Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 69
CHAPTER LXIX.
On reaching Lady Anne's apartment, which was now the drawing-rooms of the house, into which she had introduced an elegant French bed, both her daughter and neighbour literally shuddered at the extraordinary sight before them. Lady Anne occupied a sofa in the larger room, her head supported by many pillows, her face perfectly pallid (for it may be recollected that her toilette had not been assisted by the initiated), and her eyes beaming with unnatural lustre, all around her by turns attracting her gaze, as she had ordered her cook and her new nurse to cause every article of her dress which they could find in her wardrobe, drawers, and boxes, to be brought together for her inspection. She now eagerly demanded Helen's attention to the subject, saying that "hitherto she had only missed a cloak and a tippet, which the servant said were worn by the supposed culprit, when she went away."
After a long investigation, it turned out that Georgiana was the only loser; a box, into which Mrs. Palmer (when in her kindness she prepared for the poor girl's hasty departure) had laid the shabby things not proper to be taken, but which in itself was handsome-looking, being the only prize Fanchette had purloined. This being ascertained, Mrs. Palmer eagerly assisted Helen in folding and carrying away the finery which so painfully contrasted with the attenuated form and altered countenance of her who had been the wearer so very lately of these splendid draperies, on each of which she still cast "a longing, lingering look," as it was carried away, and so far as her strength admitted, dwelt on its history and good qualities, thereby enumerating properties in colour and form, and secrets in the art of beauty, of a nature to edify her neighbour, who was absolutely astonished to find that things she had her whole life long never deemed worth her consideration, or supposed that others did, should have employed the mind and occupied the heart of a woman to whom nature had imparted a more than usual capacity and acuteness.
When, to the regret of the patient, but the relief of those around her, the world of frippery had departed, and Helen, having deposited all safely, returned with the keys in her hand, Lady Anne said, with earnest anxiety,
"Pray accept the custody of those keys, Mrs. Palmer; French servants are, in my opinion, less subject to literally robbing than English ones. Fanchette was an importunate beggar and a petty depredator; but I don't think she would have made the bold effort she did, if she had not been pressed. As I must necessarily have strangers about me, after what has happened, I ought to be careful; so you shall take my keys, and my casket, too, my kind friend, until"
There was a pause, and the heart of the good listener beat more quickly as her eyes filled with unwonted drops. The invalid has at length ascertained her true state; what more may she not say relative to those eternal concerns we are so foolishly for bidden to mention!
"Until," resumed the patient, "I am better, and the month of May is over."
The heart of Mrs. Palmer sank within her; and although grieved to leave Helen, whose looks distinctly said, "I, too, am disappointed," she yet rose to go, taking with her, from the hands of Lady Anne, the deposit she had spoken of, though it was with great difficulty that her feeble, trembling hands turned the key of her writing-desk, and sought out the drawer which contained the treasured casket.
It is the most deplorable of all spectacles humanity can exhibit, when the body has survived the mind, when health and strength remain though intelligence has departed, and reason and memory die, while life continues. To see that god-like creature who was made "but a little lower than the angels," apparently cast down beneath the level of the brutes (as in derangement or paralysis), is that which we justly deprecate more than all other afflictions; but it is also an awful and affecting sight, when the mind evidently is too strong for the body, and is ever compelling the fragile clay which enshrines it beyond its powers. It is an appalling thing to see the immortal spark illumining the already half-perished, half-existent partner of its long career, urging it beyond the powers of its nature, and apparently continuing to tenant its earthly tabernacle, in defiance of the laws which govern it. That this was the case with Lady Anne for some weeks, was the impression of all around her; her indomitable spirit appeared to sustain her by its own energies, independently of the common aids of life, for she scarcely imbibed the smallest portion of sustenance, appeared to have attained the power of commanding sleep according to her will, and sunk into it after every exertion made in speaking, so as to recruit her strength for a new trial. There was some reason to believe she did foresee her end, for faculties so clear as her's could not be blind to it, but she had made up her mind for some time not to own that her illness could be fatal, and she abode by the declaration.
Nevertheless, on the day following, to Helen's great relief, she consented to remain in bed, by that means husbanding her little strength, and enabling her the better to attend to those letters from her daughters in Yorkshire, which at this time were the great points of interest to which the sands of life were devoted.
When these had been duly commented on, she now said to Helen—
"When cook came up with my mouthful of chocolate, she told me nothing could exceed the kindness of young Hales yesterday, in sending away those vulgar people. Do you know any thing about it, Helen?"
