Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 73
CHAPTER LXXIII.
When Lady Anne was informed by her weeping daughters that their dear uncle was no more, she appeared less surprised than sorry, saying only—"Poor Henry! how acute must have been the sufferings of so limited a time! He has died much in the same way that our father did, and at the same age."
Helen and Georgiana had of late loved their uncle dearly, having experienced from him more of paternal kindness than they could recollect receiving from any other person, and, but for the affectionate attentions of Mrs. Palmer and Mrs. Margaret Hales, would have been utterly unequal to continue those duties to their mother it was their earnest desire to pay. In the course of the night, she was found to be busily calculating the expence of Lord Rotheles's funeral, and detailing every particular of mutes, escutcheons, banner-men, feathers, coaches, &c, in an anxious manner, and was heard to say repeatedly, "Two might just as well go as one; the appearance would be better, and it would not make twenty pounds difference.—But," she exclaimed, after a pause, "I will try; I must see poor Rotheles once more." And the dying bent over the dead, the skinny lips pressed the marble forehead, and a few icy tears dropped from the cheek in which some portion of life remained, on that whence it had fled for ever. In thus obtaining her desire, the whole person of Lady Anne rested on the corpse, and Williams, who was keeping watch, and was tall and strong, seeing the nurse at fault, took Lady Anne up carefully in his arms, and re-conveyed her and her innumerable wrappings, with the utmost tenderness, to her couch. When he had seen her take the restorative Helen offered, the faithful valet ventured to say,—
"Pray, take comfort, my lady, pray do. I'm but a servant, and perhaps I oughtn't to speak; but as I do know that my lord have been gathering up thousands on thousands for the young ladies, I can't forbear to tell 'ee."
"Thousands, Williams?" said Lady Anne, her eyes again relighting at the words, though her hands and arms were already marble.
"Yes, thousands! my lady; and they are all for them, I know, for my lord told me so. The countess has fretted herself to fiddle-strings, 'cause she wants all, and would do if the heap was as big as St Paul's; but my lord has done justice by her, only his main object was your daughters, my lady. He loved you dearly,—Oh! very dearly."
"Then why not give me the money instead of saving it? I would have had a house in Belgrave Square, or a complete—yes, a com."
The words ceased—the last energy was spent—Lady Anne was no more.
••••••
For a time the poor girls insisted on applying the remedies for fainting, insisting she must revive, and their own servant joined in their opinion, for in fact the invalid had lived so much longer than could have been expected in her reduced state, that both her servants and those of Mr. Palmer seemed to doubt that she could die at all; and the more immediate interest awakened for poor Lord Rotheles had made her comparatively forgotten. The nurse and valet knew better, and got them out of the room as soon as possible, the latter offering to call up Mrs. Palmer, "who was so good a lady, she would get up, he didn't doubt, though she had a cold, he believed."
"She could do mamma no good now, and undoubtedly ought not to be disturbed on their account," was the immediate answer; and after a time, having gazed once more on the brother and sister so singularly united in death, and remarked the likeness between their features, now more evident than it had been for years, being completely exhausted (for this was their third night of watching), both crept to their attic, and happily became soon buried in profound repose.
When the good neighbours knew what had occurred, they took care that all sounds which might startle or annoy the sleeping sisters should be suppressed; and Mr. Palmer gave up his usual visit to the city, that he might hold himself at liberty to console by his presence, or assist by his advice, two young creatures so painfully situated and so entirely beloved.
