“Oh! never mind family quarrels and connexions — you can go, and I am sure it will be taken very well — and you know you only go with me. Oh! positively you must — now there’s my good dear Mrs. Falconer — yes, and order the carriage this minute for to-morrow early,” said Lady Frances, in a coaxing yet impatient tone.
Mrs. Falconer adhered to its being absolutely impossible.
“Then, Anne, you must go.”
No — Anne was impenetrable.
“Then I’ll go by myself,” cried Lady Frances, pettishly—”I’ll take Pritchard with me, in our own carriage, and I’ll speak about it directly — for go I must and will.”
“Now, Frances, what new fancy is this for Mrs. Hungerford? I am sure you used not to care about her,” said Lady Anne.
“And I dare say I should not care about her now,” replied Lady Frances, “but that I am dying to see an old pair of shoes she has.”
“An old pair of shoes!” repeated Lady Anne, with a look of unutterable disdain.
“An old pair of shoes!” cried Mrs. Falconer, laughing.
“Yes, a pair of blue damask shoes as old as Edward the Fourth’s time — with chains from the toe to the knee, you know — or do you know, Count Altenberg? Miss Percy was describing them — she saw Colonel Hungerford put them on — Oh! he must put them on for me — I’ll make him put them on, chains and all, to-morrow.”
“Colonel Hungerford is on his way to India by this time,” said Georgiana Falconer, drily.
“May I ask,” said Count Altenberg, taking advantage of the first pause in the conversation—”may I ask if I understood rightly, that Mrs. Hungerford, mother of Colonel Hungerford, lives in this neighbourhood, and is coming into the country to-morrow?”
“Yes — just so,” said Lady Frances.
What concern can it be of his? thought Miss Georgiana Falconer, fixing her eyes upon the Count with alarmed curiosity.
“I knew Colonel Hungerford abroad,” continued the Count, “and have a great regard for him.”
Lady Kew, Lady Trant, and Miss Georgiana Falconer, exchanged looks.
“I am sorry that he is gone to India,” said Mrs. Falconer, in a sentimental tone; “it would have been so pleasant to you to have renewed an acquaintance with him in England.”
Count Altenberg regretted the absence of his friend, the colonel; but, turning to Lady Frances, he congratulated himself upon having an opportunity of presenting his letters of introduction, and paying his respects to Mrs. Hungerford, of whom he had heard much from foreigners who had visited England, and who had been charmed with her, and with her daughter, Mrs. Mortimer — his letters of introduction had been addressed to her town residence, but she was not in London when he was there.
“No, she was at Pembroke,” said Lady Kew.
I’m sure I wish she were there still, thought Miss Georgiana.
“But, after all, Lady Frances, is the duchess sure that Mrs. Hungerford is actually come to the country? — May be, she is still in town.”
“I shall have the honour of letting your ladyship know; for, if Lord Oldborough will permit, I shall certainly go, very soon, to pay my respects at Hungerford Castle,” said Count Altenberg.
The prescient jealousy of Miss Georgiana Falconer boded ill of this visit to Hungerford Castle. A few days afterwards a note was received from Count Altenberg, returning many thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Falconer for the civilities he had received from them, paying all proper compliments to Zara, announcing his intention of accepting an invitation to stay some time at Mrs. Hungerford’s, and taking a polite leave of the Falconer family.
Here was a death-blow to all Georgiana’s hopes! But we shall not stay to describe her disappointment, or the art of her mother in concealing it; nor shall we accompany Mrs. Falconer to town, to see how her designs upon the Clays or Petcalf prospered. We must follow Count Altenberg to Hungerford Castle.
CHAPTER XXIX.
“Who would prize the tainted posies,
Which on ev’ry breast are worn?
Who could pluck the spotless roses
From their never touched thorn?”
The feeling expressed in these lines will be acknowledged by every man of sense and delicacy. “No such man ever prized a heart much hackneyed in the ways of love.” It was with exquisite pain that Count Altenberg had heard all that had been said of Caroline — he did not give credit to half the insinuations — he despised those who made them: he knew that some of the ladies spoke from envy, others from the mere love of scandal; but still, altogether, an impression unfavourable to Caroline, or rather unfavourable to his passion for Caroline, was left on his mind. The idea that she had been suspected, the certainty that she had been talked of, that she had even been named as one who had coquetted with many admirers — the notion that she had been in love — passionately in love — all this took from the freshness, the virgin modesty, the dignity, the charm, with which she had appeared to his imagination, and without which she could not have touched his heart — a heart not to be easily won.
