Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  Lady Delacour was surprised by the sudden entrance of Marriott, and her macaw. The chain which held the bird Marriott put into her ladyship’s hand without being able to say any thing more than, “Do what you please, my lady, with it — and with me.”

  Pacified by this submission, Lady Delacour granted Marriott’s pardon, and she most sincerely rejoiced at this reconciliation.

  The next day Belinda asked the dowager Lady Boucher, who was going to a bird-fancier’s, to take her with her, in hopes that she might be able to meet with some bird more musical than a macaw, to console Marriott for the loss of her screaming favourite. Lady Delacour commissioned Miss Portman to go to any price she pleased. “If I were able, I would accompany you myself, my dear, for poor Marriott’s sake, though I would almost as soon go to the Augean stable.”

  There was a bird-fancier in High Holborn, who had bought several of the hundred and eighty beautiful birds, which, as the newspapers of the day advertised, had been “collected, after great labour and expense, by Mons. Marten and Co. for the Republican Museum at Paris, and lately landed out of the French brig Urselle, taken on her voyage from Cayenne to Brest, by His Majesty’s Ship Unicorn.”

  When Lady Boucher and Belinda arrived at this bird-fancier’s, they were long in doubt to which of the feathered beauties they should give the preference. Whilst the dowager was descanting upon their various perfections, a lady and three children came in; she immediately attracted Belinda’s attention, by her likeness to Clarence Hervey’s description of Lady Anne Percival — it was Lady Anne, as Lady Boucher, who was slightly acquainted with her, informed Belinda in a whisper.

  The children were soon eagerly engaged looking at the birds.

  “Miss Portman,” said Lady Boucher, “as Lady Delacour is so far from well, and wishes to have a bird that will not make any noise in the house, suppose you were to buy for Mrs. Marriott this beautiful pair of green parroquets; or, stay, a goldfinch is not very noisy, and here is one that can play a thousand pretty tricks. Pray, sir, make it draw up water in its little bucket for us.”

  “Oh, mamma!” said one of the little boys, “this is the very thing that is mentioned in Bewick’s History of Birds. Pray look at this goldfinch, Helena, now it is drawing up its little bucket — but where is Helena? here’s room for you, Helena.”

  Whilst the little boys were looking at the goldfinch, Belinda felt somebody touch her gently: it was Helena Delacour.

  “Can I speak a few words to you?” said Helena.

  Belinda walked to the farthest end of the shop with her.

  “Is my mamma better?” said she, in a timid tone. “I have some gold fish, which you know cannot make the least noise: may I send them to her? I heard that lady call you Miss Portman: I believe you are the lady who wrote such a kind postscript to me in mamma’s last letter — that is the reason I speak so freely to you now. Perhaps you would write to tell me if mamma will see me; and Lady Anne Percival would take me at any time, I am sure — but she goes to Oakly-park in a few days. I wish I might be with mamma whilst she is ill; I would not make the least noise. But don’t ask her, if you think it will be troublesome — only let me send the gold fish.”

  Belinda was touched by the manner in which this affectionate little girl spoke to her. She assured her that she would say all she wished to her mother, and she begged Helena to send the gold fish whenever she pleased.

  “Then,” said Helena, “I will send them as soon as I go home as soon as I go back to Lady Anne Percival’s, I mean.” Belinda, when she had finished speaking to Helena, heard the man who was showing the birds, lament that he had not a blue macaw, which Lady Anne Percival was commissioned to procure for Mrs. Margaret Delacour.

  “Red macaws, my lady, I have in abundance; but unfortunately, a blue macaw I really have not at present; nor have I been able to get one, though I have inquired amongst all the bird-fanciers in town; and I went to the auction at Haydon-square on purpose, but could not get one.”

  Belinda requested Lady Boucher would tell her servants to bring in the cage that contained Marriott’s blue macaw; and as soon as it was brought she gave it to Helena, and begged that she would carry it to her Aunt Delacour.

  “Lord, my dear Miss Portman,” said Lady Boucher, drawing her aside, “I am afraid you will get yourself into a scrape; for Lady Delacour is not upon speaking terms with this Mrs. Margaret Delacour — she cannot endure her; you know she is my Lord Delacour’s aunt.”

