Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith

by Charlotte Smith

  ‘Very odd and strange indeed, Orlando,’ replied Mr Somerive drily – ‘very odd and very strange! – especially as your brother tells me that the damsel is remarkable handsome.’

  ‘Well, Sir,’ cried Orlando with quickness, ‘admitting it to be so: does my brother think to do me an ill office with you, by telling you that I admire beauty; or that I defend a woman, for whom, if she had been ugly, I should equally have interposed, form the impudent persecutions of a coxcomb?’

  ‘I do not believe that your brother intended to do you an ill office. On the contrary, he came to me this morning, at an hour when a visit from him was very unexpected, to tell me that he was very uneasy at the resentment expressed by Sir John Belgrave; and to desire I would prevent this disagreeable affair from going farther, by prevailing on you to make some proper apology.’

  ‘And if that was my brother’s sole intention, I see no necessity for having named the lady; there was otherwise ground enough for the quarrel, if a quarrel it can be called. However, I heartily forgive Philip; and am only sorry that he thinks he has cause to do me every disservice in his power.’

  ‘Do you call his anxiety for your safety a disservice? He hopes to prevent any risk of it, by telling me what has happened, and procuring, before it is too late, an apology.’

  Orlando checked his tears: ‘And does my father really think,’ said he, ‘that I ought to make an apology?’

  ‘If the affair passed as Philip represented it to me, I think you ought; for you seem by that account to have been the aggressor.’

  ‘No, Sir,’ cried Orlando: ‘in every thing else your commands should be my law; but here I hope you will not lay them upon me, because I feel that, for the first time in my life, I must disobey them.’

  ‘And your mother,’ said Mr Somerive, ‘your mother, on her return, is to hear that you are engaged in a duel; that you have either killed a man, who is stranger to you, for the sake of a few paltry pheasants, or have yourself fallen? Oh rash and headlong boy! – if you did not feel deeper resentment than what a trespass on Mrs Rayland’s grounds occasioned, you would not thus have engaged in a dispute so alarming. I greatly fear your attachment to that girl.’

  Orlando, without denying or assenting to the truth of this accusation, related distinctly the very words that had passed. – ‘You see, Sir,’ continued he, ‘that it was about no girl the quarrel began; for, upon my soul! these were the very words.’

  ‘I think still,’ said his father, ‘that it is a very foolish affair; and, should Sir John Belgrave insist upon it, that you ought to make an excuse.’

  ‘Never,’ said Orlando; ‘and do not, dear Sir, do not, I conjure you, lay me under the cruel necessity of disobeying you. You cannot, with all the spirit you possess yourself, desire me to act like a coward; you must despise me if I did: and even my dear, my tender mother would blush for her son, if she thought him afraid of any man when he is conscious of a good cause.’

  ‘What is to be done, then?’ cried Somerive in great perplexity. ‘You will certainly receive a challenge, Orlando.’

  ‘And then I must certainly accept it. But indeed, dear Sir, you are needlessly distressed: if this warlike Sir John must vindicate his injured honour by firing a brace of pistols at me, I have as good a chance as he has; and at all events, if I fall, you will be delivered from the anxiety of providing for me, and I shall die lamented, which is better than to live disgraced. But after all (seeing his father’s distress increase), I am much mistaken if this most magnanimous baronet had not rather let it alone – A few hours will determine it; and before my mother’s return, whom I should be very sorry to terrify, it will be over, one way or other.’

  ‘You will not then, Orlando, settle it by an apology?’

  ‘Never, indeed, my dear Sir.’

  ‘Nor give me your word that there is no attachment between you and this girl, this niece of Lennard’s?’

  ‘Why, my dear father,’ replied Orlando gaily, ‘if I am to be shot by Sir John Belgrave, my attachments are of little consequence; it will therefore be time enough to talk of that when I find myself alive after our meeting.’

  ‘Young man,’ said Somerive, with more sternness than he almost ever shewed towards Orlando before, ‘you were once accustomed to obey implicitly all my commands. At hardly twenty, it is rather early to throw off all parental authority. But I see that the expectations you have formed of possessing the Rayland estate, have made you fancy yourself independent.’

