The Mysteries of London, Vol. II [Unabridged & Illustrated] (Valancourt Classics)

by George W. M. Reynolds

But there were no benevolent eyes there:—there seldom are in fashionable life and in such cases. The expression of blank despair which marked the countenance of the young bride was regarded only as the token of maidenly reserve and bashfulness.

  Not that she loved another: no—her heart was entirely her own;—but she was about to be given to a man whom she abhorred.

  “Why did she not remonstrate with her guardian?” asks the innocent reader. Remonstrate with a stanch Tory and High-Church-supporting peer like Lord Rossville! Ridiculous! He who believed that the people are mere machines formed to toil for the aristocracy, was not likely to listen with even common patience to the remonstrances of a young maiden for whom he believed he had arranged a splendid destiny.

  “But, then, poor Maria might have opened her heart to Lady Rossville?” says that self-same innocent reader. Equally ridiculous! A mother who had intrigued so well as to foist her own daughter upon an elderly noble like Lord Ravensworth, and who imagined that matrimony was nothing more nor less in respect to young ladies than “catching at the first rich man who offered himself,” was very far from being the proper person at whose hands the orphan and portionless Maria could obtain a reprieve of the death-sentence which had been pronounced upon her heart.

  In high life how many matrimonial connexions are based on the calculations of sordid interest, instead of the sympathies of the soul! And then the hoary peer or the decrepid nabob is surprised that his young wife proves unfaithful to his bed, and declaims against the profligacy of her conduct in yielding to the temptations of a deeply-seated love for another—a love which was perhaps engendered before the ignominious sacrifice of her person to the sexagenarian husband was ever thought of!

  But to return to the drawing-room at Ravensworth Hall.

  Amongst the select party assembled, we must especially mention the Honourable Miss Wigmore and the Honourable Miss Helena Sophia Alexandrina Wigmore—the bridesmaids, who looked as if they had much rather have been principal instead of secondary actresses in the matrimonial ceremony. There also was the newly-appointed Bishop of the Carribee Islands—solemn in lawn sleeves, and pompous in the display of his episcopal importance. Lounging near the chair of a very pretty girl, with whom he was conversing, stood Count Swindeliski—a refugee who sported enormous whiskers, who had found his way into fashionable society no one exactly knew how, and who had the extraordinary but not altogether uncommon knack of living at the rate of five thousand a-year—upon nothing! Then there were several Members of Parliament who had collected together near a window, and were disputing with all their talent whether there ought to be a duty of one half-penny or three-farthings per hundred on foreign brick-bats. Near an open piano was gathered a group of very young ladies, engaged in an edifying discussion on the character of some other very young lady who was not present. Conversing with Lord Rossville was the owner of half a county, who could return six Members to Parliament with the greatest ease, but could not for the life of him return a sensible answer to even the plainest question. Standing apart from all the rest, was a young country clergyman, who kept turning up the whites of his eyes as if in a constant agony of some kind or another—but really because he was in the presence of a Bishop, although the said Bishop never once cast his reverend eyes that way. Then there was the Dowager Countess of Brazenphace, who had “got off” seven out of nine red-haired daughters, and had brought the two remaining single ones with her just to see if they could not make an impression somewhere or another. There also was the celebrated German philosopher Baron Torkemdef, who had written a work in fourteen quarto volumes to prove that there is no such thing as matter—that we do not really exist—but that we ourselves and every thing else are mere ideas. This learned man was, as might be supposed, a very valuable acquisition to a bridal party. Seated next to Lady Rossville was the Honourable Mrs. Berrymenny, who had seen five husbands consigned to the tomb, and was looking out for a sixth. It was, however, probable that she was doomed to look long enough, inasmuch as she had no fortune, and had already reached the comfortable age of fifty-three. Lastly, there was the elegant and accomplished Miss Blewstocken, who was known to have written a volume of poems which had an excellent circulation (amongst the butter-shops), and who was suspected of having perpetrated a novel.

  These are all the stars whom it is worth while to signalise amidst a galaxy of some fifty personages.

