Читать книгу The Greatest Regency Romance Novels - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 96

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Contains such things as will be pleasing to those whose candid dispositions interest them in favour of the heroine of this history

Nothing so much encourages an unwarrantable passion for a married woman, as to know she has a husband regardless of her charms. A young gay gentleman, a companion of Mr. Munden's, privy to most of his secrets, and partner with him in many a debauch, had seen Mrs. Munden at Miss Airish's, where she still continued to visit. He had entertained a kind of roving flame for her, which his friendship for her husband could not prevent him from wishing to gratify; but, though they often met, he never could get an opportunity of declaring himself: all he could do was sometimes to whisper in her ear that she was divinely handsome—that he adored her—and that he died for her—and such like stuff; which she was too often accustomed to hear to take much notice of.

The indifferent opinion which most men of pleasure, or, in other words, genteel rakes of the town, have of women in general, joined to the too great gaiety he had observed in Mrs. Munden's behaviour, made him imagine there required little more for the gaining her than the making his addresses to her. The means of speaking to her in private seemed to him the sole difficulty he had to get over: and, in order to do so, he wrote to her in the following terms.

'To Mrs. Munden.

Madam,

A fine woman would reap little advantage from the charms she is mistress of, if confined to the languid embraces of a single possesser. Marriage takes off the poignancy of desire: a man has no relish for beauties that are always the same, and always in his power; those endearments generally make his happiness become disgustful to him by being his duty; and he naturally flies to seek joys yet untasted, in the arms of others. This, fair angel, is the case with us all—you have too much good-sense not to know it, or to expect your husband should vary from his sex in this particular.

Let those unhappy women, therefore, to whom nature has been niggard of her bounties, pine in an abandoned bed. You are formed to give and to receive the most unbounded joys of love—to bless and to be blest with the utmost profusion of extasies unspeakable.

To tell you how infinitely I adore you, and how much I have languished for an opportunity of declaring my passion, would require a volume instead of a letter: besides, my pen would but faintly express the sentiments of my soul—they will have more energy when whispered in your ear. I know such a thing is impossible at your own house, or at any of those where you visit. Favour me, then, I beseech you, with taking a little walk in the Privy Garden near the water-side, to-morrow about eleven; from which place, if my person and passion be not altogether disagreeable to you, we may adjourn to some other, where I may give you more substantial demonstrations how much I am, with the utmost sincerity, dear Madam, your eternally devoted, and most faithful admirer.

P.S. I do not sign my name for fear of accidents; but flatter myself my eyes have already said enough to inform you who I am.'

If this letter had come but a very small time before it did, it is possible that, though Mrs. Munden would even then have been highly offended at the presumption, yet her vanity and curiosity might have excited her to give the meeting required in it by the author; though it had only been, as she would then have imagined, merely to see who he was, and laugh at his stupidity for addressing her in that manner.

Not but she had some distant guess at the person; but whether it was him, or any other, who had taken this liberty, she now gave herself not the least concern: she was only desirous to put an entire stop to those audacious hopes she found he had entertained, and to keep herself from receiving any future solicitations, from the same quarter at least.

To send back his letter without any other token of her resentment and disdain at the contents, she thought would not be sufficient; and her ready wit, after a little pause, presented her with a method more efficacious. It was this.

She folded up the epistle in the same fashion it was when she received it, and inclosed it in another piece of paper; in which she wrote these lines.

'Sir,

As I cannot think any man would be weak enough to dictate an epistle of this nature to the wife of Mr. Munden, I must suppose you made some mistake in the direction, and sent that to me which was intended for some other woman, whose character it might better agree with.

I must intreat you, however, to be more careful for the future; for if any such impertinence should a second time arise, I shall think myself obliged to make a confidante of my husband, whose good-sense and penetration will, doubtless, enable him to discover the author, and his spirit and courage instruct him in what manner to resent the affront offered to his ever-faithful, and most affectionate wife,

B. Munden.'

This had all the effect she wished it should have—the beau was ashamed of the fruitless attack he had made—wrote to her no more—avoided her sight as much as possible—and, whenever chance brought him into her company, behaved towards her with all the distance and respect imaginable.

This lady, now fully convinced how dangerous it was to be too much admired for her external charms, ceased even to wish they should be taken notice of; and set herself seriously about improving those perfections of the mind which she was sensible could alone entitle her to the esteem of the virtuous and the wife.

Mr. Munden, who had never been disquieted at the former part of his wife's behaviour, was equally insensible of this alteration in her: his cares, indeed, were too much taken up for re-establishing himself with his right honourable patron, to give any attention to what passed at home.

