Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith

by Charlotte Smith

  The poor distrest Emmeline was the only memorial left of him; and Lord Montreville felt her tears a reproach for his cruelty in thus threatening to abandon to her fate, the unhappy daughter of this once loved brother.

  Sir Richard Crofts and Lady Montreville were not by, to intercept these sentiments of returning humanity. He found the tears fill his eyes as he gazed on the picture.

  Emmeline, insensible of every thing, saw it not; and not conscious that he had taken it, the purport of his last words she believed to relate to a sketch she had herself made of Delamere. She was therefore surprized, when Lord Montreville arising, took her hand, and in a voice that witnessed the emotion of his soul, said— ‘Come, my dear Emmeline, pardon me for thus distressing you, you shall not be compelled to marry Mr. Rochely if you have so great a dislike to him. You shall still have an adequate support; and I trust I shall have nothing to fear from your indiscretion in regard to Delamere.’

  ‘Your Lordship,’ answered Emmeline, without taking her handkerchief from her eyes, ‘has never yet found me capable of falsehood: I will repeat, if you desire it, the promise I gave you — I will even take the most solemn oath you shall dictate, never to be the wife of Mr. Delamere, unless your Lordship and Lady Montreville consent.’

  ‘I take your promise,’ answered his Lordship, ‘and shall rely firmly upon it. But Emmeline, you must go from hence for your own sake; your peace and reputation require it; Delamere must not frequent the house where you are: you must conceal from him the place of your abode.’

  ‘My Lord, I will be ingenuous with you. To go from hence is what I intend, and with your Lordship’s permission I will set out immediately for Mrs. Stafford’s. But to conceal from Mr. Delamere where I am, is not in my power; for I have given him a solemn promise to see him if he desires it, wherever I shall be: and as I hope you depend on my honour, it must be equally sacred whether given to him or you. You will therefore not insist on my breaking this engagement, and I promise you again never to violate the other.’

  With this compromise, Lord Montreville was obliged to be content. He entreated Emmeline to see Rochely again, and hear his offers. But she absolutely refused; assuring Lord Montreville, that were his fortune infinitely greater, she would not marry him, tho’ servitude should be the alternative.

  His Lordship therefore forbore to press her farther. He desired, that if Delamere wrote to her, or saw her, she would let him know, which she readily agreed to; and he told her, that so long as she was single, and did nothing to disoblige him, he would pay her an hundred guineas a year in quarterly payments. He gave her a bank note of fifty pounds; and recommending it to her to go as soon as possible to Mrs. Stafford’s, he kissed her cheek with an appearance of affection greater than he had yet shewn, and then went home to prepare for the reception of Lady Montreville, whose arrival he did not greatly wish for; dreading lest her violence and ill-temper should drive his son into some new extravagance. But as her will was not to be disputed, he submitted without remonstrance to the alteration of the plan he had proposed; which was, that his family should pass their Christmas in Norfolk, whither he intended to have returned.

  The next day Delamere was again at Clapham, very early.

  Emmeline, the additional agitation of whose mind had prevented her sleeping during the night, appeared more indisposed than she had done the day before.

  Delamere, very much alarmed at her altered looks, anxiously enquired the cause? And without hesitation she told him simply all that had passed; the promise she had given to his father, to which she intended strictly to adhere, and the arrangement she had agreed to on condition of being persecuted no more on the score of Mr. Rochely.

  It is impossible to describe the grief and indignation of Delamere, at hearing this relation. He saw all the hopes frustrated which he had been so long indulging; he saw between him and all he loved, a barrier which time only could remove; he dared not hope that Emmeline would ever be induced to break an engagement which she considered as binding; he dared not flatter himself with the most distant prospect of procuring the consent of Lord and Lady Montreville, and therefore by their deaths only could he obtain her; which if he had been unnatural enough to wish, was yet in all probability very distant; as Lord Montreville was not more than seven and forty, and of an excellent constitution; and Lady Montreville three years younger.

