MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/related; boundary="----=_NextPart_01D084F3.C263BCA0" This document is a Single File Web Page, also known as a Web Archive file. If you are seeing this message, your browser or editor doesn't support Web Archive files. Please download a browser that supports Web Archive, such as Windows® Internet Explorer®. ------=_NextPart_01D084F3.C263BCA0 Content-Location: file:///C:/8F6C588E/LadySusan.htm Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable Content-Type: text/html; charset="windows-1252"
Lady Susan
By
Jane Austen
Contents
I LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MR. VERNON=
=
II LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MRS. JOHNSON=
III MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
IV MR. DE COURCY TO MRS. VERNON=
V LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MRS. JOHNSON=
VI MRS. VERNON TO MR. DE COURCY=
VII LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MRS. JOHNSON=
VIII MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
X LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XI MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
XII SIR REGINALD DE COURCY TO HIS SON=
XIII LADY DE COURCY TO MRS. VERNON=
XIV MR. DE COURCY TO SIR REGINALD=
XV MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
XVI LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XVII MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
XVIII FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME=
XIX LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XX MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
XXI MISS VERNON TO MR DE COURCY=
XXII LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XXIII MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
XXIV FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME=
XXV LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XXVI MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY SUSAN=
XXVII MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
XXVIII MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY SUSAN=
XXIX LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XXX LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MR. DE COURCY=
XXXI LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XXXII MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY SUSAN=
XXXIII LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XXXIV MR. DE COURCY TO LADY SUSAN=
XXXV LADY SUSAN TO MR. DE COURCY=
XXXVI MR. DE COURCY TO LADY SUSAN=
XXXVII LADY SUSAN TO MR. DE COURCY=
XXXVIII MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY SUSAN VERNON=
XXXIX LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
XL LADY DE COURCY TO MRS. VERNON=
XLI MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY=
Langford, Dec.
MY DEAR BROTHER,--I can no longer refuse myself
the pleasure of profiting by your kind invitation when we last parted of
spending some weeks with you at Churchhill, and, therefore, if quite conven=
ient
to you and Mrs. Vernon to receive me at present, I shall hope within a few =
days
to be introduced to a sister whom I have so long desired to be acquainted w=
ith.
My kind friends here are most affectionately urgent with me to prolong my s=
tay,
but their hospitable and cheerful dispositions lead them too much into soci=
ety
for my present situation and state of mind; and I impatiently look forward =
to
the hour when I shall be admitted into your delightful retirement.
I long to be made known to your dear little
children, in whose hearts I shall be very eager to secure an interest I sha=
ll
soon have need for all my fortitude, as I am on the point of separation fro=
m my
own daughter. The long illness of her dear father prevented my paying her t=
hat attention
which duty and affection equally dictated, and I have too much reason to fe=
ar
that the governess to whose care I consigned her was unequal to the charge.=
I
have therefore resolved on placing her at one of the best private schools in
town, where I shall have an opportunity of leaving her myself in my way to =
you.
I am determined, you see, not to be denied admittance at Churchhill. It wou=
ld
indeed give me most painful sensations to know that it were not in your pow=
er
to receive me.
Your most obliged and affectionate sister,
S. VERNON.
Langf=
ord.
You w=
ere
mistaken, my dear Alicia, in supposing me fixed at this place for the rest =
of
the winter: it grieves me to say how greatly you were mistaken, for I have
seldom spent three months more agreeably than those which have just flown a=
way.
At present, nothing goes smoothly; the females of the family are united aga=
inst
me. You foretold how it would be when I first came to Langford, and Mainwar=
ing
is so uncommonly pleasing that I was not without apprehensions for myself. I
remember saying to myself, as I drove to the house, "I like this man, =
pray
Heaven no harm come of it!" But I was determined to be discreet, to be=
ar
in mind my being only four months a widow, and to be as quiet as possible: =
and
I have been so, my dear creature; I have admitted no one's attentions but
Mainwaring's. I have avoided all general flirtation whatever; I have
distinguished no creature besides, of all the numbers resorting hither, exc=
ept
Sir James Martin, on whom I bestowed a little notice, in order to detach him
from Miss Mainwaring; but, if the world could know my motive THERE they wou=
ld
honour me. I have been called an unkind mother, but it was the sacred impul=
se
of maternal affection, it was the advantage of my daughter that led me on; =
and
if that daughter were not the greatest simpleton on earth, I might have been
rewarded for my exertions as I ought.
Sir James did make proposals to me for Frederi=
ca;
but Frederica, who was born to be the torment of my life, chose to set hers=
elf
so violently against the match that I thought it better to lay aside the sc=
heme
for the present. I have more than once repented that I did not marry him my=
self;
and were he but one degree less contemptibly weak I certainly should: but I
must own myself rather romantic in that respect, and that riches only will =
not
satisfy me. The event of all this is very provoking: Sir James is gone, Mar=
ia
highly incensed, and Mrs. Mainwaring insupportably jealous; so jealous, in
short, and so enraged against me, that, in the fury of her temper, I should=
not
be surprized at her appealing to her guardian, if she had the liberty of
addressing him: but there your husband stands my friend; and the kindest, m=
ost
amiable action of his life was his throwing her off for ever on her marriag=
e. Keep
up his resentment, therefore, I charge you. We are now in a sad state; no h=
ouse
was ever more altered; the whole party are at war, and Mainwaring scarcely
dares speak to me. It is time for me to be gone; I have therefore determine=
d on
leaving them, and shall spend, I hope, a comfortable day with you in town
within this week. If I am as little in favour with Mr. Johnson as ever, you
must come to me at 10 Wigmore street; but I hope this may not be the case, =
for
as Mr. Johnson, with all his faults, is a man to whom that great word
"respectable" is always given, and I am known to be so intimate w=
ith
his wife, his slighting me has an awkward look.
I take London in my way to that insupportable
spot, a country village; for I am really going to Churchhill. Forgive me, my
dear friend, it is my last resource. Were there another place in England op=
en
to me I would prefer it. Charles Vernon is my aversion; and I am afraid of =
his
wife. At Churchhill, however, I must remain till I have something better in=
view.
My young lady accompanies me to town, where I shall deposit her under the c=
are
of Miss Summers, in Wigmore street, till she becomes a little more reasonab=
le.
She will made good connections there, as the girls are all of the best
families. The price is immense, and much beyond what I can ever attempt to =
pay.
Adieu, I will send you a line as soon as I arr=
ive
in town.
Yours ever,
S. VERNON.
III MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY
Churchhill.
My dear Mother,--I am very sorry to tell=
you
that it will not be in our power to keep our promise of spending our Christ=
mas
with you; and we are prevented that happiness by a circumstance which is not
likely to make us any amends. Lady Susan, in a letter to her brother-in-law,
has declared her intention of visiting us almost immediately; and as such a
visit is in all probability merely an affair of convenience, it is impossib=
le
to conjecture its length. I was by no means prepared for such an event, nor=
can
I now account for her ladyship's conduct; Langford appeared so exactly the
place for her in every respect, as well from the elegant and expensive styl=
e of
living there, as from her particular attachment to Mr. Mainwaring, that I w=
as
very far from expecting so speedy a distinction, though I always imagined f=
rom
her increasing friendship for us since her husband's death that we should, =
at
some future period, be obliged to receive her. Mr. Vernon, I think, was a g=
reat
deal too kind to her when he was in Staffordshire; her behaviour to him,
independent of her general character, has been so inexcusably artful and
ungenerous since our marriage was first in agitation that no one less amiab=
le
and mild than himself could have overlooked it all; and though, as his
brother's widow, and in narrow circumstances, it was proper to render her
pecuniary assistance, I cannot help thinking his pressing invitation to her=
to
visit us at Churchhill perfectly unnecessary. Disposed, however, as he alwa=
ys
is to think the best of everyone, her display of grief, and professions of
regret, and general resolutions of prudence, were sufficient to soften his
heart and make him really confide in her sincerity; but, as for myself, I am
still unconvinced, and plausibly as her ladyship has now written, I cannot =
make
up my mind till I better understand her real meaning in coming to us. You m=
ay
guess, therefore, my dear madam, with what feelings I look forward to her
arrival. She will have occasion for all those attractive powers for which s=
he
is celebrated to gain any share of my regard; and I shall certainly endeavo=
ur
to guard myself against their influence, if not accompanied by something mo=
re
substantial. She expresses a most eager desire of being acquainted with me,=
and
makes very gracious mention of my children but I am not quite weak enough to
suppose a woman who has behaved with inattention, if not with unkindness, to
her own child, should be attached to any of mine. Miss Vernon is to be plac=
ed
at a school in London before her mother comes to us which I am glad of, for=
her
sake and my own. It must be to her advantage to be separated from her mothe=
r,
and a girl of sixteen who has received so wretched an education, could not =
be a
very desirable companion here. Reginald has long wished, I know, to see the
captivating Lady Susan, and we shall depend on his joining our party soon. =
I am
glad to hear that my father continues so well; and am, with best love, &=
;c.,
CATHERINE
VERNON.
Parkl=
ands.
My de=
ar Sister,--I
congratulate you and Mr. Vernon on being about to receive into your family =
the
most accomplished coquette in England. As a very distinguished flirt I have
always been taught to consider her, but it has lately fallen in my way to h=
ear
some particulars of her conduct at Langford: which prove that she does not
confine herself to that sort of honest flirtation which satisfies most peop=
le,
but aspires to the more delicious gratification of making a whole family
miserable. By her behaviour to Mr. Mainwaring she gave jealousy and
wretchedness to his wife, and by her attentions to a young man previously
attached to Mr. Mainwaring's sister deprived an amiable girl of her lover. =
I learnt all this from Mr. Smith, now in this
neighbourhood (I have dined with him, at Hurst and Wilford), who is just co=
me
from Langford where he was a fortnight with her ladyship, and who is theref=
ore
well qualified to make the communication.
What a woman she must be! I long to see her, a=
nd
shall certainly accept your kind invitation, that I may form some idea of t=
hose
bewitching powers which can do so much--engaging at the same time, and in t=
he
same house, the affections of two men, who were neither of them at liberty =
to bestow
them--and all this without the charm of youth! I am glad to find Miss Vernon
does not accompany her mother to Churchhill, as she has not even manners to
recommend her; and, according to Mr. Smith's account, is equally dull and
proud. Where pride and stupidity unite there can be no dissimulation worthy
notice, and Miss Vernon shall be consigned to unrelenting contempt; but by =
all
that I can gather Lady Susan possesses a degree of captivating deceit which=
it
must be pleasing to witness and detect. I shall be with you very soon, and =
am
ever,
Your affectionate brother,
R. DE COURCY.
Churc=
hhill.
I rec=
eived
your note, my dear Alicia, just before I left town, and rejoice to be assur=
ed
that Mr. Johnson suspected nothing of your engagement the evening before. I=
t is
undoubtedly better to deceive him entirely, and since he will be stubborn he
must be tricked. I arrived here in safety, and have no reason to complain o=
f my
reception from Mr. Vernon; but I confess myself not equally satisfied with =
the
behaviour of his lady. She is perfectly well-bred, indeed, and has the air =
of a
woman of fashion, but her manners are not such as can persuade me of her be=
ing prepossessed
in my favour. I wanted her to be delighted at seeing me. I was as amiable as
possible on the occasion, but all in vain. She does not like me. To be sure
when we consider that I DID take some pains to prevent my brother-in-law's
marrying her, this want of cordiality is not very surprizing, and yet it sh=
ows
an illiberal and vindictive spirit to resent a project which influenced me =
six
years ago, and which never succeeded at last.
I am sometimes disposed to repent that I did n=
ot
let Charles buy Vernon Castle, when we were obliged to sell it; but it was a
trying circumstance, especially as the sale took place exactly at the time =
of
his marriage; and everybody ought to respect the delicacy of those feelings
which could not endure that my husband's dignity should be lessened by his
younger brother's having possession of the family estate. Could matters have
been so arranged as to prevent the necessity of our leaving the castle, cou=
ld
we have lived with Charles and kept him single, I should have been very far
from persuading my husband to dispose of it elsewhere; but Charles was on t=
he
point of marrying Miss De Courcy, and the event has justified me. Here are
children in abundance, and what benefit could have accrued to me from his
purchasing Vernon? My having prevented it may perhaps have given his wife a=
n unfavourable
impression, but where there is a disposition to dislike, a motive will neve=
r be
wanting; and as to money matters it has not withheld him from being very us=
eful
to me. I really have a regard for him, he is so easily imposed upon! The ho=
use
is a good one, the furniture fashionable, and everything announces plenty a=
nd
elegance. Charles is very rich I am sure; when a man has once got his name =
in a
banking-house he rolls in money; but they do not know what to do with it, k=
eep
very little company, and never go to London but on business. We shall be as
stupid as possible. I mean to win my sister-in-law's heart through the
children; I know all their names already, and am going to attach myself with
the greatest sensibility to one in particular, a young Frederic, whom I tak=
e on
my lap and sigh over for his dear uncle's sake.
Poor Mainwaring! I need not tell you how much I
miss him, how perpetually he is in my thoughts. I found a dismal letter from
him on my arrival here, full of complaints of his wife and sister, and lame=
ntations
on the cruelty of his fate. I passed off the letter as his wife's, to the
Vernons, and when I write to him it must be under cover to you.
Ever yours, S. VERNON.
Churc=
hhill.