  Belinda persisted in sending the macaw, for she was in hopes that these terrible family quarrels might be made up, if either party would condescend to show any disposition to oblige the other.

  Lady Anne Percival understood Miss Portman’s civility as it was meant.

  “This is a bird of good omen,” said she; “it augurs family peace.”

  “I wish you would do me the favour, Lady Boucher, to introduce me to Miss Portman,” continued Lady Anne.

  “The very thing I wished!” cried Helena.

  A few minutes’ conversation passed afterward upon different subjects, and Lady Anne Percival and Belinda parted with a mutual desire to see more of each other.

  CHAPTER XIII. — SORTES VIRGILIANAE.

  When Belinda got home, Lady Delacour was busy in the library looking over a collection of French plays with the ci-devant Count de N —— ; a gentleman who possessed such singular talents for reading dramatic compositions, that many people declared that they would rather hear him read a play than see it performed at the theatre. Even those who were not judges of his merit, and who had little taste for literature, crowded to hear him, because it was the fashion. Lady Delacour engaged him for a reading party at her house, and he was consulting with her what play would be most amusing to his audience. “My dear Belinda! I am glad you are come to give us your opinion,” said her ladyship; “no one has a better taste: but first I should ask you what you have done at your bird-fancier’s; I hope you have brought home some horned cock5, or some monstrously beautiful creature for Marriott. If it has not a voice like the macaw I shall be satisfied; but even if it be the bird of paradise, I question whether Marriott will like it as well as its screaming predecessor.”

  “I am sure she will like what is coming for her,” said Belinda, “and so will your ladyship; but do not let me interrupt you and monsieur le Comte.” And as she spoke, she took up a volume of plays which lay upon the table.

  “Nanine, or La Prude, which shall we have?” said Lady Delacour: “or what do you think of L’Ecossaise?”

  “The scene of L’Ecossaise is laid in London,” said Belinda; “I should think with an English audience it would therefore be popular.”

  “Yes! so it will,” said Lady Delacour: “then let it be L’Ecossaise. M. le Comte I am sure will do justice to the character of Friport the Englishman, ‘qui scait donner, mais qui ne scait pas vivre.’ My dear, I forgot to tell you that Clarence Hervey has been here: it is a pity you did not come a little sooner, you would have heard a charming scene of the School for Scandal read by him. M. le Comte was quite delighted; but Clarence was in a great hurry, he would only give us one scene, he was going to Mr. Percival’s on business. I am sure what I told you the other day is true: but, however, he has promised to come back to dine with me — M. le Comte, you will dine with us, I hope?”

  The count was extremely sorry that it was impossible — he was engaged. Belinda suddenly recollected that it was time to dress for dinner; but just as the count took his leave, and as she was going up stairs, a footman met her, and told her that Mr. Hervey was in the drawing-room, and wished to speak to her. Many conjectures were formed in Belinda’s mind as she passed on to the drawing-room; but the moment that she opened the door, she knew the nature of Mr. Hervey’s business, for she saw the glass globe containing Helena Delacour’s gold fishes standing on the table beside him. “I have been commissioned to present these to you for Lady Delacour,” said Mr. Hervey, “and I have seldom received a commission that has given me so much pleasure. I perce
ive that Miss Portman is indeed a real friend to Lady Delacour — how happy she is to have such a friend!”

