is it not a noble edifice?” said Mrs. Scattergood, who could never see it without being struck afresh by its magnificence. “The stables alone cost seventy thousand pounds to build, you know. I am sure you can never have seen a palace to equal it! Carlton House is nothing to it! That is unpretentious to the point of meanness; this must instantly catch the eye, and hold the visitor spellbound with admiration!”
“Very true; it is something quite out of the common, indeed.”
“And the interior!—But you will see! We shall be invited to one of the musical parties, of course. Every apartment of the most noble dimensions, and the whole fitted up with a degree of elegance beyond what is imaginable!”
They walked on to obtain a view of the stables, which were placed at the northern end of the grounds. A short distance brought them to the New Road, and turning down this they soon found themselves in North Street, a steep, crowded highway, which was always in a bustle of traffic. Several of the principal coach-offices were situated in it, and the two ladies paused for a few minutes to watch the departure of one of the stages to London. A number of shops displaying attractive wares made their progress slow, but they presently reached Promenade Grove, on the south-western side of the Pavilion, and sat down to rest for a while under the scanty shade of the poplars that fringed it.
Here were displayed a neatness and a propriety of taste which must have delighted a more critical observer than Miss Taverner. She exclaimed, and was enchanted, and after a short interval of repose declared her intention of exploring the numerous bowers and zigzag alleys in which the grove was laid out. Mrs. Scattergood was very willing, and half an hour was spent in wandering about and admiring the beauty of the flowers, which grew in profusion in a number of formal beds. The grove was not crowded, for the fashionable hour for promenading was later in the day, when an orchestra dispensed music from a wooden box in the centre, but during the course of their stroll the two ladies met several persons with whom they were acquainted, and learned from one of these that although the Prince Regent was not yet in residence at the Pavilion, he was expected to arrive at the end of the week. Colonel McMahon, his secretary, was already in Brighton.
A glance at her watch informed Mrs. Scattergood that the morning was already considerably advanced, and as they had come out with the intention of visiting one of the libraries and taking out a subscription, both ladies now left the grove, and passing the Castle inn, made their way across the Steyne to Donaldson’s library.
Accustomed as she was by this time to the superiority of the London libraries, Miss Taverner was yet amazed at the spaciousness and elegance of Donaldson’s. The collection of books was large; the morning papers and the most valuable of the periodical publications w
ere arranged on tables for the use of subscribers; and the rooms, which were many, were fitted up with a taste that was seldom met with. Card parties and music were to be had there any evening during the season, and throughout the day a constant stream of fashionables coming, some to exchange a book, others to meet their acquaintances or to show off new gowns, produced a continuous scene of animation.
Mrs. Scattergood and her charge reached home again a little time after midday, to find that Peregrine had returned before them, and was seated in the bow-window of the drawing-room on the first floor, busily engaged in focusing a telescope on to the bathing-machines lined up along the beach below. It had not taken him long to discover that one of the more popular amusements obtaining amongst the Corinthians at Brighton was to train a telescope on to these machines (which, unlike those at Scarborough or Ramsgate, had no awnings) in the hope of catching a glimpse of Beauty about to enter the sea. and he had lost no time in purchasing a telescope for his own use.
Mrs. Scattergood exclaimed at him, and abused him roundly for being an odious, vulgar boy, but as the summer was not yet far enough advanced to tempt ladies to indulge in seabathing, he was able to refute all her accusations, and offer her the telescope, so that she might see with her own eyes that the only object of interest on the shore was a stout gentleman in a scarlet suit, cautiously dipping one foot into the water. She indignantly declined taking a peep through the telescope, and removing it from his grasp, shut it up, and inexorably drove him down to the dining parlour, where a cold luncheon was set out upon the table.
The question to occupy their thoughts during lunch was what was to be done with the rest of the day. It was Wednesday, and no ball offered. These took place at the Castle inn and the Old Ship alternately. Wednesdays and Fridays were devoted to card-assemblies, and although Mrs. Scattergood would have been very happy to have spent the evening playing Commerce or Casino, she knew that her charge was not fond of cards. Happily, Peregrine had provided for their entertainment in a burst of brotherly affection, and had not only engaged a box at the theatre, but was willing to take Judith driving all the afternoon.
She was very glad to exchange a card-assembly for the theatre, but the mere mention of driving with him was sufficient to put her out of countenance and bring a blush to her cheeks. She declined it, excusing herself on the score of being tired from her morning’s ramble about the town. He did not press it, but went off shortly after luncheon to seek other amusement. Mrs. Scattergood retired to her bedchamber, and Judith sat down in the drawing-room to occupy herself with her netting-box, and to look out of the window at the lively scene presenting itself on the parade.
She was not left long in silence. A caller was presently announced, and she got up in a little confusion to welcome Captain Audley.
It was hard to meet his eyes, but from his first question it was made apparent that Worth had not told him of the previous day’s escapade. He asked her if she had enjoyed a tolerably comfortable journey; he had too much delicacy of feeling, she was sure, to have put such a question had he been aware of the facts. She returned a rather constrained answer, and made haste to introduce some other topic for conversation. It was not difficult; as he sat down beside her on the window-seat he desired to know how she liked Brighton, and on that subject she could be animated enough, free from all agitating reflections.
“Oh, I am quite delighted with it!” she said. “To be sure, it is not so large, but it is a thousand times better than Scarborough. And I was used to think that nothing could be! But Brighton passes anything I have ever seen. I wish I might stay here for ever.”