  Passion and resentment for some moments stifled every other sentiment in the heart of Delamere. But the impediments that thus arose to his wishes were very far from diminishing their violence.

  The more impossible his union with Emmeline seemed to be, the more ardently he desired it. The difficulties that might have checked, or conquered an inferior degree of passion, served only to strengthen his, and to render it insurmountable —

  It was some moments before Emmeline could prevail upon him to listen to her. She then enquired why he had concealed himself from his father, and where he had been?

  He answered, that he had avoided Lord Montreville, because, had he met him, he found himself incapable of commanding his temper and of forbearing to resent his sending Sir Richard Crofts to her, which he had promised her not to do. That therefore he had taken other lodgings in another part of the town, where he intended to remain.

  Emmeline exhorted and implored him to return to Berkley-Square. He positively refused. He refused also to tell her where he lodged. And complaining loudly of her cruelty and coldness, yet tenderly entreating her to take care of her health, he left her; having first procured permission to see her the next day, and every day till she set out for Woodfield.

  When he was gone, Miss Mowbray wrote to Lord Montreville —

  ‘My Lord,

  ‘In pursuance of the word I passed to your Lordship, I have the honour to acquaint you that Mr. Delamere has just left me. I endeavoured to prevail on him to inform me where he lodges; but he refuses to give me the least information. If it be your Lordship’s wish to see him, you will probably have an opportunity of doing it here, as he proposed being here to-morrow; but refused to name the hour, apprehending perhaps that you might meet him, as I did not conceal from him that I should acquaint you with my having seen him.

  I have the honour to be,

  my Lord,

  your Lordship’s

  most obedient servant,

  Emmeline Mowbray.’

  Clapham, Dec. 3.

  Lord Montreville received this letter in her Ladyship’s dressing-room. The servant who brought it in, said it came from Clapham; and Lady Montreville insisted on seeing its contents. She had been before acquainted with what had passed; and bestowed on her son the severest invectives for his obstinacy and folly. Poor Emmeline however, who was the cause of it, was the principal object of her resentment and disdain. Even this last instance of her rectitude, could not diminish the prejudice which embittered the mind of Lady Montreville against her. She lamented, whenever she deigned to speak of her, that the laws of this country, unlike those of better regulated kingdoms, did not give people of fashion power to remove effectually those who interfered with their happiness, or were inimical to their views. ‘If this little wretch,’ said she, ‘was in France, it would not be difficult to put an end to the trouble she has dared to give us. A letter de cachet would cure the creature of her presumption, and place her where her art and affectation should not disturb the peace of families of high rank.’

  Lord Montreville heard these invectives without reply, but not without pain.

  Augusta Delamere, who arrived in Berkley-Square the same morning that Lady Montreville did, felt still more hurt by her mother’s determined hatred to Emmeline, whom she languished to see, and had never ceased to love.

  Miss Delamere inheriting all the pride of her mother, and adding to it a sufficient share of vanity and affectation of her own, had taken a dislike to the persecuted Emmeline, if possible more inveterate than that of Lady Montreville. Tho’ she had never seen her, she detested her; and exerted all her influence on her mother to prevent
her being received into the family as her father’s relation. Fitz-Edward had praised her as the most interesting woman he had ever seen. Miss Delamere had no aversion to Fitz-Edward; and tho’ he had never seemed sensible of the honour she did him, she could not divest herself wholly of that partiality towards him, which made her heartily abhor any woman he seemed to admire. When to this cause of dislike was added, what she called the insolent presumption of the animal in daring to attempt inveigling her brother into the folly of marrying, she thought she might indulge all the rancour, envy, and malignity of her heart.

  When Lady Montreville had read the letter, she threw it down on the table contemptuously.

  ‘It requires no answer,’ said she to the servant who waited.

  The man left the room.

  ‘Well, my Lord,’ continued she, addressing herself to her husband, ‘what do you intend to do about this unhappy, infatuated boy?’

  ‘I really know not,’ answered his Lordship.

