Читать книгу The Greatest Regency Romance Novels - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 80

Table of Contents

Will prove, by a remarkable instance of a high-raised hope suddenly disappointed, the extreme weakness of building our expectations upon mere conjecture

Though it is not to be imagined that the preparations for marriages, such as those of Sir Bazil Loveit and Mr. Trueworth, could be an entire secret to the town, especially as neither of the parties had any motive to induce them to desire it should be so, yet Miss Betsy never heard the least syllable of any such thing being in agitation. Those of her acquaintance, whom she at presently chiefly conversed with, were either ignorant of it themselves, or had never happened to mention it in her presence; so that, knowing nothing of Mr. Trueworth's affairs of late, more than what the lawyer had casually related at her brother's, it is not to be wondered at, that she imagined him wholly disengaged since the death of that lady who had so kindly remembered him in her will.

Neither ought it (her vanity considered) to appear strange, that she was apt to flatter herself with a return of his affection to herself, when the memory of the late object of it should be utterly erased.

When there is the least possibility that what we ardently wish may come to pass, the minutest circumstance, in favour of our hopes, serves to assure us that it certainly will do so.

Miss Betsy was going to make a visit at Whitehall; but, in crossing the Park, happened to meet the two Miss Airishes, who asked her to take a turn with them: to which she replied, that she would gladly accompany them, but had sent word to a lady that she was coming to pass the whole evening with her. 'Nay,' said the elder Miss Airish, 'we have an engagement too at our own apartment, and can stay only to walk once up the Mall, and down again.' Miss Betsy replied, that would be no great loss of time; and so went with them. They had not proceeded many yards in their promenade, before Miss Betsy saw Mr. Trueworth, with Sir Bazil, coming directly towards them. The gentlemen bowed to her as they approached more near. A sudden thought that moment darting into Miss Betsy's head, she dropped her fan, as if by accident, as they were passing each other, just at Mr. Trueworth's feet: he stopped hastily to take it up, and presented it hastily to her. 'I am sorry, Sir,' said she, 'to give you this trouble.'—'Whatever services, Madam, are in my power,' replied he, 'will be always a pleasure to myself.'—No more was said—the gentlemen and the ladies pursued their different routs. This little adventure, however, had a prodigious effect on Miss Betsy: she thought she saw something so gay and sparkling in the eyes of Mr. Trueworth, as denoted his mourning-habit belied his heart, and that he was not much affected with the death of her for whom decency and gratitude had obliged him to put it on. After the gentlemen were out of hearing, the two Miss Airishes began to give their judgments upon them—the one cried, they both were very pretty fellows; but the other accused them of want of politeness.—'As they saw we had no man with us,' said she, 'they might, methinks, have offered their service to gallant us, especially as one of them seems to be acquainted with Miss Betsy.' But that young lady little regarded what was said on the occasion, being too much taken up with her own cogitations: she repeated internally the words of Mr. Trueworth; and as she was persuaded he was now at liberty to offer her all manner of services, she interpreted, that by whatever services were in his power, he meant to renew his services to her as a lover. This imagination elated her to a very high degree, but hindered her from holding any conversation with the two ladies she was with, as it was improper for her to say any thing on the subject which so much engrossed her thoughts. They all walked together up to Buckingham House, then turned back, and the two Miss Airishes took leave of her at St. James's—they went into the Palace, and she was proceeding towards Spring Garden, when she at a distance perceived Sir Bazil Loveit, Mr. Trueworth, Miss Mabel, and two ladies, whose faces she was entirely unacquainted with.

The reader will not be at a loss to guess, that these two were no other than Mrs. Wellair and Miss Harriot—they had been that afternoon to take leave of some friends, and had appointed to meet the gentlemen in the Mall: in their way thither they had called upon Miss Mabel, and brought her with them. This little troop being all in the same sable livery, seemed so much of a family, as threw Miss Betsy into some sort of surprize: she knew not that Miss Mabel had the least acquaintance with Sir Bazil, nor even any more with Mr. Trueworth than having seen him a few times in her company. As they drew nearer, she made a motion to Miss Mabel, as if she was desirous of speaking to her; upon which that lady advanced towards her, with these words: 'I am sorry, Madam,' said she, 'as you are alone, that it is improper for me to ask you to join us.'—'I am very glad, Madam, you do not,' replied Miss Betsy, very much piqued, 'because I should be obliged to refuse you.' She no sooner uttered these words than she passed hastily on, and Miss Mabel returned to her company, who waited for her at some paces distance.

It must be acknowledged, that Miss Betsy had cause to be alarmed at a speech of this nature, from a lady of Miss Mabel's politeness and good humour; she thought there must be some powerful reasons, which had obliged her to make it; and what those reasons could be, seemed at present an impenetrable secret. She was too much disconcerted to be able to pass the whole evening, as she had promised the lady she went to, she would do; she therefore pretended a sudden indispostion, took her leave, and went home, in order to be at full liberty to ruminate on what had passed in the Park.

