Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith

by Charlotte Smith

  On his return, his father met him, and asked him to breakfast; but he designed to attend the tea-table of Mrs. Stafford, where he thought he should meet Emmeline, and therefore excused himself; and Lord Montreville, who wished the discovery to be delayed to as late an hour of the day as possible, let him go thither, where he breakfasted; and then proposed a walk to Mrs. Stafford, which he hoped would include a visit to Emmeline, or at least that Mrs. Stafford would not walk without her. She excused herself, however, on pretence of having letters to write; and Delamere went in search of Fitz-Edward, whom he could not find.

  It was now noon, and he grew impatient at not having had even a glimpse of Emmeline the whole morning, when he met Fitz-Edward’s man, and asked him hastily where his master was?

  The man hesitated, and looked as if he had a secret which he contained with some uneasiness. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘have you seen Miss Mowbray to-day?’

  ‘No — why do you ask?’

  ‘Because, Sir,’ said the fellow, ‘I shrewdly suspect that she went away from here last night. I can’t tell your Honour why I thinks so; but you may soon know the truth on’t.’

  The ardent imagination of Delamere instantly caught fire. He took it for granted that Fitz-Edward had carried her off: and without staying to reflect a moment, he flew to the inn where his horses were, and ordered them to be saddled; then rushing into the room where his father and sister were sitting together, he exclaimed— ‘she is gone, Sir — Emmeline is gone! — but I will soon overtake her; and the infamous villain who has torn her from me!’

  Lord Montreville scorned to dissimulate. He answered, ‘I know she is gone, and it was by my directions she went. You cannot overtake her; nor is it probable you will ever see her again. Endeavour therefore to recollect yourself, and do not forget what you owe to your family and yourself.’

  Delamere attended but little to this remonstrance; but still prepossessed with the idea of Fitz-Edward’s being gone with her, he swore perpetual vengeance against him, and that he would pursue him through the world.

  With this resolution on his lips, and fury in his eyes, he quitted his father’s apartment, and at the door met Fitz-Edward himself, coming to enquire after him.

  He was somewhat ashamed of the hasty conclusion he had made, and was therefore more disposed to hear what Fitz-Edward had to say, who presently convinced him that he was entirely ignorant of the flight of Emmeline.

  Delamere now insisted, that as a proof of his friendship he would instantly set out with him in pursuit of her.

  Fitz-Edward knew not what to do; but however seemed to consent; and saying he would order his servant to get his horse, left him, and went to Lord Montreville, to whom he represented the impracticability of stopping Delamere.

  His Lordship, almost certain that Emmeline was out of the possibility of his overtaking her, as she had now been gone thirteen hours, thought it better for Fitz-Edward, if he could not prevent his departure, to go with him: but he desired him to make as many artificial delays as possible.

  Delamere, in the mean time, had been to Mrs. Stafford, and tried to force from her the secret of Emmeline’s route. But she was inexorable; and proof against his phrenzy as well as his persuasion. She held him, however, as long as she could, in discourse. But when he found she only tried to make him lose time, he left her, in an agony of passion, and mounting his horse, while his trembling servants were ordered to follow him on pain of instant dismission, he rode out of the town without seeing his father, leaving a message for Fitz-Edward that he had taken the London road, and expected he would come after him instantly.

  Lord Montreville intreated Fitz-Edward to lose not a moment; and bidding an hasty adieu to his Lordship, he ordered his horses to the door of Mrs. Stafford, where he took a formal leave of her and her husband, entreating permission to renew his acquaintance hereafter. Then getting on horseback, he made as much speed as possible after Delamere; whom with difficulty he overtook some miles forward on the London road.

  This way Delamere had taken on conjecture only; but after proceeding some time, he had met a waggoner, whom he questioned. The man told him of a post chaise he had met at four o’clock in the morning; and encouraged by that to proceed, he soon heard from others enough to make him believe he was right.

