Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith

by Charlotte Smith

  They thought it necessary immediately to inform Lord Montreville of the whole conversation, and Miss Delamere dispatched a note to Fitz-Edward, desiring him to attend to the motions of his friend.

  Fitz-Edward was at breakfast with Lord Montreville; who took the first opportunity of their being alone, to reproach him with some severity for what he had done.

  The Colonel heard him with great serenity; and then began to justify himself, by assuring his Lordship that he had accompanied Delamere only in hopes of being able to detach him from his pursuit, and because he thought it preferable to his being left wholly to himself. He declared that he meant to have given Lord Montreville information, if there had appeared the least probability of Delamere’s marriage; but that being perfectly convinced, from the character of Emmeline, that there was nothing to apprehend, he had every day hoped his friend would have quitted a project in which there seemed not the least likelihood of success, and would have returned to his family cured of his passion.

  Though this was not all strictly true, Fitz-Edward possessed a sort of plausible and insinuating eloquence, which hardly ever failed of removing every impression, however strong, against him; and Lord Montreville was conversing with him with his usual confidence and friendship, when the note from Miss Delamere was brought in.

  His Lordship, ever anxious for his son, gazed eagerly at it while Fitz-Edward read it; and trembling, asked from whom it came?

  Fitz-Edward put it into his hand; and having ran it over in breathless terror, his Lordship hurried out, directing all his servants to go several ways in search of Delamere; while he entreated Fitz-Edward to run to whatever place he was likely to be in; and went himself to Mrs. Stafford’s lodging, who was by this time returned home.

  What he heard from her of the scene of the morning, contributed to encrease his alarm. The image of his son in all the wildness of ungovernable passion, shook his nerves so much, that he seemed ready to faint, yet unable to move to enquire where he was. As he could attend to nothing else, Mrs. Stafford told him how anxiously she had thought of a situation for Emmeline, and that she believed she had at length found one that would do, ‘if,’ said she, ‘your Lordship cannot prevail on him to quit Swansea, which I think you had better attempt, though from the scene of this morning I own I despair of it more than ever.

  ‘The person with whom I hope to be able to place Miss Mowbray is Mrs. Ashwood, the sister of Mr. Stafford. She has been two years a widow, with three children, and resides at a village near London. She has a very good fortune; and would be happy to have with her such a companion as Miss Mowbray, ‘till I am so fortunate as to be enabled to take her myself. As her connections and acquaintance lie in a different set of people, and in a remote part of the country from those of Mr. Delamere, it is improbable, that with the precaution we shall take, he will ever discover her residence.’

  Lord Montreville expressed his sense of Mrs. Stafford’s kindness in the warmest terms. He assured her that he should never forget the friendly part she had taken, and that if ever it was in his power to shew his gratitude by being so happy as to have the ability to serve her or her family, he should consider it as the most fortunate event of his life.

  Mrs. Stafford heard this as matter of course; and would have felt great compassion for Lord Montreville, whose state of mind was truly deplorable, but she reflected that he had really been the author of his own misery: first, by bringing up his son in a manner that had given such boundless scope to his passions; and now, by refusing to gratify him in marrying a young woman, who was, in the eye of unprejudiced reason, so perfectly unexceptionable. She advised him to try once more to prevail on his son to leave Swansea with him; and he left her to enquire whether Fitz-Edward had yet found Delamere, whose absence gave him the most cruel uneasiness.

  Fitz-Edward, after a long search, had overtaken Delamere on an unfrequented common, about a mile from the town, where he was walking with a quick pace; and seeing Fitz-Edward, endeavoured to escape him. But when he found he could not avoid him, he turned fiercely towards him— ‘Why do you follow me, Sir? Is it not enough that you have broken through the ties of honour and friendship in betraying me to my father? must you still persecute me with your insidious friendship?’

  Fitz-Edward heard him with great coolness; and without much difficulty convinced him that Miss Mowbray herself had given the information to Lord Montreville by means of Mrs. Stafford.

