Читать книгу The Manoeuvring Mother (Vol. 1-3) - Lady Charlotte Campbell Bury - Страница 6

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The introduction of Miss Wetheral produced an immense sensation in Wetheral Castle. Nothing could exceed Lady Wetheral's delight in the confusion of selecting becoming articles of dress. How great was her pride of heart, her smile of triumph, as she gazed upon Anna Maria in her gay apparel, preparing for her first entrée into public! Yet, the occasion was melancholy, and ill-suited to be the chosen hour to launch youth and beauty upon the ocean of life.

It was at an assize-ball, at Shrewsbury, then the metropolis of the north midland counties, where Miss Wetheral burst upon the astonished sight. When the wretched felon, under sentence of death, lay languishing in his cell, awaiting the approaching hour of execution; while the clergyman was speaking hope to the soul, and leading the despairing heart to rest for forgiveness on the mercy and sufferings of its Redeemer; then did the irons which bound his trembling hands vibrate to the roar of carriages which rolled rapidly and furiously to the scene of festivity. Then did the neighbouring country pour forth her highest and loveliest; and the moans of repentant sinners, on the verge of ascending the scaffold, were forgotten in the brilliant throng, and lost in the lively repartee, or well-turned compliment.

The assize-ball was then the arena for debutants; the one green spot which decorated the dullness of a long twelvemonth; the hope, the anxiety of hundreds. That ill-judged hour for gaiety is now consigned to silence. The march of intellect has trodden down that unholy practice, and given an outward semblance, at least, of better feelings. It is assuredly better taste.

It was a proud moment when Anna Maria visited the nursery, to display her first ball dress, and receive expressions of wonder and delight at her appearance. The sisters broke from their romps to examine the ornaments which glittered on her neck; and a row of maid-servants, who were introduced into the nursery to see Miss Wetheral, curtseyed in profound admiration. She was indeed a creature to be gazed at. Isabel received an incurable wound upon her peace from the interview, and never more returned to her once happy games of puss in the corner. Anna Maria was but one year her senior, yet she was dressed in muslin and satin, wore a diamond necklace, and had been to the assize-ball. Why could not she also partake in such delights? Why was she to play with her sisters in the nursery, while Anna Maria was dancing at assize-balls?

Lady Wetheral tried to argue Isabel into docility, but her mind could not perceive the sense of her parent's reasoning. "My dear child, your sister will soon marry, and then you will appear in her place. You know nothing is so inconvenient as having two daughters out at the same time. While gentlemen are disputing which is the best looking, the young ladies lose their novelty, and cannot expect to marry well."

"But, mamma, I don't want to marry; I want to dance, and look as handsomely-dressed as Anna Maria did at the assize-ball."

"Nonsense, Isabel! you are as pertinacious as your father, and just as blind. Wait till your sister is married, and she will introduce you. Perhaps next year may produce wonders; your sister is exceedingly admired."

"So she may be, while I am out. I shall not interfere with her, you know, for I shall be dancing all the time."

"I cannot argue with such a limited intellect as you appear to possess, Isabel. I have made my arrangements, and cannot break through them. You will appear when your sister is Mrs. Pynsent. Tom Pynsent was very attentive to Anna Maria at the ball."

"Then I'll beg Tom Pynsent to make haste, I declare!" exclaimed Isabel.

"Do not be vulgar and unladylike, Isabel, and promise me you will make no coarse allusions to Tom Pynsent. I should be extremely shocked at such a line of conduct. I do not absolutely say Anna Maria will secure Tom, but I trust and hope such an event is in fruition; and if so, you shall immediately be brought forward. Two girls out at once is folly."

Isabel was nothing daunted by her mother's objection; and she returned openly and constantly to the attack, which soon exhausted the few efficient reasons urged by her antagonist. An incident at once decided the propriety of stopping the mouth of an alarming witness, and put an end to further discussion. Isabel was allowed to descend into the drawing-room, after Anna Maria's début, as Lady Wetheral observed it would prove a judicious step towards giving her manner its first polish; and the transition from the nursery to the trials of society would be less felt by a gradual initiation into its forms.

Isabel was not to converse, or offer an opinion, upon any subject; she was not in any wise to infringe upon her sister's prerogative, or draw attention towards herself; but she was to observe silently the proprieties of life—to learn by close attention the observances, the graceful bend of reception, the easy flow of local conversation, and the thousand agreeable nothings comprised in receiving company. Upon all this was Isabel to meditate; but no silly compliment offered by a young man was to be understood or replied to by herself; no gracious invitation was to be accepted, no remark whatsoever was to induce her to put herself forward. Upon these hard terms, Isabel was received in her mother's apartments; and she endured the sight of her "senior by only one year," receiving the crowds which frequented Wetheral Castle, dressed with elegance, admired, courted, and surrounded with flattery in all its proteus forms.

