Part 6
"How! this to me? Do you consider who I am--and our relationship?"
"You are the wife of my great uncle, madam, no more; and were you even my mother, I would not sit and listen tamely to aspersions of my husband, and I must desire that our conversations on this subject may end here."
I believe there is nothing more formidable while it lasts, than the violence of those who are habitually mild--because surprise throws the persons who are attacked off their guard; and it also magnifies to them the degree of violence used.
The poor little woman was not only awed into silence, but affected unto tears; and I was really obliged to sooth her into calmness, declaring that I was sure she meant well, and that I had never doubted the goodness of her heart.
The next day brought the long expected letter from my mother; and its contents made all that I had yet endured light, in comparison; for they alarmed me for the life of my child! She was, however, declared out of danger for the present, when my mother wrote.
It is almost needless to add, that as soon as horses could be procured, Pendarves and I were on the road home.
I must pass rapidly over this part of my narrative. Suffice, that she vacillated between life and death for three months; that then she was better, and my husband left me to join Lord Charles at Tunbridge Wells, whither he had been ordered for his health; that he had not been gone a fortnight, when her worst symptoms returned, and my mother wrote to him as follows:
"Come instantly, if you wish to see your child alive, and preserve the senses of your wife! When all is over, your presence alone can, I believe, save her from distraction. J. P."
He instantly set off for home, and arrived at a moment when I could be alive to the joy of seeing him; for my child had just been pronounced better! But what a betterness! For six weeks longer, watched by us all day and all night with never-failing love, it lingered on and on, endeared to us every day the more, in proportion as it became more helpless, and we more void of hope, till I was doomed to see its last faint breath expire, and----no more on this subject--
* * * * *
I believe my mother was right; I believe that, dearly as I loved her, her presence alone would not have kept my grief within the bounds of reason: but the presence of him whose grief was on a par with mine, of him whom love and duty equally bade me exert myself to console, had indeed a salutary effect on me; and it at length became a source of comfort to reflect, that the object of our united regrets was mercifully removed from a state of severe suffering, and probably from evils to come. But my progress towards recovered tranquillity bore no proportion to Seymour's; for, when I was capable of reflection, I felt that in losing my child I lost one of my strongest holds on the affection of my husband. Consequently, the clearer my mind grew after the clouds of grief dispersed, the more vividly was I sensible of my loss.
I also became conscious that the habitual dejection of my spirits, which was pleasing to Seymour's feelings while his continued in unison with mine, would become distasteful, and make his home disagreeable, as soon as he was recovering his usual cheerfulness. Still, I could not shake it off--and by my mother's advice I urged him to renew his visit to Lord Charles, who was still an invalid.
To Tunbridge Wells he therefore again went, leaving me to indulge unrestrained that pernicious grief which even his presence had not controuled, and also to impair both my health and my person in a degree which it might be difficult ever to restore.
When Pendarves returned, which he did at the end of six weeks, during which time he had written in raptures of the new acquaintances which he had formed at the Wells, he was filled with pain and mortification at sight of my pale cheek, meagre form, and neglected dress.
What a contrast was I to the women whom he had left! And even his affectionate disposition and fine temper were not proof, after the first ebullitions of tenderness had subsided, against my dowdy wretched appearance, and my dejection of manner.
"Helen!" said he, "I cannot stand this--I must go away again, if you persist to forget all that is due to the living, in regard for the dead. I have not been accustomed lately to pale cheeks, meagre forms, and dismal faces. I love home, and I love you; but neither my home nor you are now recognisable."
I was wounded, but reproved and amended: I felt the justice of what he said, and resolved to do my duty.
Soon after he told me he was going away again; and on my mother's gently reproaching him for leaving me so much, he replied that he could not bear to witness my altered looks, and to listen to my mournful voice.
While Pendarves was gone, I resolved to renew my long neglected pursuits. I played on the guitar; I resumed my drawing, and sometimes I tried to sing: but that exertion I found at present beyond my powers.
After three weeks had elapsed, Seymour wrote me word that he was about to return from the Wells with some new friends of his, who were coming to the mansion within four miles of us, which had been so long uninhabited, called Oswald Lodge. He said he should arrive there very late on the Saturday night; but that after attending church on the Sunday to hear a new curate preach, whom they were to bring with them, he should return home.
I was mortified I own to think that he could stop, after so long an absence, within four miles of home; but I felt that I had lately made so few efforts for his sake, that I had no right to expect he would pay me an attention like this. But to repine or look back was equally vain and weak; and I resolved to act, in order to make amends for what I could not but consider an indolent indulgence of my own selfishness, however disguised to me under the name of sensibility, at the expense of my husband's happiness. And as six months had now elapsed since the death of my child, I resolved to throw off my mourning, and make the house and myself look as cheerful as they were wont to do.