“You would soon wish yourself back in London when the autumn came,” he replied, smiling. “It is very well on a bright summer’s day, but you will find after a while that there is a sameness that makes it all seem insipid.”
“I cannot believe it. Do you find it so?”
“I? No, indeed; did you tell me I had the happiest disposition? But every young lady is soon bored by Brighton, I assure you. It is not at all the thing to continue being pleased with it.”
“I daresay those same young ladies would declare themselves bored in London as easily. For my part, even though the balls and the assemblies palled I could gaze forever on such a prospect as this.”
“I venture to think that the first sober-looking morning will make you change your mind. Or do you refer not to the sea, after all, but to Golden Ball instead? That, I agree, is a prospect one cannot soon tire of.”
She leaned forward to look down into the road, and following the direction of the Captain’s eyes, looked with amused appreciation at a chocolate-coloured barouche, drawn by white horses, which was being driven slowly down the parade by a tall, thin gentleman, who had so exaggerated an air of fashion that he must in any company be remarkable.
“You forget,” she replied, “Mr. Hughes Ball is a sight I have enjoyed in London these six or seven months. He lives in Brook Street, you know, and once did me the honour of calling on me. Who is that queer old gentleman with powdered hair, and a rose in his button-hole? How odd he looks, to be sure!”
“What, do you not know Old Blue Hanger?” demanded the Captain. “My dear Miss Taverner, that is Lord Coleraine. You may know him by his green coat, and his powder. You must have met his brother in town.”
“Oh, Colonel Hanger! Yes, I have met him, of course.”
“And disliked him very thoroughly,” said the Captain, with a twinkle. “He is not such a bad fellow, but to tell you the truth, the Regent’s intimates are never excessively well-liked by the rest of the world. Here is one of them tittuping up the parade now. You must go far before you will find McMahon’s equal. There, the little man in the blue and buff uniform, bowing and scraping before Lady Downshire.”
She remarked: “So that is the Regent’s secretary! He is very ugly.”
“Very ugly, and up to no good.”
Colonel McMahon, having parted from Lady Downshire, was coming slowly along the parade. As though aware of the two pairs of eyes observing his progress, he glanced up as he passed the house, and seeing Miss Taverner, stared very hard at her with an expression of critical approval. She drew back at once, reddening, but the Captain merely said: “Do not be surprised at his quizzing you, Miss Taverner. He has very queer manners.”
Soon after he proposed escorting her for a stroll, to see Rossi’s statue of the Regent, which was placed in front of Royal Crescent;. and upon her agreeing readily to the expedition, it was not long before they had left the house, and were walking up the parade, enjoying on the one side the majestic grandeur of the sea, and on the other the rows of elegant habitations, adorned with columns, pilasters, and entablatures of the Corinthian order, which had been erected during the past dozen years. There was nothing to offend wherever the eye might chance to light: all was in the neatest style, and a series of well-kept squares and crescents saved the parade from too uniform an appearance, and relieved the eye with their welcome patches of verdure.
Mrs. Scattergood met them upon their return to the house, and having exclaimed at seeing her young cousin (whom she had not expected to be in Brighton for some days), extended a cordial invitation to him to accompany them to the play that evening. He accepted with evident pleasure, and after sitting with the ladies for a little while, took his leave of them with a promise of meeting them again later at the theatre.
The theatre, which Mrs. Scattergood and Miss Taverner had passed during the course of their morning’s walk, was situated in the New Road, and though not large, was a handsome building, fitted up with every attention to comfort. The pit and gallery were roomy, and two tiers of lofty boxes, ornamented with gold-fringed draperies, provided ample accommodation for the more genteel part of the audience. The Regent’s box, on the left of the stage, which was separated from the others by a richly gilt iron lattice-work, was empty, but nearly all the others were occupied. Miss Taverner’s time, before the curtain went up, was fully engaged in bowing to those of her acquaintance wh
o were present; Mrs. Scattergood’s in closely observing every cap and turban in the house, and preferring her own to them all.
During the first interval several gentlemen visited their box, among them Colonel McMahon, who came in on the heels of Mr. Lewis, and begged leave to recall himself to Mrs. Scattergood’s memory. She was obliged to introduce him to Miss Taverner, to whom he at once attached himself, remaining by her side throughout the interval, and alternately diverting and disgusting her with the obsequiousness and affectation of his manners. He professed himself to be all amazement at not having met her before, and upon hearing that she had not yet had the honour of being presented to the Prince Regent, assured her that she might depend on receiving a card of invitation to the Pavilion in the very near future.
“I venture to think,” he said impressively, “that you will be pleased alike by the interior of the Pavilion, and by its Royal owner. Such manners are not often met with. You will find His Highness condescending to the highest degree. No one was ever more affable! You will like him excessively, and I am emboldened to say that I can engage for him being particularly pleased with you.”
She could hardly keep her countenance as she thanked him, and was glad that the interval was nearly over. It was time for him to return to his place; he made her a low bow, and went away rubbing his hands together.
During the second interval a circumstance occurred to destroy all Miss Taverner’s pleasure. She became aware of being closely scrutinized, and glancing towards the opposite boxes found that the Earl of Barrymore was fixedly regarding her through his quizzing-glass.
She recognized him at once, and knew from the slight smile on his lips that he had recognized her. He nudged his companion, pointed her out, and very palpably asked a question. Miss Taverner could guess its import, and with a heightened colour turned away.
She took care not to glance in that direction again, but Peregrine, chancing to look round the house, exclaimed suddenly: “Who is that fellow who keeps staring into our box? I have a very good mind to step round and ask him what he means by it!”
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