Isabel long suffered the keen feelings of envy to war in her heart; not envy towards Anna Maria, whom she equally admired and loved—but envy of that state which she longed ardently to partake. In one hapless hour, Isabel forgot her vow of silence, and spoke, as most backward young ladies will speak, when pressed beyond endurance, most rashly and unadvisedly. Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter had been long dilating on the forthcoming races, and the full ordinary and ball which every one anticipated, when Miss Spottiswoode, turning to Isabel, asked when they should have the pleasure of including her among the gay young ladies. Isabel, thrown off her guard by the question, instantly replied, colouring with her earnest feelings—

"Oh! Miss Spottiswoode, I hope I shall soon be out; but it depends upon Anna Maria's marrying Tom Pynsent." Lady Wetheral for one instant completely lost her self-possession. Sir John laughed aloud. The Spottiswoodes were too delicate to take notice of the remark. They rose and examined some portfolios of prints which lay upon the table, and endeavoured to change the current of thought, by again dwelling upon the ordinary and race-ball; but the shock was too severely felt to be easily overcome. There was a painful silence, and the Spottiswoodes kindly took their leave.

"There!" said Lady Wetheral, applying the vinaigrette to her nose, "Lady Spottiswoode is gone to report my arrangements to the world, and Isabel's stupid folly has occasioned it. Did I not insist upon her silence?"

"You should have taught your girls discretion, Gertrude," replied Sir John, "by being discreet yourself. Why did you commit your arrangements, as you call them, to the keeping of a child who is suffering under them? You should teach them to practise the art of speaking, before you thrust your children headlong from the nursery into company. You are rightly served: this will prevent all future mistakes."

"You may say what you please, Sir John; I cannot exhaust myself by arguing with such very limited ideas. I am very ill, and extremely shocked at Isabel's conduct: pray let her attend the race-ball, or do what she likes: I am unequal to combat determined obstinacy."

"May I go to the race-ball, then? Shall I go out with Anna Maria, and see her admired, and dance myself for hours together?" exclaimed Isabel, throwing herself on her knees in a transport.

"Go just where you like," replied her mother, languidly; "you will be stupid and vulgar whenever you emerge, therefore time or place is a matter of little moment. Take your own way, for my authority is quite set aside."

Up rose Isabel, attentive only to the words which pronounced her release, and, bounding round the room, careless of remark, she rushed upstairs to make known her triumph.

"Thompson, Thompson! I am going to the race-ball in July. I am to go out with Anna Maria, and dance like mad! here goes!"

And Isabel began dancing round the nursery in the wildest spirits, imitating, to the best of her ability, Anna Maria's elegant manner and step.

Thus was Lady Wetheral a second time defeated in the nearest wish of her heart; but her resentment only extended to keeping her bed for two days, during which she complained to Thompson of illness and excessively shocked feelings. On the third day, she was eagerly and agreeably employed in selecting a proper wardrobe for Isabel.

There could not be a more striking contrast than that which was displayed in the person and manners of the two elder sisters, and their effect upon society was equally distinct. Anna Maria concealed an irritable temper under an exterior peculiarly elegant, and manners strikingly gentle and fascinating: her popularity, therefore, was great, and her steps attended by admirers of both sex, who were drawn towards her by the force of extreme sweetness of manner. All men toasted the lovely Miss Wetheral, and all women confessed she was agreeable as she was charming, yet Anna Maria passed on her way without receiving offers from one sex, or forming a friendship with an individual of the other.

Isabel's artless high spirits and warm heart was, on the other hand, misunderstood, and few did her justice in public. She danced too much, and laughed too loud, and gentlemen sought her often as an agreeable relief from the refined insipidity of her companions, which told against her in society. Lady Wetheral cautioned her in vain.

"I wish, Isabel, you would not jump so high, and look so pleased with your partners; it is quite inelegant, and will make you disliked. No other young lady looks pleased, and the gentlemen get grinning and talking round you, to the exclusion of your sister and many others. Pray refrain."

"It is my nature to be happy," replied Isabel, laughing, "and my friends may out-talk me if they like. I only desire to chat and enjoy myself in peace."