She had not been many minutes in her own apartment, before she was interrupted in her meditations by the coming of her two brothers. Several bustos, pictures, pieces of old china, and other curiosities, belonging to a nobleman, lately deceased, being to be exposed to sale, the elder Mr. Thoughtless had an inclination to become a purchaser of such of them as he should find agreeable to his fancy, but was willing to have his sister's judgment in the matter; and it was to engage her to go with him the next morning about twelve o'clock, when the goods were to be exhibited to publick view, that had occasioned him and Mr. Francis to make her this visit. It is not to be doubted, but that she was willing to oblige him in that point; she assured him she would be ready against he came to call on her.

When she was alone, she began to run over in her mind, all the particulars of what had passed that evening in the Park, and found something very extraordinary on the whole. It had seemed extremely odd to her, that Mr. Trueworth and Sir Bazil did not join her and the two Miss Airishes; but then she thought she could easily account for their not doing so, and that Mr. Trueworth did not chuse to enter into any conversation with her, because Sir Bazil had happened to see her at Miss Forward's, and might possibly have entertained no favourable idea of her on that score; she, therefore, with a great deal of readiness, excused Mr. Trueworth for this omission, especially as she was possessed of the fancy, that the compliment with which he returned her fan, and the look he assumed during that action, seemed to tell her he wished for an opportunity of adding something more tender. But when she came to consider on the second meeting, she was indeed very much at a loss to fathom the meaning of what she had seen; she knew a thousand accidents might have occasioned an acquaintance between Miss Mabel and Sir Bazil; and also, that the little she had with Mr. Trueworth might have been casually improved; but could not find the least shadow of reason why that lady should tell her it was improper for to ask her to join company with them. Though she had of late seen that lady less frequently than usual; yet, whenever they did meet, it was with the greatest civility and appearance of friendship: she had, in reality, a sincere regard for her, and imagined the other looked upon her with the same; and therefore could not but believe the shyness she put on in the Park, when speaking to her, must have some very powerful motive to occasion it. Suspense was, of all things, what Miss Betsy could least bear: she resolved to be convinced, though at the expence of that pride she would not have forfeited on any other account.—'In spite of the ill-manners she has treated me with,' said she, 'I will go once more to her—satisfy my curiosity as to the manner of her behaviour, and then never see her more.'

To be more sure of finding her at home, she thought it best to make the visit she intended in the morning; accordingly, she sent to her brother, that being obliged to go to a lady, who had desired to see her, she could not wait for his coming to call on her, but would not fail to meet him at the place of sale, about the hour he had mentioned. This promise she thought it would be easy for her to perform, as she designed to stay no longer with Miss Mabel than would be sufficient to get some light into a thing which at present gave her so much perplexity.

She went about eleven o'clock; but was strangely surprized, on her coming to the house, to find all the windows shut up; and after the chairman had knocked several times, the door was opened by Nanny, the little prating wench, who had lived at Mr. Goodman's.—'Nanny,' cried Miss Betsy, 'bless me! do you live here?'—'Yes, Madam,' answered she, 'I have lived here ever since my master Goodman died.'—'I am glad of it,' returned Miss Betsy: 'but, pray, is your lady at home?'—'O, dear Madam,' said the girl, 'my lady!—why, Madam, don't you know what's done to-day?'—'Not I,' replied she—'pr'ythee what dost mean? What done?'—'Lord, Madam,' said Nanny, 'I wonder you should not know it!—my lady is married today.'—'Married!' cried Miss Betsy hastily; 'to whom?'—'To one Sir Bazil Loveit, Madam,' replied the other; 'and Mr. Trueworth is married too, to one Miss Harriot, Sir Bazil's sister: my old master gave both the brides away. I believe the ceremony is over by this time; but as soon as it is, they all bowl away for Sir Bazil's seat in Staffordshire: they say there will be open house kept there, and the Lord knows what doings. All the servants are gone—none but poor me left to look after the house.'—'Mr. Trueworth married!' cried Miss Betsy, in the greatest confusion; 'I thought his mistress had been dead.'—'No, no, Madam,' said Nanny; 'you mean Mrs. Blanchfield—I know all that story—I was told it by one who comes often here: Mr. Trueworth, I assure you, never courted her; she was only in love with him, and on hearing his engagement with Miss Harriot, took it to heart, poor soul, and died in a few days, and has left him half her fortune, and a world of fine things to Miss Harriot.'

