Читать книгу The Greatest Regency Romance Novels - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 87

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Contains a second matrimonial contest, of worse consequence than the former

Whoever considers Miss Betsy Thoughtless in her maiden character, will not find it difficult to conceive what she now endured in that of Mrs. Munden. All that lightened her poor heart, all that made her patiently submit to the fate her brothers had, in a manner, forced upon her, was a belief of her being passionately loved by the man she made her husband: but thus cruelly undeceived by the treatment she had just met with from him, one may truly say, that if it did not make her utterly hate and despise him, it at least destroyed at once, in her, all the respect and good-will she had, from the first moment of her marriage, been endeavouring to feel for him.

It is hard to say whether her surprize at an eclaircissement she had so little expected, her indignation at Mr. Munden's mean attempt to encroach upon her right, or the shock of reflecting, that it was by death alone she could be relieved from the vexations with which she was threatened by a man of his humour, were most predominant in her soul; but certain it is, that all together racked her with most terrible convulsions.

She was in the midst of these agitations, when Lady Trusty came to visit her. In the distraction of these thoughts she had forgot to give orders to be denied to all company, which otherwise she would doubtless have done, even without excepting that dear and justly valued friend.

She endeavoured, as much as possible, to compose herself, and prevent all tokens of discontent from appearing in her countenance, but had not the power of doing it effectually enough to deceive the penetration of that lady; she immediately perceived that something extraordinary had happened to her; and, as soon as she was seated, began to enquire into the cause of the change she had observed in her.

Mrs. Munden, on considering what was most prudent in a wife, from the first moment of her becoming so, had absolutely resolved always to adhere, as strictly as possible, to this maxim of the poet—

'Secrets of marriage should be sacred held,

Their sweets and bitters by the wife conceal'd.'

But finding herself pretty strongly pressed by a lady to whom she had the greatest and most just reason to believe she ought to have nothing in reserve, she hesitated not long to relate to her the whole story of the brulée she had with her husband.

Lady Trusty was extremely alarmed at the account given her; and because she would be sure not to mistake any part of it, made Mrs. Munden repeat several times over every particular of this unhappy dispute; then, after a pause of some minutes, began to give her advice to her fair friend in the following terms.

'It grieves me to the soul,' said that excellent lady, 'to find there is already any matter of complaint between you—you have been but two months married; and it is, methinks, by much too early for him to throw off the lover, and exert the husband: but since it is so, I would not have you, for your own sake, too much exert the wife; I fear he is of a rugged nature—it behoves you, therefore, rather to endeavour to soften it, by all the means in your power, than to pretend to combat with unequal force; you know the engagements you are under, and how little relief all the resistance you can make will be able to afford you.'

'Bless me, Madam!' cried Mrs. Munden, spiritously, 'would your ladyship have me give up, to the expence of housekeeping, that slender pittance allowed for cloaths and pocket-money in my marriage articles?'

'No, my dear,' cried Lady Trusty; 'far be it from me to give you any such counsel: on the contrary, I am apprehensive that, if you should suffer yourself to be either menaced, or cajoled, out of even the smallest part of your rights, it is possible that a man of Mr. Munden's disposition might hereafter be tempted to encroach upon the whole, and leave you nothing you could call your own.

'It is very difficult, if not wholly impossible,' continued she, 'to judge with any certainty, how to proceed with a person whose temper one does not know; I am altogether a stranger to that of Mr. Munden, nor can you as yet pretend to be perfectly acquainted with it: all I can say, therefore, is, that I would have you maintain your own privileges, without appearing to tenacious of them.'

'I have then no other part to take,' said Mrs. Munden, 'than just to lay out, in the best manner I can, what money he is pleased to allow, without making any addition, what accidents soever may happen to demand it.'

'I mean so,' replied Lady Trusty; 'and whenever there is any deficiency, as some there must necessarily be, in what might be expected from your way of living, I would not have you seem to take the least notice of it: behave, as if entirely unconcerned, contented, and easy; leave it to him to complain; and when he does so, you will have an opportunity, by shewing the bills of what you have laid out, of proving, that it is not owing to your want of good management, but to the scarcity of the means put into your hands, that his table is so ill supplied; but still let every thing you urge on this occasion be accompanied with all the softness it is in your power to assume.'

To this Mrs. Munden, with a deep sigh, made answer, that though she was an ill dissembler, and besides had little room, from her husband's late carriage towards her, to flatter herself with any good effect of her submission, yet she would endeavour to follow her ladyship's counsel, in making the experiment, however irksome it might be to her to do so.

They had a very long conversation together on this head; during the whole course of which Lady Trusty laboured all she could to persuade the other to look on her situation in a much less disagreeable light then, in reality, it deserved.

But how little is it in the power of argument, to reason away pain! one is much more deeply affected with what one feels than what one hears: the heart of Mrs. Munden was beset with thorns, which all the words in the world would have been ineffectual to remove; disappointed in every thing that could have rendered this marriage supportable to her—her good-nature abused—her spirit humbled and depressed—no considerations were of force to moderate her passions, but that melancholy one that, as her misfortunes were without a remedy, the best, and indeed the only relief that fate permitted, was in patiently submitting.

She acted, nevertheless, in every respect, for several days, conformable to the method Lady Trusty had prescribed, and restrained her temper so as neither by word or action to give Mr. Munden any just cause of offence: he also kept himself within bounds, though it was easy for her to perceive, by his sullen deportment, every time he was at table, how ill he was satisfied with the provisions set before him.