Well,=
my
dear Reginald, I have seen this dangerous creature, and must give you some
description of her, though I hope you will soon be able to form your own
judgment. She is really excessively pretty; however you may choose to quest=
ion
the allurements of a lady no longer young, I must, for my own part, declare
that I have seldom seen so lovely a woman as Lady Susan. She is delicately
fair, with fine grey eyes and dark eyelashes; and from her appearance one w=
ould
not suppose her more than five and twenty, though she must in fact be ten y=
ears
older, I was certainly not disposed to admire her, though always hearing she
was beautiful; but I cannot help feeling that she possesses an uncommon uni=
on
of symmetry, brilliancy, and grace. Her address to me was so gentle, frank,=
and
even affectionate, that, if I had not known how much she has always dislike=
d me
for marrying Mr. Vernon, and that we had never met before, I should have
imagined her an attached friend. One is apt, I believe, to connect assuranc=
e of
manner with coquetry, and to expect that an impudent address will naturally
attend an impudent mind; at least I was myself prepared for an improper deg=
ree
of confidence in Lady Susan; but her countenance is absolutely sweet, and h=
er
voice and manner winningly mild. I am sorry it is so, for what is this but
deceit? Unfortunately, one knows her too well. She is clever and agreeable,=
has
all that knowledge of the world which makes conversation easy, and talks ve=
ry
well, with a happy command of language, which is too often used, I believe,=
to
make black appear white. She has already almost persuaded me of her being
warmly attached to her daughter, though I have been so long convinced to the
contrary. She speaks of her with so much tenderness and anxiety, lamenting =
so
bitterly the neglect of her education, which she represents however as whol=
ly
unavoidable, that I am forced to recollect how many successive springs her
ladyship spent in town, while her daughter was left in Staffordshire to the
care of servants, or a governess very little better, to prevent my believing
what she says.
If her manners have so great an influence on my
resentful heart, you may judge how much more strongly they operate on Mr.
Vernon's generous temper. I wish I could be as well satisfied as he is, tha=
t it
was really her choice to leave Langford for Churchhill; and if she had not
stayed there for months before she discovered that her friend's manner of l=
iving
did not suit her situation or feelings, I might have believed that concern =
for
the loss of such a husband as Mr. Vernon, to whom her own behaviour was far
from unexceptionable, might for a time make her wish for retirement. But I
cannot forget the length of her visit to the Mainwarings, and when I reflec=
t on
the different mode of life which she led with them from that to which she m=
ust
now submit, I can only suppose that the wish of establishing her reputation=
by
following though late the path of propriety, occasioned her removal from a
family where she must in reality have been particularly happy. Your friend =
Mr.
Smith's story, however, cannot be quite correct, as she corresponds regular=
ly with
Mrs. Mainwaring. At any rate it must be exaggerated. It is scarcely possible
that two men should be so grossly deceived by her at once.
Yours, &c.,
CATHERINE VERNON
VII LADY SUSAN VERNON TO MRS. JOHNSON
Churchhill.
My dear Alicia,--You are very good in ta=
king
notice of Frederica, and I am grateful for it as a mark of your friendship;=
but
as I cannot have any doubt of the warmth of your affection, I am far from
exacting so heavy a sacrifice. She is a stupid girl, and has nothing to
recommend her. I would not, therefore, on my account, have you encumber one
moment of your precious time by sending for her to Edward Street, especiall=
y as
every visit is so much deducted from the grand affair of education, which I
really wish to have attended to while she remains at Miss Summers's. I want=
her
to play and sing with some portion of taste and a good deal of assurance, as
she has my hand and arm and a tolerable voice. I was so much indulged in my
infant years that I was never obliged to attend to anything, and consequent=
ly
am without the accomplishments which are now necessary to finish a pretty
woman. Not that I am an advocate for the prevailing fashion of acquiring a
perfect knowledge of all languages, arts, and sciences. It is throwing time=
away
to be mistress of French, Italian, and German: music, singing, and drawing,
&c., will gain a woman some applause, but will not add one lover to her
list--grace and manner, after all, are of the greatest importance. I do not
mean, therefore, that Frederica's acquirements should be more than superfic=
ial,
and I flatter myself that she will not remain long enough at school to
understand anything thoroughly. I hope to see her the wife of Sir James wit=
hin
a twelvemonth. You know on what I ground my hope, and it is certainly a good
foundation, for school must be very humiliating to a girl of Frederica's ag=
e.
And, by-the-by, you had better not invite her any more on that account, as I
wish her to find her situation as unpleasant as possible. I am sure of Sir
James at any time, and could make him renew his application by a line. I sh=
all trouble
you meanwhile to prevent his forming any other attachment when he comes to
town. Ask him to your house occasionally, and talk to him of Frederica, tha=
t he
may not forget her. Upon the whole, I commend my own conduct in this affair
extremely, and regard it as a very happy instance of circumspection and
tenderness. Some mothers would have insisted on their daughter's accepting =
so
good an offer on the first overture; but I could not reconcile it to myself=
to
force Frederica into a marriage from which her heart revolted, and instead =
of
adopting so harsh a measure merely propose to make it her own choice, by
rendering her thoroughly uncomfortable till she does accept him--but enough=
of
this tiresome girl. You may well wonder how I contrive to pass my time here,
and for the first week it was insufferably dull. Now, however, we begin to
mend, our party is enlarged by Mrs. Vernon's brother, a handsome young man,=
who
promises me some amusement. There is something about him which rather inter=
ests
me, a sort of sauciness and familiarity which I shall teach him to correct.=
He
is lively, and seems clever, and when I have inspired him with greater resp=
ect
for me than his sister's kind offices have implanted, he may be an agreeable
flirt. There is exquisite pleasure in subduing an insolent spirit, in makin=
g a
person predetermined to dislike acknowledge one's superiority. I have disco=
ncerted
him already by my calm reserve, and it shall be my endeavour to humble the
pride of these self important De Courcys still lower, to convince Mrs. Vern=
on
that her sisterly cautions have been bestowed in vain, and to persuade Regi=
nald
that she has scandalously belied me. This project will serve at least to am=
use
me, and prevent my feeling so acutely this dreadful separation from you and=
all
whom I love.
Yours
ever,
S.
VERNON.
VIII MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY
Churchhill.
My dear Mother,--You must not expect Reg=
inald
back again for some time. He desires me to tell you that the present open
weather induces him to accept Mr. Vernon's invitation to prolong his stay in
Sussex, that they may have some hunting together. He means to send for his
horses immediately, and it is impossible to say when you may see him in Ken=
t. I
will not disguise my sentiments on this change from you, my dear mother, th=
ough
I think you had better not communicate them to my father, whose excessive
anxiety about Reginald would subject him to an alarm which might seriously
affect his health and spirits. Lady Susan has certainly contrived, in the s=
pace
of a fortnight, to make my brother like her. In short, I am persuaded that =
his
continuing here beyond the time originally fixed for his return is occasion=
ed
as much by a degree of fascination towards her, as by the wish of hunting w=
ith
Mr. Vernon, and of course I cannot receive that pleasure from the length of=
his
visit which my brother's company would otherwise give me. I am, indeed, pro=
voked
at the artifice of this unprincipled woman; what stronger proof of her
dangerous abilities can be given than this perversion of Reginald's judgmen=
t,
which when he entered the house was so decidedly against her! In his last
letter he actually gave me some particulars of her behaviour at Langford, s=
uch
as he received from a gentleman who knew her perfectly well, which, if true,
must raise abhorrence against her, and which Reginald himself was entirely
disposed to credit. His opinion of her, I am sure, was as low as of any wom=
an
in England; and when he first came it was evident that he considered her as=
one
entitled neither to delicacy nor respect, and that he felt she would be
delighted with the attentions of any man inclined to flirt with her. Her
behaviour, I confess, has been calculated to do away with such an idea; I h=
ave not
detected the smallest impropriety in it--nothing of vanity, of pretension, =
of
levity; and she is altogether so attractive that I should not wonder at his
being delighted with her, had he known nothing of her previous to this pers=
onal
acquaintance; but, against reason, against conviction, to be so well pleased
with her, as I am sure he is, does really astonish me. His admiration was at
first very strong, but no more than was natural, and I did not wonder at his
being much struck by the gentleness and delicacy of her manners; but when he
has mentioned her of late it has been in terms of more extraordinary praise;
and yesterday he actually said that he could not be surprised at any effect
produced on the heart of man by such loveliness and such abilities; and whe=
n I lamented,
in reply, the badness of her disposition, he observed that whatever might h=
ave
been her errors they were to be imputed to her neglected education and early
marriage, and that she was altogether a wonderful woman. This tendency to
excuse her conduct or to forget it, in the warmth of admiration, vexes me; =
and
if I did not know that Reginald is too much at home at Churchhill to need an
invitation for lengthening his visit, I should regret Mr. Vernon's giving h=
im
any. Lady Susan's intentions are of course those of absolute coquetry, or a
desire of universal admiration; I cannot for a moment imagine that she has =
anything
more serious in view; but it mortifies me to see a young man of Reginald's
sense duped by her at all.
I
am, &c.,
CATHERINE
VERNON.
IX MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY S. VERNON=
span>
Edward Street.
My dearest Friend,--I congratulate you o=
n Mr.
De Courcy's arrival, and I advise you by all means to marry him; his father=
's
estate is, we know, considerable, and I believe certainly entailed. Sir
Reginald is very infirm, and not likely to stand in your way long. I hear t=
he
young man well spoken of; and though no one can really deserve you, my dear=
est Susan,
Mr. De Courcy may be worth having. Mainwaring will storm of course, but you
easily pacify him; besides, the most scrupulous point of honour could not
require you to wait for HIS emancipation. I have seen Sir James; he came to
town for a few days last week, and called several times in Edward Street. I
talked to him about you and your daughter, and he is so far from having
forgotten you, that I am sure he would marry either of you with pleasure. I
gave him hopes of Frederica's relenting, and told him a great deal of her
improvements. I scolded him for making love to Maria Mainwaring; he protest=
ed
that he had been only in joke, and we both laughed heartily at her
disappointment; and, in short, were very agreeable. He is as silly as ever.=
Yours
faithfully,
ALICIA.
Churc=
hhill.
I am =
much
obliged to you, my dear Friend, for your advice respecting Mr. De Courcy, w=
hich
I know was given with the full conviction of its expediency, though I am not
quite determined on following it. I cannot easily resolve on anything so
serious as marriage; especially as I am not at present in want of money, and
might perhaps, till the old gentleman's death, be very little benefited by =
the
match. It is true that I am vain enough to believe it within my reach. I ha=
ve
made him sensible of my power, and can now enjoy the pleasure of triumphing=
over
a mind prepared to dislike me, and prejudiced against all my past actions. =
His
sister, too, is, I hope, convinced how little the ungenerous representation=
s of
anyone to the disadvantage of another will avail when opposed by the immedi=
ate
influence of intellect and manner. I see plainly that she is uneasy at my
progress in the good opinion of her brother, and conclude that nothing will=
be
wanting on her part to counteract me; but having once made him doubt the
justice of her opinion of me, I think I may defy her. It has been delightfu=
l to
me to watch his advances towards intimacy, especially to observe his altered
manner in consequence of my repressing by the cool dignity of my deportment=
his
insolent approach to direct familiarity. My conduct has been equally guarded
from the first, and I never behaved less like a coquette in the whole cours=
e of
my life, though perhaps my desire of dominion was never more decided. I have
subdued him entirely by sentiment and serious conversation, and made him, I=
may
venture to say, at least half in love with me, without the semblance of the
most commonplace flirtation. Mrs. Vernon's consciousness of deserving every
sort of revenge that it can be in my power to inflict for her ill-offices c=
ould
alone enable her to perceive that I am actuated by any design in behaviour =
so
gentle and unpretending. Let her think and act as she chooses, however. I h=
ave never
yet found that the advice of a sister could prevent a young man's being in =
love
if he chose. We are advancing now to some kind of confidence, and in short =
are
likely to be engaged in a sort of platonic friendship. On my side you may be
sure of its never being more, for if I were not attached to another person =
as
much as I can be to anyone, I should make a point of not bestowing my affec=
tion
on a man who had dared to think so meanly of me. Reginald has a good figure=
and
is not unworthy the praise you have heard given him, but is still greatly
inferior to our friend at Langford. He is less polished, less insinuating t=
han Mainwaring,
and is comparatively deficient in the power of saying those delightful thin=
gs
which put one in good humour with oneself and all the world. He is quite
agreeable enough, however, to afford me amusement, and to make many of those
hours pass very pleasantly which would otherwise be spent in endeavouring to
overcome my sister-in-law's reserve, and listening to the insipid talk of h=
er
husband. Your account of Sir James is most satisfactory, and I mean to give
Miss Frederica a hint of my intentions very soon.
Yours, &c.,
S. VERNON.
XI MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY
Churchhill
I really grow quite uneasy, my dearest m=
other,
about Reginald, from witnessing the very rapid increase of Lady Susan's
influence. They are now on terms of the most particular friendship, frequen=
tly
engaged in long conversations together; and she has contrived by the most
artful coquetry to subdue his judgment to her own purposes. It is impossibl=
e to
see the intimacy between them so very soon established without some alarm,
though I can hardly suppose that Lady Susan's plans extend to marriage. I w=
ish
you could get Reginald home again on any plausible pretence; he is not at a=
ll
disposed to leave us, and I have given him as many hints of my father's
precarious state of health as common decency will allow me to do in my own
house. Her power over him must now be boundless, as she has entirely effaced
all his former ill-opinion, and persuaded him not merely to forget but to
justify her conduct. Mr. Smith's account of her proceedings at Langford, wh=
ere
he accused her of having made Mr. Mainwaring and a young man engaged to Miss
Mainwaring distractedly in love with her, which Reginald firmly believed wh=
en
he came here, is now, he is persuaded, only a scandalous invention. He has =
told
me so with a warmth of manner which spoke his regret at having believed the
contrary himself. How sincerely do I grieve that she ever entered this hous=
e! I
always looked forward to her coming with uneasiness; but very far was it fr=
om
originating in anxiety for Reginald. I expected a most disagreeable compani=
on
for myself, but could not imagine that my brother would be in the smallest =
danger
of being captivated by a woman with whose principles he was so well acquain=
ted,
and whose character he so heartily despised. If you can get him away it wil=
l be
a good thing.