I also resolved to meet him at the church, which was common to the parish whence he would come, and ours also, and not to sit, as I had lately done, in a pew whence I could steal in and out unseen; but walk up the aisle, and sit in my own seat, where I could see and be seen of others.
My mother meanwhile observed in joyful silence all my proceedings; and when she saw me stop at the door in the carriage on the Sunday morning, dressed in white, with a muslin bonnet, and pelisse, lined with full pink, and a countenance which was in a measure at least cheerful, she embraced me with the warmest affection, and said she hoped she should now see her own child again.
Spite, however, of my well-motived exertions, my nerves were a little fluttered when I recollected that I was going to encounter the scrutinizing observation of Seymour's new friends, who, if arrived, would no doubt, from the situation of the pew, see me during my progress to mine, which was opposite. They were arrived before me; for I saw white and coloured feathers nodding at a distance: but I remembered it was not in the temple of the Most High that fear of man ought to be felt, and I followed my mother up the aisle with my accustomed composure.
Oh! how I longed to see whether my husband was with the party! but I forebore to seek the creature till the dues to the Creator were paid. I then looked towards the opposite pew; but soon withdrew my eyes again: for I saw my husband listening with an animated countenance to what a gentleman was saying to him, who was gazing on me with an expression of great admiration. I therefore only exchanged a glance of affectionate welcome with Pendarves, and tried to remember him and his companions no more.
When service was ended Seymour eagerly left his seat, and coming into mine proposed to introduce me to his friends; "for now," said he in a low voice, "I again see the wife I am proud of." I smiled assent, and a formal introduction took place.
The party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Oswald, who after a long residence abroad were come to live on their estate, and resume those habits of extravagance, the effects of which they had gone abroad to recover; of a Lord Martindale, the gentleman I had before observed; and of one or two persons, a sort of hangers-on in the family, who ministered in some way or other to the entertainment of the host and hostess.
Mr. and Mrs. Oswald now politely urged my mother and myself to favour them with our company at dinner, my husband having promised to return to them by five o'clock; but we declined it, and Seymour attended us home. Seymour expressed more by his looks than his words the pleasure my change of dress and countenance had occasioned him; for he was too delicate to expatiate on what must recall to my mind only too forcibly the cause of the difference which he had deplored: but when he rejoiced over my recovered bloom, and _embonpoint_, I reminded him that my bloom was caused by my lining, and my seeming plumpness by my pelisse. This was only too true. Still I was, he saw, disposed to be all he wished me; and when we reached our house, and he beheld baskets of flowers in all the rooms, as usual; when he beheld the light of day allowed to penetrate into every apartment, except where the sun was too powerful; when he saw my guitar had been moved from its obscurity, and that my portfolio seemed full of drawings; he folded my still thin form with fondness to his heart, and declared that he now felt himself quite a happy man again. Nor would he leave me, to dine at Oswald Lodge; and he sent an excuse, but promised to call there on the morrow and take me with him. The next day he summoned me to get ready to fulfil his promise, and I obeyed him, but with reluctance; for I felt already sure that I should not like these new friends.
In Lord Martindale I already saw an audacious man of the world; and those spendthrift Oswalds, those beings who seemed to think they came into life merely to amuse it away, did not seem at all suited to my taste or principles, and were certain to be dangerous to a man of Seymour's tendency to expense.
On our way thither I asked if Lord Martindale was married; and with a cheek which glowed with emotion he replied, "Married! Oh yes! did I not mention Lady Martindale to you? How strange!" But I did not think it so, when I heard him descant on her various attractions and talents with an eloquence which was by no means pleasing to me.
"Indeed," said I, sighing as I spoke, "I feel it a great compliment, that you preferred staying with your faded wife to dining with this brilliant beauty."
"Brilliant beauty! dear girl! In beauty she is not to be compared to you. She is certainly ten years older, and never was a beauty in her life. She has very fine eyes, fine teeth, fine hair, and a little round, perfectly formed person: _au reste_, she is sallow, and, when not animated, plain: in her expression, her endless variety, her gracefulness, and her vivacity, lies her great charm. Altogether _c'est une petite personne des plus piquantes_; and with even more than the usual attraction of her countrywomen."
"Is she French then?"
"Yes: she was well born, but poor; and her great powers of fascination led Lord Martindale, who was living abroad, to marry her, in spite of his embarrassed fortune. They came over in the same ship with the Oswalds, and thence the intimacy."