  ‘Pardon me, dear Sir! if I say you greatly mistake me. If I were to-morrow to find myself, by Mrs Rayland’s will, the owner of this property, which is of all things the most unlikely, I should not be at all more independent than I am now; for, while my father lived, I should be conscious that he alone had a right to the Rayland estate; nor should I then consider myself otherwise than as a dependent on his bounty.’

  ‘There is no contending with you, Orlando,’ said Mr Somerive, bursting into tears; ‘I cannot bear this! – You must do, my son, as your own sense and spirit dictate; and I must leave the event to Heaven, to whose protection I commit you! – Yet remember your mother, Orlando: remember your sisters, whose protector you will, I trust, live to be; and do not, more rashly than these unlucky circumstances require, risk a life so precious to us all.’

  Orlando threw himself off his horse, and, seizing his father’s hand, bathed it with his tears. Neither of them spoke for some moments. At length Orlando, recovering himself, said: ‘My father! I would die rather than offend you – If I could, or if I can without cowardice and meanness evade a meeting which may give you pain, I will. In the mean time let us say nothing about this squabble to alarm my mother, if she returns, as you say you expect she will, to-morrow. If any thing happens worth your knowing, you shall instantly hear of it: and in the mean time let me entreat you not to make yourself uneasy; for I am well convinced all will end without any of those distressing events which your imagination has painted.’

  Mr Somerive shook his head and sighed. As he found nothing could be done with Orlando, he had determined to try to put a stop to the further progress of the affair, by his own interposition with Sir John Belgrave; and therefore, bidding Orlando tenderly adieu, he told him to go back to the Hall, while he himself went to his own house to consider how he might best ward off the impending evil from a son whom he every day found more cause to love and admire. He saw too evidently that Orlando had an affection for Mrs Lennard’s niece; for which, though it might be productive of the loss of Mrs Rayland’s favour, he knew not how to blame him. But these discoveries added new bitterness to the reflections he often made on the situation of Orlando; with which, notwithstanding the flattering prospect held out by Mrs Rayland’s late behaviour to him, his father could not be satisfied while it remained in such uncertainty. The anxiety however that he felt for the immediate circumstances, suspended his solicitude for those which were to come. A few hours might perhaps terminate that life, about the future disposition of which he was so continually meditating.

  Orlando, deeply concerned at the distress of his father, and too much confirmed in his opinion of his brother’s treachery and malice, returned to the Hall filled with disquiet. He had now much to add to his letter to Monimia, for he resolved to keep nothing secret from her; and he went impatiently into his own room to finish his letter, when, upon the table, he found the following billet:

  ‘SIR,

  ‘As I find, on enquiry, you are by birth a gentleman, you cannot believe I can pass over the very extraordinary language and conduct you chose to make use of yesterday. Yet, in consideration of your youth, and of your relationship to Mr Somerive, the friend of my friend Stockton, I shall no otherwise notice it than by desiring you will write such an apology as it becomes you to make, and me to receive. I am, Sir,

  Your humble servant,

  J. B. BELGRAVE.’

  Carloraine Castle,

  Oct 18, 1776

  To this letter, which Orlando was told was delivered a few mom
ents before by a servant who waited, he, without hesitation, returned the following answer:

  SIR,

  ‘Not conscious of any impropriety in my conduct, I shall assuredly make no apology for it; and I beg that neither your indulgence to my youth, or my relationship to Mr Philip Somerive, may prevent your naming any other satisfaction which your honour may require, and which I am immediately ready to give.

  I am, Sir,

  Your humble servant,

  ORLANDO SOMERIVE.’

  Rayland Hall,

  Oct. 18, 1776.

  Having dispatched this billet, he continued very coolly to conclude his letter to Monimia; and this last circumstance was the only one he concealed from her. Having done it, he went to the turret, and softly mounted the stair-case, flattering himself that, if he heard no noise, and could be quite secure that no person was with her, he might venture to see Monimia for a few moments. He listened therefore impatiently; but, to his infinite mortification, heard Betty talking with more than her usual volubility; and as his name was repeated, he could not help attending to her harangue.

  ‘Oh! to be sure,’ said she, in answer to something Monimia had said; ‘to be sure, I warrant Orlando is a saint and an angel in your eyes – but I know something.’