In his own country, at the court where he resided, in the different parts of the continent which he had visited, Germany, Poland, Switzerland, France, he had seen women celebrated for beauty and for wit, many of the most polished manners, many of the highest accomplishments, some of exquisite sensibility, a few with genuine simplicity of character, but in all there had been something which had prevented his wishing to make any one of them the companion of his life. In some there was a want of good temper — in others of good sense; there was some false taste for admiration or for notoriety — some love of pleasure, or some love of sway, inconsistent with his idea of the perfection of the female character, incompatible with his plans of life, and with his notions of love and happiness.
In England, where education, institutions, opinion, manners, the habits of society, and of domestic life, happily combine to give the just proportion of all that is attractive, useful, ornamental, and amiable to the female character — in England, Count Altenberg had hopes of finding a woman who, to the noble simplicity of character that was once the charm of Switzerland, joined the polish, the elegance, that was once the pride of France; a woman possessing an enlarged, cultivated, embellished understanding, capable of comprehending all his views as a politician and a statesman; yet without any wish for power, or love of political intrigue. Graced with knowledge and taste for literature and science, capable of being extended to the highest point of excellence, yet free from all pedantry, or pretension — with wit, conversational talents, and love of good society, without that desire of exhibition, that devouring diseased appetite for admiration, which preys upon the mind insatiably, to its torture — to its destruction; without that undefineable, untranslateable French love of succès de société, which substitutes a precarious; factitious, intoxicated existence in public, for the safe self-approbation, the sober, the permanent happiness of domestic life. In England Count Altenberg hoped to find a woman raised by “divine philosophy” [Footnote: Milton.] far above all illiberal prejudice, but preserving a just and becoming sense of religion; unobtrusive, mild, and yet firm. Every thing that he had seen of Caroline had confirmed his first hope, and exalted his future expectation; but, by what he had just heard, his imagination was checked in full career, suddenly, and painfully. His heavenly dream was disturbed by earthly voices — voices of malignant spirits — mysterious — indistinct — yet alarming. He had not conceived it possible that the breath of blame could approach such a character as Caroline’s — he was struck with surprise, and shocked, on hearing her name profaned by common scandal, and spoken of as the victim of a disappointed passion, the scorn of one of the most distinguished families in England. Such were the first painful thoughts and feelings of Count Altenberg. At the time he heard the whispers which gave rise to them, he had been actually penning a letter to his father, declaring his attachment — he now resolved not to write. But he determined to satisfy himself as to the truth or falsehood of these reports. He was not
a man to give ear lightly to calumny — he detested its baseness; he would not suffer himself for a moment to brood over suspicion, nor yet would he allow himself for present ease and pleasure to gloss over, without examination, that which might afterwards recur to his mind, and might create future unjust or unhappy jealousy. Either the object of his hopes was worthy of him, or not — if not worthy, better tear her from his heart for ever. This determined him to go immediately to Mrs. Hungerford’s. Count Altenberg trusted to his own address and penetration for discovering all he wished to know, without betraying any peculiar interest in the subject.
The first sight of Mrs. Hungerford, the gracious dignity of her appearance and manners, the first five minutes’ conversation he had with her, decided him in the opinion, that common report had done her justice; and raised in his mind extreme anxiety to know her opinion of Caroline. But, though he began the history of Zara, and of the play at Falconer-court, for the express purpose of introducing the Percys, in speaking of the company who had been present, yet, conscious of some unusual emotion when he was going to pronounce that name, and fancying some meaning in Mrs. Hungerford’s great attention as he spoke, he mentioned almost every other guest, even the most insignificant, without speaking of Caroline, or of any of her family. He went back to his friend Colonel Hungerford. Mrs. Hungerford opened a letter-case, and took from it the last letter she had received from her son since he left England, containing some interesting particulars. — Towards the conclusion of the letter, the writing changed to a small feminine hand, and all India vanished from the view of Count Altenberg, for, as he turned the page, he saw the name of Caroline Percy: “I suppose I ought to stop here,” said he, offering the letter to Mrs. Hungerford. “No,” she replied, the whole letter was at his service — they were only a few lines from her daughter Lady Elizabeth.