Yours,
&c.,
CATHERINE
VERNON.
XII SIR REGINALD DE COURCY TO HIS SON
Parklands.
I know that young men in general do not =
admit
of any enquiry even from their nearest relations into affairs of the heart,=
but
I hope, my dear Reginald, that you will be superior to such as allow nothing
for a father's anxiety, and think themselves privileged to refuse him their=
confidence
and slight his advice. You must be sensible that as an only son, and the
representative of an ancient family, your conduct in life is most interesti=
ng
to your connections; and in the very important concern of marriage especial=
ly,
there is everything at stake--your own happiness, that of your parents, and=
the
credit of your name. I do not suppose that you would deliberately form an
absolute engagement of that nature without acquainting your mother and myse=
lf,
or at least, without being convinced that we should approve of your choice;=
but
I cannot help fearing that you may be drawn in, by the lady who has lately
attached you, to a marriage which the whole of your family, far and near, m=
ust highly
reprobate. Lady Susan's age is itself a material objection, but her want of
character is one so much more serious, that the difference of even twelve y=
ears
becomes in comparison of small amount. Were you not blinded by a sort of
fascination, it would be ridiculous in me to repeat the instances of great
misconduct on her side so very generally known.
Her
neglect of her husband, her encouragement of other men, her extravagance and
dissipation, were so gross and notorious that no one could be ignorant of t=
hem
at the time, nor can now have forgotten them. To our family she has always =
been
represented in softened colours by the benevolence of Mr. Charles Vernon, a=
nd
yet, in spite of his generous endeavours to excuse her, we know that she di=
d,
from the most selfish motives, take all possible pains to prevent his marri=
age
with Catherine.
My
years and increasing infirmities make me very desirous of seeing you settle=
d in
the world. To the fortune of a wife, the goodness of my own will make me
indifferent, but her family and character must be equally unexceptionable. =
When
your choice is fixed so that no objection can be made to it, then I can pro=
mise
you a ready and cheerful consent; but it is my duty to oppose a match which
deep art only could render possible, and must in the end make wretched. It =
is
possible her behaviour may arise only from vanity, or the wish of gaining t=
he
admiration of a man whom she must imagine to be particularly prejudiced aga=
inst
her; but it is more likely that she should aim at something further. She is
poor, and may naturally seek an alliance which must be advantageous to hers=
elf;
you know your own rights, and that it is out of my power to prevent your
inheriting the family estate. My ability of distressing you during my life
would be a species of revenge to which I could hardly stoop under any
circumstances.
I
honestly tell you my sentiments and intentions: I do not wish to work on yo=
ur
fears, but on your sense and affection. It would destroy every comfort of my
life to know that you were married to Lady Susan Vernon; it would be the de=
ath
of that honest pride with which I have hitherto considered my son; I should
blush to see him, to hear of him, to think of him. I may perhaps do no good=
but
that of relieving my own mind by this letter, but I felt it my duty to tell=
you
that your partiality for Lady Susan is no secret to your friends, and to wa=
rn
you against her. I should be glad to hear your reasons for disbelieving Mr.
Smith's intelligence; you had no doubt of its authenticity a month ago. If =
you can
give me your assurance of having no design beyond enjoying the conversation=
of
a clever woman for a short period, and of yielding admiration only to her
beauty and abilities, without being blinded by them to her faults, you will
restore me to happiness; but, if you cannot do this, explain to me, at leas=
t,
what has occasioned so great an alteration in your opinion of her.
I
am, &c., &c,
REGINALD
DE COURCY
XIII LADY DE COURCY TO MRS. VERNON
Parklands.
My dear Catherine,--Unluckily I was conf=
ined
to my room when your last letter came, by a cold which affected my eyes so =
much
as to prevent my reading it myself, so I could not refuse your father when =
he
offered to read it to me, by which means he became acquainted, to my great =
vexation,
with all your fears about your brother. I had intended to write to Reginald
myself as soon as my eyes would let me, to point out, as well as I could, t=
he
danger of an intimate acquaintance, with so artful a woman as Lady Susan, t=
o a
young man of his age, and high expectations. I meant, moreover, to have
reminded him of our being quite alone now, and very much in need of him to =
keep
up our spirits these long winter evenings. Whether it would have done any g=
ood
can never be settled now, but I am excessively vexed that Sir Reginald shou=
ld
know anything of a matter which we foresaw would make him so uneasy. He cau=
ght
all your fears the moment he had read your letter, and I am sure he has not=
had
the business out of his head since. He wrote by the same post to Reginald a
long letter full of it all, and particularly asking an explanation of what =
he
may have heard from Lady Susan to contradict the late shocking reports. His
answer came this morning, which I shall enclose to you, as I think you will
like to see it. I wish it was more satisfactory; but it seems written with =
such
a determination to think well of Lady Susan, that his assurances as to
marriage, &c., do not set my heart at ease. I say all I can, however, to
satisfy your father, and he is certainly less uneasy since Reginald's lette=
r.
How provoking it is, my dear Catherine, that this unwelcome guest of yours
should not only prevent our meeting this Christmas, but be the occasion of =
so
much vexation and trouble! Kiss the dear children for me.
Your
affectionate mother,
C.
DE COURCY.
XIV MR. DE COURCY TO SIR REGINALD
Churchhill.
My dear Sir,--I have this moment receive=
d your
letter, which has given me more astonishment than I ever felt before. I am =
to
thank my sister, I suppose, for having represented me in such a light as to
injure me in your opinion, and give you all this alarm. I know not why she
should choose to make herself and her family uneasy by apprehending an event
which no one but herself, I can affirm, would ever have thought possible. T=
o impute
such a design to Lady Susan would be taking from her every claim to that
excellent understanding which her bitterest enemies have never denied her; =
and
equally low must sink my pretensions to common sense if I am suspected of
matrimonial views in my behaviour to her. Our difference of age must be an
insuperable objection, and I entreat you, my dear father, to quiet your min=
d,
and no longer harbour a suspicion which cannot be more injurious to your own
peace than to our understandings. I can have no other view in remaining with
Lady Susan, than to enjoy for a short time (as you have yourself expressed =
it)
the conversation of a woman of high intellectual powers. If Mrs. Vernon wou=
ld
allow something to my affection for herself and her husband in the length o=
f my
visit, she would do more justice to us all; but my sister is unhappily
prejudiced beyond the hope of conviction against Lady Susan. From an attach=
ment
to her husband, which in itself does honour to both, she cannot forgive the
endeavours at preventing their union, which have been attributed to selfish=
ness
in Lady Susan; but in this case, as well as in many others, the world has m=
ost
grossly injured that lady, by supposing the worst where the motives of her
conduct have been doubtful. Lady Susan had heard something so materially to=
the
disadvantage of my sister as to persuade her that the happiness of Mr. Vern=
on,
to whom she was always much attached, would be wholly destroyed by the
marriage. And this circumstance, while it explains the true motives of Lady
Susan's conduct, and removes all the blame which has been so lavished on he=
r, may
also convince us how little the general report of anyone ought to be credit=
ed;
since no character, however upright, can escape the malevolence of slander.=
If
my sister, in the security of retirement, with as little opportunity as
inclination to do evil, could not avoid censure, we must not rashly condemn
those who, living in the world and surrounded with temptations, should be
accused of errors which they are known to have the power of committing.
I
blame myself severely for having so easily believed the slanderous tales
invented by Charles Smith to the prejudice of Lady Susan, as I am now convi=
nced
how greatly they have traduced her. As to Mrs. Mainwaring's jealousy it was
totally his own invention, and his account of her attaching Miss Mainwaring=
's
lover was scarcely better founded. Sir James Martin had been drawn in by th=
at
young lady to pay her some attention; and as he is a man of fortune, it was
easy to see HER views extended to marriage. It is well known that Miss M. is
absolutely on the catch for a husband, and no one therefore can pity her for
losing, by the superior attractions of another woman, the chance of being a=
ble
to make a worthy man completely wretched. Lady Susan was far from intending=
such
a conquest, and on finding how warmly Miss Mainwaring resented her lover's
defection, determined, in spite of Mr. and Mrs. Mainwaring's most urgent
entreaties, to leave the family. I have reason to imagine she did receive
serious proposals from Sir James, but her removing to Langford immediately =
on
the discovery of his attachment, must acquit her on that article with any m=
ind
of common candour. You will, I am sure, my dear Sir, feel the truth of this,
and will hereby learn to do justice to the character of a very injured woma=
n. I
know that Lady Susan in coming to Churchhill was governed only by the most
honourable and amiable intentions; her prudence and economy are exemplary, =
her
regard for Mr. Vernon equal even to HIS deserts; and her wish of obtaining =
my
sister's good opinion merits a better return than it has received. As a mot=
her she
is unexceptionable; her solid affection for her child is shown by placing h=
er
in hands where her education will be properly attended to; but because she =
has
not the blind and weak partiality of most mothers, she is accused of wanting
maternal tenderness. Every person of sense, however, will know how to value=
and
commend her well-directed affection, and will join me in wishing that Frede=
rica
Vernon may prove more worthy than she has yet done of her mother's tender c=
are.
I have now, my dear father, written my real sentiments of Lady Susan; you w=
ill
know from this letter how highly I admire her abilities, and esteem her
character; but if you are not equally convinced by my full and solemn assur=
ance
that your fears have been most idly created, you will deeply mortify and di=
stress
me.
I
am, &c., &c.,
R.
DE COURCY.
XV MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY
Churchhill
My dear Mother,--I return you Reginald's
letter, and rejoice with all my heart that my father is made easy by it: te=
ll
him so, with my congratulations; but, between ourselves, I must own it has =
only
convinced ME of my brother's having no PRESENT intention of marrying Lady
Susan, not that he is in no danger of doing so three months hence. He gives=
a
very plausible account of her behaviour at Langford; I wish it may be true,=
but
his intelligence must come from herself, and I am less disposed to believe =
it
than to lament the degree of intimacy subsisting between them, implied by t=
he
discussion of such a subject. I am sorry to have incurred his displeasure, =
but
can expect nothing better while he is so very eager in Lady Susan's
justification. He is very severe against me indeed, and yet I hope I have n=
ot
been hasty in my judgment of her. Poor woman! though I have reasons enough =
for my
dislike, I cannot help pitying her at present, as she is in real distress, =
and
with too much cause. She had this morning a letter from the lady with whom =
she
has placed her daughter, to request that Miss Vernon might be immediately
removed, as she had been detected in an attempt to run away. Why, or whither
she intended to go, does not appear; but, as her situation seems to have be=
en
unexceptionable, it is a sad thing, and of course highly distressing to Lady
Susan. Frederica must be as much as sixteen, and ought to know better; but =
from
what her mother insinuates, I am afraid she is a perverse girl. She has been
sadly neglected, however, and her mother ought to remember it. Mr. Vernon s=
et
off for London as soon as she had determined what should be done. He is, if
possible, to prevail on Miss Summers to let Frederica continue with her; an=
d if
he cannot succeed, to bring her to Churchhill for the present, till some ot=
her
situation can be found for her. Her ladyship is comforting herself meanwhil=
e by
strolling along the shrubbery with Reginald, calling forth all his tender
feelings, I suppose, on this distressing occasion. She has been talking a g=
reat
deal about it to me. She talks vastly well; I am afraid of being ungenerous=
, or
I should say, TOO well to feel so very deeply; but I will not look for her
faults; she may be Reginald's wife! Heaven forbid it! but why should I be
quicker-sighted than anyone else? Mr. Vernon declares that he never saw dee=
per
distress than hers, on the receipt of the letter; and is his judgment infer=
ior
to mine? She was very unwilling that Frederica should be allowed to come to
Churchhill, and justly enough, as it seems a sort of reward to behaviour
deserving very differently; but it was impossible to take her anywhere else,
and she is not to remain here long. "It will be absolutely
necessary," said she, "as you, my dear sister, must be sensible, =
to
treat my daughter with some severity while she is here; a most painful
necessity, but I will ENDEAVOUR to submit to it. I am afraid I have often b=
een
too indulgent, but my poor Frederica's temper could never bear opposition w=
ell:
you must support and encourage me; you must urge the necessity of reproof if
you see me too lenient." All this sounds very reasonable. Reginald is =
so
incensed against the poor silly girl. Surely it is not to Lady Susan's cred=
it
that he should be so bitter against her daughter; his idea of her must be d=
rawn
from the mother's description. Well, whatever may be his fate, we have the =
comfort
of knowing that we have done our utmost to save him. We must commit the eve=
nt
to a higher power.
Yours
ever, &c.,
CATHERINE
VERNON.
XVI LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
Churchhill.
Never, my dearest Alicia, was I so provo=
ked in
my life as by a letter this morning from Miss Summers. That horrid girl of =
mine
has been trying to run away. I had not a notion of her being such a little
devil before, she seemed to have all the Vernon milkiness; but on receiving=
the
letter in which I declared my intention about Sir James, she actually attem=
pted
to elope; at least, I cannot otherwise account for her doing it. She meant,=
I
suppose, to go to the Clarkes in Staffordshire, for she has no other
acquaintances. But she shall be punished, she shall have him. I have sent
Charles to town to make matters up if he can, for I do not by any means want
her here. If Miss Summers will not keep her, you must find me out another
school, unless we can get her married immediately. Miss S. writes word that=
she
could not get the young lady to assign any cause for her extraordinary cond=
uct,
which confirms me in my own previous explanation of it. Frederica is too sh=
y, I
think, and too much in awe of me to tell tales, but if the mildness of her
uncle should get anything out of her, I am not afraid. I trust I shall be a=
ble
to make my story as good as hers. If I am vain of anything, it is of my
eloquence. Consideration and esteem as surely follow command of language as=
admiration
waits on beauty, and here I have opportunity enough for the exercise of my
talent, as the chief of my time is spent in conversation.