  This conviction, while it added to the pain and mortification of Delamere, greatly reconciled him to Fitz-Edward, whom he had before suspected; and after a long conversation, which Fitz-Edward so managed as to regain some degree of power over the passions of his impetuous friend, he persuaded him to go and dine with Lord Montreville; having first undertaken for his Lordship that nothing should be said on the subject which occupied the thoughts of the father; on which condition only the son consented to meet him.

  CHAPTER XI

  Notwithstanding the steadiness Emmeline had hitherto shewn in rejecting the clandestine addresses of Delamere, he still hoped they would succeed. A degree of vanity, pardonable in a young man possessing so many advantages of person and fortune, made him trust to those advantages, and to his unwearied assiduity, to conquer her reluctance. He determined therefore to persevere; and did not imagine it was likely he could again lose sight of her by a stratagem, against which he was now on his guard.

  As he fancied Lord Montreville and his sister designed to carry her with them when they went, he kept a constant eye on their motions, and set his own servant, and Fitz-Edward’s valet, to watch the servants of Lord Montreville.

  Fitz-Edward, who had been so near losing the confidence of both the father and son, found it expedient to observe a neutrality, which it required all his address to support; being constantly appealed to by them both.

  Lord Montreville, he advised to adhere to moderate measures and gentle persuasions, and to trust to Emmeline’s own strength of mind and good conduct; while to Delamere he recommended dissimulation; and advised him to quit Swansea at present, which would prevent Emmeline’s being removed from thence, and leave it in his power at any time to see her again.

  Lord Montreville, on cooler reflection, was by no means satisfied with Fitz-Edward. To encourage his son’s project, and even to accompany him in it, in the vain hope of detaching him from Emmeline before an irrevocable engagement could be formed, seemed to be at least very blameable; and if he had seen the connection likely to take place on a less honourable footing, his conduct was more immoral, if not so impolitic.

  Either way, Lord Montreville felt it so displeasing, that he determined not to trust Fitz-Edward in what he now meditated, which was, to remove Emmeline from Swansea before he and his daughter quitted it, and to place her with the sister of Mr. Stafford; who being now arrived, had engaged to obtain his sister’s concurrence with their plan.

  A female council therefore was held on the means of Emmeline’s removal; and it was settled that a post-chaise should, on the night fixed, be in waiting at the distance of half a mile from the town; where Emmeline should meet it; and that a servant of Mr. Stafford should accompany her to London, who was from thence to return to his master’s house in Dorsetshire.

  This arrangement being made three days after the arrival of Lord Montreville, and his faithful old valet being employed to procure the chaise, the hour arrived when poor Emmeline was again to abandon her little home, where she had passed many tranquil and some delightful days; and where she was to bid adieu to her two beloved friends, uncertain when she should see them again.

  Her friendship for Mrs. Stafford was enlivened by the warmest gratitude. To her she owed the acquisition of much useful knowledge, as well as instruction in those elegant accomplishments to which she was naturally so much attached, but which she had no former opportunity of acquiring. The charms of her conversation, the purity of her heart, and the softness of her temper, made her altogether a character which could not be known without being beloved; and Emmeline
, whose heart was open to all the enchanting impressions of early friendship, loved her with the truest affection. The little she had seen of Augusta Delamere, had given that young lady the second place in her heart. They were of the same age, within a few weeks. Augusta Delamere extremely resembled the Mowbray family: and there was, in figure and voice, a very striking similitude between her and Emmeline Mowbray.

  Lady Montreville, passionately attached to her son, as the heir and representative of her family, and partial to her eldest daughter for her great resemblance to herself, seemed on them to have exhausted all her maternal tenderness, and to have felt for Augusta but a very inferior share of affection.

  Of the haughty and supercilious manners which made Lady Montreville feared and disliked, she had communicated no portion to her younger daughter; and if she had acquired something of the family pride, her good sense, and the sweetness of her temper, had so much corrected it, that it was by no means displeasing.