  The horses, however, at the end of forty miles, were too much fatigued to keep pace with Delamere’s impatience. He was obliged to wait three hours before post horses could be found for himself and Fitz-Edward. His servants were obliged to remain yet longer; and the horses which were at length procured, were so lame and inadequate to the journey, that it was six hours before they reached the next stage; where the same difficulty occurred; and Delamere, between the fatigue of his body and anxiety of his mind, found himself compelled to take some rest.

  The next day he still traced Emmeline from stage to stage, and imagined himself very near her: but the miserable horse on which he rode, being unable to execute his wish as to speed, and urged beyond his strength, fell with him in a stage about sixty miles from London; by which accident he received a contusion on his breast, and was bruised so much that Fitz-Edward insisted on his being blooded and put to bed; and then went to the apothecary of the village near which the accident happened, and procuring a phial of laudanum, infused it into the wine and water which Delamere drank, and by that artifice obtained for him the repose he otherwise would not have been prevailed on to take.

  After having slept several hours, he desired to pursue his journey in a post chaise; but Fitz-Edward had taken care that none should be immediately to be had. By these delays only it was that Emmeline reached London some hours before him.

  However, when he renewed his journey, he still continued to trace her from stage to stage, till the last postillion who drove her was found.

  He said, that he was ordered to stop at the first stand of coaches, into one of which the lady went, and, with the servant behind, drove away; but the lad neither knew the number of the coach, or recollected the coachman, or did he remember whither the coach was ordered to go.

  Delamere passed two days, questioning all the coachmen on the stand; and in consequence of information pretended to be given by some of them, he got into two or three quarrels by going to houses they pointed out to him. And after offering and giving rewards which only seemed to redouble his difficulties, he appeared to be farther than ever from any probability of finding the fair fugitive he so anxiously sought.

  Lord Montreville and his daughter staid only two days at Swansea after his departure. They travelled in very indifferent spirits to London; where they found Delamere ill at the lodgings of Fitz-Edward in Hill-Street.

  Lord Montreville found there was nothing alarming in his son’s indisposition; but could not persuade him to accompany him to Lady Mary Otley’s.

  His Lordship and Miss Augusta Delamere set out therefore for that place; leaving Delamere to the care of Fitz-Edward, who promised not to quit him ‘till he had agreed either to go to the Norfolk estate or to Mr. Percival’s.

  Lord Montreville was tolerably satisfied that he could not discover Emmeline; and Delamere having for above a fortnight attended at all public places without seeing her, and having found every other effort to meet her fruitless, reluctantly agreed to go to his father’s estate in Norfolk.

  It was now almost the end of August; and Fitz-Edward, after seeing him part of the way, took his leave of him, and again went to attend his duty in the North of Ireland.

  CHAPTER XII

  While Delamere, in the deepest despondence, which he could neither conquer or conceal, made a vain effort to divert his mind with those amusements for which he no longer had any relish, Emmeline, at her new residence, attracted the attention of many of Mrs. Ashwood’s visitors.

  A widow, in possession of an handsome jointure, and her children amply provided for, Mrs. Ashwood was believed to entertain no aversion to a second marriage: and her house being so near London, was frequented by a great number of single men; many of who
m came there because it was a pleasant jaunt from the city, where most of them resided; and others, with hopes of amending their fortunes by an alliance with the lady herself.

  These latter, however, were chiefly the younger sons of merchants; and though pleased with their flattery and assiduity, Mrs. Ashwood, who had an almost equal share of vanity and ambition, had yet given no very decided preference to any; for she imagined her personal attractions, of which she had a very high idea, added to the advantages of a good income, good expectations, and opulent connections, entitled her to marry into an higher line of life than that in which her father had first engaged her.

  Her acquaintance, however, was yet very limited among persons of fashion; and it was not wholly without hopes of encreasing it that she had consented to receive Miss Mowbray, whose relationship to Lord Montreville would, she imagined, be the means of introducing her to his Lordship’s notice and to that of his family.