Reginald
is never easy unless we are by ourselves, and when the weather is tolerable=
, we
pace the shrubbery for hours together. I like him on the whole very well; h=
e is
clever and has a good deal to say, but he is sometimes impertinent and
troublesome. There is a sort of ridiculous delicacy about him which requires
the fullest explanation of whatever he may have heard to my disadvantage, a=
nd
is never satisfied till he thinks he has ascertained the beginning and end =
of
everything. This is one sort of love, but I confess it does not particularly
recommend itself to me. I infinitely prefer the tender and liberal spirit of
Mainwaring, which, impressed with the deepest conviction of my merit, is
satisfied that whatever I do must be right; and look with a degree of conte=
mpt
on the inquisitive and doubtful fancies of that heart which seems always de=
bating
on the reasonableness of its emotions. Mainwaring is indeed, beyond all
compare, superior to Reginald--superior in everything but the power of being
with me! Poor fellow! he is much distracted by jealousy, which I am not sor=
ry
for, as I know no better support of love. He has been teazing me to allow of
his coming into this country, and lodging somewhere near INCOG.; but I forb=
ade
everything of the kind. Those women are inexcusable who forget what is due =
to
themselves, and the opinion of the world.
Yours
ever, S. VERNON.
Churc=
hhill.
My de=
ar
Mother,--Mr. Vernon returned on Thursday night, bringing his niece with him.
Lady Susan had received a line from him by that day's post, informing her t=
hat
Miss Summers had absolutely refused to allow of Miss Vernon's continuance in
her academy; we were therefore prepared for her arrival, and expected them
impatiently the whole evening. They came while we were at tea, and I never =
saw
any creature look so frightened as Frederica when she entered the room. Lady
Susan, who had been shedding tears before, and showing great agitation at t=
he
idea of the meeting, received her with perfect self-command, and without
betraying the least tenderness of spirit. She hardly spoke to her, and on F=
rederica's
bursting into tears as soon as we were seated, took her out of the room, and
did not return for some time. When she did, her eyes looked very red and she
was as much agitated as before. We saw no more of her daughter. Poor Regina=
ld
was beyond measure concerned to see his fair friend in such distress, and
watched her with so much tender solicitude, that I, who occasionally caught=
her
observing his countenance with exultation, was quite out of patience. This
pathetic representation lasted the whole evening, and so ostentatious and
artful a display has entirely convinced me that she did in fact feel nothin=
g. I
am more angry with her than ever since I have seen her daughter; the poor g=
irl
looks so unhappy that my heart aches for her. Lady Susan is surely too seve=
re,
for Frederica does not seem to have the sort of temper to make severity
necessary. She looks perfectly timid, dejected, and penitent. She is very p=
retty,
though not so handsome as her mother, nor at all like her. Her complexion is
delicate, but neither so fair nor so blooming as Lady Susan's, and she has
quite the Vernon cast of countenance, the oval face and mild dark eyes, and
there is peculiar sweetness in her look when she speaks either to her uncle=
or
me, for as we behave kindly to her we have of course engaged her gratitude.=
Her mother has insinuated that her temper is
intractable, but I never saw a face less indicative of any evil disposition
than hers; and from what I can see of the behaviour of each to the other, t=
he
invariable severity of Lady Susan and the silent dejection of Frederica, I =
am led
to believe as heretofore that the former has no real love for her daughter,=
and
has never done her justice or treated her affectionately. I have not been a=
ble
to have any conversation with my niece; she is shy, and I think I can see t=
hat
some pains are taken to prevent her being much with me. Nothing satisfactory
transpires as to her reason for running away. Her kind-hearted uncle, you m=
ay
be sure, was too fearful of distressing her to ask many questions as they
travelled. I wish it had been possible for me to fetch her instead of him. I
think I should have discovered the truth in the course of a thirty-mile
journey. The small pianoforte has been removed within these few days, at La=
dy
Susan's request, into her dressing-room, and Frederica spends great part of=
the
day there, practising as it is called; but I seldom hear any noise when I p=
ass
that way; what she does with herself there I do not know. There are plenty =
of
books, but it is not every girl who has been running wild the first fifteen
years of her life, that can or will read. Poor creature! the prospect from =
her
window is not very instructive, for that room overlooks the lawn, you know,
with the shrubbery on one side, where she may see her mother walking for an
hour together in earnest conversation with Reginald. A girl of Frederica's =
age
must be childish indeed, if such things do not strike her. Is it not
inexcusable to give such an example to a daughter? Yet Reginald still thinks
Lady Susan the best of mothers, and still condemns Frederica as a worthless
girl! He is convinced that her attempt to run away proceeded from no,
justifiable cause, and had no provocation. I am sure I cannot say that it H=
AD, but
while Miss Summers declares that Miss Vernon showed no signs of obstinacy or
perverseness during her whole stay in Wigmore Street, till she was detected=
in
this scheme, I cannot so readily credit what Lady Susan has made him, and w=
ants
to make me believe, that it was merely an impatience of restraint and a des=
ire
of escaping from the tuition of masters which brought on the plan of an
elopement. O Reginald, how is your judgment enslaved! He scarcely dares even
allow her to be handsome, and when I speak of her beauty, replies only that=
her
eyes have no brilliancy! Sometimes he is sure she is deficient in
understanding, and at others that her temper only is in fault. In short, wh=
en a
person is always to deceive, it is impossible to be consistent. Lady Susan =
finds
it necessary that Frederica should be to blame, and probably has sometimes
judged it expedient to excuse her of ill-nature and sometimes to lament her
want of sense. Reginald is only repeating after her ladyship.
I remain, &c., &c.,
CATHERINE VERNON.
Churc=
hhill.
My de=
ar
Mother,--I am very glad to find that my description of Frederica Vernon has
interested you, for I do believe her truly deserving of your regard; and wh=
en I
have communicated a notion which has recently struck me, your kind impressi=
ons
in her favour will, I am sure, be heightened. I cannot help fancying that s=
he
is growing partial to my brother. I so very often see her eyes fixed on his
face with a remarkable expression of pensive admiration. He is certainly ve=
ry
handsome; and yet more, there is an openness in his manner that must be hig=
hly
prepossessing, and I am sure she feels it so. Thoughtful and pensive in
general, her countenance always brightens into a smile when Reginald says
anything amusing; and, let the subject be ever so serious that he may be co=
nversing
on, I am much mistaken if a syllable of his uttering escapes her. I want to
make him sensible of all this, for we know the power of gratitude on such a
heart as his; and could Frederica's artless affection detach him from her
mother, we might bless the day which brought her to Churchhill. I think, my
dear mother, you would not disapprove of her as a daughter. She is extremely
young, to be sure, has had a wretched education, and a dreadful example of =
levity
in her mother; but yet I can pronounce her disposition to be excellent, and=
her
natural abilities very good. Though totally without accomplishments, she is=
by
no means so ignorant as one might expect to find her, being fond of books a=
nd
spending the chief of her time in reading. Her mother leaves her more to
herself than she did, and I have her with me as much as possible, and have
taken great pains to overcome her timidity. We are very good friends, and
though she never opens her lips before her mother, she talks enough when al=
one
with me to make it clear that, if properly treated by Lady Susan, she would
always appear to much greater advantage. There cannot be a more gentle,
affectionate heart; or more obliging manners, when acting without restraint;
and her little cousins are all very fond of her.
Your affectionate daughter,
C. VERNON
Churc=
hhill.
You w=
ill be
eager, I know, to hear something further of Frederica, and perhaps may thin=
k me
negligent for not writing before. She arrived with her uncle last Thursday
fortnight, when, of course, I lost no time in demanding the cause of her
behaviour; and soon found myself to have been perfectly right in attributin=
g it
to my own letter. The prospect of it frightened her so thoroughly, that, wi=
th a
mixture of true girlish perverseness and folly, she resolved on getting out=
of
the house and proceeding directly by the stage to her friends, the Clarkes;=
and
had really got as far as the length of two streets in her journey when she =
was
fortunately missed, pursued, and overtaken. Such was the first distinguished
exploit of Miss Frederica Vernon; and, if we consider that it was achieved =
at
the tender age of sixteen, we shall have room for the most flattering
prognostics of her future renown. I am excessively provoked, however, at the
parade of propriety which prevented Miss Summers from keeping the girl; and=
it
seems so extraordinary a piece of nicety, considering my daughter's family
connections, that I can only suppose the lady to be governed by the fear of
never getting her money. Be that as it may, however, Frederica is returned =
on
my hands; and, having nothing else to employ her, is busy in pursuing the p=
lan
of romance begun at Langford. She is actually falling in love with Reginald=
De
Courcy! To disobey her mother by refusing an unexceptionable offer is not
enough; her affections must also be given without her mother's approbation.=
I
never saw a girl of her age bid fairer to be the sport of mankind. Her feel=
ings
are tolerably acute, and she is so charmingly artless in their display as to
afford the most reasonable hope of her being ridiculous, and despised by ev=
ery
man who sees her.
Artlessness will never do in love matters; and
that girl is born a simpleton who has it either by nature or affectation. I=
am
not yet certain that Reginald sees what she is about, nor is it of much con=
sequence.
She is now an object of indifference to him, and she would be one of contem=
pt
were he to understand her emotions. Her beauty is much admired by the Verno=
ns,
but it has no effect on him. She is in high favour with her aunt altogether,
because she is so little like myself, of course. She is exactly the compani=
on
for Mrs. Vernon, who dearly loves to be firm, and to have all the sense and=
all
the wit of the conversation to herself: Frederica will never eclipse her. W=
hen
she first came I was at some pains to prevent her seeing much of her aunt; =
but
I have relaxed, as I believe I may depend on her observing the rules I have
laid down for their discourse. But do not imagine that with all this lenity=
I
have for a moment given up my plan of her marriage. No; I am unalterably fi=
xed
on this point, though I have not yet quite decided on the manner of bringin=
g it
about. I should not chuse to have the business brought on here, and canvass=
ed
by the wise heads of Mr. and Mrs. Vernon; and I cannot just now afford to g=
o to
town. Miss Frederica must therefore wait a little.
Yours ever,
S. VERNON.
Churc=
hhill
We ha=
ve a
very unexpected guest with us at present, my dear Mother: he arrived yester=
day.
I heard a carriage at the door, as I was sitting with my children while they
dined; and supposing I should be wanted, left the nursery soon afterwards, =
and
was half-way downstairs, when Frederica, as pale as ashes, came running up,=
and
rushed by me into her own room. I instantly followed, and asked her what was
the matter. "Oh!" said she, "he is come--Sir James is come, =
and
what shall I do?" This was no explanation; I begged her to tell me what
she meant. At that moment we were interrupted by a knock at the door: it was
Reginald, who came, by Lady Susan's direction, to call Frederica down. &quo=
t;It
is Mr. De Courcy!" said she, colouring violently. "Mamma has sent=
for
me; I must go." We all three went down together; and I saw my brother
examining the terrified face of Frederica with surprize. In the breakfast-r=
oom
we found Lady Susan, and a young man of gentlemanlike appearance, whom she =
introduced
by the name of Sir James Martin--the very person, as you may remember, whom=
it
was said she had been at pains to detach from Miss Mainwaring; but the
conquest, it seems, was not designed for herself, or she has since transfer=
red
it to her daughter; for Sir James is now desperately in love with Frederica,
and with full encouragement from mamma. The poor girl, however, I am sure,
dislikes him; and though his person and address are very well, he appears, =
both
to Mr. Vernon and me, a very weak young man. Frederica looked so shy, so
confused, when we entered the room, that I felt for her exceedingly. Lady S=
usan
behaved with great attention to her visitor; and yet I thought I could perc=
eive
that she had no particular pleasure in seeing him. Sir James talked a great
deal, and made many civil excuses to me for the liberty he had taken in com=
ing
to Churchhill--mixing more frequent laughter with his discourse than the
subject required--said many things over and over again, and told Lady Susan
three times that he had seen Mrs. Johnson a few evenings before. He now and
then addressed Frederica, but more frequently her mother. The poor girl sat=
all
this time without opening her lips--her eyes cast down, and her colour vary=
ing
every instant; while Reginald observed all that passed in perfect silence. =
At
length Lady Susan, weary, I believe, of her situation, proposed walking; an=
d we
left the two gentlemen together, to put on our pelisses. As we went upstairs
Lady Susan begged permission to attend me for a few moments in my
dressing-room, as she was anxious to speak with me in private. I led her
thither accordingly, and as soon as the door was closed, she said: "I =
was
never more surprized in my life than by Sir James's arrival, and the sudden=
ness
of it requires some apology to you, my dear sister; though to ME, as a moth=
er,
it is highly flattering. He is so extremely attached to my daughter that he
could not exist longer without seeing her. Sir James is a young man of an
amiable disposition and excellent character; a little too much of the rattl=
e,
perhaps, but a year or two will rectify THAT: and he is in other respects so
very eligible a match for Frederica, that I have always observed his attach=
ment
with the greatest pleasure; and am persuaded that you and my brother will g=
ive the
alliance your hearty approbation. I have never before mentioned the likelih=
ood
of its taking place to anyone, because I thought that whilst Frederica
continued at school it had better not be known to exist; but now, as I am
convinced that Frederica is too old ever to submit to school confinement, a=
nd
have, therefore, begun to consider her union with Sir James as not very
distant, I had intended within a few days to acquaint yourself and Mr. Vern=
on
with the whole business. I am sure, my dear sister, you will excuse my
remaining silent so long, and agree with me that such circumstances, while =
they
continue from any cause in suspense, cannot be too cautiously concealed. Wh=
en
you have the happiness of bestowing your sweet little Catherine, some years=
hence,
on a man who in connection and character is alike unexceptionable, you will
know what I feel now; though, thank Heaven, you cannot have all my reasons =
for
rejoicing in such an event. Catherine will be amply provided for, and not, =
like
my Frederica, indebted to a fortunate establishment for the comforts of
life." She concluded by demanding my congratulations. I gave them some=
what
awkwardly, I believe; for, in fact, the sudden disclosure of so important a
matter took from me the power of speaking with any clearness. She thanked m=
e,
however, most affectionately, for my kind concern in the welfare of herself=
and
daughter; and then said: "I am not apt to deal in professions, my dear
Mrs. Vernon, and I never had the convenient talent of affecting sensations =
foreign
to my heart; and therefore I trust you will believe me when I declare, that
much as I had heard in your praise before I knew you, I had no idea that I
should ever love you as I now do; and I must further say that your friendsh=
ip
towards me is more particularly gratifying because I have reason to believe
that some attempts were made to prejudice you against me. I only wish that
they, whoever they are, to whom I am indebted for such kind intentions, cou=
ld
see the terms on which we now are together, and understand the real affecti=
on
we feel for each other; but I will not detain you any longer. God bless you,
for your goodness to me and my girl, and continue to you all your present h=
appiness."