"For shame, Isabel! you are not aware how you create enemies by such conduct. I was ashamed to see you racing down the middle and up again, with Tom Pynsent, at Lady Spottiswoode's carpet-dance. A young lady should never engross a gentleman's attention so conspicuously."

"Tom Pynsent amused me extremely, mamma: he was telling college stories, and off we capered without caring who remarked us."

"You are remarkably vulgar and underbred, my dear," resumed her mother, "and I have no hopes of your establishment. I am very much surprised at Anna Maria's beauty failing to elicit an offer; perhaps Julia may do better when she appears, but my hopes chiefly rest upon Clara. Her style of beauty is very magnificent."

Isabel's happy disposition received these shocks with inimitable good humour. She listened to daily remarks upon her want of elegance, and believed in her total exemption from the gifts which Nature had lavished upon her elder sister; but her mind scorned the idea of mourning over a useless grief. She cared not for extraneous advantages which could not reach the mind: she never entered a ball-room without a profusion of dancing engagements; and if she was liked and followed, even in the presence of her handsome sister, what did she care for mere beauty?

Lady Wetheral at last yielded the point, and allowed Isabel to choose her own mode of pleasing. Her taste turned with horror from her "unfortunate Isabel," but she ceased to look at, or remark upon, her brusquerie. She told Thompson, "some men took odd fancies to healthy, fat-looking, smiling girls, and probably Isabel might please some old rich widower or stupid retired bachelor, and marry at last: she would be a foil to her sisters, at any rate."

Lady Wetheral was right: an odd, "retired bachelor" did admire Isabel precisely for her healthy, good-humoured looks; and, in process of time, he advanced, slowly and cautiously, to the attack; but his manner concealed the matter long to all eyes but those of her father. Lady Wetheral was blind to the very dénouement.

"I can't imagine why that tiresome old Boscawen comes here every other morning, Sir John, sitting for hours and saying nothing: pray don't ask him to stay dinner again—he makes me ill."

"He is a great friend of mine, Gertrude: I like Boscawen."

"I know you like unaccountable people, love; but he worries me to death, and he will sit at dinner between Anna Maria and Isabel. I don't consider Isabel, but he keeps Tom Pynsent away from Anna Maria, and never enters into any sort of conversation."

"He thinks more than he says, my dear."

"I hate people who think: thinking makes every thing worse: luckily, I have quite given up thinking about Isabel, or her loud laugh would kill me."

"Boscawen does not object to Isabel's joyous laugh, Gertrude; he hopes to hear it in perpetuity."

"I wish he would take her to himself, then," replied his lady, gently yawning, and taking up a novel.

"Boscawen has proposed for Isabel," said Sir John, seriously.

"How can you talk such nonsense, Sir John! if the old man proposes to any body, it will certainly be to Anna Maria. I saw he admired her exceedingly—so does every body: she is very captivating."

"Boscawen has proposed for Isabel, however," he returned; "and though he is too advanced in years for a young girl's speculation, yet, if she could fancy him, I think she might be happy. I wish you to speak to your daughter upon the subject, Gertrude. If she has the slightest disinclination to Boscawen, do not mention him a second time: I will not allow her to be talked into matrimony."

"Then, talk to her yourself, Sir John. I am quite overpowered by the surprise. I was so certain Boscawen admired Anna Maria; but since he has the bad taste to prefer Isabel, she ought not to demur an instant. Boscawen is very rich, and I dare say he will act very handsomely as to settlements. When old men marry young wives, they ought to pay for the distinction. Isabel will be very foolish if she declines him."

Anna Maria at this moment appeared at the door, and Lady Wetheral's ideas excursed at the sight of her beautiful daughter, still so admired, yet unsought.

"Well, my dear, I am glad you are come at this moment; here is Mr. Boscawen proposing for Isabel, and no one asks for you: I can't understand it. Perhaps, my love, if you chatted a little more—but you must 'take' in time. Old Boscawen is no great things, only he is so rich; there is no saying when Isabel may be a gay widow."

"Does my sister accept Mr. Boscawen?" asked Anna Maria, in dulcet tones, without replying to her mother's hints.

"She will do so, if she has common sense; but we have sent for her. Your father is to talk to her."

Isabel obeyed the summons, which prayed for her appearance in Lady Wetheral's boudoir. She entered laughing.

"I am sure I know the reason of your summons, papa. Mr. Boscawen has written to you."

"And you will not be so mad as to refuse such an excellent establishment," cried her mother, earnestly.