  Elegantly formed as she was, and with a face, which, tho’ less fair than that of Emmeline was almost as interesting, her mother had yet always expressed a disapprobation of her person; and she had therefore herself conceived an indifferent opinion of it; and being taught to consider herself inferior in every thing to her elder sister, she never fancied she was superior to others; nor, though highly accomplished, and particularly skilled in music, did she ever obtrude her acquisitions on her friends, or anxiously seek opportunities of displaying them.

  Her heart was benevolent and tender; and her affection for her brother, the first of it’s passions. She could never discover that he had a fault; and the error in regard to Emmeline, which his father so much dreaded, appeared to his sister a virtue.

  She was deeply read in novels, (almost the only reading that young women of fashion are taught to engage in;) and having from them acquired many of her ideas, she imagined that Delamere and Emmeline were born for each other; though she dared not appear to encourage hopes so totally opposite to those of her family, she found, after she had once seen and conversed with Emmeline, that she never could warmly oppose an union which she was convinced would make her brother happy.

  She fancied that Emmeline could not be insensible to Delamere’s love; she even believed she saw many symptoms of regard for him in her manner, and that she made the most heroic sacrifice of her love to her duty, when she resigned him: a sacrifice which heightened, almost to enthusiasm, the pity and esteem felt for her by Augusta Delamere; and though they had known each other only a few days, a sisterly affection had taken place between them.

  But from these two friends, so tenderly and justly beloved, Emmeline was now to depart, and to be thrown among strangers, where it was improbable she would meet with any who would supply the loss of them. Her duty however demanded this painful effort; and she determined to execute it with courage and resolution.

  Delamere was so perpetually about his father, that it was judged improper for him to hold any private conference with Emmeline, lest something should be suspected.

  His Lordship therefore sent her by Mrs. Stafford a bank note of fifty pounds; with his thanks for the propriety of her conduct, and an assurance, that while she continued to merit his protection, he should consider her as his daughter, and take care to supply her with money, and every thing else she might wish for. He desired she would not write; lest her hand should be known, and her abode traced; but said, that in a few weeks he would see her himself, and wished her all possible health and happiness.

  On the night of her departure, instead of retiring to rest at the usual hour, Emmeline dressed herself in a travelling dress, and passed some melancholy hours waiting for the signal of her departure.

  At half past two in the morning, every thing being profoundly quiet, she saw, from her window, her two friends, who had declared they would not leave her ‘till they saw her in the chaise.

  She took with her only a small parcel of linen, Mrs. Stafford having engaged to forward the rest to an address agreed upon; and softly descending the stairs for fear of alarming Mrs. Watkins, she opened the door; and each of her friends taking an arm, they passed over two fields, into a lane where the chaise was waiting with the servant who was to go with her.

  The tears had streamed from her eyes during the little walk, and she was unable to speak. The servant now opened the chaise door and let down the step; and Emmeline kissing the hand of Mrs. Stafford, and then that of Augusta Delamere, went hastily into it— ‘God bless you both!’ said she, in a faint and inarticulate voice. The servant shut the door, mounted a post horse, and the chaise was in an instant out of sight; while the two ladies, who at any other time would have been alarmed at being obliged to take so late a walk, thought not of themselves; but full of concern for poor Emmeline, went back in tears; and Miss Delamere, who had agreed to remain the rest of that night at the lodgings of Mrs. Stafford, retired not to rest, but to weep for the departure of her friend and the distress of her brother.

  Emmeline, thus separated from every body she loved, pursued her journey melancholy and repining.

  The first hour, she wept bitterly, and accused her destiny of caprice and cruelty. But tho’ to the unfortunate passion of Delamere she owed all the inconvenience she had lately experienced, she could not resolve to hate him; but found a degree of pity and regard perpetually mingled itself with his idea in her heart. Yet she was not in love; and had rather the friendship of a sister for him than any wish to be his wife.

