Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  But let it not be supposed that the brilliant and quick-witted bride ever dreamed of lodging neighbours of sixteen descents in a garret. Assuredly no idea so preposterous ever entered her head. But if they were not to lodge there, somebody else must, or Steinfeld Castle could not be made to furnish pillows enough for its inhabitants.

  Now, when Adolphe had brought home his young English bride (her forty thousand pounds sterling coming home with her), the handsomest apartments in the mansion had immediately been assigned to her and her husband, and these they had, of course, retained ever since. Moreover, the apartment which had been occupied by Arabella, and which had been selected not only as being second-best, but as being near her sister, had been appropriated to the babies ever since the return of the party from Vienna; nor had it been thought necessary to change the arrangement, because that portion of the mansion which had even been hitherto appropriated to the master and mistress of the family, was, of course, assigned to the Count and his bride on their arrival. But when the time approached for returning the festive hospitalities by which the Count and his young bride had been welcomed to the neighbourhood, it was discovered that it was absolutely necessary to invade the nursery apartments of the twins, in order to accommodate the guests.

  The announcement of this necessity was not in any way agreeable to Lucy. The garrets might be very good garrets, as the gay Wilhelmina repeatedly assured her they were; but nevertheless Lucy did in no degree approve the proposition of lodging the precious babies therein.

  But Lucy had too much good sense, as well as too much good temper, to make a family quarrel on the occasion. She knew, moreover, perfectly well, that “if he lived to be a man,” her darling boy would some day be lord of the castle, despite all the beautiful brides that her youthful father-in-law could bring down upon them.... but the question was, what was to become of the dear babies now? Had it not been so perfectly obvious to everyone about him that the Baron von Schwanberg was positively dying (though he still found it very difficult to believe it), the natural remedy for this garret scheme would have been obvious enough, as nothing could have been more easy than the sending the two children to occupy the rooms at Schloss Schwanberg which had been long ago allotted to them.

  But she knew that Gertrude would neither like to rouse him from his half lethargic state, in order to ask his permission for doing this, nor yet would she choose to take advantage of this same melancholy lethargy, in order to smuggle them into the castle without his knowledge.

  Lucy had, however, the comfort of knowing, that her dearly-beloved Adolphe would not only tell her exactly what it was best to do, but that his constant good humour would enable him to take a more patient view of the case than she could do without him.... for in her heart she was very angry indeed, and therefore, like a good wife, and a wise woman, she dutifully determined to make over all her sorrows to her husband, leaving him at perfect liberty to do battle, or to yield, as he thought best.

  The task she thus assigned him was not an easy one; and so conscious was he of this fact, that he looked an older man by half-a-dozen years while he was meditating upon it, than he had ever looked before. But notwithstanding both his bookish abstraction, and his constitutional good humour, Adolphe had sober judgment enough to perceive that Lucy’s question, “What had we better do, Adolphe?” was an important one, inasmuch as it did not concern the present moment only, but might have an influence on their domestic comfort for many a long year to come.

  At the time of Adolphe’s marriage it had been settled, without the slightest doubt or difficulty on either side, that Schloss Steinfeld should be the principal residence of the young couple; and though Lucy’s ample fortune had made it an easy matter to them to change the scene whenever inclined to do so, they had never, as yet, considered any other residence as their home.

  But after very mature deliberation, Adolphe now began to think that this could be the case no longer; and it was then, perhaps, for the first time, that he became fully aware that forty thousand pounds sterling might be a very important addition to the good gifts of a pretty wife, even if blessed with as sweet a temper as that of his Lucy.

  To have asked his bridegroom father to have made him such an allowance as might have enabled him to live elsewhere, in a style befitting his rank and station in society, would have been very painful to him, and probably in vain, also; for he had never as yet heard any allusion made to the personal fortune of his youthful step-mother, and it was therefore certainly with more satisfaction than he had ever felt before on the same subject, that he now recollected how perfectly it was in his power to let his dear little wife choose a home for herself.

  Lucy was at first considerably more puzzled than pleased when Adolphe returned to her, after taking, as he said, a solitary walk to meditate, with a countenance much more indicative of enjoyment than of deliberation. Lucy could not look cross; Nature had denied her the power; but she certainly did look very grave, as he returned to her in her solitary boudoir, looking as blithe as a school-boy at the beginning of his holidays.

  “Oh, Adolphe! Adolphe! you have not been thinking about the dear children, I am very sure!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “At least you cannot have been meditating on the subject as seriously as I have done; for the difficulty only increases the more I think about it. Little Lucy has decidedly got a cold already, and I really would not have her taken out of her own warm room into that great wide garret for the world!”

  “Lucy shall not be taken into that great wide garret, my dear,” replied Adolphe, gaily; “nor little Adolphe, either. But I suppose you will not be terrified at the idea of my going there.”

  “Terrified,” repeated Lucy, looking, if possible, graver than before. “Terrified is certainly a very strong word, and I don’t suppose that I could truly say that I should be terrified, Adolphe, if you were to pass a night in the garret. But I will tell you fairly and sincerely that I shall not approve it at all.”