"I know that nothing could exceed his desire to do you good, mamma; and when he came from the Admiralty, and had got news he thought would please you, it was all Mrs. Palmer could do to prevent him coming to tell you. He said you would not mind him, for he was only a shadow: he is always joking about his appearance."
"I am glad he did not come, for he might have joked about mine; and remember, I now tell you once for all that, unless Lord Rotheles should come up, I will not see any human being beside Mrs. Palmer and Georgiana, until—until I have grown more embonpoint; this is beside the subject. I want to know who actually paid the money, yesterday; was it the sailor?"
"I don't know, mamma; but most likely Mr. Palmer."
"Why not the sailor, if he were so much concerned? He must have had money in his pocket when he was setting out on a long journey."
"Yes, to be sure—I don't know—I can't tell, only I thought"
"What did you think? Why are you looking so like a fool?"
"I—I thought, mamma, Lord Meersbrook found the money, perhaps, when they were travelling."
"Most probably he does, and so you blush for him, knowing that he would prevent the sailor from helping me. I dare say you are right; 'tis a very common course between persons so circumstanced."
"Indeed, indeed, mamma, I neither thought nor meant such a thing for a moment. Meersbrook is quite as generous as Arthur, and loves you as much, I don't doubt; but as your letter was in favour of his brother, he may not say as much and yet feel more."
"I would advise you to feel less, and to say no thing at all."
Poor Helen would have given the world for courage to kneel by the bedside of her mother, and confess that on this subject she had a right to feel much—a right to claim her mother's congratulations on her own principles, a right to hope that her promised destiny should solace her mother's melancholy situation.
But fluttered and timid, the moment passed by, and the next saw Lady Anne in one of those happy slumbers we have already adverted to; but it will not surprise the larger portion of our readers (for we apprehend that will be the young) if they are told that an image stole between the sleeper and herself, beaming with what she considered a celestial smile, and whispering words such as "Helen, sweet Helen," "My long-loved Helen," and other similar murmurings. These day-dreams are never to be whispered to the worldly, and but seldom to the wise; but Heaven help the man who never uttered or heard them, nor be pity withheld from him that has forgotten them, a case by no means uncommon with the sterner sex. Hard indeed is the lot of woman when she loses the memories of such moments, for she has lost her all!
It was not long after Lady Anne's awaking, that she began to display the temper which eventually led her to receive poor Georgiana, who arrived that evening, in the manner we have already mentioned; had she thought that Arthur Hales had advanced the money instead of Mr. Palmer, his betrothed would have been received with more suavity, if not more kindness; because she felt certain her neighbour would be paid some time, and she was certain Arthur never would. The ruling passion was strong in death.
At length, to their infinite joy and relief, the sisters were dismissed to bed at the same time; Georgiana, in consideration of her journey, and Helen, of her late indisposition; but it was done at the express request of Mrs. Palmer, whom it would not be wise to deny, since she brought her housemaid to share the cares of the nurse, and because the invalid had made up her mind to turn a deaf ear to all possible hints on the liquidation of the latest debt. "They managed me once, but shall never do it again—never!"
With very different feelings did her liberated daughters mutually give and receive those sweet communications which were to them the life of life; so much had they to hear and to tell, that, despite of fatigue, sleep fled; but neither were sorry, since it not only enabled them to hear of things which laid up a store of pleasant thoughts on which many a gloomy hour might lean for comfort, but also to step down from time to time, and see how the long night waned away with their languishing parent. Her present state proved Helen's words were right, that a few hours of irritability had done her good, for she had slept well, and was free from cough and fever, therefore, they also could sleep in peace.
The following morning, Mr. and Mrs. Penrhyn came early, the gentleman to bid adieu, as he was setting out for Yorkshire; but neither were permitted to see Lady Anne. As they came in a coach, they brought the two little grandsons, to the great delight of their young aunts, who knew not which most to admire and love. When Charles had set out, Helen was permitted to accompany her sister and the little boys to call on Sir Edward Hales and Mrs. Margaret, and again Helen felt her secret burdensome, for, although she was received with much affection as well as courtesy, yet she was conscious that she was without the pale of her own privileges, for Georgiana was "our Georgiana," and the "dear child," whereas, she was "Miss Granard," or "dear young lady," at best, and it seemed to be somewhat of a hardship to find her a substitute for her they considered bona fide their own. Another day removed her difficulties.
"Only one letter," said Lady Anne; "what can they be thinking of? Lord Meersbrook could give them franks. Not that they can tell one any thing of consequence till to-morrow. Take off the cover and give me my glass: it seems short, and I can manage to read it."