After much debating with himself, he thought it best to proceed so as not to let the noble lord imagine he was acquainted with any part of the attempt made upon his wife; but, though he attended his levee as usual, and seemed rather more obsequious than ever, he had the mortification to find himself very coolly received. He stood undistinguished in the circle which constantly waited the motions of that great man—was scarcely spoken to by him, and then with a kind of indrawn reserve, which made him justly enough apprehensive that he had little now to hope for from him.

The truth is, he saw through the policy of this dependant—he could not doubt but Mrs. Munden had told him of the violence he had offered to her—he was conscious of the baseness of it; but he was not angry with himself for it, though with the person he would have injured; and could not forgive him for the knowledge of his crime, though the other was willing to forgive the crime itself.

The treatment he received at Lord ——'s made him extremely churlish to his wife; he looked upon her as the primary cause of his misfortune, cursed his marriage with her, and even hated her for the beauties and good qualities which should have endeared her to him. Nothing she could say or do had the power of pleasing him; so that she stood in need of all her courage and fortitude to enable her to support, with any tolerable degree of patience, the usage she received.

To heighten her misfortune, the late levity of her temper had hindered her from cultivating an acquaintance with any one person, on whose secrecy, sincerity, and sedateness, she could enough depend for the disburdening her mind of those vexations with which it was sometimes overwhelmed.

But this was a matter of disquiet to her which she had not long to complain of. Heaven sent her a consolation of which she had not the least distant expectation, and restored her to a friend, by whom she had thought herself utterly forsaken, and whom she had not herself scarce thought of for a long time.

Lady Loveit was now but just returned from the country, where she had continued ever since her marriage to Sir Bazil. A famous French milliner being lately arrived from Paris with abundance of curiosities, her ladyship went to see if there was any thing she should think worth the purchasing. Mrs. Munden was led by the same curiosity; and it was at this woman's house that these ladies happened to meet after so long an absence from each other.

Mrs. Munden was a little confused at first sight of her, as bringing to her mind some passages which it was never in her power to think on with the indifference she wished to do. They embraced, however, with a great deal of affection—made each other the usual compliments on the mutual change of their condition; for Lady Loveit, by some accident, had heard of Mrs. Munden's marriage.

Though both these ladies were much more taken up with each other than with examining the trifles they came to see, yet neither of them would quit the shop without becoming customers. Lady Loveit perceiving that Mrs. Munden had neither coach nor chair at the door, after having asked what part of town she lived in, and finding it was not too much out of her way, desired she would give her leave to set her down in her chariot.

Mrs. Munden readily accepted the offer; and, being come to the door of her house, would have persuaded Lady Loveit to alight and come in: but she excused herself; and, at the same time, gave her a pressing invitation to her house as soon as an opportunity permitted. 'I know, Madam,' said she, smiling, 'that it is my duty to pay the first visit to your ladyship—yet, as you are here—' 'I should not stand on that punctilio with you,' interrupted Lady Loveit, with the same good-humour; 'but I expect company at home; and I know not but that they already wait for me.' The other then told her she would do herself the favour to attend her ladyship in a day or two: and this was all that passed at this first interview.

Mrs. Munden was extremely rejoiced at the opportunity of renewing her acquaintance with this lady; in which she had not the least room to doubt but that she should find what she so much wanted, a faithful adviser and an agreeable companion. They had always loved each other—there was a great parity of sentiment and principle between them; and as nothing but their different ways of thinking, in point of conduct towards the men, had hindered them from becoming inseparable friends, that bar being removed by Mrs. Munden's change of temper, and her being now what Lady Loveit always was, no other remained to keep them from communicating their thoughts with the utmost freedom to each other.

The visit promised by Mrs. Munden was not delayed beyond the time she mentioned. Lady Loveit received her without the least reserve; and they soon entered into conversation with the same sprightliness as before the change of their conditions.

Mrs. Munden had resolved within her self not to make the least mention of Mr. Trueworth's name; but feeling, notwithstanding, a good deal of impatience to hear something of him, artfully entered into a discourse which she knew must draw the other in to say something concerning him.

'I need not ask,' said she, 'how you liked the country; it is pretty plain, from your continuing there such a length of time, that you found more pleasures at Sir Bazil's seat than any you had left behind.'—'The house is well situated, indeed,' replied Lady Loveit; 'yet I have passed the least part of my time there since I left London; nor have we staid away so long entirely through choice, but have in a manner been detained by a succession of accidents altogether unforeseen.