  Her civility and kindness to Emmeline were unbounded for some time. And as she was not easily convinced of her own want of beauty, she never apprehended that she ran some risk of becoming a foil, instead of the first figure, as she expected generally to be.

  The extreme simplicity of Emmeline’s appearance, who notwithstanding the remonstrances of Mrs. Ashwood continued to dress nearly as she did in Wales; and her perfect ignorance of fashionable life and fashionable accomplishments, gave her, in the eyes of many of Mrs. Ashwood’s visitors, the air of a dependant; and those who visited with a view to the fortune of the latter, carefully avoided every appearance of preference to Emmeline, and kept her friend in good humour with herself.

  But there were, among those who frequented her house, some men of business; who being rather in middle life, and immensely rich, had no other views in going thither than to pass a few hours in the country, when their mercantile engagements prevented their leaving London entirely; and who loved pleasure better than any thing but money.

  With one or two of these, Mrs. Ashwood and her father had at different times encouraged overtures of marriage. But they knew and enjoyed the pleasure their fortune and single state afforded them too well to give those indulgences up for the advantage of increasing their incomes, unless the object had possessed greater attractions than fell to the share of Mrs. Ashwood; and her father could not be prevailed upon to give her (at least while he lived) a sum of money large enough to tempt their avarice. These overtures therefore had ended in nothing more than an intercourse of civility.

  But Emmeline no sooner appeared, than one of these gentlemen renewed his visits with more than his original assiduity.

  The extreme beauty of her person, and the naivetè of her manners, gave her, to him, the attractive charms of novelty; while the mystery there seemed to be about her, piqued his curiosity.

  It was known that she was related to a noble family; but Mrs. Ashwood had been so earnestly entreated to conceal as much as possible her real history, lest Delamere should hear of and discover her, that she only told it to a few friends, and it had not yet reached the knowledge of Mr. Rochely, who had become the attendant of Mrs. Ashwood’s tea table from the first introduction of Emmeline.

  Mr. Rochely was nearer fifty than forty. His person, heavy and badly proportioned, was not relieved by his countenance, which was dull and ill-formed. His voice, monotonous and guttural, was fatiguing to the ear; and the singularity of his manners, as well as the oddness of his figure, often excited a degree of ridicule, which the respect his riches demanded could not always stifle.

  With a person so ill calculated to inspire affection, he was very desirous of being a favourite with the ladies; and extremely sensible of their attractions. In the inferior ranks of life, his money had procured him many conquests, tho’ he was by no means lavish of it; and much of the early part of his time had been passed in low amours; which did not, however, impede his progress to the great wealth he possessed. He had always intended to marry: but as he required many qualifications in a wife which are hardly ever united, he had hesitated till he had long been looked upon as an old bachelor.

  He was determined to chuse beauty, but expected also fortune. He desired to marry a woman of family, yet feared the expensive turn of those brought up in high life; and had a great veneration for wit and accomplishments, but dreaded, lest in marrying a woman who possessed them, he should be liable to be governed by superior abilities, or be despised for the mediocrity of his own understanding.

  With such ideas, his relations saw him perpetually pursuing some matrimonial project; but so easily frightened from his pursuit, that they relied on his succession with the most perfect confidence.

  When first he beheld Emmeline, he was charmed with her person; her conversation, at once innocent and lively, impressed him with the most favourable ideas of her heart and understanding; and, brought up at a great distance from London, she had acquired no taste for expences, no rage for those amusements and dissipations which he so much apprehended in a wife.

  When he came to Mrs. Ashwood’s, (which was almost every afternoon) Emmeline, who was generally at work, or drawing in the dressing-room, never discomposed herself; but sat quietly to what she was doing; listening with the most patient complaisance to the long and uninteresting stories with which he endeavoured to entertain her; an attention which greatly contributed to win the heart of Rochely; and he was as much in love as so prudent a man could be, before he ventured to ask himself what he intended? or what was the family and what the fortune of the person who now occupied most of his time and a great portion of his thoughts?