  The bridegroom had not yet arrived: he was expected to make his appearance at about half-past-eight.

  When Lord Ravensworth entered the room, every one who had not lately seen him was shocked at the dreadful change which had taken place in him; but of course the guests, one and all, assured him that they had never seen him look so well before.

  Adeline sighed deeply—for she could not help thinking that it was a miserable mockery for a gaunt and almost fleshless skeleton thus to deck itself out in an apparel befitting a bridal:—moreover, the idea that if her yet unborn offspring should prove a girl, the broad lands and noble Hall of Ravensworth would pass away to another, was ever uppermost in her mind.

  To conceal her emotions, she hastened to the side of poor Maria Villiers, to whom she said, “It is very strange that the lady’s-maid whom you have hired did not come last evening, as promised.”

  “It is, indeed, very annoying,” observed Maria, whose sorrows were, however, too deep to permit her mind to be even ruffled by that trifling source of vexation.

  “But never mind,” continued Lady Ravensworth, in a whisper; “you shall take my maid Flora with you, and I will either find another at my leisure, or keep the one whom you have engaged, should she make her appearance after you have left.”

  “This is very kind of you, Adeline,” said Maria, mechanically.

  “I am afraid you did not manage well in your first essay in choosing dependants, dear Maria,” observed Lady Ravensworth. “You were attracted by the advertisement in the Morning Herald; whereas I never should think of taking a lady’s-maid who advertises. Then, as you yourself told me, you went to some out-of-the-way place in the City for the young woman’s character.”

  “Oh! I was perfectly satisfied, Adeline,” interrupted Maria, to whom this conversation appeared trivial in the extreme on an occasion so fraught with solemnity to herself.

  Lady Ravensworth was about to make some reply, when Lord Rossville, who had been standing at the window for the last few moments, exclaimed, “Here’s the bridegroom!”

  A cold shudder passed over Maria’s frame; and it seemed that her heart had been suddenly swathed in ice.

  She alone retained her place: all the other persons present hurried to the window.

  And, sure enough, the bridegroom was in view; and a very funny view it was. Perched upon the back of an enormous bright bay horse, the “happy man” never appeared more miserable in his life. He was tugging at the reins with all his might; but the huge animal galloped furiously along in spite of the efforts made to restrain its speed. The bridegroom’s feet were thrust as far as they could go into the stirrups: his hat was rammed tight down over his eyes, to prevent it from blowing away;—his form was bent, or rather crouched up, like that of a monkey;—with his right hand he held fast by the horse’s mane;—and with his left he continued tugging at the bit and bradoon. The poor animal itself seemed to wonder, like John Gilpin’s steed, what sort of a thing it had got upon its back; for its eyes glared, and its nostrils dilated with affright: while its whole body was covered with a great perspiration, and white flakes of foam kept falling from its mouth.

  In this manner did the bridegroom rush madly, but with involuntary speed, through the spacious Park towards the Hall. At a short distance behind him rode another cavalier, who managed his horse well, and amused himself by maintaining a succession of shouts and hurrahs after the bridegroom, whereby that unfortunate individual’s steed was only affrighted all the more. A third person on horseback appeared at
a greater distance still; but this was the bridegroom’s servant.

  “A most un-christianlike and decidedly unhallowed manner for a bridegroom to comport himself,” said the Bishop of the Carribbee Islands, as he contemplated this ludicrous display of horsemanship.

  “It certainly is strange,” observed Lord Rossville. “But perhaps our young friend is anxious to display his skill——”

  “No such a ting, milor—no such a ting!” ejaculated Count Swindeliski, caressing his whiskers. “Dat young gentelman’s von great homebogue; and if me was dere, me hit him some kick for his pain.”

  “Ah! he doesn’t ride so well as my poor dear fourth,” said Mrs. Berrymenny, with a profound sigh, as she thus alluded to one of her husbands.

  “It’s all vanity and vexation of spirit,” observed the young clergyman, glancing deferentially towards the Bishop.

  “No, sir—it is not, sir,” said the Bishop sternly: “it is sheer bad riding, sir—and nothing else.”