  After a pause Mr. Hervey went on speaking of Lady Delacour, and of his earnest desire to see her as happy in domestic life as she appeared to be in public. He frankly confessed, that when he was first acquainted with her ladyship, he had looked upon her merely as a dissipated woman of fashion, and he had considered only his own amusement in cultivating her society: “But,” continued he, “of late I have formed a different opinion of her character; and I think, from what I have observed, that Miss Portman’s ideas on this subject agree with mine. I had laid a plan for making her ladyship acquainted with Lady Anne Percival, who appears to me one of the most amiable and one of the happiest of women. Oakly-park is but a few miles from Harrowgate. — But I am disappointed in this scheme; Lady Delacour has changed her mind, she says, and will not go there. Lady Anne, however, has just told me, that, though it is July, and though she loves the country, she will most willingly stay in town a month longer, as she thinks that, with your assistance, there is some probability of her effecting a reconciliation between Lady Delacour and her husband’s relations, with some of whom Lady Anne is intimately acquainted. To begin with my friend, Mrs. Margaret Delacour: the macaw was most graciously received, and I flatter myself that I have prepared Mrs. Delacour to think somewhat more favourably of her niece than she was wont to do. All now depends upon Lady Delacour’s conduct towards her daughter: if she continues to treat her with neglect, I shall be convinced that I have been mistaken in her character.”

  Belinda was much pleased by the openness and the unaffected good-nature with which Clarence Hervey spoke, and she certainly was not sorry to hear from his own lips a distinct explanation of his views and sentiments. She assured him that no effort that she could make with propriety should be wanting to effect the desirable reconciliation between her ladyship and her family, as she perfectly agreed with him in thinking that Lady Delacour’s character had been generally misunderstood by the world.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Hervey, “her connexion with that Mrs. Freke hurt her more in the eyes of the world than she was aware of. It is tacitly understood by the public, that every lady goes bail for the character of her female friends. If Lady Delacour had been so fortunate as to meet with such a friend as Miss Portman in her early life, what a different woman she would have been! She once said some such thing to me herself, and she never appeared to me so amiable as at that moment.”

  Mr. Hervey pronounced these last words in a manner more than usually animated; and whilst he spoke, Belinda stooped to gather a sprig from a myrtle, which stood on the hearth. She perceived that the myrtle, which was planted in a large china vase, was propped up on one side with the broken bits of Sir Philip Baddely’s little stick: she took them up, and threw them out of the window. “Lady Delacour stuck those fragments there this morning,” said Clarence smiling, “as trophies. She told me of Miss Portman’s victory over the heart of Sir Philip Baddely; and Miss Portman should certainly have allowed them to remain there, as indisputable evidence in favour of the baronet’s taste and judgment.”

  Clarence Hervey appeared under some embarrassment, and seemed to be restrained by some secret cause from laying open his real feelings: his manner varied continually. Belinda could not avoid seeing his perplexity — she had recourse again to the gold fishes and to Helena: upon these subjects they could both speak very fluently. Lady Delacour made her appearance by the time that Clarence had finished repeating the Abbé Nollet’s experiments, which he had heard from his friend Doctor X —— .

  “Now, Miss Portman, the transmission of sound in water,” said Clarence ——

  “Deep in philosophy, I protest!” said Lady Delacour, as she came in. “What is this about the transmission of sound in water? — Ha! whence come these pretty gold fishes?”

  “These gold fishes,” said Belinda, “are come to console Marriott for the loss of her macaw.”

  “Thank you, my dear Belinda, for these mute comforters,” said her ladyship; “the very best things you could have chosen.”

  “I have not the merit of the choice,” said Belinda, “but I am heartily glad that you approve of it.”

  “Pretty creatures,” said Lady Delacour: “no fish were ever so pretty since the days of the prince of the Black Islands in the Arabian Tales. And am I obliged to you, Clarence, for these subjects?”

  “No; I have only had the honour of bringing them to your ladyship from — —”

  “From whom? — Amongst all my numerous acquaintance, have I one in the world who cares a gold fish about me? — Stay, don’t tell me, let me guess —— Lady Newland? — No; you shake your heads. I guessed her ladyship, merely because I know she wants to bribe me some way or other to go to one of her stupid entertainments; she wants to pick out of me taste enough to spend a fortune. But you say it was not Lady Newland? — Mrs. Hunt then perhaps? for she has two daughters whom she wants me to ask to my concerts. It was not Mrs. Hunt? — Well, then, it was Mrs. Masterson; for she has a mind to go with me to Harrowgate, where, by-the-bye, I shall not go; so I won’t cheat her out of her gold fishes; it was Mrs. Masterson, hey?”