  Mrs. Ashwood, frequently engaged at the neighbouring card-tables, from which Emmeline almost always excused herself, often left her and Mr. Rochely to drink tea together; and when she was at home, would sometimes make her party in another room, where the subject of laughter with her own admirers, was the growing passion of the rich banker for the fair stranger.

  Emmeline did not, when present, escape ridicule on this subject: but as she had not the least idea that a man so much older than herself had any intention of offering himself as an husband, she bore it with great tranquillity, and continued to behave to Mr. Rochely with the attentive civility dictated by natural good breeding; while she heard, without any concern but on his account, the perpetual mirth and loud bursts of laughter which followed his compliments and attentions to her.

  If he was absent a few days, the door of Mrs. Ashwood was crouded with servants and porters with game from Mr. Rochely. And his assiduities became at every visit more marked.

  As it was now late in the autumn, Mrs. Ashwood was desirous of shewing Miss Mowbray some of those public places she had not yet seen; and Emmeline (not apprehending there was any reason to fear meeting Mr. Delamere at a season when she knew field sports kept him altogether in the country) made no difficulty to accompany her.

  Mr. Rochely no sooner heard a party to the play proposed, than he desired to join it; and Mrs. Ashwood, Miss Galton, (an intimate friend of her’s), with Miss Mowbray, Mr. Hanbury, (one of Mrs. Ashwood’s admirers), and Mr. Rochely, met at Drury-Lane Theatre; where Emmeline was extremely well entertained.

  When the play was over, the box was filled with several of Mrs. Ashwood’s acquaintance, who talked to her, while their eyes were fixed on her young friend; an observation that did not greatly lighten up her countenance.

  The most conspicuous among these was a tall, thin, but extremely awkward figure, which in a most fashionable undress, and with a glass held to his eye, strided into the box, and bowing with a strange gesture to Mrs. Ashwood, exclaimed— ‘Oh! my dear Mrs. A! — here I am! — returned from Spa only last night; and already at your feet. So here you are? and not yet enchained by that villainous fellow Hymen? You are a good soul, not to give yourself away while I was at Spa. I was horridly afraid, my dear widow! you would not have waited even to have given me a wedding favour.’

  To this speech, as it required no answer, Mrs. Ashwood gave very little; for besides that she was not pleased with the matter,
the manner delighted her still less. The speaker had, during the whole of it, leaned almost across the person who was next to him, to bring his glass nearly close to Emmeline’s face.

  Emmeline, extremely discomposed, drew back; and Mr. Rochely, who sat near her, putting away the glass softly with his hand, said very calmly to the leaning beau— ‘Sir, is there any occasion to take an account of this lady’s features?’

  ‘Ah! my friend Rochely!’ answered he familiarly, ‘what are you the lady’s Cicisbeo? as we say in Italy. Here is indeed beauty enough to draw you from the contemplation of three per cent. consols, India bonds, omnium, scrip, and douceurs. But prithee, my old friend, is this young lady your ward?’

  ‘My ward! no,’ answered Rochely, ‘how came you to think she was?’

  Mr. Elkerton, who fancied he had vastly the advantage in point of wit, as well as of figure, over his antagonist, now desired to know, ‘whether the lady was his niece? though if I had not recollected’ said he, ‘that you never was married, I should have taken her for your grand daughter.’

  This sarcasm had, on the features of Rochely, all the effect the travelled man expected. But while he was preparing an answer, at which he was never very prompt, the coach was announced to be ready, and Emmeline, extremely weary of her situation, and disgusted even to impatience with her new acquaintance, hastily arose to go.

  Elkerton offered to take her hand; which she drew from him without attempting to conceal her dislike; and accepting the arm of Rochely, followed Mrs. Ashwood; while Elkerton, determined not to lose sight of her, seized the hand of Miss Galton, who being neither young, handsome, or rich, had been left to go out alone: they followed the rest of the party to the coach, where Mrs. Ashwood and Miss Mowbray were already seated, with Mr. Hanbury; who, as he resided with his mother in the village where Mrs. Ashwood lived, was to accompany them home.