What can one say of such a woman, my dear mother? Such earnestness such
solemnity of expression! and yet I cannot help suspecting the truth of
everything she says. As for Reginald, I believe he does not know what to ma=
ke
of the matter. When Sir James came, he appeared all astonishment and
perplexity; the folly of the young man and the confusion of Frederica entir=
ely
engrossed him; and though a little private discourse with Lady Susan has si=
nce
had its effect, he is still hurt, I am sure, at her allowing of such a man's
attentions to her daughter. Sir James invited himself with great composure =
to
remain here a few days--hoped we would not think it odd, was aware of its b=
eing
very impertinent, but he took the liberty of a relation; and concluded by w=
ishing,
with a laugh, that he might be really one very soon. Even Lady Susan seemed=
a
little disconcerted by this forwardness; in her heart I am persuaded she
sincerely wished him gone. But something must be done for this poor girl, if
her feelings are such as both I and her uncle believe them to be. She must =
not
be sacrificed to policy or ambition, and she must not be left to suffer from
the dread of it. The girl whose heart can distinguish Reginald De Courcy,
deserves, however he may slight her, a better fate than to be Sir James
Martin's wife. As soon as I can get her alone, I will discover the real tru=
th;
but she seems to wish to avoid me. I hope this does not proceed from anythi=
ng
wrong, and that I shall not find out I have thought too well of her. Her be=
haviour
to Sir James certainly speaks the greatest consciousness and embarrassment,=
but
I see nothing in it more like encouragement. Adieu, my dear mother.
Yours, &c.,
C. VERNON.
XXI MISS VERNON TO MR DE COURCY
Sir,--I hope you will excuse this libert=
y; I
am forced upon it by the greatest distress, or I should be ashamed to troub=
le
you. I am very miserable about Sir James Martin, and have no other way in t=
he
world of helping myself but by writing to you, for I am forbidden even spea=
king
to my uncle and aunt on the subject; and this being the case, I am afraid m=
y applying
to you will appear no better than equivocation, and as if I attended to the
letter and not the spirit of mamma's commands. But if you do not take my pa=
rt
and persuade her to break it off, I shall be half distracted, for I cannot =
bear
him. No human being but YOU could have any chance of prevailing with her. If
you will, therefore, have the unspeakably great kindness of taking my part =
with
her, and persuading her to send Sir James away, I shall be more obliged to =
you
than it is possible for me to express. I always disliked him from the first=
: it
is not a sudden fancy, I assure you, sir; I always thought him silly and im=
pertinent
and disagreeable, and now he is grown worse than ever. I would rather work =
for
my bread than marry him. I do not know how to apologize enough for this let=
ter;
I know it is taking so great a liberty. I am aware how dreadfully angry it =
will
make mamma, but I remember the risk.
I
am, Sir, your most humble servant,
F.
S. V.
XXII LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON=
Churchhill.
This is insufferable! My dearest friend,=
I was
never so enraged before, and must relieve myself by writing to you, who I k=
now
will enter into all my feelings. Who should come on Tuesday but Sir James
Martin! Guess my astonishment, and vexation--for, as you well know, I never
wished him to be seen at Churchhill. What a pity that you should not have k=
nown
his intentions! Not content with coming, he actually invited himself to rem=
ain
here a few days. I could have poisoned him! I made the best of it, however,=
and
told my story with great success to Mrs. Vernon, who, whatever might be her
real sentiments, said nothing in opposition to mine. I made a point also of
Frederica's behaving civilly to Sir James, and gave her to understand that I
was absolutely determined on her marrying him. She said something of her
misery, but that was all. I have for some time been more particularly resol=
ved
on the match from seeing the rapid increase of her affection for Reginald, =
and
from not feeling secure that a knowledge of such affection might not in the=
end
awaken a return. Contemptible as a regard founded only on compassion must m=
ake them
both in my eyes, I felt by no means assured that such might not be the
consequence. It is true that Reginald had not in any degree grown cool towa=
rds
me; but yet he has lately mentioned Frederica spontaneously and unnecessari=
ly,
and once said something in praise of her person. HE was all astonishment at=
the
appearance of my visitor, and at first observed Sir James with an attention
which I was pleased to see not unmixed with jealousy; but unluckily it was
impossible for me really to torment him, as Sir James, though extremely gal=
lant
to me, very soon made the whole party understand that his heart was devoted=
to
my daughter. I had no great difficulty in convincing De Courcy, when we were
alone, that I was perfectly justified, all things considered, in desiring t=
he
match; and the whole business seemed most comfortably arranged. They could =
none
of them help perceiving that Sir James was no Solomon; but I had positively
forbidden Frederica complaining to Charles Vernon or his wife, and they had
therefore no pretence for interference; though my impertinent sister, I
believe, wanted only opportunity for doing so. Everything, however, was goi=
ng
on calmly and quietly; and, though I counted the hours of Sir James's stay,=
my
mind was entirely satisfied with the posture of affairs. Guess, then, what I
must feel at the sudden disturbance of all my schemes; and that, too, from =
a quarter
where I had least reason to expect it. Reginald came this morning into my
dressing-room with a very unusual solemnity of countenance, and after some
preface informed me in so many words that he wished to reason with me on the
impropriety and unkindness of allowing Sir James Martin to address my daugh=
ter
contrary to her inclinations. I was all amazement. When I found that he was=
not
to be laughed out of his design, I calmly begged an explanation, and desire=
d to
know by what he was impelled, and by whom commissioned, to reprimand me. He
then told me, mixing in his speech a few insolent compliments and ill-timed
expressions of tenderness, to which I listened with perfect indifference, t=
hat
my daughter had acquainted him with some circumstances concerning herself, =
Sir
James, and me which had given him great uneasiness. In short, I found that =
she
had in the first place actually written to him to request his interference,=
and
that, on receiving her letter, he had conversed with her on the subject of =
it,
in order to understand the particulars, and to assure himself of her real
wishes. I have not a doubt but that the girl took this opportunity of making
downright love to him. I am convinced of it by the manner in which he spoke=
of
her. Much good may such love do him! I shall ever despise the man who can be
gratified by the passion which he never wished to inspire, nor solicited the
avowal of. I shall always detest them both. He can have no true regard for =
me,
or he would not have listened to her; and SHE, with her little rebellious h=
eart
and indelicate feelings, to throw herself into the protection of a young man
with whom she has scarcely ever exchanged two words before! I am equally
confounded at HER impudence and HIS credulity. How dared he believe what sh=
e told
him in my disfavour! Ought he not to have felt assured that I must have
unanswerable motives for all that I had done? Where was his reliance on my
sense and goodness then? Where the resentment which true love would have
dictated against the person defaming me--that person, too, a chit, a child,
without talent or education, whom he had been always taught to despise? I w=
as
calm for some time; but the greatest degree of forbearance may be overcome,=
and
I hope I was afterwards sufficiently keen. He endeavoured, long endeavoured=
, to
soften my resentment; but that woman is a fool indeed who, while insulted by
accusation, can be worked on by compliments. At length he left me, as deeply
provoked as myself; and he showed his anger more. I was quite cool, but he =
gave
way to the most violent indignation; I may therefore expect it will the soo=
ner
subside, and perhaps his may be vanished for ever, while mine will be found
still fresh and implacable. He is now shut up in his apartment, whither I h=
eard
him go on leaving mine. How unpleasant, one would think, must be his
reflections! but some people's feelings are incomprehensible. I have not yet
tranquillised myself enough to see Frederica. SHE shall not soon forget the
occurrences of this day; she shall find that she has poured forth her tender
tale of love in vain, and exposed herself for ever to the contempt of the w=
hole
world, and the severest resentment of her injured mother.
Your
affectionate
S.
VERNON.
Churc=
hhill.
Let me
congratulate you, my dearest Mother! The affair which has given us so much
anxiety is drawing to a happy conclusion. Our prospect is most delightful, =
and
since matters have now taken so favourable a turn, I am quite sorry that I =
ever
imparted my apprehensions to you; for the pleasure of learning that the dan=
ger
is over is perhaps dearly purchased by all that you have previously suffere=
d. I
am so much agitated by delight that I can scarcely hold a pen; but am
determined to send you a few short lines by James, that you may have some
explanation of what must so greatly astonish you, as that Reginald should be
returning to Parklands. I was sitting about half an hour ago with Sir James=
in the
breakfast parlour, when my brother called me out of the room. I instantly s=
aw
that something was the matter; his complexion was raised, and he spoke with
great emotion; you know his eager manner, my dear mother, when his mind is
interested. "Catherine," said he, "I am going home to-day; I=
am
sorry to leave you, but I must go: it is a great while since I have seen my
father and mother. I am going to send James forward with my hunters
immediately; if you have any letter, therefore, he can take it. I shall not=
be
at home myself till Wednesday or Thursday, as I shall go through London, wh=
ere
I have business; but before I leave you," he continued, speaking in a
lower tone, and with still greater energy, "I must warn you of one
thing--do not let Frederica Vernon be made unhappy by that Martin. He wants=
to
marry her; her mother promotes the match, but she cannot endure the idea of=
it.
Be assured that I speak from the fullest conviction of the truth of what I =
say;
I know that Frederica is made wretched by Sir James's continuing here. She =
is a
sweet girl, and deserves a better fate. Send him away immediately; he is on=
ly a
fool: but what her mother can mean, Heaven only knows! Good bye," he
added, shaking my hand with earnestness; "I do not know when you will =
see
me again; but remember what I tell you of Frederica; you MUST make it your
business to see justice done her. She is an amiable girl, and has a very
superior mind to what we have given her credit for." He then left me, =
and
ran upstairs. I would not try to stop him, for I know what his feelings must
be. The nature of mine, as I listened to him, I need not attempt to describ=
e;
for a minute or two I remained in the same spot, overpowered by wonder of a
most agreeable sort indeed; yet it required some consideration to be tranqu=
illy
happy. In about ten minutes after my return to the parlour Lady Susan enter=
ed
the room. I concluded, of course, that she and Reginald had been quarrellin=
g;
and looked with anxious curiosity for a confirmation of my belief in her fa=
ce.
Mistress of deceit, however, she appeared perfectly unconcerned, and after =
chatting
on indifferent subjects for a short time, said to me, "I find from Wil=
son
that we are going to lose Mr. De Courcy--is it true that he leaves Churchhi=
ll
this morning?" I replied that it was. "He told us nothing of all =
this
last night," said she, laughing, "or even this morning at breakfa=
st;
but perhaps he did not know it himself. Young men are often hasty in their
resolutions, and not more sudden in forming than unsteady in keeping them. I
should not be surprised if he were to change his mind at last, and not
go." She soon afterwards left the room. I trust, however, my dear moth=
er,
that we have no reason to fear an alteration of his present plan; things ha=
ve
gone too far. They must have quarrelled, and about Frederica, too. Her calm=
ness
astonishes me. What delight will be yours in seeing him again; in seeing him
still worthy your esteem, still capable of forming your happiness! When I n=
ext write
I shall be able to tell you that Sir James is gone, Lady Susan vanquished, =
and
Frederica at peace. We have much to do, but it shall be done. I am all
impatience to hear how this astonishing change was effected. I finish as I
began, with the warmest congratulations.
Yours ever, &c.,
CATH. VERNON.
XXIV FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME<=
/a>
Churchhill.
Little did I imagine, my dear Mother, wh=
en I
sent off my last letter, that the delightful perturbation of spirits I was =
then
in would undergo so speedy, so melancholy a reverse. I never can sufficient=
ly
regret that I wrote to you at all. Yet who could have foreseen what has
happened? My dear mother, every hope which made me so happy only two hours =
ago
has vanished. The quarrel between Lady Susan and Reginald is made up, and w=
e are
all as we were before. One point only is gained. Sir James Martin is dismis=
sed.