  “It will only be for one night, you know, Lucy, and if I do happen to sneeze, it will not much signify, will it?”

  “I hardly know how to answer you, Adolphe,” she replied, “because you are in jest, and I am in earnest. As to the mere inconvenience,” she added, “I assure you that I could make quite as little fuss about it myself, as you can do, It is not the inconvenience. It is the.... the principle, if I may use so solemn sounding a word without your laughing at me.”

  “No, Lucy, for once in your life I will let you be solemn without laughing at you. On the contrary, I do not think you could choose a better word, and, like you, my dear, I do not approve the principle. But though I can forgive your solemnity, I doubt if I can forgive your folly. Lucy! Lucy! Lucy! will you agree to our both following the example of your beloved Dogberry? Will you write yourself down an ass, and obligingly permit me to do the same?”

  “My dearest, dearest Adolphe!” she replied, with something very like a tear in her bright eye; “how I do wish you would be serious!”

  “Serious!” he repeated, “which of us do you suppose to be the most serious at this moment?”

  “Why, Adolphe! how can you talk to me so?” she exclaimed; “I really do not believe that you are exactly aware what we are talking about. It is about the health of the children, my dear Adolphe, that I am so anxious. I do not approve the Countess’s proposal of removing them from their present warm nursery to the garret. Do you think there is anything really ridiculous in that?”

  “Not exactly ridiculous, Lucy,” he replied. “But the question is but trifling, my dear, that is, speaking comparatively. What should you say, for instance, of its comparative importance, if I were to name beside it the question of whether you, and I, and our children, present, and to come, were from henceforth, probably for the term of our natural lives, to remain the permitted guests of our blooming step-mother; or, that we were suddenly to turn ourselves to the right-about, and, dutifully asking papa’s blessing, to march off, and find an independent home for ourselves, in what
ever part of the world we might happen to like best!”

  “My dearest, dearest Adolphe!” exclaimed Lucy, clasping her hands, and positively trembling with eagerness; “are you really in earnest in saying, that such a delicious idea has ever occurred to you?”

  “Traitress!” he replied, holding up his fist in a very threatening attitude; “traitress! did such an idea ever occur to you, without your telling me of it?”

  “Telling you of it?” replied Lucy, with an air of very superior wisdom. “Telling you of it, Adolphe! Just fancy the daughter of a plebeian English banker, telling the son and heir of an Austrian nobleman, that she thought the best thing they could do would be to run away from the ancestral castle, and its sixteen quarters, in order to amuse themselves by leading a sort of fancy life, heaven knows where!”

  “You have put the case so well, Countess Adolphe,” replied her husband, “that I should not find a single word to say in reply, were it not for one trifling little circumstance. If the daughter of the plebeian English banker had chanced to have no marriage portion more precious than that appertaining to the noble Countess Wilhelmina von Steinfeld, I am quite ready to confess that the best, and perhaps the only course they could pursue, would be to remain in the said ancestral castle, peaceably contenting themselves with whatever portion of it might be assigned to their use. But as the marriage portion of the Countess Adolphe von Steinfeld for the time being happens to consist in English pounds sterling, instead of German armorial bearings, the case is different. You know more about living in England, Lucy, than I do, and I have no doubt you will be able to tell me, with tolerable accuracy, whether the income arising from your fortune would enable us to exist there with tolerable comfort?”

  “Exist there! Oh! my darling Adolphe! would you really consent to make the experiment? Exist? not a single comfort, not a single luxury that you enjoy here, shall be wanting there, Adolphe, save and except the pleasure of looking up at the great stone griffins over the gate, and telling your heart, with a complacent smile, that they were stuck up there by your ancestors in the year one! Adolphe! Adolphe! if you are in earnest, I shall be too, too happy! I shall indeed! I shall not know how to bear it.” And so saying, the gay-hearted Lucy threw her arms upon the table, buried her face upon them, and began sobbing.

  “My dear little wife!” said Adolphe, throwing his arms round her, “I shall have to quarrel with you at last! Why did you never tell me, never hint to me, in any way, that you should be happier in your own country than here? I give you my honour, Lucy, that I never suspected your having such a feeling.”

  “Nor had I any such feeling,” she replied, with great sincerity, “as long as I believed that you preferred this home to every other. I daresay you will laugh at me, if I tell you that one reason for my never hinting at my occasional longings for a peep at Old England, arose from that sort of mysterious reverence which we feel for some of the mighty truths that we cannot understand. If any one had asked me, why I preferred England? I could have answered by the commonest of all English words: I should have said, ‘Because it is more comfortable;’ but I never meditated, for a moment, upon your undoubted preference for remaining with your father, instead of having an establishment of your own (which I knew very well you could afford to pay for); never, for a moment, did my vulgar English thoughts glance that way, without my fooling that I was totally unable to form a fair judgment on the subject; because I could not comprehend the exact nature of the attraction which kept you here. For I knew that nothing would be more easy than for you to pay your good father a visit from time to time; and, besides the Count himself, I could see nothing but the griffins outside the door, and your gay, young step-mother within, which you might not have found else where.”