  The Right Reverend Father in God had been a fox-hunter in his time.

  “For my part,” cried a Member of Parliament, “I move that we repair to the young gentleman’s assistance.”

  “And I beg to second the motion,” said another Member.

  “Ah! by heaven, that’s serious!” ejaculated Lord Rossville, turning abruptly away from the window.

  And so it seemed; for the horse suddenly stopped near the entrance of the mansion, and pitched the bridegroom clean over its head into a clump of evergreens.

  All the ladies who beheld this catastrophe screamed aloud.

  But at the very next moment he rose from his ignominious position, and with difficulty removing his battered hat from over his eyes, saluted the company assembled at the windows of the drawing-room.

  “It’s noting at all,” said Baron Torkemdef: “he only tink himself hurted—you only tink dat a horse what did seem to run way wid him:—it all de idea—all de fancy.”

  Then, while Lord Rossville and others hastened to meet the bridegroom and assure themselves that he was not hurt, Baron Torkemdef caught hold of the great county landowner by the button-hole, and began to expatiate upon the folly of yielding to sensations of pain and other afflictions, as not only those sensations but also we ourselves were only so many unsubstantial ideas.

  Meantime, poor Maria Villiers had remained in a sort of listless reverie in her seat; and it was only when Lady Ravensworth assured her that the bridegroom had sustained no injury, that she learnt he had been in any peril at all.

  In ten minutes the door opened, and Lord Rossville returned to the room, ushering in the bridegroom, who had been cleansed in the meantime from the effects of his fall, and who endeavoured to put a smiling face upon the matter, although still terribly disconcerted.

  Then Lady Adeline advanced to meet him, and said in a most gracious tone, “We have been painfully excited on your account, Sir Cherry Bounce.”

  CHAPTER CCV.

  THE BREAKFAST.

  Yes—it was to this individual that Maria Villiers was to be sacrificed:—it was to him that the cold and selfish policy of Lord Rossville was about to consign a beautiful, an artless, and an amiable girl.

  Sir Cherry’s mother had paid the debt of nature about a year previously; and the young baronet found himself the possessor of an immense fortune.

  Lord Rossville only looked upon his orphan niece Maria as an encumbrance while she remained single, or as a means of increasing the wealth (and in his idea, the strength) of the family when she married. Sir Cherry had met her in the brilliant sphere of the West-End society: he had courted her; and, the moment Lord and Lady Rossville observed his attentions, they commanded her to receive them with favour. She—poor timid, friendless girl!—was half persuaded into the idea that the match was really to her advantage, and half bullied (for we can actually use no other term) into an acquiescence in the views of her guardian.

  Thus she had not dared to utter a negative when the effeminate and insipid baronet had solicited her hand; and, her silence being taken for a ready consent, the preliminaries were hurried on, without any further reference to the inclinations or wishes of the victim!

  “We have been painfully excited on your account, Sir Cherry Bounce,” said Lady Ravensworth, advancing to receive the bridegroom.

  “The twuth wath that my fwiend Thmilackth inthithted on my widing the new horth I bought yethterday,” exclaimed the baronet; “and ath he don’t theem to be veway well bwoken in, the wethult wath that I nearly got a bwoken head.”

  “I never saw such a Guy on a horse before—strike me!” ejaculated Major Smilax Dapper, who had followed his friend into the room. “He would keep in advance of me the whole way; and although I called after him to rein in—strike him!—he would not listen to me.”

  “It wath that thouting and hoowaying that fwightened my horth,” observed Sir Cherry, casting a sulky look towards Smilax.

  “At all events you are not hurt—and that is the essential,” said Lord Rossville.

  “Hurted! no—of course de good gentleman’s not hurted,” exclaimed Baron Torkemdef: “it noting at all but de idea—de fancy. You know vare well, sare, dat you not really exist—dat you only tink you do exist——”

  Sir Cherry Bounce, to whom these words were addressed, cast so ludicrous a look of surprise mingled with dismay upon the philosopher, that Major Smilax Dapper burst into an immoderate fit of laughter; so that Baron Torkemdef was for a moment disconcerted.