"Stay, Gertrude; I will not allow Isabel to be influenced."

"He can make any settlement you please, Isabel," continued her mother.

"Gertrude——"

"He is old and ugly, Isabel"—Lady Wetheral rose unconsciously from the sofa in her energy, perfectly deaf to her husband's call to order—"he is old and ugly; but no girl in her senses would refuse such an establishment. You cannot stake a handsome face against a fortune, which will purchase all a woman prizes most. You will be respectable and enviable, for you will command every thing that is covetable in this world!"

Sir John was distressed and indignant at the sentiment conveyed in his lady's discourse; but he knew it was vain to contend with a mind anchored upon the world. He turned to Isabel.

"I wish to know, my love, if Mr. Boscawen's offer is disagreeable to you. If you reject his suit, I will take care he shall not offend again."

Lady Wetheral fixed her eyes with intense anxiety upon Isabel, who promptly replied the offer had been made with her knowledge and concurrence.

"My dear Isabel, I thought you would not overlook such advantages," cried her ladyship, embracing her daughter with unfeigned delight.

"Isabel," said her father, "you wish to marry Mr. Boscawen?"

"Indeed, papa, I do."

"You wish to quit your home, my love, and live altogether with Mr. Boscawen?"

"Yes, indeed, I do, papa."

"Are you aware, Isabel, that in marrying Mr. Boscawen you must become steady and obedient, and submit to his wishes and views?"

"Perfectly, papa."

"Are you aware, my love, that when you have become a wife, you must quit home for ever, and remain with Mr. Boscawen at Brierly, to nurse him in sickness, and console him in sorrow?"

"Oh, yes, papa, I know all that perfectly; and I shall like very much to nurse Mr. Boscawen, he is so good-tempered."

"Yet, listen to me, Isabel, I have much to say," and her father's countenance and manner became impressively serious. "You are too young to understand the solemn vows you must make at the altar. I know Boscawen is a good man, or I should not have listened to his offer when he proposed for a girl young enough to be his daughter. You must have given him great encouragement, Isabel."

"Oh yes, papa, I did. I told him I would be sure to be his wife, if you had no objection, and I hope you do not mean to prevent it."

Lady Wetheral became indignant at her husband's serious view of matrimony, and she had recourse to her vinaigrette, as usual, upon exciting subjects.

"I cannot imagine, Sir John, why you should endeavour to make doubts for Isabel, when such an offer may never occur again—certainly not to Isabel, who has so little appearance. It quite provokes me to hear you raising difficulties about a nonsensical affair of marriage. Isabel will marry like other girls, and get on like other people."

"I do not wish my daughter to marry like other girls, Gertrude. I wish Isabel to be happy and respected."

"And who will deny her being very happy, Sir John, when she has every luxury her mind can invent; and who denies a woman's respectability when she is rich and well connected? Nonsense, my dear."

"We never agree in sentiment, Gertrude," said her husband, gravely.

"How can I see things, love, in the strange light you represent them? My mother never read me such lectures as you preach to Isabel, and I was scarcely her age when I married. I was congratulated on my good fortune, and you know we both drove immediately to Hamlet's. Pray let Isabel enjoy herself."

"Oh pray, papa, let me have Mr. Boscawen," cried Isabel, clasping her hands as the tears burst from her dark, blue eyes. "Do not say I am not to have Mr. Boscawen! and he has ordered me a tilbury cloak upon the certainty of my accepting him; it is to have a leopard's claw as a fastening round my throat! Oh papa, papa!"

"I have not uttered a word about refusing Mr. Boscawen, my love."

"Oh, thank you, papa, thank you!" and Isabel flew to embrace her father. "My own good papa, not to make me miserable!"

"You would be unhappy, then, if I declined Mr. Boscawen, Isabel?"

"Oh, papa, wretched!—the cloak too of no use, and I had so set my heart upon the leopard's claw!"

"A small 'forget-me-not' would have been in better taste, Isabel," observed her mother.

"No, I particularly admire the leopard's claw, because Mr. Boscawen liked it. And then, papa, we are to drive in his tilbury, and I am to have a fur cap with a tassel, and choose it myself—I shall be so happy!"

There was nothing more to be said. Isabel looked upon every thing connected with Mr. Boscawen en couleur de rose, and her imagination pictured Brierly as a home of enchantment. She believed her days were to glide away among rural sports and in juvenile assemblies—the summer would be dedicated to haymaking and gathering roses—the winter would be a continuity of music and dancing. If her father's remarks chased the smile from her lips, as he alluded to scenes of duty and the cares of a family, they were speedily recalled by Lady Wetheral's enumeration of the comforts which must attach to her situation.