'It took up six weeks,' continued she, 'to receive the visits which were every day crowded upon us from all parts of the country. This hurry being over, we could do no less than accompany Mr. Wellair and his lady, who had been with us all this while, to their house, where we staid about a fortnight; after which, Sir Bazil having promised my brother and sister Trueworth to pass some time with them in Oxfordshire, we crossed the country to that gentleman's fine seat; where, you may suppose, his arrival was welcomed in much the same manner Sir Bazil's had been in Staffordshire. Besides all his relations, intimate friends, tenants, and dependants, I believe there was scarce a gentleman or lady, twenty miles round, who did not come to congratulate him on his marriage and return.

'For the reception of those guests,' went she still on, 'the generous Mr. Trueworth omitted nothing that might testify his joy on the occasion of their coming. Feasting employed their days, and balls their nights. But, alas! in the midst of these variegated scenes of pleasure, death, sudden death! snatched away the source of all our joys, and turned the face of gladness into the most poignant grief.'

'Death! did your ladyship say?' cried Mrs. Munden, with an extraordinary emotion. 'Is, then, Mr. Trueworth dead?'—'No, Madam,' replied the other, wiping away some tears which the memory of this fatal accident drew from her eyes; 'Mr. Trueworth lives; and, I hope, will long do so, to be an honour to his country, and a comfort to all those who are so happy as to know him; for certainly there never was a man more endued with qualities for universal good: but it was his wife, his amiable wife, that died!'

'His wife!' cried Mrs. Munden, interrupting her a second time: 'is he already a widower?'—'Too soon, indeed, he became so!' answered Lady Loveit. 'Scarce three months were elapsed from that day which made her a bride to that which made her a lifeless corpse: we were all together, with some other company, one evening in the turret, which, by the help of some large telescopes Mr. Trueworth had placed there, commands the prospect of three counties at once, when my poor sister was seized suddenly ill. As she was supposed to be pregnant, her complaint at first was taken no other notice of than to occasion some pleasantries which new-married women must expect to bear: but she soon grew visibly worse—was obliged to be carried down stairs, and put directly into bed. The next morning she discovered some symptoms of a fever; but it proved no more than the forerunner of the small pox, of which distemper she died before her danger was apprehended, even by the physician.'

'How I pity both the living and the dead!' said Mrs. Munden. 'Mr. Trueworth, certainly, could not support so great a loss with any degree of moderation?'—'The shock at first,' replied Lady Loveit, 'was as much as all his philosophy and strength of reason could enable him to combat with. Sir Bazil, though deeply affected for the loss of so amiable a sister, was obliged to conceal his own sorrows, the better to allieviate those he saw him in; and this kept us for two whole months at his house after the ceremony of the funeral was over. We had then prevailed on him to return with us to London; every thing was prepared for our departure, when an unlucky accident happened to myself, which detained us for yet a considerable time longer.

'We were diverting ourselves one day with angling,' continued she; 'when, in endeavouring to cast my rod at too great a distance, I stooped so far over the bank, that I plunged all at once, head foremost, into the water. The pond, it seems, was pretty deep; and I was in some danger. Sir Bazil and Mr. Trueworth, seeing me fall, jumped in at the same instant; and, by their assistance I was brought safe to shore. I was immediately carried into the house, stripped of my wet garments, and put into a warm bed: but the fright had so great an effect upon me, that it caused an abortion, which, as I was then in the fifth month of my pregnancy, had like to have proved fatal to me. I was close prisoner in my chamber for several weeks; and, on my being just able to leave it, was advised to have recourse first to the Bristol and then to the Bath waters, for the better establishment of my health. Accordingly, we went to both those places—staid as long at each as I found needful for the purpose that brought me thither; and on my perfect recovery, Sir Bazil having some business at his estate, returned to Staffordshire—made a short excursion to Mrs. Wellair's, and then we bowled up to London.

'This,' added she, 'is the whole history of my eleven month's absence. I should also have told you that we had not Mr. Trueworth's company in our last ramble. One of the members for his county having vacated his seat by accepting an employment, Mr. Trueworth was prevailed upon, by a great number of gentlemen and freeholders, to oppose his being rechosen by setting up for a candidate himself. The election was to come on in a few days after our departure; and we have since heard that he succeeded in his attempt.'

Lady Loveit having finished her long narrative, and received the compliments of Mrs. Munden for the trouble she had given her, was beginning to ask some questions concerning her own affairs; but some ladies coming in, broke off, for the present, all conversation on this head; and Mrs. Munden soon after took leave, though not without receiving an assurance from the other of having her visit returned in a short time.