These few lines mentioned Caroline Percy among the dear and intimate friends whom she regretted most in Europe, and to whom she sent a message expressive of the warmest affection and esteem. A glow of joy instantly diffused itself over his whole frame. As far as related to Colonel Hungerford, he was sure that all he had heard was false. There was little probability that his wife should, if those circumstances were true, he Caroline’s most intimate friend. Before these thoughts had well arranged themselves in his head, a pleasing, sprightly young lady came into the room, who he at first thought was Mrs. Hungerford’s daughter; but she was too young to answer exactly the description of Mrs. Mortimer.
“Lady Mary Pembroke, my niece,” said Mrs. Hungerford.
Her ladyship was followed by Mr. Barclay — Count Altenberg seemed in a fair way to have all his doubts satisfied; but, in the hurry of his mind, he had almost forgotten to ask for Mrs. Mortimer.
“You will not see her to-day,” said Mrs. Hungerford; “she is gone to see some friends, who live at distance too great for a morning visit. But I hope,” continued Mrs. Hungerford, turning to Lady Mary, “that my daughter will make me amends for losing a day of her company, by bringing me our dear Caroline to-morrow.”
“Is there a chance of Caroline’s coming to us?” cried Lady Mary with affectionate eagerness.
“Is there any hope of our seeing Miss Caroline Percy?” said Mr. Barclay, with an air of respectful regard, very different from what must have been the feelings of a man who had trifled with a woman, or who had thought that she had trifled with him.
Count Altenberg rejoiced that he had come without a moment’s delay to Hungerford Castle.
“You are really a good creature, my dear,” continued Mrs. Hungerford to Lady Mary, “for being so anxious to have Caroline here — many a niece might be jealous of my affection, for certainly I love her as well as if she were my own child. To-morrow, sir,” said she, turning to Count Altenberg, “I hope I shall have the pleasure to introduce you to this young friend of ours: I shall feel proud to show her to a foreigner, whom I wish to prepossess in favour of my countrywomen.”
The Count said that he had already had the honour of being presented to Miss Caroline Percy — that he had seen her frequently at Falconer-court, and at her own home — and that he was not surprised at the interest which she excited at Hungerford Castle. Count Altenberg showed the interest she had excited in his own mind, whilst he pronounced, in the most sober manner in his power, those few words.
Mrs. Hungerford perceived it, nor had it escaped her observation, that he had forborne to mention the name of Percy when enumerating the persons he had met at Falconer-court. She was both too well bred in general, and too discreet on Caroline’s account, to take any notice of this circumstance. She passed immediately and easily to a different subject of conversation.
The next day Mrs. Mortimer returned with Caroline. The Count saw the affection with which she was embraced by Mrs. Hungerford. The family had crowded to the door of the antechamber to receive her, so that Caroline, encompassed with friends, could not immediately see the Count, and he enjoyed these moments so exquisitely, that the idea which had previously engrossed all his soul, anxiety to see how she would look on meeting him thus unexpectedly, was absolutely forgotten. When the crowd opened, and Mrs. Hungerford led her forward, a smile of frank surprise and pleasure appeared on her countenance upon seeing Count Altenberg; but her colour had been previously so much raised, and so much pleasure had sparkled in her eyes, that there was no judging what share of emotion was to be attributed to this surprise. He was, and he had reason to be, satisfied with perceiving, that in the midst of the first pleasure of meeting intimate friends, and when she did not expect to meet any but friends, she was not chilled by the sight of one who was, to her, as yet but a new acquaintance.
After introducing Count Altenberg to Mrs. Mortimer, Mrs. Hungerford said, “Till I had my daughter and all my friends in full force about me, I prudently did not make any attempt, Count Altenberg, upon your liberty; but now that you see my resources, I trust you will surrender yourself, without difficulty, my prisoner, as long as we can possibly detain you in this castle.”
Never was man less disposed to refuse an invitation than Count Altenberg at this moment. He wrote to Mrs. Falconer immediately that farewell note which had shocked Miss Georgiana so much.