  ‘I will tell you then,’ resumed she— ‘Go to this girl, and let her know that you will abandon her pennyless; force her to accept the honour Mr. Rochely offers her; and, by shewing a little strength of mind and resolution, break these unworthy chains with which your own want of prudence has fettered your son.’

  ‘It has already been tried, Madam, without success. Consider that if I am bound by no obligations to support this young person, I am also without any power over her. To force her to marry Mr. Rochely is impossible. I have however her promise that she will not enter into any clandestine engagement with Delamere.’

  ‘Her promise!’ exclaimed Lady Montreville.— ‘And are you weak enough, my Lord, to trust to the promise of an artful, designing creature, who seems to me to have already won over your Lordship to her party? What want of common sense is this! If you will not again speak to her, and that most decisively, I will do it myself! Send her to me! I will force her not only to tell me where Delamere has had the meanness to conceal himself, but also oblige her to relinquish the hopes she has the insolence to indulge.’

  Miss Delamere, who wanted to see the wonderful creature that had turned her brother’s head, and who was charmed to think she should see her humbled and mortified, promoted this plan as much as possible. Augusta, dreading her brother’s violence, dared not, and Lord Montreville would not oppose it, as he believed her Ladyship’s overwhelming rhetoric, to which he was himself frequently accustomed to give way, might produce on Emmeline the effect he had vainly attempted. He therefore asked Lady Montreville, whether she really wished to see Miss Mowbray, and when?

  ‘I am engaged to-morrow,’ answered she, ‘all day. But however, as she is a sort of person whom it will be improper to admit at any other time, let her be here at ten o’clock in the morning. She may come up, before I breakfast, into my dressing-room.’

  ‘Shall I send one of the carriages for her?’ enquired his Lordship.

  ‘By no means,’ replied the Lady. ‘They will be all wanted. Let her borrow a coach of the people she lives with. I suppose all city people now keep coaches. Or if she cannot do that, a hack may be had.’ Then turning to her woman, who had just brought her her snuff-box, ‘Brackley,’ said she, ‘don’t forget to order the porter to admit a young woman who will be here to-morrow, at ten o’clock; tho’ she may perhaps come in a hack.’

  Lord Montreville, who grew every hour more uneasy at Delamere’s absence, now set out in search of him himself. He called at Fitz-Edward’s lodgings; but he was not yet come to town, tho’ hourly expected. His Lordship then went to Clapham, where he hoped to meet his son; but instead of doing so, Emmeline put into his hands the following letter —

  ‘I intended to have seen you again to-day; but the pain I felt after our interview yesterday, has so much disordered me, that it is better not to repeat it. Cruel Emmeline! — to gratify my father you throw me from you without remorse, without pity. I shall be the victim of his ambition, and of your false and mistaken ideas of honour.

  ‘Ah! Emmeline! will the satisfaction that you fancy will arise from this chimerical honour make you amends for the loss of such an heart as mine! Yet think not I can withdraw it from you, cold and cruel as you are. Alas! it is no longer in my power. But my passions, the violence of which I cannot mitigate, prey on my frame, and will conduct to the grave, this unhappy son, who is to be sacrificed to the cursed politics of his family.

  ‘I cannot see you, Emmeline, without a renewal of all those sensations which tear me to pieces, and which I know affect you, though you try to conceal it. For a day or two I will go into the country. Remember your promise not to remove any where but to Mrs. Stafford’s; and to let me know the day and hour when you set out. You plead to me, that your promise to my father is sacred. I expect that those you have passed to me shall be at least equally so. Farewel! till we meet again. You know that seeing you, and being permitted to love you, is all that renders supportable the existence of your unhappy

  F. D.’

  ‘This letter, my Lord,’ said Emmeline, was delivered by a porter. I spoke to the man, and asked him from whence he brought it? He said from a coffee-house at Charing-Cross.’

  ‘Did you answer it?’

  ‘No, my Lord,’ said Emmeline, blushing; ‘I think it required no answer.’

  He then told her that Lady Montreville expected to see her the next day; and named the hour.