Georgiana took the letter out of Helen's hand, and placed it in that of her mother, perceiving that the former looked more like "the statue that enchants the world" than any living lady of her acquaintance.
Lady Anne read it carefully through, then turned the fly-leaf, but seeing nothing on the other side, read it through again, and next asked for the envelope; having examined the seal and the post-mark, she put it into Georgiana's hand, saying, "Do you know that handwriting?"
"It is Lord Meersbrook's, mamma. I saw him write often at Bath."
"You are sure it is not your sailor hoaxing me?"
"Arthur Hales would not do such a thing for both the Indies; besides, his handwriting is a great deal better than this, I assure you, dear mamma."
"Most likely—it is always the case with younger brothers."
Lady Anne was perfectly silent, and seemed plunged in deep thought. May we hope that her heart was ascending to Heaven in thankfulness that this only remaining object of her solicitude was so happily (and what in her eyes was better), so magnificently disposed of? Alas! it could only be of earthly courts she was thinking, for the first words she said to Helen on this the most important business of her life were these:
"I suppose you expected I should receive this letter, telling me the welcome news that you are chosen by Lord Viscount Meersbrook; of course you are exceedingly elated (for that is but natural) with the circumstance of taking precedence of your elder sister, more especially as the time is probably not distant when you will both walk in the coronation train of a lovely young queen—but, Helen, remember what I am now going to say."
"Yes, dear mamma," said the fluttered yet happy girl, dropping on her knees, and looking earnestly into the eyes of her mother.
"You must never forget for a moment, that your sister Mary is the wife of a baron of eleven descents, and that your viscount husband has but two; therefore, never treat your sister with even a shade of hauteur."
"Hauteur! God forbid I should treat any human being any way proudly; but my dear, dear sister Mary, the example of my life, I must always be proud of honouring and of following, so far as I am able."
"Those who live longest see most. Ten years make a difference in many women."
"It will make no difference in Helen, I am sure," said Georgiana.
"You are sure! what can you possibly know, or expect to know, of the feelings of a woman of rank? content yourself with your lot in life, which will give you a title ere long, I doubt not, that will set you above two sisters who have none, though it places you below the other two. Besides, you are romantic, and may grow more so, in which case every want and wish can be supplied to you by considering your sailor husband in the light of a hero. I can assure you, Georgiana, for your comfort, that to my own knowledge the late Duchess of Wellington was as much attached to him (who was indeed her heart's chosen one) when he was Sir Arthur Wellesley, as she was when, covered with the jewels he had won, she saw him divide the homage of the world with the sovereign who thought he could never do enough for him. Don't allow yourself, therefore, to be ashamed of Arthur."
"Ashamed! surely that is impossible; I am more likely to err the other way a great deal."
"You have not seen your sisters' carriages roll along, passing you and half a dozen curly-headed brats squabbling on the pavement; but I don't wish to distress you before your time."
Poor Georgiana certainly looked not a little discomfited; her mother's words seemed spoken in such "prophetic strain," that she felt as if they must be realized; and, though one or two curly-headed urchins, very like her little nephews, and yet more like Arthur, was something rather to love than fear, six, all "squabbling on the pavement," was awful; but the rich sisters' carriages rolling near her added no dark shade to the picture. "If they see me," thought Georgiana, "they will stop and help me; and if they do not, I shall know they are happy, and that will be a certain comfort: nothing can make us cease to love each other."
About two hours after this, Helen was summoned to the dining-parlour, for Sir Edward had also had a letter; and, if its subject had not been so pleasant and so prolific as forming matter of discourse, he and his sister would have been here some time ago, for their hearts were full of Helen, as well as longing to see Georgiana, who ought undoubtedly to have visited them ere now, and certainly would, had she been permitted. It is unnecessary to say more, than that their kindness and warm welcome of Helen, as a future daughter of the family, put the seal upon her happiness, and made her strong to endure those daily thorns, which were still plentifully strewed in her path, even by the mother who never rested till she had informed all her friends, directly or indirectly, "of the splendid and suitable union awaiting her favourite daughter Helen."
No one who knew Lady Anne doubted that the daughter who made the best match would be the favourite; but every one unluckily remembered that Louisa enjoyed that situation from her fifteenth birthday to that of her marriage, though neither herself nor any other person recollected that she was the better for it, save in the gift of a bonnet, wherewith to catch the gazing baronet she had the virtue to disapprove, and the good sense to refuse.