  Had there been no impediments to their union, she would have married him, rather to make him happy than because she thought it would make herself so; but she would have seen him married to another, and have rejoiced at it, if he had found felicity.

  An attachment like his, which had resisted long absence, and was undiminished by insuperable difficulties, could hardly fail of having it’s effect on the tender and susceptible mind of Emmeline. But whatever affection she felt, it by no means arose to what a romantic girl would have perhaps fancied it; and she was much more unhappy at quitting the dear Augusta than at the uncertainty she was in whether she should ever again see Delamere.

  The parting was extremely embittered by the prohibition she had received in regard to writing to her. But painful as it was, she determined to forbear; and steadily to adhere to that line of duty, however difficult to practice, that only could secure the peace of her mind, by the acquittal of her conscience; which, as she had learned from Mrs. Stafford, as well as from her own experience, short as it was, could alone support her in every trial to which she might be exposed.

  She reflected on her present situation, compared to what it would have been had she been prevailed upon to become the wife of Delamere against the consent of his family.

  Splendid as his fortune was, and high as his rank would raise her above her present lot of life, she thought that neither would reconcile her to the painful circumstance of carrying uneasiness and contention into his family; of being thrown from them with contempt, as the disgrace of their rank and the ruin of their hopes; and of living in perpetual apprehension lest the subsiding fondness of her husband should render her the object of his repentance and regret.

  The regard she was sensible of for Delamere did not make her blind to his faults; and she saw, with pain, that the ungovernable violence of his temper frequently obscured all his good qualities, and gave his character an appearance of ferocity, which offered no very flattering prospect to whosoever should be his wife.

  By thus reasoning with herself, she soon became more calm, and more reconciled to that destiny which seemed not to design her for Delamere.

  She met with no remarkable occurrence in her journey; and on the evening of the third day arrived in town; where the servant who attended her was ordered to dismiss the chaise, and to procure her an hackney coach, in which she proceeded to the house of Mrs. Ashwood.

  This residence, situated in a populous village three miles from London, bore the appearance of wealth and prosperity. The iron gate, which gave entrance into
a large court, was opened by a servant in a laced livery, to whom Emmeline delivered the letter she had brought from Mrs. Stafford, and after a moment’s waiting the lady herself came out to receive her.

  Emmeline, by the splendour of her dress, concluded she had left a large company: but being ushered into a parlour, found she had been drinking tea alone; of which, or of any other refreshment, Miss Mowbray was desired to partake.

  Her reception of her visitor was perfectly cordial; and Emmeline soon recovering her easy and composed manner, Mrs. Ashwood seemed very much pleased with her guest; for there was in her countenance a passport to all hearts.

  Mrs. Ashwood, tho’ not in the bloom of life, and tho’ she never had been handsome, was so unconscious of her personal disadvantages, that she imagined herself the object of admiration of one sex and of the imitation of the other. With the most perfect reliance on the graces of a figure which never struck any other person as being at all remarkable, she dressed with an exuberance of expence; and kept all the company her neighbourhood afforded.

  Where her ruling passions, (the love of admiration and excessive vanity) did not interfere, she was sometimes generous and sometimes friendly. But her ideas of her own perfections, both of person and mind, far exceeding the truth, she had often the mortification to find that others by no means thought of them as she did; and then her good humour was far from invincible.

  Though Emmeline soon found her conversation very inferior to what she had of late been accustomed to, she thought herself fortunate in having found an asylum, the mistress of which seemed desirous of making it agreeable; and to which she was introduced by the kindness of her beloved Mrs. Stafford.

  But while serenity was returning to the bosom of Emmeline, that of poor Delamere was torn with the cruellest tempest. The morning after Emmeline’s departure, Delamere, who expected no such thing, arose at his usual hour and rode out alone, as he had frequently done. As he passed her window, he looked up to it, and seeing it open, concluded she was in her room.