What are we now to look forward to? I am indeed disappointed; Reginald was =
all
but gone, his horse was ordered and all but brought to the door; who would =
not
have felt safe? For half an hour I was in momentary expectation of his
departure. After I had sent off my letter to you, I went to Mr. Vernon, and=
sat
with him in his room talking over the whole matter, and then determined to =
look
for Frederica, whom I had not seen since breakfast. I met her on the stairs,
and saw that she was crying. "My dear aunt," said she, "he is
going--Mr. De Courcy is going, and it is all my fault. I am afraid you will=
be
very angry with me, but indeed I had no idea it would end so." "My
love," I replied, "do not think it necessary to apologize to me on
that account. I shall feel myself under an obligation to anyone who is the
means of sending my brother home, because," recollecting myself, "=
;I
know my father wants very much to see him. But what is it you have done to
occasion all this?" She blushed deeply as she answered: "I was so
unhappy about Sir James that I could not help--I have done something very
wrong, I know; but you have not an idea of the misery I have been in: and m=
amma
had ordered me never to speak to you or my uncle about it, and--"
"You therefore spoke to my brother to engage his interference," s=
aid
I, to save her the explanation. "No, but I wrote to him--I did indeed,=
I
got up this morning before it was light, and was two hours about it; and wh=
en
my letter was done I thought I never should have courage to give it. After
breakfast however, as I was going to my room, I met him in the passage, and
then, as I knew that everything must depend on that moment, I forced myself=
to
give it. He was so good as to take it immediately. I dared not look at him,=
and
ran away directly. I was in such a fright I could hardly breathe. My dear a=
unt,
you do not know how miserable I have been." "Frederica" said=
I,
"you ought to have told me all your distresses. You would have found i=
n me
a friend always ready to assist you. Do you think that your uncle or I shou=
ld
not have espoused your cause as warmly as my brother?" "Indeed, I=
did
not doubt your kindness," said she, colouring again, "but I thoug=
ht
Mr. De Courcy could do anything with my mother; but I was mistaken: they ha=
ve
had a dreadful quarrel about it, and he is going away. Mamma will never for=
give
me, and I shall be worse off than ever." "No, you shall not,"=
; I
replied; "in such a point as this your mother's prohibition ought not =
to
have prevented your speaking to me on the subject. She has no right to make=
you
unhappy, and she shall NOT do it. Your applying, however, to Reginald can be
productive only of good to all parties. I believe it is best as it is. Depe=
nd
upon it that you shall not be made unhappy any longer." At that moment=
how
great was my astonishment at seeing Reginald come out of Lady Susan's
dressing-room. My heart misgave me instantly. His confusion at seeing me was
very evident. Frederica immediately disappeared. "Are you going?"=
I
said; "you will find Mr. Vernon in his own room." "No,
Catherine," he replied, "I am not going. Will you let me speak to=
you
a moment?" We went into my room. "I find," he continued, his
confusion increasing as he spoke, "that I have been acting with my usu=
al
foolish impetuosity. I have entirely misunderstood Lady Susan, and was on t=
he
point of leaving the house under a false impression of her conduct. There h=
as
been some very great mistake; we have been all mistaken, I fancy. Frederica
does not know her mother. Lady Susan means nothing but her good, but she wi=
ll
not make a friend of her. Lady Susan does not always know, therefore, what =
will
make her daughter happy. Besides, I could have no right to interfere. Miss
Vernon was mistaken in applying to me. In short, Catherine, everything has =
gone
wrong, but it is now all happily settled. Lady Susan, I believe, wishes to
speak to you about it, if you are at leisure." "Certainly," I
replied, deeply sighing at the recital of so lame a story. I made no commen=
ts,
however, for words would have been vain.
Reginald
was glad to get away, and I went to Lady Susan, curious, indeed, to hear her
account of it. "Did I not tell you," said she with a smile,
"that your brother would not leave us after all?" "You did, =
indeed,"
replied I very gravely; "but I flattered myself you would be mistaken.=
"
"I should not have hazarded such an opinion," returned she, "=
;if
it had not at that moment occurred to me that his resolution of going might=
be
occasioned by a conversation in which we had been this morning engaged, and
which had ended very much to his dissatisfaction, from our not rightly
understanding each other's meaning. This idea struck me at the moment, and I
instantly determined that an accidental dispute, in which I might probably =
be
as much to blame as himself, should not deprive you of your brother. If you
remember, I left the room almost immediately. I was resolved to lose no tim=
e in
clearing up those mistakes as far as I could. The case was this--Frederica =
had
set herself violently against marrying Sir James." "And can your
ladyship wonder that she should?" cried I with some warmth;
"Frederica has an excellent understanding, and Sir James has none.&quo=
t;
"I am at least very far from regretting it, my dear sister," said
she; "on the contrary, I am grateful for so favourable a sign of my
daughter's sense. Sir James is certainly below par (his boyish manners make=
him
appear worse); and had Frederica possessed the penetration and the abilities
which I could have wished in my daughter, or had I even known her to posses=
s as
much as she does, I should not have been anxious for the match." "=
;It
is odd that you should alone be ignorant of your daughter's sense!"
"Frederica never does justice to herself; her manners are shy and
childish, and besides she is afraid of me. During her poor father's life she
was a spoilt child; the severity which it has since been necessary for me to
show has alienated her affection; neither has she any of that brilliancy of
intellect, that genius or vigour of mind which will force itself forward.&q=
uot;
"Say rather that she has been unfortunate in her education!" &quo=
t;Heaven
knows, my dearest Mrs. Vernon, how fully I am aware of that; but I would wi=
sh
to forget every circumstance that might throw blame on the memory of one wh=
ose
name is sacred with me." Here she pretended to cry; I was out of patie=
nce
with her. "But what," said I, "was your ladyship going to te=
ll
me about your disagreement with my brother?" "It originated in an
action of my daughter's, which equally marks her want of judgment and the
unfortunate dread of me I have been mentioning--she wrote to Mr. De
Courcy." "I know she did; you had forbidden her speaking to Mr.
Vernon or to me on the cause of her distress; what could she do, therefore,=
but
apply to my brother?" "Good God!" she exclaimed, "what =
an opinion
you must have of me! Can you possibly suppose that I was aware of her
unhappiness! that it was my object to make my own child miserable, and that=
I
had forbidden her speaking to you on the subject from a fear of your
interrupting the diabolical scheme? Do you think me destitute of every hone=
st,
every natural feeling? Am I capable of consigning HER to everlasting misery
whose welfare it is my first earthly duty to promote? The idea is
horrible!" "What, then, was your intention when you insisted on h=
er
silence?" "Of what use, my dear sister, could be any application =
to
you, however the affair might stand? Why should I subject you to entreaties
which I refused to attend to myself? Neither for your sake nor for hers, nor
for my own, could such a thing be desirable. When my own resolution was tak=
en I
could not wish for the interference, however friendly, of another person. I=
was
mistaken, it is true, but I believed myself right." "But what was
this mistake to which your ladyship so often alludes! from whence arose so =
astonishing
a misconception of your daughter's feelings! Did you not know that she disl=
iked
Sir James?" "I knew that he was not absolutely the man she would =
have
chosen, but I was persuaded that her objections to him did not arise from a=
ny
perception of his deficiency. You must not question me, however, my dear
sister, too minutely on this point," continued she, taking me
affectionately by the hand; "I honestly own that there is something to
conceal. Frederica makes me very unhappy! Her applying to Mr. De Courcy hur=
t me
particularly." "What is it you mean to infer," said I, "=
;by
this appearance of mystery? If you think your daughter at all attached to
Reginald, her objecting to Sir James could not less deserve to be attended =
to
than if the cause of her objecting had been a consciousness of his folly; a=
nd
why should your ladyship, at any rate, quarrel with my brother for an
interference which, you must know, it is not in his nature to refuse when u=
rged
in such a manner?"
"His
disposition, you know, is warm, and he came to expostulate with me; his
compassion all alive for this ill-used girl, this heroine in distress! We
misunderstood each other: he believed me more to blame than I really was; I
considered his interference less excusable than I now find it. I have a real
regard for him, and was beyond expression mortified to find it, as I though=
t,
so ill bestowed. We were both warm, and of course both to blame. His resolu=
tion
of leaving Churchhill is consistent with his general eagerness. When I
understood his intention, however, and at the same time began to think that=
we
had been perhaps equally mistaken in each other's meaning, I resolved to ha=
ve
an explanation before it was too late. For any member of your family I must=
always
feel a degree of affection, and I own it would have sensibly hurt me if my
acquaintance with Mr. De Courcy had ended so gloomily. I have now only to s=
ay
further, that as I am convinced of Frederica's having a reasonable dislike =
to
Sir James, I shall instantly inform him that he must give up all hope of he=
r. I
reproach myself for having, even though innocently, made her unhappy on that
score. She shall have all the retribution in my power to make; if she value=
her
own happiness as much as I do, if she judge wisely, and command herself as =
she
ought, she may now be easy. Excuse me, my dearest sister, for thus trespass=
ing
on your time, but I owe it to my own character; and after this explanation =
I trust
I am in no danger of sinking in your opinion." I could have said,
"Not much, indeed!" but I left her almost in silence. It was the
greatest stretch of forbearance I could practise. I could not have stopped
myself had I begun. Her assurance! her deceit! but I will not allow myself =
to
dwell on them; they will strike you sufficiently. My heart sickens within m=
e.
As soon as I was tolerably composed I returned to the parlour. Sir James's
carriage was at the door, and he, merry as usual, soon afterwards took his
leave. How easily does her ladyship encourage or dismiss a lover! In spite =
of
this release, Frederica still looks unhappy: still fearful, perhaps, of her
mother's anger; and though dreading my brother's departure, jealous, it may=
be,
of his staying. I see how closely she observes him and Lady Susan, poor gir=
l! I
have now no hope for her. There is not a chance of her affection being
returned. He thinks very differently of her from what he used to do; he does
her some justice, but his reconciliation with her mother precludes every de=
arer
hope. Prepare, my dear mother, for the worst! The probability of their marr=
ying
is surely heightened! He is more securely hers than ever. When that wretched
event takes place, Frederica must belong wholly to us. I am thankful that my
last letter will precede this by so little, as every moment that you can be
saved from feeling a joy which leads only to disappointment is of consequen=
ce.
Yours
ever, &c.,
CATHERINE
VERNON.
Churc=
hhill.
I cal=
l on
you, dear Alicia, for congratulations: I am my own self, gay and triumphant!
When I wrote to you the other day I was, in truth, in high irritation, and =
with
ample cause. Nay, I know not whether I ought to be quite tranquil now, for I
have had more trouble in restoring peace than I ever intended to submit to-=
-a
spirit, too, resulting from a fancied sense of superior integrity, which is
peculiarly insolent! I shall not easily forgive him, I assure you. He was
actually on the point of leaving Churchhill! I had scarcely concluded my la=
st,
when Wilson brought me word of it. I found, therefore, that something must =
be
done; for I did not choose to leave my character at the mercy of a man whos=
e passions
are so violent and so revengeful. It would have been trifling with my
reputation to allow of his departing with such an impression in my disfavou=
r;
in this light, condescension was necessary. I sent Wilson to say that I des=
ired
to speak with him before he went; he came immediately. The angry emotions w=
hich
had marked every feature when we last parted were partially subdued. He see=
med
astonished at the summons, and looked as if half wishing and half fearing t=
o be
softened by what I might say. If my countenance expressed what I aimed at, =
it
was composed and dignified; and yet, with a degree of pensiveness which mig=
ht convince
him that I was not quite happy. "I beg your pardon, sir, for the liber=
ty I
have taken in sending for you," said I; "but as I have just learnt
your intention of leaving this place to-day, I feel it my duty to entreat t=
hat
you will not on my account shorten your visit here even an hour. I am perfe=
ctly
aware that after what has passed between us it would ill suit the feelings =
of
either to remain longer in the same house: so very great, so total a change
from the intimacy of friendship must render any future intercourse the seve=
rest
punishment; and your resolution of quitting Churchhill is undoubtedly in un=
ison
with our situation, and with those lively feelings which I know you to poss=
ess.
But, at the same time, it is not for me to suffer such a sacrifice as it mu=
st
be to leave relations to whom you are so much attached, and are so dear. My
remaining here cannot give that pleasure to Mr. and Mrs. Vernon which your
society must; and my visit has already perhaps been too long. My removal,
therefore, which must, at any rate, take place soon, may, with perfect
convenience, be hastened; and I make it my particular request that I may no=
t in
any way be instrumental in separating a family so affectionately attached to
each other. Where I go is of no consequence to anyone; of very little to
myself; but you are of importance to all your connections." Here I
concluded, and I hope you will be satisfied with my speech. Its effect on
Reginald justifies some portion of vanity, for it was no less favourable th=
an
instantaneous. Oh, how delightful it was to watch the variations of his
countenance while I spoke! to see the struggle between returning tenderness=
and
the remains of displeasure. There is something agreeable in feelings so eas=
ily worked
on; not that I envy him their possession, nor would, for the world, have su=
ch
myself; but they are very convenient when one wishes to influence the passi=
ons
of another. And yet this Reginald, whom a very few words from me softened at
once into the utmost submission, and rendered more tractable, more attached,
more devoted than ever, would have left me in the first angry swelling of h=
is
proud heart without deigning to seek an explanation. Humbled as he now is, I
cannot forgive him such an instance of pride, and am doubtful whether I oug=
ht
not to punish him by dismissing him at once after this reconciliation, or by
marrying and teazing him for ever. But these measures are each too violent =
to
be adopted without some deliberation; at present my thoughts are fluctuating
between various schemes. I have many things to compass: I must punish
Frederica, and pretty severely too, for her application to Reginald; I must
punish him for receiving it so favourably, and for the rest of his conduct.=
I
must torment my sister-in-law for the insolent triumph of her look and mann=
er
since Sir James has been dismissed; for, in reconciling Reginald to me, I w=
as
not able to save that ill-fated young man; and I must make myself amends for
the humiliation to which I have stooped within these few days. To effect all
this I have various plans. I have also an idea of being soon in town; and
whatever may be my determination as to the rest, I shall probably put THAT
project in execution; for London will be always the fairest field of action=
, however
my views may be directed; and at any rate I shall there be rewarded by your
society, and a little dissipation, for a ten weeks' penance at Churchhill. I
believe I owe it to my character to complete the match between my daughter =
and
Sir James after having so long intended it. Let me know your opinion on this
point. Flexibility of mind, a disposition easily biassed by others, is an
attribute which you know I am not very desirous of obtaining; nor has Frede=
rica
any claim to the indulgence of her notions at the expense of her mother's i=
nclinations.
Her idle love for Reginald, too! It is surely my duty to discourage such
romantic nonsense. All things considered, therefore, it seems incumbent on =
me
to take her to town and marry her immediately to Sir James. When my own wil=
l is
effected contrary to his, I shall have some credit in being on good terms w=
ith
Reginald, which at present, in fact, I have not; for though he is still in =
my
power, I have given up the very article by which our quarrel was produced, =
and
at best the honour of victory is doubtful. Send me your opinion on all thes=
e matters,
my dear Alicia, and let me know whether you can get lodgings to suit me wit=
hin
a short distance of you.