  Lord Rossville seized this opportunity to lead Sir Cherry Bounce towards Miss Villiers, who received her intended husband with a manner which to the superficial observer might appear excessive bashfulness, but which to the penetrating eye was the expression of blank—dumb—soul-crushing despair.

  “I was just as timid with my first as Maria is,” whispered Mrs. Berrymenny to the Countess of Brazenphace: “with my second I was a leetle more gay;—with my third——”

  “Dear Mrs. Berrymenny,” interrupted the Countess, impatiently; “pray do not talk of your seconds and thirds, when here are my two youngest daughters who haven’t even yet got their firsts.”

  Two footmen, in gorgeous liveries, now entered the room and threw open a pair of folding-doors, thus revealing an inner apartment where the nuptial ceremony was to take place by special license.

  Then Sir Cherry Bounce took Maria’s hand, and led her slowly into the next room, the Honourable Misses Wigmore attending her in the capacity of bridemaids.

  The remainder of the company followed in procession.

  And now the Bishop takes his place near the table, and opens the book.

  The ceremony begins.

  Pale as marble, and almost insensible to what is passing around her, Maria Villiers hears a sort of droning mumbling, but cannot distinguish the words.

  And yet the Bishop read the prayers in a clear, distinct, and impressive manner.

  One of the bridemaids whispered in Maria’s ear; and the young victim mechanically repeated the answer thus prompted.

  But she was scarcely aware of the tenour of what she had said: every moment the scene became less comprehensible to her mind—and she was on the point of uttering a wild cry, so alarming was the confusion of her thoughts, when there was a sudden movement amongst the assembly—warm lips touched her forehead for a moment and were instantly withdrawn—and then her ears rang with the congratulations of her friends!

  The chaos of her ideas was immediately dispelled; and the appalling truth broke suddenly on her. The ceremony was over—and she was a wife:—upon her marble brow the kiss of a husband had been imprinted.

  By one of those strange efforts of which the soul is sometimes capable, when “the worst” has arrived and “the bitterness of death” has passed, Maria recovered her presence of mind, and even smiled faintly in acknowledgment of the co
ngratulations which she received.

  “Dat young lady seem vare happy now,” whispered the German philosopher to Mrs. Berrymenny; “but it all nutting more dan de idea. We all idea—dat reverend Bischop—dis room—dat book what he was read in—every ting!”

  “Do you mean to persuade me, sir,” asked Mrs. Berrymenny, with an indignant glance at Baron Torkemdef, “that it is all mere fancy on my part that I have had five husbands? If so, sir, all I can say is that I should like to have a sixth opportunity of putting your theory to the test.”

  And with these words the widow of five experiments of the marriage-state joined the procession which was now on its way to the breakfast-room.

  The table in this apartment was spread with all the delicacies which were calculated to tempt the appetite even of satiety.

  Sir Cherry thought it necessary to whisper some soft nonsense in the ears of his bride, as he conducted her to a seat; and Maria turned upon him a vacant glance of surprise;—then, suddenly recollecting the relation in which she stood towards him, her head drooped upon her bosom, and she made no reply.

  “Cherry,” whispered Major Dapper, “you are not half lively enough—blow you! You look like a fool—but I suppose you can’t help it.”

  “Hold your tongue, Thmilackth,” returned Sir Cherry, colouring to such an extent that the deep red was visible beneath his light hair. “You thant tweat me like a child any more.”

  And now began the bustle of the breakfast-table and the excitement of the scene appeared to produce the most beneficial effects upon Lord Ravensworth, who did the honours of the table, conjointly with Adeline, in a manner indicative of more gaiety and spirit than he had exhibited for some time.

  “Lord Ravensworth is certainly improving,” said the Countess of Brazenphace apart to Mrs. Berrymenny.

  “My second used to deceive me in the same manner,” was the reply, also delivered in an under tone. “He was always dying—and always getting better, for at least three years before he went off altogether. My fourth——”