  Emmeline, terrified as she was at the idea of such an interview, was forced to assure him she would be punctual to it; and his Lordship took an hasty leave, still hoping he might meet his son. He was hardly gone, before another porter brought to Emmeline a second letter: it was from Augusta Delamere.

  ‘At length, my dear Emmeline, I am near you, and can tell you I still love you; tho’ even that satisfaction I am forced to snatch unknown to my mother. Oh, Emmeline! I tremble for your situation to-morrow. The dislike that both my mother and sister have taken to you, is inconceivable; and I am afraid that you will have a great deal of rudeness and unkindness to encounter. I write this to prepare you for it; and hope that your conscious innocence, and the generosity with which you have acted, will support you. I have been taken to task most severely by my mother for my partiality to you; and my sister, in her contemptuous way, calls you my sweet sentimental friend. To be sure my brother’s absence is a dreadful thing; and great allowances are to be made for my mother’s vexation; tho’ I own I do not see why it should prevent her being just. I will try to be in the room to-morrow, tho’ perhaps I shall not be permitted. Don’t say you have heard from me, for the world; but be assured I shall always love you as you deserve, and be most truly

  your affectionate and faithful,

  A. Delamere.’

  Berkley-Square, Dec. 5.

  CHAPTER II

  Emmeline had the convenience of Mrs. Ashwood’s carriage, who agreed to set her down in Berkley-Square. She was herself sitting for her picture; and told Miss Mowbray she would send the chariot back for her when she got to the house of the painter.

  Exactly at ten o’clock they arrived at the door of Lord Montreville; and Emmeline, who had been arguing herself into some degree of resolution as she went along, yet found her courage much less than she thought she should have occasion for; and with faultering steps and trembling nerves she went up stairs. The man who conducted her, told her that his Lady was not yet up, and desired her to wait in an anti-room, which was superbly furnished and covered with glasses, in which Emmeline had leisure to contemplate her pale and affrighted countenance.

  The longer the interview was delayed the more dreadful it appeared. She dared not ask for Miss Augusta; yet, at every noise she heard, hoped that amiable girl was coming to console and befriend her. But no Augusta appeared. A servant came in, mended the fire, and went down again; then Miss Delamere’s maid, under pretence of fetching something, took a survey of her in order to make a report to her mistress; and Emmeline found that she was an object of curiosity to the domesticks, who had heard from Millefleur, and from the oth
er servants who had been at Swansea, that this was the young woman Mr. Delamere was dying for.

  An hour and a half was now elapsed; and poor Emmeline, whose imagination had been busied the whole time in representing every form of insult and contempt with which she expected to be received, began to hope that Lady Montreville had altered her intention of seeing her.

  At length, however, Mrs. Brackley, her Ladyship’s woman, was heard speaking aloud to a footman — Walter, tell that young woman she may be admitted to see my Lady, and shew her up.

  Walter delivered his message; and the trembling Emmeline with some difficulty followed him.

  She entered the dressing-room. Her Ladyship, in a morning dress, sat at a table, on which was a salver with coffee. Her back was to the door, where stood Mrs. Brackley; who, as Emmeline, hesitating, seemed ready to shrink back, said, with a sort of condescending nod, ‘There, you may go in, Miss.’

  Emmeline entered; but did not advance.

  Lady Montreville, without rising or speaking, turned her head, and looked at her with a scowling and disdainful countenance.

  ‘Humph!’ said she, looking at her eldest daughter, who sat by the fire with a newspaper in her hand— ‘humph!’ as much as to say, I see no such great beauty in this creature.

  Miss Delamere, whose countenance wore a sort of disdainful sneer, smiled in answer to her mother’s humph! and said, ‘Would you have her sit down, Madam?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Lady Montreville, turning again her head towards Emmeline— ‘You may sit down.’

  There was a sofa near the door. Emmeline, hardly able to stand, went to it.

  A silence ensued. Lady Montreville sipped her coffee; and Miss Delamere seemed intent upon the newspaper.