A cold civility on the one side, and an enforced complaisance on the other, hindered the mutual discontent that reigned in both their hearts from being perceptible to any who came to visit them, and also from breaking into any indecencies between themselves; till one day a gentleman of fine consideration in the world happening, unexpectedly, to come to dine with them, Mr. Munden was extremely shocked at being no better prepared for his entertainment.

'What! my dear,' said he to his wife, 'have you nothing else to give us?' To which she replied, with a great presence of mind, 'I am quite ashamed and sorry for the accident; but you know, my dear, we both intended to dine abroad to-day, so I gave a bill of fare accordingly; and this gentleman came too late to make any addition to what I had ordered.'

It may be easily supposed the guest assured them that there needed no apologies, that every thing was mighty well, and such like words of course: so no more was said upon this subject.

But the pride of Mr. Munden filled him with so much inward rage and spite, that he was scarce able to contain himself till his friend had taken leave; and he no sooner was at liberty to say what he thought proper, without incurring the censure of being unmannerly or unkind, than he began to reproach her in the most unjust and cruel terms, for having, as he said, exposed him to the contempt and ridicule of a person who had hitherto held him in the highest esteem.

She made no other reply than that she was no less confounded than himself at what had happened—that it was not in her power to prevent it—that she could wish to be always prepared for the reception of any friend—and that she was certain, when he reflected on the cause, he would be far from laying any blame on her.

In speaking these words, she ran to her cabinet; and, as Lady Trusty had directed, produced an account to what uses every single shilling she had received from him had been converted since the last dispute they had with each other on this score.

In presenting these papers to him, 'Read these bills,' said she, 'and be convinced how little I deserve such treatment from you: you will find that there are no items inserted of coffee, tea, or chocolate; articles,' continued she, with an air a little disdainfully, 'which you seemed to grumble at, though yourself and friends had the same share in, as well as me and mine.'

'Rot your accounts!' cried he, tearing the papers she had given him into a thousand pieces; 'have you the folly to imagine I will be troubled with such stuff? It is sufficient I know upon the whole what ought to be done; and must plainly tell you, once for all, that you should rather think of retrenching your expences, than flatter yourself with expecting an increase of my allowance to you.'

'My expences! my expences,' reiterated she with vehemence, 'what does the man mean?'—'My meaning,' answered he, sullenly, 'would need no explanation, if you had either any love for me, or prudence enough to direct you to do what would entitle you to mine: but since you are so ignorant, I must tell you, that I think my family too much encumbered; you have two maids—I do not desire you to lessen the number, but they are certainly enough to wait upon you in the morning; I have a man, for whom I never have any employment after that time, and he may wait at table, and attend you the whole afternoon; I see therefore no occasion you have to keep a fellow merely to loiter about the house, eat, drink, and run before your chair when you make your visits. I insist, therefore, that you either discharge him, or consent to give him his livery and wages, and also to allow for his board out of your own annual revenue of pin-money.'

What usage was this for a young lady, scarce yet three months married; endued with every qualification to create love and esteem, accustomed to receive nothing but testimonies of admiration from as many as beheld her, and addressed with the extremest homage and tenderness by the very man who now seemed to take pride in the power he had obtained of thwarting her humour, and dejecting that spirit and vivacity he had so lately pretended to adore.

How utterly impossible was it for her now to observe the rules laid down to her by Lady Trusty! Could she, after this, submit to put in practice any softening arts she had been advised, to win her lordly tyrant into temper? Could she, I say, have done this, without being guilty of a meanness, which all wives must have condemned her for?

But though the answers she gave to the proposal made her by this ungenerous husband, were such as convinced him she would never be prevailed upon to recede from any part of what was her due by contract, and though she testified her resentment, on his attempting such a thing, in terms haughty enough, yet did she confine herself within the limits of decency, not uttering a single word unbecoming of her character, either as the woman of good understanding, or the wife.

Mr. Munden's notions of marriage had always been extremely unfavourable to the ladies—he considered a wife no more than an upper-servant, bound to study and obey, in all things, the will of him to whom she had given her hand: and how obsequious and submissive soever he appeared when a lover, had fixed his resolution to render himself absolute master when he became a husband.

On finding himself thus disappointed in his aim, he was almost ready to burst with an inward malice; which not daring to wreak, as perhaps at that time he could have wished, he vented it in an action mean and spiteful indeed, but not to be wondered at in a man possessed of so small a share of affection, justice, or good-nature.

The reader may remember, that Mr. Trueworth, in the beginning of his courtship to Miss Betsy, had made her a present of a squirrel; she had still retained this first token of love, and always cherished it with an uncommon care: the little creature was sitting on the ridge of it's cell, cracking nuts, which his indulgent mistress had bestowed upon him: the fondness she had always shewn of him put a sudden thought into Mr. Munden's head; he started from his chair, saying to his wife, with a revengeful sneer, 'Here is one domestick, at least, that may be spared!' With these words he flew to the poor harmless animal, seized it by the neck, and throwing it with his whole force against the carved work of the marble chimney, it's tender frame was dashed to pieces.

All this was done in such an instant, that Mrs. Munden had not time to make any attempt for preventing it; but the sight of so disastrous a fate befalling her little favourite, and the brutality of him who inflicted it, raised emotions in her, which she neither endeavoured, nor, at that instant, could have the power to quell.

'Monster!' cried she, 'unworthy the name man; you needed not have been guilty of this low piece of cruelty, to make me see to what a wretch I am sacrificed.'—'Nor was there any occasion for exclamations such as these,' replied he, scornfully, 'to make me know that I am married to a termagant!'

Many altercations of the like nature passed between them; to which Mrs. Munden was the first that put a period: finding herself unable to restrain her tears, and unwilling he should be witness of that weakness in her, she flew out of the room, saying at the same time, that she would never eat, or sleep with him again.