Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII.
Though Mr. Penrhyn had returned to his dinner at a somewhat late hour, such was the impatience of his lady to be received, and his kind estimate of those feelings in her which he loved to cherish, that when their social and happy meal was over, they set out to Welbeck Street with as little trepidation on the lady's part as could be expected, and as much resolution and patience on that of the gentleman as might be required. He had all the inclination to pay Lady Anne the homage she deemed due to her rank, and tender her the respect himself held due to his wife's mother; but the fond and deep regard in which that wife was held, his estimation of the probity, sincerity, and simplicity of her loving nature, and her sound understanding, prevented him from esteeming her mother's character, and either acceding to her demands, or acknowledging value in her protection. He was now eight and twenty—an age when the nature of man demands independence as necessary to happiness and respectability—he had known what it was, "in sueing long to bide," though not so long as many; therefore, he had neither depressed the manliness of his spirit, nor soured the kindliness of his temper, although the many fears of a lover had been added to his solicitude. Either the nature of his own situation, or the company that his mean brother-in-law and his flirting sister called around them, had given him a disgust for political and fashionable society (which is, in fact, very generally to be found in those who are engaged in public offices, conscious that they do the work for which others are paid), so that nothing could be more agreeable to him than the change in his situation effected by Mr. Glentworth's kindness. That gentleman had discovered that he had not only the industry which enabled him to fulfil his own duties and Lord Penrhyn's also, but talents which could be advantageously employed in a higher sphere, and was well aware that the exercise of his faculties would add to his happiness quite as much as his fortune. He was now proving the truth of these surmises: the situation which had given to his constant love the bride of his heart, was, in all its demands, accepted as a gift to be proud of, a station to glory in. What a different man was the responsible merchant—the respectable partner of a long-established house—the happy husband of a lovely, modest, and contented wife—to the young man who filled a place at table as the permitted, not invited, the unrewarded labourer for an ungrateful taskmaster—the handsome dangler, allowed to join in a quadrille, on the condition of being an automaton before and after—the listener to young members, and old women of rank—the person who must bore nobody, but whom every body had a right to bore!
What a life for a free man, born to the use of dogs and horses, pure air, and wide-spreading moors!—no wonder that, although junior partner, and as modest as he was high-spirited, he trod his counting-house floor with a step vigorous and springy as the young captain of a man-of-war, for he felt that he was an emancipated slave; nay, more, a British merchant. If not "monarch of all he surveyed," he was certainly monarch of all he desired, which is probably more than any one of those mighty personages who rule mankind could have honestly asserted.
Lady Anne received her daughter as gracefully, and, perhaps, as affectionately, as she knew how; and she could not look in the open countenance of Charles without seeing that he was much too happy to be looked into insignificance; so she made a virtue of necessity, accepted him graciously "as a son who might hereafter be useful to her, seeing she had the misfortune to be the mother of so many daughters who had not a single brother to protect them." She next adverted to the party she was giving on their account, inquired how far it was possible for Louisa to assist her arrangements, which, being ascertained, retired to her dressing-room, by no means sorry that the lateness of the hour precluded the necessity of delaying them for refreshments.
Yet the young couple gladly remained nearly an hour afterwards with the delighted sisters, who naturally desired to increase their slight acquaintance with that new relation, who, in holding Louisa's happiness in his keeping, in a great measure held their's also. The conversation which took place now furnished subjects for many days afterwards, to the surprise of Lady Anne, who could not conceive how they could either talk, or think, on any thing but that which had all the charm of novelty to recommend it, and might be the hinge on which it was probable their future fortunes might turn for life.
The day previous to this important affair, as Mrs. Palmer had by this time discovered that her noble neighbour's dwelling was as nearly unfurnished in the materials required for that vulgar, but indispensable, operation connected with supper as could be well imagined, she summoned the young ladies to choose, from an immense accumulation of old and of modern china, those things they considered the most pretty and useful. In this task they were assisted by Mrs. Gooch, who had established herself for the day at her father's, that she might hear "all about things," concluding (very falsely) that Lady Anne's "at home" must be very superior to any thing it had hitherto been her lot to witness. That it would have been so in her husband's lifetime there is no doubt, though that husband's heart had been wrung to the core in witnessing it—under "existing circumstances," to use her own expression, she must do as well as she could.