She was going on with this tittle-tattle; but Miss Betsy was scarce in a condition to distinguish what she said; she leaned her head back against the chair, and was almost fainting away. The maid perceiving the change in her countenance, cried out, 'Lord, Madam, you are not well!—shall I get you any thing? But, now I think on it, there is a bottle of drops my lady left behind her in the dressing-room; I'll run and fetch them.' She was going to do as she said; but Miss Betsy, recovering of herself, called to her to stay, saying she had no occasion for any thing. 'Lord, Madam,' said she, 'I did not think the marriage of Mr. Trueworth would have been such a trouble to you, or I would not have told you any thing of it. I am sure you might have had him if you would; I remember well enough how he fought for you with Mr. Staple, and how he followed you up and down wherever you went. For that matter, Miss Harriot has but your leavings.'—'I give myself no trouble who has him,' replied Miss Betsy, disdainfully: 'it is not him I am thinking of; I was only a little surprized that Miss Mabel should make such a secret of her affairs to me.'—'You know, Madam,' said Nanny, 'that my lady is a very close woman: but I wonder, indeed, she should tell you nothing of it; for I have heard her speak the kindest things of you.'—'Well, it is no matter,' replied Miss Betsy. 'Farewel, Nanny.' Then bid the chairmen go on. The confusion she was in hindered her from directing the chairmen where to go; so they were carrying her home again, till she saw herself at the end of the street where she lived; but then, recollecting all at once where she had appointed to meet her brothers, she ordered them to go to Golden Square.

It seemed as if fate interested itself in a peculiar manner for the mortification of this young lady; every thing contributed to give her the most poignant shock her soul could possibly sustain. It was not enough that she had heard the cruel tidings of what she looked upon as the greatest of misfortunes, her eyes must also be witness of the stabbing confirmation. The place of sale was within two houses of Sir Bazil's; but, as she had never heard where that gentleman lived, could have no apprehensions of the spectacle she was to be presented with. On her chair turning into the square, she saw that side of it, to which she had directed the men to carry her, crowded with coaches, horses, and a great concourse of people; some waiting for the bridal bounty, but more as idle spectators. At first, she imagined it was on the account of the sale; but the same instant almost shewed her her mistake.

Several footmen, with wedding-favours in their hats, two of whom she knew by their faces, as well as by their liveries, belonged to Mr. Trueworth, were just mounting their horses. The crowd was so thick about the door, that it was with some difficulty the chair passed on; and she had an opportunity of seeing much more than she desired. There were three coaches and six: in the first went Sir Bazil and the new-made Lady Loveit, the father of Miss Mabel, and a young lady whom Miss Betsy had sometimes seen in her company; in the second were seated Mr. Trueworth, his bride, Mrs. Wellair, and a grave old gentleman; the third was filled by four maid-servants, and the two valet de chambres of the two bridegrooms, with a great deal of luggage before and behind. The ladies and gentlemen were all in extreme rich riding-habits; and the footmen, eleven in number, being all in new liveries, and spruce fellows, the whole cavalcade altogether made a very genteel appearance.

Miss Betsy, in spite of the commotions in her breast, could not forbear standing a little in the hall, after she had got out of her chair; till the whole had passed. 'Well!' said she to herself, with a deep sigh, 'all is over, and I must think no more of Trueworth! But wherefore am I thus alarmed? He has long since been lost to me—nor did I love him!'

She assumed all the courage her pride could supply her with, and had tolerably composed herself before she went up into the sale-room; yet not so much but a paleness, mixed with a certain confusion, appeared in her countenance. Mr. Munden, who happened to be there, as well as her brothers, took notice of it, and asked if she was not well: to which she replied, with an uncommon presence of mind, that she was in perfect health, but had been frightened as she came along by a great black ox, who, by the carelessness of the driver, had like to have run his horns quite into the chair. Mr. Munden, who never wanted politeness, and knew how to put on the most tender air whenever he pleased, expressed an infinity of concern for the accident she mentioned: and this behaviour in him she either relished very well, or seemed to do so.

What credit her brothers gave to the story of the ox is uncertain: they, as well as all the company in the room, had been drawn to the windows by the noise of the cavalcade which had set out from Sir Bazil's. Every one was talking of it when Miss Betsy entered; and, it is very probable, the two Mr. Thoughtlesses might imagine it had an effect upon her, in spite of the indifference she had always pretended: they were, however, too prudent to take any notice, especially as Mr. Munden was present.

Whatever were the troubles of this young lady, her spirits enabled her to conceal them; and she gave her opinion of the goods to be disposed of with as much exactitude as if her mind had been taken up with no other thing.

Mr. Thoughtless made a purchase of the twelve Caesars in bronze, and two fruit-pieces of Varelst's: and Mr. Munden, on Miss Betsy's expressing her liking of two very large curious jars, bought them, and presented them to her.

Nothing material passed here: but, the sale being over for that day, every one returned to their respective habitations, or whatever business or inclination called them.