By this time we had reached Oswald Lodge, and were ushered through a hall redolent with sweets to the morning room, where we found Mrs. Oswald, splendidly attired, stringing coral beads, and the gentlemen reading the papers. If there ever was a complete contrast in nature, it was my appearance and that of Mrs. Oswald. Figure to yourself the greeting between a woman of my great height, excessive meagreness, and long neck, and one not exceeding five feet, with legs making up in thickness for what they wanted in length, with a short neck buried in fat, and the rest of her form of suitable dimensions, while the dropsical appearance of her person did not however impede a short and quick waddling walk. Figure to yourself also, a fair, fat, flat face, full of good humour, and betokening a heart a stranger to care, and then call to mind my different style of features, complexion, and expression, particularly at that melancholy period of my life.
"What a fine caricature we should make!" thought I; and it required all my dislike to employ the talent for caricature which I possessed, to prevent my drawing her and myself when I went home. But I was ashamed of the satirical manner in which I regarded her, when she welcomed me with such genuine kindness; and ill befall the being whom welcome and courtesy cannot disarm of even habitual sarcasm! Mr. Oswald was as courteous and kind as his wife, and Lord Martindale looked even more soft meanings than he uttered--adding, "When I saw you yesterday, Mrs. Pendarves, I did not expect to see Mr. Pendarves return to us to dinner. Nay, if he had, I never could have forgiven him."
"My lord," cried Oswald, "I did not expect him for another reason, though I admit the full force of yours. He knew Lady Martindale was too unwell to dine below, for I told him so myself; and 'my fair, fat, and forty' here was not likely to draw him from 'metal more attractive'"--bowing to me.
"So then," said I to myself, "his staying with me, for which I expressed my thanks, was no compliment after all; and disingenuous as usual, he did not tell me Lady Martindale would not be visible!" I am ashamed to own how this little incident disconcerted me. I had been flattered by Seymour's staying at home, but now there was nothing in it. Oh! the weakness of a woman that loves!
Seymour, who knew that I should be mortified, and he lowered in my eyes by this discovery, was more embarrassed and awkward than I ever knew him, in paying his respects and making his inquiries concerning the health of Lady Martindale, and had just expressed his delight at hearing she was recovered when the lady herself appeared: she paid her compliments to me in a very easy and graceful manner, and expressed herself much pleased to see the lady of whom her lord had raved ever since he saw her; and I suspect her broken English gave what she said much of its charm. At least I wished to think so then. I found Seymour had painted her as she was, as to externals; whether he had been as accurate a delineator of her mind and general manners, I was yet to learn.
That she could dance, I had soon the means of discovering; for she had a little French dog with her, which had been taught to dance to a tune; and while Mrs. Oswald played a slow waltz, and then a jig, Lady Martindale, on pretence of showing off the little dog, showed herself off to the greatest possible advantage.--Whether she glided smoothly along in graceful abandonment of the waltz measure, or whether she sprung lightly on the "gay fantastic toe," her fine arms floated gracefully on the air, and her beautiful feet moved with equal and as becoming skill. When she had ended, she was repaid with universal bravos and clapping of hands.
Nothing could exceed the grace with which she curtsied; and snatching the dog under her arm, she went round the circle, extending her beautiful hand to each of us, saying "_De grace! donnez des gateaux a ma Fanchon:_"[1] and the plate of macaroons that stood near us was immediately emptied before the little animal, who growled and ate, to the great delight of his mistress, who knelt in an attitude _fait a peindre_ beside him.
[Footnote 1: Pray give cakes to my Fanchon.]
I cannot express to you what I felt when I saw Seymour's eyes rivetted on this woman of display. He watched her every movement, and seemed indeed to feel she possessed _la grace plus belle encore que la beaute_.[2] But who and what was she? A French woman, and well-born, though poor.
[Footnote 2: Grace more beautiful still than beauty.]
Was it the quick-sightedness of jealousy, I wonder, or was it that women read women better than men do, where their love or their vanity is concerned, which made me suspect that she had been not only a _femme_ de _talens_, but a _femme_ a _talens_, and that Lord Martindale had married a woman who had been in public life? However, what did that matter to me? Whatever she was, she possessed fascinations which I had not; she had a power of amusing and interesting which I had never possessed; and I feared that to him who could admire her I must soon cease to be an object of love, though I might continue to be one of esteem. But did I wish to please as she had been pleasing? Did I wish to be able to exhibit my person in attitudes so alluring? Would it have been consistent with the modest dignity of an English gentlewoman? Nay, would my husband have liked to see me so exhibit in company? Notwithstanding, to charm, amuse and fix his roving eye, and enliven our domestic scenes, I could not help wishing that I could do all she did. But I could not do it, and I feared her. We were asked to stay dinner, but we refused: however, another day was fixed for our waiting on them, so the evil was only delayed.