  This explanation, however, on the part of Lucy, was so far satisfactory, that it produced a hearty laugh from her husband, though the said laugh was occasionally interrupted, for the purpose of assuring her that she had behaved exceedingly ill.

  The discussion ended, however, as most of their discussions did, in a very perfect agreement of opinion on the subject before them. Moreover, it was agreed between them, ere they parted, that the precious babies should in no case be exposed to the doubtful atmosphere of the threatened garret, a danger which was easily avoided by Adolphe’s quietly taking up his quarters on the sofa in his wife’s dressing-room, while the noble bed-room which had been appointed for him and his lady on their arrival, was converted into a very satisfactory nursery; and of this nursery it was decided, that she and the children should keep possession, till their newly-projected scheme of taking refuge in England from the enlarged hospitalities of Wilhelmina could be acted upon.

  CHAPTER LVII.

  THE last scone of the august Baron von Schwanberg’s earthly existence was, meanwhile, rapidly approaching. Fortunately, however, for the harmony of the Steinfeld festivities, his death did not take place till two days after the party assembled to partake of them had separated; and therefore the absence of Adolphe and his wife, who immediately quitted the house of feasting for the house of mourning, produced no discussion or objection of any kind.

  Gertrude had been to long prepared for this event for it to overwhelm her; but, nevertheless, she felt it severely, and, like most other people, probably, upon losing: one whom they had dearly loved, and who had dearly loved them, she tormented herself not a little by dwelling upon all the circumstances in which she had recently opposed his wishes though not avowedly.

  Her last consolation, under the weight of these painful thoughts, was the recollection of all the misery which she had inflicted upon herself in Pans, in order to obey and please him; and if, at length, her sensitive conscience permitted her judgment to acquit her, it was only by the help of her strong conviction, that had such misery been repeated, her reason, or her life, or both, would have been the sacrifice.

  All that the most tender love, and the most genuine friendship, could offer, in the way of consolation, was not wanting to Gertrude now. She deserved to he loved, and to be esteemed, notwithstanding these untoward features in her destiny, which had made her past life such a curiously-mixed tissue of right and wrong. She had, in fact, been so placed, that no line of conduct which it was possible for her to pursue, could have left her wholly free from self-reproach; and gratefully did she listen to the reasonings of Rupert, which, without the aid of anything approaching sophistry, displayed to her very satisfactorily the undeniable truth, that by no other line of conduct could she have assured to her father the enjoyment and consolation of her presence, to the last hour of his life.

  It scarcely need be stated, that the presence of her true friend, Lucy, and the active co-operation of Adolphe with Rupert, in all matters of business, were blessings gratefully received, and fully appreciated. But as one of the most urgent of the defunct baron’s dying commands concerning his interment, specified the absolute necessity of his being embalmed, according to the most approved receipt at present known to mankind, it was necessary that Gertrude should remain in her dismal castle considerably longer than would otherwise have been necessary; for he had exacted from her also the promise, that she would herself see him deposited in his grave, with as much of dignity as it was in her power to obtain at so great a distance from the capital.

  “All this to hear, did” the poor tearful Gertrude “seriously incline and she performed it too, by the active agency of Rupert, in a style which could not but have been highly gratifying and satisfactory to the spirit of the defunct nobleman, if, haply, it was within reach to witness it.

  Neither Adolphe nor Lucy, anxiously bent as they were to withdraw themselves from the step-maternity of the brilliant ‘Wilhelmina, could be induced to leave Gertrude till this stately pageant of her father’s funeral was over; and even then, they felt that they would willingly have lingered with her still, had it not been for the persuasion that the most likely mode of obtaining a re-union with her, which they all hoped to render lasting, would be by setting off for England, while
she was still engaged in arranging her affairs in the order in which she wished to leave them for the purpose of seeking a residence large enough to contain them all, till the heiress of Schwanberg had seen enough of this much-vaunted English land, to decide whether it should be her permanent residence, or not.

  Within a day or two after the funeral of the baron, therefore, the wandering pair, who did not as yet possess the shelter of a roof which they could call their own, set forth from Steinfeld Castle upon their long journey, the termination of which seemed as uncertain as that of our first parents, when they set forth with the world all before them; nevertheless, Lucy declared that she did not feel at all as if she were leaving Paradise.

  Fortunately for Gertrude, Rupert’s appointment of secretary to the baron had not been altogether a sinecure; but, on the contrary, he had, ever since their return from Paris, been entrusted with all the business appertaining to the receiving rents, ordering repairs, and renewing leases, so that at the demise of their longtime landlord, the tenantry naturally applied to him for the arrangement of any changes which this event made necessary.

  No property could have been left in better condition or in every respect in better order, to render the succession to it easy, and without embarrassment or trouble of any kind; yet, nevertheless, it did not take Gertrude any very long time to decide that, much as she loved the place, and much as she clung to the memory of both her parents, memories which every object in the neighbourhood suggested, it was not there that she wished to take up her rest.

  But ample pecuniary resources furnish a wonderfully efficient assistance in all imaginable cases in which any alteration, or improvement, of any kind is contemplated.