"My dear Isabel, your father alarms you; but, trust me, there is nothing alarming in matrimony. You will have a large settlement, and a handsome allowance, therefore every thing will go smoothly. If you have a family, it won't much inconvenience you. Shut out the nurseries with baize doors, and you will be free from noise. I managed very well, for sometimes I did not see or hear you children for weeks."

Mr. Boscawen was admitted as an accepted lover, and Isabel did not regret her acceptance of a man who listened with admiration and interest to her remarks, and who never turned from her brusquerie with the disgust her mother could not conceal towards her. Mr. Boscawen at five and forty looked with delight upon Isabel, whose extreme youth and beauty threw a halo around her uneducated mind. Her rich and joyous laugh pleased the taciturn nature of his mind; he was charmed by her innocence, and untired by her ceaseless prattle; therefore was Mr. Boscawen her constant and loved companion, whom her eye sought in all companies and at all moments, and to whom her inmost thoughts were communicated. She loved to hang upon his arm, and take long walks with her darling Boscawen; she delighted to drive his tilbury, and exhibit the cloak of long promise—to chat freely, and, as she expressed it in confidence to Julia, to rattle away about nothing, and be just as much admired, as though she spoke sense, like Anna Maria.

Isabel's wedding-day was to herself a day of extravagant enjoyment and agreeable confusion. She was going to a home of her own—to be called in future "Mrs. Boscawen," and to receive the compliments of the bridal-party. There was a large company to breakfast, and the Spottiswoodes were of the chosen number who had the pleasure of congratulating Isabel upon her magnificent prospects. Isabel thanked Miss Spottiswoode for her friendly wishes.

"Now, I am married, dear Sophy, I wish you were all going to do the same thing. I should so have liked four or five weddings at once! but you will all come and see me, and we will have such merriment; won't we, Mr. Boscawen?"

Mr. Boscawen bowed smilingly to Isabel's appeal, and she proceeded—

"I will drive you all in the tilbury, when you come to Brierly; it holds only Mr. Boscawen and myself now, but I dare say we can squeeze four. Mr. Boscawen is very stout, and his coat covers an acre of ground; doesn't it, Mr. Boscawen?"

Lady Wetheral became visibly uneasy at Isabel's loquacity, and endeavoured to change the subject; but Mrs. Boscawen was too happy and too unsuspecting to observe a hint, or detect a look; her heart was full of hope, and revelling in novel situations. She talked on, inviting every body to Brierly, and appealing to Mr. Boscawen if he would not be delighted to have his house as full as it could hold. The bridal carriage drawing to the door relieved Lady Wetheral's distress.

At the parting moment, Isabel preserved her serenity, while her sisters wept over the kind-hearted companion they were now to lose. Isabel's gentleness of temper, her buoyant spirits, and warm affections, endeared her to all her family-circle, and they doubly valued her excellence when her society was on the eve of being withdrawn for ever. Isabel smiled as radiantly as usual under the repeated embraces of her weeping sisters, and cheered their grief.

"My dear girls, you see I am married, and, as mamma says, I can do what I like, I mean to have each of you with me in turn, so pray do not cry. Julia, you will come first, and we will have such fun, haymaking! shan't we, Mr. Boscawen? And Clara, when you come to me, we will gallop over the country on ponies; won't we, Mr. Boscawen?"

Mr. Boscawen kissed Isabel's hand without reply, and her father led her to her carriage. The new equipage struck her eye.

"Oh, mamma! how you will delight in my carriage! It's quite my own; is it not, Mr. Boscawen? When you come to Brierly, we will drive about all day. You know you said it would be the best part of the show."

Mr. Boscawen had never approved Lady Wetheral's sentiments, and rarely entered into conversation with her. Isabel's observation had its effect; he bowed very coolly to her ladyship, and ordered the postillions to drive on. The carriage was soon lost in the distance. Lady Wetheral was disconcerted at Isabel's unfortunate speech, and she remarked upon it in passing from the colonnade into the breakfast-room.

"Isabel has married much better than I anticipated; but nothing will heal her dreadful propensity to make remarks in the wrong place, and repeat observations improperly. This unladylike want of caution will ruin her reputation as a woman of fashion, but she is no longer 'Miss Wetheral.' Isabel is now Mrs. Boscawen."