Your most attached
S. VERNON.
XXVI MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY SUSAN=
Edward Street.
I am gratified by your reference, and th=
is is
my advice: that you come to town yourself, without loss of time, but that y=
ou
leave Frederica behind. It would surely be much more to the purpose to get
yourself well established by marrying Mr. De Courcy, than to irritate him a=
nd
the rest of his family by making her marry Sir James. You should think more=
of yourself
and less of your daughter. She is not of a disposition to do you credit in =
the
world, and seems precisely in her proper place at Churchhill, with the Vern=
ons.
But you are fitted for society, and it is shameful to have you exiled from =
it.
Leave Frederica, therefore, to punish herself for the plague she has given =
you,
by indulging that romantic tender-heartedness which will always ensure her
misery enough, and come to London as soon as you can. I have another reason=
for
urging this: Mainwaring came to town last week, and has contrived, in spite=
of
Mr. Johnson, to make opportunities of seeing me. He is absolutely miserable
about you, and jealous to such a degree of De Courcy that it would be highly
unadvisable for them to meet at present. And yet, if you do not allow him to
see you here, I cannot answer for his not committing some great
imprudence--such as going to Churchhill, for instance, which would be dread=
ful!
Besides, if you take my advice, and resolve to marry De Courcy, it will be
indispensably necessary to you to get Mainwaring out of the way; and you on=
ly
can have influence enough to send him back to his wife. I have still another
motive for your coming: Mr. Johnson leaves London next Tuesday; he is going=
for
his health to Bath, where, if the waters are favourable to his constitution=
and
my wishes, he will be laid up with the gout many weeks. During his absence =
we
shall be able to chuse our own society, and to have true enjoyment. I would=
ask
you to Edward Street, but that once he forced from me a kind of promise nev=
er to
invite you to my house; nothing but my being in the utmost distress for mon=
ey
should have extorted it from me. I can get you, however, a nice drawing-room
apartment in Upper Seymour Street, and we may be always together there or h=
ere;
for I consider my promise to Mr. Johnson as comprehending only (at least in=
his
absence) your not sleeping in the house. Poor Mainwaring gives me such hist=
ories
of his wife's jealousy. Silly woman to expect constancy from so charming a =
man!
but she always was silly--intolerably so in marrying him at all, she the
heiress of a large fortune and he without a shilling: one title, I know, she
might have had, besides baronets. Her folly in forming the connection was s=
o great
that, though Mr. Johnson was her guardian, and I do not in general share HIS
feelings, I never can forgive her.
Adieu.
Yours ever,
ALICIA.
Churc=
hhill.
This
letter, my dear Mother, will be brought you by Reginald. His long visit is
about to be concluded at last, but I fear the separation takes place too la=
te
to do us any good. She is going to London to see her particular friend, Mrs.
Johnson. It was at first her intention that Frederica should accompany her,=
for
the benefit of masters, but we overruled her there. Frederica was wretched =
in
the idea of going, and I could not bear to have her at the mercy of her mot=
her;
not all the masters in London could compensate for the ruin of her comfort.=
I should
have feared, too, for her health, and for everything but her principles--th=
ere
I believe she is not to be injured by her mother, or her mother's friends; =
but
with those friends she must have mixed (a very bad set, I doubt not), or ha=
ve
been left in total solitude, and I can hardly tell which would have been wo=
rse
for her. If she is with her mother, moreover, she must, alas! in all
probability be with Reginald, and that would be the greatest evil of all. H=
ere
we shall in time be in peace, and our regular employments, our books and
conversations, with exercise, the children, and every domestic pleasure in =
my
power to procure her, will, I trust, gradually overcome this youthful
attachment. I should not have a doubt of it were she slighted for any other
woman in the world than her own mother. How long Lady Susan will be in town=
, or
whether she returns here again, I know not. I could not be cordial in my in=
vitation,
but if she chuses to come no want of cordiality on my part will keep her aw=
ay.
I could not help asking Reginald if he intended being in London this winter=
, as
soon as I found her ladyship's steps would be bent thither; and though he
professed himself quite undetermined, there was something in his look and v=
oice
as he spoke which contradicted his words. I have done with lamentation; I l=
ook
upon the event as so far decided that I resign myself to it in despair. If =
he leaves
you soon for London everything will be concluded.
Your affectionate, &c.,
C. VERNON.
Edward
Street.
My de=
arest
Friend,--I write in the greatest distress; the most unfortunate event has j=
ust
taken place. Mr. Johnson has hit on the most effectual manner of plaguing us
all. He had heard, I imagine, by some means or other, that you were soon to=
be
in London, and immediately contrived to have such an attack of the gout as =
must
at least delay his journey to Bath, if not wholly prevent it. I am persuaded
the gout is brought on or kept off at pleasure; it was the same when I want=
ed
to join the Hamiltons to the Lakes; and three years ago, when I had a fancy=
for
Bath, nothing could induce him to have a gouty symptom.
I am pleased to find that my letter had so much
effect on you, and that De Courcy is certainly your own. Let me hear from y=
ou
as soon as you arrive, and in particular tell me what you mean to do with
Mainwaring. It is impossible to say when I shall be able to come to you; my=
confinement
must be great. It is such an abominable trick to be ill here instead of at =
Bath
that I can scarcely command myself at all. At Bath his old aunts would have
nursed him, but here it all falls upon me; and he bears pain with such pati=
ence
that I have not the common excuse for losing my temper.
Yours ever,
ALICIA.
Upper
Seymour Street.
My de=
ar
Alicia,--There needed not this last fit of the gout to make me detest Mr.
Johnson, but now the extent of my aversion is not to be estimated. To have =
you confined
as nurse in his apartment! My dear Alicia, of what a mistake were you guilt=
y in
marrying a man of his age! just old enough to be formal, ungovernable, and =
to
have the gout; too old to be agreeable, too young to die. I arrived last ni=
ght
about five, had scarcely swallowed my dinner when Mainwaring made his
appearance. I will not dissemble what real pleasure his sight afforded me, =
nor
how strongly I felt the contrast between his person and manners and those o=
f Reginald,
to the infinite disadvantage of the latter. For an hour or two I was even
staggered in my resolution of marrying him, and though this was too idle and
nonsensical an idea to remain long on my mind, I do not feel very eager for=
the
conclusion of my marriage, nor look forward with much impatience to the time
when Reginald, according to our agreement, is to be in town. I shall probab=
ly
put off his arrival under some pretence or other. He must not come till
Mainwaring is gone. I am still doubtful at times as to marrying; if the old=
man
would die I might not hesitate, but a state of dependance on the caprice of=
Sir
Reginald will not suit the freedom of my spirit; and if I resolve to wait f=
or
that event, I shall have excuse enough at present in having been scarcely t=
en months
a widow. I have not given Mainwaring any hint of my intention, or allowed h=
im
to consider my acquaintance with Reginald as more than the commonest
flirtation, and he is tolerably appeased. Adieu, till we meet; I am enchant=
ed
with my lodgings.
Yours ever,
S. VERNON.
Upper
Seymour Street.
I have
received your letter, and though I do not attempt to conceal that I am
gratified by your impatience for the hour of meeting, I yet feel myself und=
er
the necessity of delaying that hour beyond the time originally fixed. Do not
think me unkind for such an exercise of my power, nor accuse me of instabil=
ity
without first hearing my reasons. In the course of my journey from Churchhi=
ll I
had ample leisure for reflection on the present state of our affairs, and e=
very
review has served to convince me that they require a delicacy and cautiousn=
ess
of conduct to which we have hitherto been too little attentive. We have been
hurried on by our feelings to a degree of precipitation which ill accords w=
ith
the claims of our friends or the opinion of the world. We have been unguard=
ed
in forming this hasty engagement, but we must not complete the imprudence by
ratifying it while there is so much reason to fear the connection would be
opposed by those friends on whom you depend. It is not for us to blame any
expectations on your father's side of your marrying to advantage; where
possessions are so extensive as those of your family, the wish of increasing
them, if not strictly reasonable, is too common to excite surprize or
resentment. He has a right to require; a woman of fortune in his
daughter-in-law, and I am sometimes quarrelling with myself for suffering y=
ou
to form a connection so imprudent; but the influence of reason is often
acknowledged too late by those who feel like me. I have now been but a few
months a widow, and, however little indebted to my husband's memory for any
happiness derived from him during a union of some years, I cannot forget th=
at
the indelicacy of so early a second marriage must subject me to the censure=
of
the world, and incur, what would be still more insupportable, the displeasu=
re
of Mr. Vernon. I might perhaps harden myself in time against the injustice =
of
general reproach, but the loss of HIS valued esteem I am, as you well know,
ill-fitted to endure; and when to this may be added the consciousness of ha=
ving
injured you with your family, how am I to support myself? With feelings so
poignant as mine, the conviction of having divided the son from his parents
would make me, even with you, the most miserable of beings. It will surely,
therefore, be advisable to delay our union--to delay it till appearances are
more promising--till affairs have taken a more favourable turn. To assist u=
s in
such a resolution I feel that absence will be necessary. We must not meet. =
Cruel
as this sentence may appear, the necessity of pronouncing it, which can alo=
ne
reconcile it to myself, will be evident to you when you have considered our
situation in the light in which I have found myself imperiously obliged to
place it. You may be--you must be--well assured that nothing but the strong=
est
conviction of duty could induce me to wound my own feelings by urging a
lengthened separation, and of insensibility to yours you will hardly suspect
me. Again, therefore, I say that we ought not, we must not, yet meet. By a
removal for some months from each other we shall tranquillise the sisterly
fears of Mrs. Vernon, who, accustomed herself to the enjoyment of riches,
considers fortune as necessary everywhere, and whose sensibilities are not =
of a
nature to comprehend ours. Let me hear from you soon--very soon. Tell me th=
at
you submit to my arguments, and do not reproach me for using such. I cannot
bear reproaches: my spirits are not so high as to need being repressed. I m=
ust
endeavour to seek amusement, and fortunately many of my friends are in town;
amongst them the Mainwarings; you know how sincerely I regard both husband =
and
wife.
I am, very faithfully yours,
S. VERNON
Upper
Seymour Street.
My de=
ar
Friend,--That tormenting creature, Reginald, is here. My letter, which was
intended to keep him longer in the country, has hastened him to town. Much =
as I
wish him away, however, I cannot help being pleased with such a proof of
attachment. He is devoted to me, heart and soul. He will carry this note
himself, which is to serve as an introduction to you, with whom he longs to=
be
acquainted. Allow him to spend the evening with you, that I may be in no da=
nger
of his returning here. I have told him that I am not quite well, and must be
alone; and should he call again there might be confusion, for it is impossi=
ble
to be sure of servants. Keep him, therefore, I entreat you, in Edward Stree=
t.
You will not find him a heavy companion, and I allow you to flirt with him =
as much
as you like. At the same time, do not forget my real interest; say all that=
you
can to convince him that I shall be quite wretched if he remains here; you =
know
my reasons--propriety, and so forth. I would urge them more myself, but tha=
t I
am impatient to be rid of him, as Mainwaring comes within half an hour. Adi=
eu!
S VERNON
Edward
Street.
My de=
ar
Creature,--I am in agonies, and know not what to do. Mr. De Courcy arrived =
just
when he should not. Mrs. Mainwaring had that instant entered the house, and
forced herself into her guardian's presence, though I did not know a syllab=
le
of it till afterwards, for I was out when both she and Reginald came, or I
should have sent him away at all events; but she was shut up with Mr. Johns=
on,
while he waited in the drawing-room for me. She arrived yesterday in pursui=
t of
her husband, but perhaps you know this already from himself. She came to th=
is
house to entreat my husband's interference, and before I could be aware of =
it,
everything that you could wish to be concealed was known to him, and unluck=
ily
she had wormed out of Mainwaring's servant that he had visited you every day
since your being in town, and had just watched him to your door herself! Wh=
at
could I do! Facts are such horrid things! All is by this time known to De
Courcy, who is now alone with Mr. Johnson. Do not accuse me; indeed, it was
impossible to prevent it. Mr. Johnson has for some time suspected De Courcy=
of
intending to marry you, and would speak with him alone as soon as he knew h=
im
to be in the house. That detestable Mrs. Mainwaring, who, for your comfort,=
has
fretted herself thinner and uglier than ever, is still here, and they have =
been
all closeted together. What can be done? At any rate, I hope he will plague=
his
wife more than ever. With anxious wishes, Yours faithfully,
ALICIA.
Upper
Seymour Street.
This
eclaircissement is rather provoking. How unlucky that you should have been =
from
home! I thought myself sure of you at seven! I am undismayed however. Do not
torment yourself with fears on my account; depend on it, I can make my story
good with Reginald. Mainwaring is just gone; he brought me the news of his
wife's arrival. Silly woman, what does she expect by such manoeuvres? Yet I
wish she had stayed quietly at Langford. Reginald will be a little enraged =
at
first, but by to-morrow's dinner, everything will be well again.
Adieu!
S. V.
--Hot=
el
I wri=
te
only to bid you farewell, the spell is removed; I see you as you are. Since=
we
parted yesterday, I have received from indisputable authority such a histor=
y of
you as must bring the most mortifying conviction of the imposition I have b=
een
under, and the absolute necessity of an immediate and eternal separation fr=
om
you. You cannot doubt to what I allude. Langford! Langford! that word will =
be sufficient.
I received my information in Mr. Johnson's house, from Mrs. Mainwaring hers=
elf.
You know how I have loved you; you can intimately judge of my present feeli=
ngs,
but I am not so weak as to find indulgence in describing them to a woman who
will glory in having excited their anguish, but whose affection they have n=
ever
been able to gain.