  ‘Tell me, Betty,’ said Monimia tremulously, ‘tell me what you know.’

  ‘Why I know – that though he looks as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, cheese won’t choke him. I can tell you what, Miss, he’s slyer than his brother, but not a bitter gooder – What’s more, he lets women into his room at night.’

  ‘Women!’ cried Monimia, ‘what women? How should he do that? and who should they be?’

  ‘That’s more than I can tell; but some hussy or other he does let in, I tell you, for I know they as have seen her. There’s Pattenson has been as mad as fury with me, saying as how it was me; and all I can say won’t persuade him to the contrary. – Egollys! if it had been me, I should not have gone to have denied it, in spite of Pattenson; but he’s as mad as a dog, and won’t hear nothing I can say, but swears he’ll tell my Lady – though I can bring Jenny to prove that, at that very time as he says I was sitting along with ‘Squire Orlando in his own study, I was fast asleep up stairs – And so if Pattenson does make a noise about it, Jenny offers to take her bible oath before the Justice.’

  ‘I think,’ said Monimia, acquiring a little courage from the hope she now entertained that she had not been distinguished, ‘I think it is much better to say nothing about it.’

  ‘So I tells him,’ answered Betty; ‘but he is so crazy anger’d with me that he won’t hear nothing I can say – and there to be sure I owns I should like to know who this puss is.’

  ‘Why,’ replied Monimia, ‘what can it signify, Betty, to you?’

  ‘It signifies to every body, I think, Miss, especially to us poor servants, who may lose our characters. You see that I’m blamed about it already, and Pattenson is always a telling me that Mr Orlando has a liking for me, and that I keeps him company. – Not I, I’m sure! – but it’s very hard to be brought into such a quandary as this, when one’s quite as ‘twere as innocent as can be. I’d give my ears to see this slut.’

  ‘Why, who did ever see her?’ enquired Monimia.

  ‘Oh! that’s neither here nor there – she was seen, and that’s enough.’

  ‘I think it’s impertinent in any body to pry into Mr Orlando’s room, and I dare say it is all a mistake –’

  ‘Please the Lord, I’ll find out the mistake,’ said Betty, ‘and, I warrant, know who this dear friend of Orlando’s is before I’m two days older – and I know somebody else that won’t be sorry to know.’

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘Why his brother – a dear sweet man – He came up to our house last night, Miss, after ’twas dark, on purpose to speak to me. I won’t tell you half he said; but he’s a noble generous gentleman, and has a more genteeler taste too than Orlando; and for my share, I think he’s as handsome.’

  Monimia now seemed to let the discourse drop, and to be considering what she ought to do. Orlando waited yet a little, in hopes that Betty would go, and that he might have an opportunity of seeing Monimia: but immediately the dinner bell rang; and as he now generally dined with Mrs Rayland, he was afraid of being enquired for, and retired silently to his room, somewhat easier, from the strong reason he now had to believe, that, whoever it was whose curiosity brought them the preceding evening to his door, they were actuated by no suspicion in regard to Monimia, and that they had not even distinguished her countenance and figure; and he meditated how to prevent any suspicion concerning her – content to be accused himself of any other folly or error, if Monimia could but escape.

  CHAPTER XII

  IT was probable that Sir John Belgrave’s messenger would immediately return, fixing the time and place where he would meet Orlando, who debated with himself whether he should send the billet he had received, and that he expected, to his father. He had not yet determined how he ought to act, and was traversing the flag-stones which went around the house considering of it, when his father’s servant appeared, and delivered to him the following letter:

