Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 35
CHAPTER XXXV.
We left Lady Anne Granard in that state of mixed good and evil—the misery arising from numerous duns, and the felicity arising from actual possession of a pretty sum wherewith to go to Brighton—which is a very common lot in life, and by no means confined to persons distinguished by rank or fashion. Many people of very humble pretensions put money in their purses, and set out to watering-places, when they ought to have stayed at home and paid that which they magnanimously determined to spend; leaving the small fry below them in the scale of society to flounder in the mud as they can, whilst they magnanimously ape their betters, by "doing that which they ought not to do," and "leaving undone that which they ought to have done." In the present progressive state of human affairs, a duchess could not sport a new folly, or practice a new sin, for a fortnight, without being closely imitated even by shopkeepers' wives. Vanity furnishes the steam, fashion lays the railroads, and away we all run on the "road to ruin," reckless whom we crush below us, or to what dread abyss the giddy whirl may hurry ourselves.
With much to think of, many points to carry, and some vexations of a very painful nature to get rid of, Lady Anne would not have immediately perceived the happiness of her present position, if Fanchette had not, with outspread hands and eyes that shone with delight, congratulated chère miladi, that she was about to depart under circumstances of such rare félicité.
"Félicité!" said Lady Anne, simply repeating the word.
"Sans doubte! Are not all gone? every one yong lady; quelle plaisir!"
"That all were removed, at least temporarily," Lady Anne said to herself, "is certainly a great relief; I can now do as I choose, without having any thing whatever to provide for them; and when I am first seen without any of that eternal tribe of daughters, the impression will be, that I have married them all;—thanks to the circumstance of the youngest marrying so well, it made the affair talked of. It is also fortunate that the two who are married have produced sons, whereby the stigma attaching to myself, as bringing nothing but daughters, is removed; and the Marquis of Wentworthdale may venture on Georgiana. She will be much more likely to meet his wishes after a residence at the castle, than an imprisonment on short commons in her dormitory in Welbeck Street; for in one case she only learnt how much she could endure, in the other she will find how much she can enjoy. Nothing improves the understanding like strong contrasts! But where can he be? He seems absolutely withdrawn, after all the pains I have taken, boring myself to death as I did with those serious women, who plagued me terribly with talking about things nobody that was anybody ever used to think of; but the world is in a horrid state, undoubtedly. I don't wonder at Lady Sarah Butterlip exposing it as she does, and making money of it, for in truth, 'the times are out of joint,' and deserve lashing.
"Let me see! the Methodist-man who wrote against Shakespeare made a great deal of money, and had nothing to fear on the score of prosecutions for libel, which is a great matter. Could one write against Milton, I wonder, with effect? He was a low creature, a schoolmaster, a cross husband, a great rebel; but that wouldn't tell against him now. I can't undertake him to any purpose; for the party who were delighted to put down the player-man support him, I have understood. Time was, writing at all would have been deemed shocking; but it has really been done so much of late in one's own world, even by some who were born in it, that I see no objection, except the trouble; but the girls could do that. Five or six hundred pounds would surely be little enough for my name on a title-page, and if one could lay hands on an old book, as Lady Sarah did, get Helen (since Mary is not at home) to transcribe it, with new names and places, there is no doubt it would sell, if not to the world yet to the publisher, who could not suspect me of deficient originality. I should not suppose those kind of people would be particular with a woman of rank. I shall send for Helen as soon as I have arranged the matter in my own mind, as to what it shall be. There are more than twenty thousand sold of one missionary book, I see; and I remember being told by those tiresome people, I might get any thing for a reprint of 'Bunyan's Groans from Hell,' with my name and a short preface of recommendation, but it would be both painful and vulgar. Think of a frontispiece with my face opposite such words as those!—the bare idea is horrible! I wish I may not dream of it."
Lady Anne closed her long reverie in such horror that she banished the idea of books in toto from her mind, at least until "a more convenient season;" and after reasoning down two tradesmen, paying her landlord in part, and suffering herself most unfortunately to be persuaded into giving bills of short dates to two others, Lady Anne set out in good style to Brighton, with Fanchette by her side and the page behind, comparatively little incommoded by luggage, and so conscious of the pleasures of liberty, that she decided on taking up her abode at the convenient hotel close to Kemp Town, where she could see and be seen by every body. It soon, however, became evident to Lady Anne that she was less visible in her individual state than when she was accompanied by two or three blooming daughters, to whom nature had been so liberal as to make amends for the few advantages maternal solicitude afforded them, having written gentlewoman as decidedly on the persons of each, as ever she wrote on that of uncle Toby. This shortsightedness was not compensated to the feelings of the woman of rank by the compliment it conveyed to the mother, and she was debating whether to send for Helen and press the propriety of Louisa's having a month's pleasure, when a new medium for attraction was started in the bazaar to which we have alluded, and her letter was dispatched with all possible celerity, insisting that her daughters "should work day and night"—so ran the document—for three weeks, then bring down their produce, recruit their good looks for one week, and be ready to assist in discharging the duties of a stand which, in the mean time, she determined by hook, or crook, to obtain.