R. DE COURCY.
Upper
Seymour Street.
I wil=
l not
attempt to describe my astonishment in reading the note this moment received
from you. I am bewildered in my endeavours to form some rational conjecture=
of
what Mrs. Mainwaring can have told you to occasion so extraordinary a chang=
e in
your sentiments. Have I not explained everything to you with respect to mys=
elf
which could bear a doubtful meaning, and which the ill-nature of the world =
had
interpreted to my discredit? What can you now have heard to stagger your es=
teem
for me? Have I ever had a concealment from you? Reginald, you agitate me be=
yond
expression, I cannot suppose that the old story of Mrs. Mainwaring's jealou=
sy
can be revived again, or at least be LISTENED to again. Come to me immediat=
ely,
and explain what is at present absolutely incomprehensible. Believe me the
single word of Langford is not of such potent intelligence as to supersede =
the
necessity of more. If we ARE to part, it will at least be handsome to take =
your
personal leave--but I have little heart to jest; in truth, I am serious eno=
ugh;
for to be sunk, though but for an hour, in your esteem is a humiliation to
which I know not how to submit. I shall count every minute till your arriva=
l.
S. V.
----H=
otel.
Why w=
ould
you write to me? Why do you require particulars? But, since it must be so, =
I am
obliged to declare that all the accounts of your misconduct during the life,
and since the death of Mr. Vernon, which had reached me, in common with the
world in general, and gained my entire belief before I saw you, but which y=
ou,
by the exertion of your perverted abilities, had made me resolved to disall=
ow,
have been unanswerably proved to me; nay more, I am assured that a connecti=
on, of
which I had never before entertained a thought, has for some time existed, =
and
still continues to exist, between you and the man whose family you robbed of
its peace in return for the hospitality with which you were received into i=
t;
that you have corresponded with him ever since your leaving Langford; not w=
ith
his wife, but with him, and that he now visits you every day. Can you, dare=
you
deny it? and all this at the time when I was an encouraged, an accepted lov=
er!
From what have I not escaped! I have only to be grateful. Far from me be all
complaint, every sigh of regret. My own folly had endangered me, my
preservation I owe to the kindness, the integrity of another; but the unfor=
tunate
Mrs. Mainwaring, whose agonies while she related the past seemed to threate=
n her
reason, how is SHE to be consoled! After such a discovery as this, you will
scarcely affect further wonder at my meaning in bidding you adieu. My
understanding is at length restored, and teaches no less to abhor the artif=
ices
which had subdued me than to despise myself for the weakness on which their
strength was founded.
R. DE COURCY.
Upper
Seymour Street.
I am =
satisfied,
and will trouble you no more when these few lines are dismissed. The engage=
ment
which you were eager to form a fortnight ago is no longer compatible with y=
our
views, and I rejoice to find that the prudent advice of your parents has not
been given in vain. Your restoration to peace will, I doubt not, speedily
follow this act of filial obedience, and I flatter myself with the hope of
surviving my share in this disappointment.
S. V.
Edward
Street
I am
grieved, though I cannot be astonished at your rupture with Mr. De Courcy; =
he
has just informed Mr. Johnson of it by letter. He leaves London, he says,
to-day. Be assured that I partake in all your feelings, and do not be angry=
if
I say that our intercourse, even by letter, must soon be given up. It makes=
me
miserable; but Mr. Johnson vows that if I persist in the connection, he will
settle in the country for the rest of his life, and you know it is impossib=
le
to submit to such an extremity while any other alternative remains. You have
heard of course that the Mainwarings are to part, and I am afraid Mrs. M. w=
ill
come home to us again; but she is still so fond of her husband, and frets so
much about him, that perhaps she may not live long. Miss Mainwaring is just
come to town to be with her aunt, and they say that she declares she will h=
ave Sir
James Martin before she leaves London again. If I were you, I would certain=
ly
get him myself. I had almost forgot to give you my opinion of Mr. De Courcy=
; I
am really delighted with him; he is full as handsome, I think, as Mainwarin=
g,
and with such an open, good-humoured countenance, that one cannot help lovi=
ng
him at first sight. Mr. Johnson and he are the greatest friends in the worl=
d.
Adieu, my dearest Susan, I wish matters did not go so perversely. That unlu=
cky
visit to Langford! but I dare say you did all for the best, and there is no
defying destiny.
Your sincerely attached
ALICIA.
Upper
Seymour Street.
My dear Alicia,--I yield to the necessity which
parts us. Under circumstances you could not act otherwise. Our friendship
cannot be impaired by it, and in happier times, when your situation is as i=
ndependent
as mine, it will unite us again in the same intimacy as ever. For this I sh=
all
impatiently wait, and meanwhile can safely assure you that I never was more=
at
ease, or better satisfied with myself and everything about me than at the
present hour. Your husband I abhor, Reginald I despise, and I am secure of
never seeing either again. Have I not reason to rejoice? Mainwaring is more
devoted to me than ever; and were we at liberty, I doubt if I could resist =
even
matrimony offered by HIM. This event, if his wife live with you, it may be =
in
your power to hasten. The violence of her feelings, which must wear her out,
may be easily kept in irritation. I rely on your friendship for this. I am =
now satisfied
that I never could have brought myself to marry Reginald, and am equally
determined that Frederica never shall. To-morrow, I shall fetch her from
Churchhill, and let Maria Mainwaring tremble for the consequence. Frederica
shall be Sir James's wife before she quits my house, and she may whimper, a=
nd
the Vernons may storm, I regard them not. I am tired of submitting my will =
to
the caprices of others; of resigning my own judgment in deference to those =
to
whom I owe no duty, and for whom I feel no respect. I have given up too muc=
h,
have been too easily worked on, but Frederica shall now feel the difference.
Adieu, dearest of friends; may the next gouty attack be more favourable! an=
d may
you always regard me as unalterably yours,
S. VERNON
XL LADY DE COURCY TO MRS. VERNON
My dear Catherine,--I have charming news=
for
you, and if I had not sent off my letter this morning you might have been
spared the vexation of knowing of Reginald's being gone to London, for he is
returned. Reginald is returned, not to ask our consent to his marrying Lady
Susan, but to tell us they are parted for ever. He has been only an hour in=
the
house, and I have not been able to learn particulars, for he is so very low=
that
I have not the heart to ask questions, but I hope we shall soon know all. T=
his
is the most joyful hour he has ever given us since the day of his birth.
Nothing is wanting but to have you here, and it is our particular wish and
entreaty that you would come to us as soon as you can. You have owed us a v=
isit
many long weeks; I hope nothing will make it inconvenient to Mr. Vernon; and
pray bring all my grand-children; and your dear niece is included, of cours=
e; I
long to see her. It has been a sad, heavy winter hitherto, without Reginald,
and seeing nobody from Churchhill. I never found the season so dreary befor=
e;
but this happy meeting will make us young again. Frederica runs much in my
thoughts, and when Reginald has recovered his usual good spirits (as I trus=
t he
soon will) we will try to rob him of his heart once more, and I am full of
hopes of seeing their hands joined at no great distance.
Your
affectionate mother,
C.
DE COURCY
XLI MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY
Churchhill.
My dear Mother,--Your letter has surpriz=
ed me
beyond measure! Can it be true that they are really separated--and for ever=
? I
should be overjoyed if I dared depend on it, but after all that I have seen=
how
can one be secure. And Reginald really with you! My surprize is the greater
because on Wednesday, the very day of his coming to Parklands, we had a mos=
t unexpected
and unwelcome visit from Lady Susan, looking all cheerfulness and good-humo=
ur,
and seeming more as if she were to marry him when she got to London than as=
if
parted from him for ever. She stayed nearly two hours, was as affectionate =
and
agreeable as ever, and not a syllable, not a hint was dropped, of any
disagreement or coolness between them. I asked her whether she had seen my
brother since his arrival in town; not, as you may suppose, with any doubt =
of
the fact, but merely to see how she looked. She immediately answered, witho=
ut
any embarrassment, that he had been kind enough to call on her on Monday; b=
ut
she believed he had already returned home, which I was very far from credit=
ing.
Your kind invitation is accepted by us with pleasure, and on Thursday next =
we and
our little ones will be with you. Pray heaven, Reginald may not be in town
again by that time! I wish we could bring dear Frederica too, but I am sorr=
y to
say that her mother's errand hither was to fetch her away; and, miserable a=
s it
made the poor girl, it was impossible to detain her. I was thoroughly unwil=
ling
to let her go, and so was her uncle; and all that could be urged we did urg=
e;
but Lady Susan declared that as she was now about to fix herself in London =
for
several months, she could not be easy if her daughter were not with her for
masters, &c. Her manner, to be sure, was very kind and proper, and Mr.
Vernon believes that Frederica will now be treated with affection. I wish I=
could
think so too. The poor girl's heart was almost broke at taking leave of us.=
I
charged her to write to me very often, and to remember that if she were in =
any
distress we should be always her friends. I took care to see her alone, tha=
t I
might say all this, and I hope made her a little more comfortable; but I sh=
all
not be easy till I can go to town and judge of her situation myself. I wish
there were a better prospect than now appears of the match which the conclu=
sion
of your letter declares your expectations of. At present, it is not very
likely,
Yours
ever, &c.,
C.
VERNON
This correspondence, by a meeting betwee=
n some
of the parties, and a separation between the others, could not, to the great
detriment of the Post Office revenue, be continued any longer. Very little
assistance to the State could be derived from the epistolary intercourse of
Mrs. Vernon and her niece; for the former soon perceived, by the style of
Frederica's letters, that they were written under her mother's inspection! =
and
therefore, deferring all particular enquiry till she could make it personal=
ly
in London, ceased writing minutely or often. Having learnt enough, in the
meanwhile, from her open-hearted brother, of what had passed between him and
Lady Susan to sink the latter lower than ever in her opinion, she was
proportionably more anxious to get Frederica removed from such a mother, and
placed under her own care; and, though with little hope of success, was
resolved to leave nothing unattempted that might offer a chance of obtaining
her sister-in-law's consent to it. Her anxiety on the subject made her press
for an early visit to London; and Mr. Vernon, who, as it must already have
appeared, lived only to do whatever he was desired, soon found some
accommodating business to call him thither. With a heart full of the matter,
Mrs. Vernon waited on Lady Susan shortly after her arrival in town, and was=
met
with such an easy and cheerful affection, as made her almost turn from her =
with
horror. No remembrance of Reginald, no consciousness of guilt, gave one loo=
k of
embarrassment; she was in excellent spirits, and seemed eager to show at on=
ce
by ever possible attention to her brother and sister her sense of their
kindness, and her pleasure in their society. Frederica was no more altered =
than
Lady Susan; the same restrained manners, the same timid look in the presenc=
e of
her mother as heretofore, assured her aunt of her situation being
uncomfortable, and confirmed her in the plan of altering it. No unkindness,
however, on the part of Lady Susan appeared. Persecution on the subject of =
Sir
James was entirely at an end; his name merely mentioned to say that he was =
not
in London; and indeed, in all her conversation, she was solicitous only for=
the
welfare and improvement of her daughter, acknowledging, in terms of grateful
delight, that Frederica was now growing every day more and more what a pare=
nt
could desire. Mrs. Vernon, surprized and incredulous, knew not what to susp=
ect,
and, without any change in her own views, only feared greater difficulty in
accomplishing them. The first hope of anything better was derived from Lady
Susan's asking her whether she thought Frederica looked quite as well as she
had done at Churchhill, as she must confess herself to have sometimes an
anxious doubt of London's perfectly agreeing with her. Mrs. Vernon, encoura=
ging
the doubt, directly proposed her niece's returning with them into the count=
ry.
Lady Susan was unable to express her sense of such kindness, yet knew not, =
from
a variety of reasons, how to part with her daughter; and as, though her own
plans were not yet wholly fixed, she trusted it would ere long be in her po=
wer
to take Frederica into the country herself, concluded by declining entirely=
to
profit by such unexampled attention. Mrs. Vernon persevered, however, in the
offer of it, and though Lady Susan continued to resist, her resistance in t=
he
course of a few days seemed somewhat less formidable. The lucky alarm of an
influenza decided what might not have been decided quite so soon. Lady Susa=
n's
maternal fears were then too much awakened for her to think of anything but
Frederica's removal from the risk of infection; above all disorders in the
world she most dreaded the influenza for her daughter's constitution!
Frederica
returned to Churchhill with her uncle and aunt; and three weeks afterwards,
Lady Susan announced her being married to Sir James Martin. Mrs. Vernon was
then convinced of what she had only suspected before, that she might have
spared herself all the trouble of urging a removal which Lady Susan had
doubtless resolved on from the first. Frederica's visit was nominally for s=
ix
weeks, but her mother, though inviting her to return in one or two affectio=
nate
letters, was very ready to oblige the whole party by consenting to a
prolongation of her stay, and in the course of two months ceased to write of
her absence, and in the course of two or more to write to her at all. Frede=
rica
was therefore fixed in the family of her uncle and aunt till such time as R=
eginald
De Courcy could be talked, flattered, and finessed into an affection for her
which, allowing leisure for the conquest of his attachment to her mother, f=
or
his abjuring all future attachments, and detesting the sex, might be reason=
ably
looked for in the course of a twelvemonth. Three months might have done it =
in
general, but Reginald's feelings were no less lasting than lively. Whether =
Lady
Susan was or was not happy in her second choice, I do not see how it can ev=
er
be ascertained; for who would take her assurance of it on either side of the
question? The world must judge from probabilities; she had nothing against =
her
but her husband, and her conscience. Sir James may seem to have drawn a har=
der
lot than mere folly merited; I leave him, therefore, to all the pity that
anybody can give him. For myself, I confess that I can pity only Miss
Mainwaring; who, coming to town, and putting herself to an expense in cloth=
es
which impoverished her for two years, on purpose to secure him, was defraud=
ed
of her due by a woman ten years older than herself.