  “No. But these little gold fishes came from a person who would be very glad to go with you to Harrowgate!” said Clarence Hervey. “Or who would be very glad to stay with you in town,” said Belinda: “from a person who wants nothing from you but — your love.”

  “Male or female?” said Lady Delacour.

  “Female.”

  “Female? I have not a female friend in the world but yourself, my dear Belinda; nor do I know another female in the world, whose love I should think about for half an instant. But pray tell me the name of this unknown friend of mine, who wants nothing from me but love.”

  “Excuse me,” said Belinda; “I cannot tell her name, unless you will promise to see her.”

  “You have really made me impatient to see her,” said Lady Delacour: “but I am not able to go out, you know, yet; and with a new acquaintance, one must go through the ceremony of a morning visit. Now, en conscience, is it worth while?”

  “Very well worth while,” cried Belinda and Clarence Hervey, eagerly.

  “Ah, pardi! as M. le Comte exclaims continually, Ah, pardi! You are both wonderfully interested in this business. It is some sister, niece, or cousin of Lady Anne Percival’s; or — no, Belinda looks as if I were wrong. Then, perhaps, it is Lady Anne herself? — Well, take me where you please, my dear Belinda, and introduce me where you please: I depend on your taste and judgment in all things; but I really am not yet able to pay morning visits.”

  “The ceremony of a morning visit is quite unnecessary here,” said Belinda: “I will introduce the unknown friend to you to-morrow, if you will let me invite her to your reading-party.”

  “With pleasure. She is some charming émigrée of Clarence Hervey’s acquaintance. But where did you meet with her this morning? You have both of you conspired to puzzle me. Take it upon yourselves, then, if this new acquaintance should not, as Ninon de l’Enclos used to say, quit cost. If she be half as agreeable and graceful, Clarence, as Madame la Comtesse de Pomenars, I should not think her acquaintance too dearly purchased by a dozen morning visits.”

  Here the conversation was interrupted by a thundering knock at the door.

  “Whose carriage is it?” said Lady Delacour. “Oh! Lady Newland’s ostentatious livery; and here is her ladyship getting out of her carriage as awkwardly as if she had never been in one before. Overdressed, like a true city dame! Pray, Clarence, look at her, entangled in her bale of gold muslin, and conscious of her bulse of diamonds!—’Worth, if I’m worth a farthing, five hundred thousand pounds bank currency!’ she says or seems to say, whenever she comes into a room. Now let us see her entrée—”

  “But, my dear,” cried Lady Delacour, starting at the sight of Belinda, who was still in her morning dress, “absolutely below par! — Make your escape to Marriott, I conjure you, by all your fears o
f the contempt of a lady, who will at the first look estimate you, au juste, to a farthing a yard.”

  As she left the room, Belinda heard Clarence Hervey repeat to Lady Delacour —

  “Give me a look, give me a face,

  That makes simplicity a grace;

  Robes loosely flowing, hair as free—”

  he paused — but Belinda recollected the remainder of the stanza —

  “Such sweet neglect more taketh me

  Than all th’adulteries of art,

  That strike mine eyes, but not mine heart.”

  It was observed, that Miss Portman dressed herself this day with the most perfect simplicity.

  Lady Delacour’s curiosity was raised by the description which Belinda and Clarence Hervey had given of the new acquaintance who sent her the gold fishes, and who wanted nothing from her but her love.

  Miss Portman told her that the unknown would probably come half an hour earlier to the reading-party than any of the rest of the company. Her ladyship was alone in the library, when Lady Anne Percival brought Helena, in consequence of a note from Belinda.

  Miss Portman ran down stairs to the hall to receive her: the little girl took her hand in silence. “Your mother was much pleased with the pretty gold fishes,” said Belinda, “and she will be still more pleased, when she knows that they came from you: — she does not know that yet.”

  “I hope she is better to-day? I will not make the least noise,” whispered Helena, as she went up stairs on tiptoe.

  “You need not be afraid to make a noise — you need not walk on tiptoe, nor shut the doors softly; for Lady Delacour seems to like all noises except the screaming of the macaw. This way, my dear.”

  “Oh, I forgot — it is so long since! — Is mamma up and dressed?”