  ‘My dear Orlando,

  ‘I HAVE just seen Sir John Belgrave at Mr Stockton’s, who, on my account, as this affair really gives me great pain, is willing to drop any farther resentment, if you will only say to me, that you are sorry for your rashness. I entreat you to gratify me in this – I will not say I command you, because I hope that I need not; but this unlucky business must be settled before the return of your mother, from whom I have to-day heard that she will be at home to-morrow with Isabella, since she cannot determine to leave her in London. – I have also a letter from my old friend General Tracy, of whom you recollect hearing me speak as one of my early friends. He is much acquainted with your uncle Woodford, and has been very obliging in promoting his interest among his connections, which are with people of the first rank. – Having met your mother and sisters at Mr Woodford’s, he has renewed that friendship which time and distance, and our different modes of life, have for some years interrupted; and as he is fond of field sports, and your mother has said how happy I shall be to see him, he intends coming hither to-morrow for ten days or a fortnight, and brings your mother and Isabella down in his post-chaise. This intelligence has put Selina, who is now my house-keeper, into some little hurry, as you know we are little used to company; and it prevents my coming to you myself, as I should otherwise have done. – But I repeat, Orlando, that this uneasiness must be removed from my mind. Write to me therefore such a letter as I may shew to this Sir John Belgrave, and let us hear no more of it. I beg that you will inform Mrs Rayland that I expect company, and that you will obtain her leave to be here to-morrow to receive them. Robert waits for your answer, which I am persuaded will be satisfactory to

  your affectionate father,

  P. SOMERIVE.’

  To this letter, which was extremely distressing to Orlando, since it imposed upon him what he had he thought with propriety refused, he knew not what to answer. To suffer his father to say to Sir John Belgrave that he was sorry for what had passed, seemed to him even more humiliating than to say it himself – he could not bear to owe his safety to his father’s fears; yet it gave him infinite pain to disobey him, and was the first time in his life that he had been tempted to act for himself, in opposition to his father: and the apprehensions of what his mother would feel were still more distressing to him; yet his high spirit could not stoop to apologize for what he knew was not wrong, nor to say he was concerned for having acted as he should certainly act again were the same occasion to arise. After much and uneasy deliberation, he at length dispatched to his father the following lines:

  ‘My dear Sir,

  ‘Again I must entreat your pardon for the disobedience I am compelled to be guilty of. Indeed it is impossible for me, highly as I honour your commands, and greatly as I feel the value of your tenderness, quite impossible for me to make any
apology to Sir John Belgrave: for, were I to say that I am sorry for what passed, I should say what is false, which surely my father will never insist upon. It would grieve my very soul to alarm my mother; but surely there is no necessity for her knowing any thing of this silly business. As you expect General Tracy to-morrow, of whose military character I have often heard you speak with applause, I entreat that you will rather entrust him with the affair, and ask him whether I ought, all circumstances fairly related, to make the submission required of me; and as I am sure I may leave it to him to decide for me, I promise that I will abide by his determination, and will not till then meet Sir John Belgrave if he should in the mean time send me an appointment; though even this delay is, I own, incompatible with my ideas of that spirit which, in a proper cause, should be exerted by a son of yours. Let this promise, however, of a reference to General Tracy make you easy at present, my dear and honoured Sir! and be assured in every other instance of the obedience, and in every instance of the affection, of your

  ORLANDO.’

  Rayland Hall,

  Oct. 20th, 1776.

  Having dispatched this letter, Orlando dismissed the affair of Sir John Belgrave from his mind for the present, and gave all his thoughts to Monimia. The circumstance of the man’s appearing at his door, though much less alarming than it seemed at first, was yet such as threatened to put an end to all those delicious conversations which had so long been the charm of his existence. Not to have an opportunity of seeing Monimia, was death to him; yet to see her, were she exposed to such terrors as she had undergone at their last interview, was impossible. In order to turn all suspicion from her, he would very willingly have been suspected of a penchant for Betty, and have encouraged her flippant forwardness; but that, as it awakened the envy and jealousy of Pattenson, was likely to put him upon the watch, and to bring on the very evil he dreaded. During the day, indeed, he had now frequent opportunities of seeing Monimia, who was now, unless under her aunt’s displeasure, less rigorously confined than formerly but those interviews were never but in the presence of a third person; and after what his father had said, and what had happened on the alarming evening, he was compelled to be more than ever cautious. Tormented by uncertainty, and perplexed by apprehensions, he passed a wretched afternoon; impatiently waiting till he could ascend the turret, and at least, if he could not see Monimia, obtain a letter from her. The hour at length came when he believed every one in the house were occupied with their own affairs; and having excused himself from drinking tea with Mrs Rayland, under the pretence of being busied in writing for his father, he stole softly to the room under that of Monimia, and from thence up the stairs.