In the course of the forenoon, Lord Rotheles's man of business arrived in Welbeck Street, and finding from Mr. Palmer that he had already heard much of the disposition of the earl's property from Sir Edward Hales, did not hesitate to entrust him with every thing material. He said that for many years past the great business of his lordship's life had been, in a quiet manner, to save up a fund from which to portion his nieces; that within the last two years, from the advice and assistance of Sir Edward Hales, he had made purchases which greatly facilitated his plan, and there could be no doubt, that by the time when the youngest attained her majority, about seven thousand pounds would be secured to each;—he had further devised to Helen and Georgiana, in reward for their especial attentions, a division of that personal estate whereby he had secured an income of a thousand a-year to the countess, whose fortune was very trifling (herself and niece being in fact regular watering-place fortune-hunters), but to whom he had bequeathed a third of what the sale of his effects might produce. He had well considered his old servants, various public and private charities, and even the gifts acceptable to good neighbours and friends—in fact, the gay, thoughtless young man, once foremost amongst fashionable sinners and sentimental sufferers, when time and trouble and sickness taught him to think, merged into the man of penitence, justice, and kindness. He became first upright and regular, then pitiful, considerate, and generous—the heart that in his days of weakness misled him, in the days of humility and consideration consoled him—he lived to redeem his character, to benefit his family and his dependants, and the tears of many watered his grave. The "heart of flesh" may be remodelled, but the "heart of stone" is the same for ever, unmalleable, unsightly, and unfruitful.
Letters and newspapers came in abundantly; they spoke of the triumphant close of the election, and assured Lady Anne, "that her advice had been strictly complied with, and had answered in every particular;" but alas! the good news arrived too late; the "dull, cold ear of death," long as it appeared to have been kept open for the very purpose of receiving this tale of triumph, had been compelled to yield, and there was nothing found likely to rejoice the hearts of the mourners, save in the belief that their sisters would soon be restored to them.
Louisa was, indeed, already with them called thither by the death of her uncle, who, sooth to say, claimed the tenderest tears of all, before any learned the extent of their obligations. Whilst Mrs. Penrhyn was with them, Mrs. Palmer advised Helen to open Lady Anne's writing-desk, as she thought it probable that certain directions might be found there likely to be of use. When Lady Anne gave her the casket, she had intimated as much; beyond that she did not expect any thing in the form of a will, seeing that Mr. Granard had left the property on which she lived to be equally divided amongst her daughters.
Accordingly, they did find, in her own handwriting, directions which ran thus:—
"If I should die, bury me in the new cemetery, and get Mr. Palmer to choose the proper place; being the first woman of rank that is laid there, I expect he will be able to get the vault cheap, as my funeral will get into the newspapers, and cause many others to be buried there."
To a hundred pound bank-note was attached a slip of paper, saying—
"This is to buy Count Riccardini another horse, and to beg his pardon sincerely for all the foolish things I said of him formerly. He is a good man—continue to love him."
These "symptoms of honesty," as Mr. Palmer called them, were exceedingly grateful to the hearts of her daughters; and so much does death halo its object, that, could a stranger, at this hour of awakened feeling, have heard the three daughters talk of "poor dear mamma," they would have regarded the deceased as a faultless personage. Helen most positively refused to open the money-drawer until Mr. Glentworth's arrival, saying, "she knew that Lady Anne would not be pleased if she did;" and deeply, though momentarily, did blushes crimson her cheek as she recollected the way in which mamma had been willing to stock that drawer at the expence of her own friends and the lovers of her daughters; but silence sat on her lips.
In the dark hour, the hearse arrived, which removed the remains of their beloved uncle. The good baronet and his sister contrived to be with them at the time; and he informed them that his own grandsons had received directions from him to cross the country to Worcestershire, and attend the funeral, and he could not doubt Lord Allerton would contrive to be there also, as the near neighbour and relative of the deceased. "You will be surprised to hear," he added, "that the Countess is actually setting out to Baden-Baden to-morrow by the advice of her physician. My sister's maid went to the Clarendon about an hour since, with our kind inquiries, and saw her, as she says, really looking shockingly."
So said Georgiana when she heard it; but she comforted herself with the belief that the Countess was not a woman to be killed by conceit; she, however, related what had occurred with the utmost simplicity to the infinite, inward amusement of Mr. Palmer, who maintains "that his unparalleled friend, Lady Anne, had not her match in the world for sending off a 'troublesome customer' with a flea in her ear, which not all the waters of all the Badens will ever wash out again."