And what were we doing? and wherefore? We were entering into dinner visits, and with a reduced income, with persons who lived in all the luxuries of life, and of whom we knew nothing but that ten years before they had been forced to run away from their creditors, and that the chances were they would be forced to do so again. The wherefore was still less satisfactory to me. We did it that my husband might amuse away his hours; and, as I had reason to fear, forget in this stimulating sort of company and diversions the anxieties and the unhappy feelings which were in future likely to cling to him at home. For I was sure he was involved in debts which he could not pay, and those who are so involved are always forced to substitute constant amusement for happiness. If they do not, they fly to intoxication; but agreeable company and gay pursuits are the better intoxication, I own, of the two.
And was it come to this? Was my husband for ever unfitted for the enjoyment of domestic comfort; and was I reduced to the cruel alternative of seeing him abstracted and unhappy, or of parting with him to the abode of the Syren? while I was sometimes forced to accompany him thither, and witness his evident devotion to her, his forgetfulness of me? Alas! such seemed to be my situation at that moment; but I was resolved to talk with him seriously on the state of his affairs, and to make any retrenchments, and offer any sacrifices, to remove from his mind the burthen which oppressed it. But for some time, like most persons so distressed, he was decidedly averse to talk on the subject, and liked better to drive care away by pleasant society, than to meet the evil though it was in order to remove it. In the meanwhile I went to Oswald Lodge occasionally, and occasionally invited its owners and their guests to our home, till the party there grew too large for our rooms to receive them: and then I had an excuse for not accompanying my husband often, in not having carriage horses, as I had prevailed on Pendarves to drop that unnecessary expense. This produced urgent invitations to sleep there; but that I never would do; and I would not consent to be with these people on so intimate a footing, especially as I had not my mother's countenance or presence to sanction it; she having resolutely declined visiting them at all, as she disliked the manners and appearance, as well as the mode of life, of the whole party. But she confirmed me in my resolution never to seem to under-value, though I did not commend, Lady Martindale, as she well knew my disapprobation would be imputed to envy and jealousy even by Pendarves, and she advised me to endure patiently what I could not prevent. Not that she for a moment suspected that my husband was seriously alienated from me, and was acting a dishonourable part towards Lord Martindale; but she could not be blind to Seymour's long absences at Oswald Lodge, and his now passing nights there, as well as days. But his pleasures were, for a little while at least, put a stop to; for he received at length so many dunning letters, that he was forced to unburthen his mind to me, and ask my aid if possible to relieve his distresses. He positively, however, forbade me to apply to my mother, and I was equally unwilling to let her know the errors of my still beloved husband.
Yet what could I do for him? I could dismiss one, if not two servants,--and he could sell another horse; but then money was wanted to pay debts. There was therefore no alternative, but for me to prevail on my trustees to give up some of my marriage settlement; and as I knew that my mother's fortune must come to me and my children, if I had any, I was very willing to relieve my husband from his embarrassments, by raising for him the necessary supplies. Nor did I find my trustees very unwilling to grant my request, and once more I believed my husband free from debt. I also hoped my mother knew nothing of either the distress, or the means of relief. But, alas! one of the trustees concluded our uncle knew of these transactions, and was probably desirous to know why he had, though a very rich man, allowed me to diminish my marriage settlement, in order to pay debts which he could have paid without the smallest inconvenience, as he had only two daughters, who were both well married.
Accordingly he mentioned the subject to my astonished and indignant uncle, who with his usual indiscretion revealed it to his wife. The consequence was inevitable: she immediately wrote a letter of lamentation to my mother, detailing the whole affair, adverting to the other transaction concerning Saunders's debts, pointing out the great probability there was that what every one said was true, namely, that my husband had prevailed on Saunders to marry Charlotte Jermyn, and therefore was bound in justice to assist him, and concluding with a broad hint concerning his evident attachment to a Lady Martindale.
What a letter for a fond mother to receive! But to the money transactions alone did she vouchsafe any credit; and relative to these she demanded from me the most open confession, saying, "The rest of the letter I treat with the contempt it deserves." I had no difficulty in telling her every thing which related to the last transaction; but my voice faltered, and my eye was downcast, when I described the other, because I had never been entirely able to conquer some painful suspicions of my own; and her quick eyes and penetrating mind soon discovered, though she was too delicate to notice it, that in my own heart I was not sure that all my aunt suspected was unjust. But if I shrunk from the searching glance of her eyes, how was I affected when she fixed them on me with looks of approving tenderness, and told me with evidently suppressed feeling, that I had done well and greatly in concealing my husband's extravagant follies even from her!
That day's post brought a letter of a more pleasant nature from my uncle to me. He informed me, that though he utterly disapproved my giving to an erring husband what was intended as a provision for my innocent children, he could not bear that I should suffer by my erroneous but generous conception of a wife's duty, and had therefore replaced the sum which I had so rashly advanced, desiring me on any future emergency to apply to him.
Kind and excellent old man! How pleasant were the tears which I shed over this letter! but still how much more welcome to my soul were those which it wrung from the heart of Pendarves!