When every thing likely to be wanted had been put aside, in order to be taken over the way when night had flung her convenient mantle upon these neighbourly doings, the three young people adjourned to the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Palmer was so deeply engaged in reading a newly-received letter, that, to the surprise of all, she did not raise her eyes from the paper to ask "what they had fixed upon?"—and, as she proceeded, her continual interjections of "dear me!—poor creature!—noble fellow!" showed how deeply she was absorbed in the perusal.
"What can you have got hold of, mamma?" cried Mrs. Gooch; "you look as anxious as Tom does when an apology comes for delaying payments."
"Why, my dear, I have got a very kind and really a very interesting letter from a young lord, whom I never expected to remember me."
"A young lord! I never knew you had such an acquaintance!"
"Yet you must remember Augusta Hales, for you were very attentive to her."
"Of course, I remember the poor girl you brought home to die here, when you married papa. I used to think you loved her better than us, which made me angry; but I loved her myself, notwithstanding. She was a sweet creature, and, as I now recollect, was the Honourable Augusta Hales."
"This letter is from her brother Frederic; a lovely boy he was then—so was his brother Arthur; but he was younger and noisier, so that I did not let him come often, poor dear; but Frederic was here frequently, dear fellow. If you will sit down, (all of you I mean) I will begin the letter again."
"'My dear madam—You will probably have forgotten me, for you live in the busy world, and you are too much accustomed to be kind and good to your fellow-creatures, for a single instance, to dwell much on your memory. I must therefore remind you of my dear sister Augusta Hales, to whom you were as a tender mother, and who died in your arms, in order to say your correspondent is her eldest brother, then little Fred Hales.
"'Whatever may be your recollection or oblivion of me and mine, it would ill become us to forget you; and, indeed, dear Mrs. Palmer, we have never done so; though our long residence in the East, and our many removals since, have forbidden us the pleasure of seeing you; and it was always the opinion of my dear father (of whose death you would hear) that it was foolish to correspond with persons we were never likely to meet again.'
"'Arthur is in the navy, and a brave, worthy fellow as ever was born. I am indebted to him for my life within the last few days, but that debt is, in my own opinion, less than what I owe him, for the constant love and kindness of his whole life towards me. I ought not, however, to undervalue the courage and perseverance, through which I was rescued, when the storm ran so high that no reward could induce one man on board to save the gentleman, who, in the confusion, fell overboard. I will honestly confess that this circumstance brought you and your kindness more strongly to my mind than might otherwise have been the case. You may perhaps remember my dear sister wove an armlet of her own hair, and that of our buried mother, which she insisted on clasping round my arm; it had, for a long time, occupied my wrist, though somewhat too wide, and by this memento of her love I was actually preserved; for Arthur, I know not how, got his fingers into it and kept me up. It is true, both would have been lost if two of the very men who had refused to venture for money had not volunteered to rescue him.
"'This happened in the Channel during the late gales: we are now'"
"I read about it—Tom shewed me the place in the paper where the Honourable Lieutenant Hales saved the Viscount Meersbrook, returning from Persia; but there was not one word about the bracelet; no, not a syllable!"
Mrs. Gooch spoke the last words in great anger, and Mrs. Palmer, wiping her eyes, said, "Poor things! their love and their danger is very affecting; the bracelet signified nothing."
"Indeed, I think it signified a great deal; for I helped to weave it myself, that I did, and was sent out of the room when Frederic pulled off his jacket to have it put on; and I am quite sure Lord Meersbrook will remember it as well as I do, for he thought it very unnecessary to send me away, and said—but pray go on with the letter."
As Mrs. Gooch's recollections heightened her colour, Mrs. Palmer took her advice.
"'We are now at the Isle of Wight, and both under medical help, but, as we get better every day, I purpose proceeding to London on the 17th instant, and shall do ourselves the pleasure of seeing you the following morning, as we have the satisfaction of learning, from a friend of yours, (Mr. Mansel, visiting Ryde) that you and Mr. Palmer are well, and his fair daughters all married most happily.
"'Till then, my dear madam, accept the warm esteem of two young men who will ever hold themselves sincerely obliged to you for your long-continued kindness to their still regretted sister, for we are one in all our feelings. With best regards to Mr. Palmer, believe me, your attached friend and servant,
"'Meersbrook.'"