In the middle of the following day, the Glentworths arrived at the house of mourning, and saw, by a glance at the darkened windows, "death had been busy there," but they little thought how busy, having left Keenborough before the time when the letter announcing Lord Rotheles's violent illness reached that place. Isabella knew but little of her uncle, but that little was endearing; and Mr. Glentworth, who had only learned from his sister how far they might be said to be associated with each other, remembered with pity the appearance of flutter and abstraction visible in his lordship's manners, when he performed the part of father at the time of his marriage, and felt thankful, that by naming him in the trusteeship of his affairs, he had proved personal esteem to himself, and either utter forgetfulness or christian forgiveness of his father. He warmly expressed these sentiments, saying "he would certainly pay the last duties to one he esteemed so highly," and Mr. Penrhyn expressed the same intention.
"You forget, indeed, you forget," said Helen, "dear mamma must be buried as well as uncle."
The two gentlemen looked at each other; there was confession in the countenance of each; they had forgotten Lady Anne: but the entrance of Mr. Palmer (who had seen the travelling chariot at the door) set all to rights. He had himself arranged every thing for the interment of his neighbour, with such due regard to the economy she recommended, and the observances she loved, that nothing remained undone; and it appeared very possible to attend the funeral of Lady Anne at an early hour on the Monday, and reach Rotheles Castle, so as to attend that of its late lord on Tuesday noon.
This important point adjusted, they were returning to the carriage, when Mr. Palmer said impressively, "You must be detained a moment."
"Helen has no money, and refuses help from me, in the belief that her mamma has left plenty for present use, but will let no one open the drawer but Mr. Glentworth: here is the key."
"That is exactly what my wife would do under the same circumstances. Lady Anne certainly merits well at the hands of her sons-in-law."
"True; but she meant you all to pay for the education of your wives."
"Here are thirty sovereigns, in the first place; put them in your pocket, Helen; and here is one of the hundred-pound bills I sent her when I went away."
"The other is in this drawer, and labelled, 'to buy Count Riccardini a horse.'"
"I am very, very glad of that," said Glentworth, "though it proves my suspicions were too just. Here are also bills amounting to three hundred and fifty pounds."
The daughters being together above, Mr. Palmer exclaimed, "So, then, with more than four hundred pounds in this desk, we had an execution in the house for seventy-three, poor Helen being alone, and almost frightened to death, and the nakedness of the land exposed to two young men—and all this managed by a proud woman in her perfect senses. I can't understand this. 'Tis an inexplicable page in the book of human nature!"
"Now I think 'he that runs may read it.' Pride is always inconsistent, and, nine times out of ten, united to meanness, bordering on dishonesty. Extravagance demands her food from avarice, and Lady Anne was providing for some expected triumph, and hoarding up with one hand what she meant to throw away with the other. But we will say no more; the ladies are coming down stairs. I must hurry Isabella away."
And if the young mother soon forgot, in the beauty of her smiling boy (by degrees recalling her to memory, and at length fondly clasping her neck), that faded remnant of her once beautiful but never tender mother, shall we not rejoice in her joy, and own her happiness is well founded? She had omitted no duty, even in all the confusion of her late engagements, and she had been grateful for the only kind attentions she ever could remember to have received, and for ever blotted from her mind the many mortifications heaped on her innocent childhood and unoffending youth, wisely and gratefully accepting the blessings she enjoyed as far more than equivalent for the affection denied.
All things were conducted with propriety, and both funerals were duly attended; after which, the poor girls, who had so long "borne the burden of the day," removed from their miserable dwelling to one or other of their sisters, drinking the waters of consolation at the well-spring of life, and renewing those sweet memories which render early affection as permanent as it is lovely. Arthur was not long before he ventured to visit Georgiana, who might, perhaps, look upon him, and think of his sad case. "In truth 'twas strange and wonderous pitiful;" yet it is certain she did not the less rejoice
"That Heaven had made her such a man."