Of course, Lady Anne was seized (suddenly we apprehend, seeing she never was similarly affected before) with charity, in the general sense of the word, but a decided predilection for the charity in question, which was not a new affair, but one which had fallen grievously into "the sear and yellow leaf," for lack of due attention, and to which it was certain Lady Anne, though a constant summer visitant, had never yet contributed a single guinea. This circumstance by no means depreciated her in the eyes of the charitable duchess who headed the lady committee, or the charitable noblemen who presided at the gentlemen's, since no person could lament their own omission more gracefully, or advert with more becoming humility, to the very little her altered circumstances allowed her to give at all, and which she candidly confessed (candour is candy to most of us) she had hitherto on principle confined her alms (such as they were) to her own parish, which was so extensive, although it contained the great and the wealthy to an immense amount, demanded also the widow's mite and the orphan's scanty offering. Her children had been brought up in such a manner that they were always glad to do their best, and would be indeed happy if their ingenuity and such accomplishment as she had been enabled to give them, could contribute to the excellent purposes intended.
"How happens it," said the Duchess of C, "we see none of your daughters with you this season, Lady Anne? they are not all married, I know."
"Like your grace, I have married two; and, in another respect like your grace, I have two remaining."
"Three surely, if I remember right? Indeed, Miss Granard is not one to be forgotten; on the contrary, though pensive and delicate, I thought her's a very sweet person."
"My dear Mary, how could I for a moment forget you, the best of daughters? But being now in Italy, at the moment"
"Yes, I see, at the moment you forgot her—one may forget their eldest, especially when they look older than they are," said the duchess considerately (being herself a very fine woman married when very young); "but what have you done with the younger ladies?"
"Georgiana, poor girl, is at Rotheles Castle, with her uncle and aunt, who really cannot bear to part with her, or I should insist on her being with me."
"Oh! let her alone, she consoles them for losing the worthless ci-devant Lady Allerton, who has earned her own lot, and must abide by it."
"My daughter Louisa has lately made me a grandmother, and"
"Oh! don't fret about that; I am a grandmother—I am delighted, I confess."
"So am I; but my daughter Helen is with Louisa—both are as busy as possible for the charity, and will come down when it takes place."
"Your daughter Louisa. That was the lucky girl who caught handsome Charles Penrhyn, who might have picked and chose among us, I can tell you. Well, I am glad she is coming; she is a fine girl, and will tell now. I wish we could secure his sister, who is precisely the kind of woman for a bazaar; we must have attraction—a well furnished stand is a good thing, but a beautiful and fashionable saleswoman still better."
"Your grace is so far happy, that all the stands under your auspices will be occupied by elegant women," said the Hon. Mrs. Tresham.
"I can answer for Lady Penrhyn," said Lady Anne.
"Then I will contrive one stand more for her, and you, and your daughters; meantime, I trust, Lady Anne, you are busy for us?"
"I confess, that deprived of my dear girls I find myself good for nothing; with them I could do some thing, though not much; for, having lately been employed with my pen, I have neglected my needle."
"Come to us, dear Lady Anne, every morning; up to lunch-time we work very diligently; you are so near our house, that nothing can be more convenient; like myself, your eyes may not be au fait to every thing; but my girls shall pick out those things which will suit us both."
Nothing could be more delightful than this arrangement—every morning Lady Anne joined the working party till two, after which she stepped home to write to her daughters, and, at least, four days out of six, she went again to dinner at the duke's, where she met pleasant people, and found good fare; in fact, she found invitations also; for the remainder of her time the mother-in-law of the rich Glentworth, and the sister of an earl, moreover, the mother of five lovely, and distinguished daughters, found herself no longer overlooked; and she began to calculate on the still superior figure she should cut, if, next season, she should be pointed out as the mother of the young and beautiful Marchioness of Wentworthdale, who had succeeded in winning the heart of the richest bachelor peer in Great Britain.
This exultation was a little checked, in consequence of hearing a portion of the conversation passing be tween two gentlemen, who, like herself, had been guests at the Duke of C's table, but had departed before her, and were walking on the broad pathway leading to her hotel, at the time the duke's servant was attending her home, which was but a step, as we have already said.
"I have been told so; but I don't believe a word of it," said one. "Lady Anne appeared to me a sensible, amiable woman; and to suppose she would refuse the very finest young fellow in the service—a man of family and of competence, and whom her daughter, in my opinion, must love, if she is not an idiot, is a reflection on her understanding I cannot allow."
"Why, it does seem madness, I grant; but I have reason to say it is so. We all know it is very different to the conduct of the duchess, in a case by no means parallel, so far as love is concerned. Both you and I know the duchess, a year ago, would have given her loveliest daughter to"
The parties had passed beyond hearing, and Lady Anne was left to ask herself, "how far she had been a wise mother?" How far she had been a kind one, we are all aware.