"The 17th instant! where can the letter have been laid? it is put in at Portsmouth ten days after its date; to-day is the 17th; they will be here to-morrow. How glad I shall be to see them! though they will be grown quite out of knowledge, and covered with whiskers like other young men, I dare say. No matter; their hearts are in the right place, whatever they look like. They used to be remarkably like each other in person, and there is scarcely a year between them in age, but there was a difference in their manners, certainly. Frederic was gentle, and would sit with a book an hour together by his sister's side. Arthur loved her dearly, but he used to slam the door and drive the cats about; he could not be quiet, for the life of him."
Georgiana and Helen went home so interested by the contents of the letter, that, when they had given an account of the dozens of China plates and dishes, and the complete muster of wine-glasses, goblets, and tumblers looked out, they could not forbear to mention kind Mrs. Palmer's correspondence, or rather her letter from Lord Meersbrook. Lady Anne inclined her ear very seriously to the subject, observing that she knew their mother very well; "she was a fair woman, yet her hair was raven black, and she was a great Lincolnshire heiress. Of course, her eldest son gets her estates; the youngest will have nothing. They did very right to put him in the navy, for the father's services were great, and he ought to be pushed. That was matter of chance, however, since Lord Meersbrook could have done nothing for him; he had been abroad ever since his father's death."
Helen looked at Georgiana, and thought sons were very different to daughters; "if she were as rich as Lord Meersbrook, Georgiana would have a fortune tomorrow. Dear Mary, too, who was so poorly, and so kind to every one, how delightful it would be to make her independent!"
Her reverie was interrupted by her mamma telling her to run over to Mrs. Palmer, and entreat her to secure the brothers for the following evening. "And do you, Georgy, contrive to tell Penrhyn all the particulars of this drowning affair; for I remember the bare facts being mentioned at Lord Penrhyns, and he will tell them with effect, avoiding rhodomontade without omitting pathos. I beg you will not relate the circumstance to any other person; it might place you in an awkward predicament."
"I am sure I will obey you strictly, dear mamma; but really I cannot see how it would be possible for any body to reflect on me, who never was in a ship in my life; what could they say?"
"Say! why the most injurious thing in the world; if you were to relate the affair in the same words you used to me, and which I expect you to use to Mr. Penrhyn, in the presence of his sister, she would say you were in love with Lieutenant Hales immediately."
"How shameful, how cruel! I am sure I never was in love in my life—never! I think he is a very brave, noble creature, of course; but I have never seen him."
"I wish you never may," muttered Lady Anne; but she remembered her lions would be imperfect if divided; considered their acquisition a most lucky chance at such an advanced period in the season, and could not fail to rejoice in the legitimate reason they afforded for asking the Palmers and their connections. Mrs. Gooch was married, and therefore perfectly welcome to the honour of having partly woven the bracelet which saved Lord Meersbrook's life; but, surely, a little flattery might render her willing to discover that Georgiana had a hand in it. Her husband was evidently a sensible man, and he might have given his wife a little more sense than she could have derived from her downright father and her silly mother-in-law, who were really as great a pair of noodles as ever were exhibited in the pages of a modern novel, under the cognomen of "amiable rustics." To think of the price they pay, and the charming company they bring; five pounds in jelly, ten in cakes—for, though he only offered to order them, I shall allow him to pay for them—two dozen of very fine sherry, and a dozen and half of choice Hermitage, to say nothing of the loan of things innumerable, and the gift of Lord Meersbrook, before any creature has set eyes on him since his drowning, whilst he comes fresh from the East a kind of young Sultan or Cham of Tartary; and to these gifts surely may be added the power that young Gooch possesses of sending to the journals (which are, nine times out of ten, horrible things, and will eventually ruin the country) a really elegant, well-written account of the affair. I wonder if he has any acquaintance with French history, and can talk of petit soupers, and the wits and beauties which reigned before the horrible revolution! I should not wonder if he had, strange as it may seem, and certainly it may tell admirably. Miladi la mère scarcely to be deemed un peu passée being affected by the languor of sorrow, not years (no one allows the effects of time now, which is perfectly proper.) Yes, the whole affair will make a capital paragraph, and, when united with natural commendations of the young sailor, must be positively astounding. I like him not, but younger brothers will be born (more the pity), and they are rarely in a hurry to die. Had this young man been drowned, he would have deserved celebrity indeed; in fact, had the elder sunk, it would have done as well, since he would have succeeded immediately, and received property and praise, at the same time. How seldom do young people see their own interest, especially sailors. I never knew a prudent man amongst them. No blame could arise to him from his brother's drowning, but an immense profit, which he literally cast away with his own hands. However, his folly may tell in a paragraph—beyond that, he is a person I could not encourage."