As Lord Oldborough was preparing to return to town, and likely to be engrossed by ministerial business, his lordship, with less reluctance, relinquished his company; and the Count, with infinite satisfaction, found himself established at once upon a footing of intimacy at Hungerford Castle. The letter he had intended to write to his father was now written and sent; but it was expressed in yet stronger terms than he had originally designed — he concluded by conjuring his father, as he valued the happiness of his son, not to take a step in any of the treaties of marriage that had been planned for him, and besought him to write as soon as it was possible, to relieve his mind from suspense, and to set him at liberty to declare his attachment, if, upon further acquaintance with the English lady who had touched his heart, he should feel any hope of making such an impression on her affections as could induce her to make for him the great sacrifice of country, family, and friends. In the mean time, the hours and days passed on most happily at Hungerford Castle. Every succeeding day discovered to him some new excellence in the object of his affection. Mrs. Hungerford, with judicious, delicate kindness, forbore all attempts to display even those qualities and talents in Caroline which she most valued, certain that she might safely leave them to the discernment of her lover. That Count Altenberg loved, Mrs. Hungerford had too much penetration to doubt; and it rejoiced her heart, and satisfied all her hopes, to see a prospect of her young friend being united to such a man. Mrs. Mortimer felt as much joy and as much delicacy upon the subject as her mother showed.
In that near examination in domestic life, so dangerous to many women of the highest pretensions, Caroline shone superior. His love, approved by the whole strength of his reason, and exalted by the natural enthusiasm of his temper, was now at the highest. His impatience was extreme for the arrival of that answer to hi
s letter, which he hoped would set him at liberty to declare his passion.
The letter at last arrived; very different were its contents from what he had hoped. A previous letter from his father to him, sent in a packet with government despatches by Mr. Cunningham Falconer, had not reached him. That letter, of which his father now sent him a copy, contained an account of the steps which had been taken, relative to a treaty of marriage between his son and the Countess Christina, a lady of high birth, beauty, and talents, who had lately appeared for the first time at that court. Count Altenberg’s father described the countess as one who, he was sure, must charm his son; and as the alliance was eagerly desired by the lady’s friends, and in every respect honourable for his whole family, the old Count was impatient to have the affair concluded. Receiving no answer to this letter, and pressed by circumstances, he had gone forward in his son’s name with the treaty, and had pledged him so far, that there was now, he declared, no possibility of retracting with honour. He lamented that his son should, in the mean time, have taken a fancy to an English lady; but, as Count Albert’s letter gave the assurance to his family that he would not take any decisive step till he should receive an answer, nothing could have been done in England that would commit his honour — absence would soon efface a transient impression — the advantages of the alliance proposed in his own country would appear stronger the more they should be examined — the charms of the Countess Christina, with her superior understanding, would have an irresistible effect; “and,” concluded the old count, “I beseech you, my dear Albert, as your friend — I will say more — I command you as your father, return to your own country as soon as you can obtain passports after receiving this letter.”
Count Altenberg would have left Hungerford Castle immediately, but he had still a lingering hope that his last letter to his father would produce a change in his mind, and for an answer to this he determined to wait; but a sudden change appeared in his manner: he was grave and absent; instead of seeking Caroline’s company and conversation as usual, he studiously avoided her; and when he did speak to her, his behaviour was so cold and reserved — so unlike his natural or his former manner, that the difference struck not only Caroline herself, but Rosamond and Mrs. Percy, who were, at this time, at Hungerford Castle. It happened that, on the very day, and nearly at the very hour, when Count Altenberg received this letter from his father, of which no one knew any thing but himself, there arrived at Hungerford Castle another of Mrs. Hungerford’s nieces, a young lady of uncommon beauty, and of the most attractive and elegant manners, Lady Florence Pembroke. She was just returned from Italy with an uncle, who had resided there for some time. Count Altenberg, from the moment he was introduced to Lady Florence, devoted to her his whole attention — he sat beside her — whenever he conversed, his conversation was addressed to her; and the evident absence of mind he occasionally betrayed, and all the change in his manner, seemed to have been caused by her ladyship’s appearance. Some sage philosophers know little more of cause and effect than that the one precedes the other; no wonder then that Rosamond, not famous for the accuracy of her reasoning, should, in this instance, be misled by appearances. To support her character for prudence, she determined not to seem to observe what passed, and not to mention her suspicions to her sister; who, as she remarked, was sensible of the count’s altered manner; and who, as she rightly conjectured, did not perceive it with indifference. The accomplishments, good sense, and exalted sentiments of Count Altenberg, and the marked attentions he had paid her, had made an unusual impression on the mind of Caroline. He had never declared his love, but involuntarily it had betrayed itself on several occasions. Insensibly Caroline was thus led to feel for him more than she dared to avow even to herself, when the sudden change in his manner awakened her from this delightful forgetfulness of every object that was unconnected with her new feelings, and suddenly arrested her steps as she seemed entering the paradise of love and hope.
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 140
