The Author's Daughter/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI.
STILL RETROSPECTIVE: LADY EVELINE'S MARRIAGE.
It was under very different circumstances from those before the holidays that Miss Hope resumed her flirtation with John Derrick. If he had not the éclât of a declared engagement with Lady Eveline Darlington, he had he pleasure of a secret one, and he had never enjoyed flirting so much as now, when he felt sure nothing could come of it. Miss Hope was more agreeable than ever, and to his proposal to take lessons in singing and in music from her, his parents made no objection, so he was thrown into her company still more than before. Lady Eveline was very fond of music, and it was with some ulterior view of making himself agreeable to her by-and-by, while at he same time the process was exceedingly pleasant to himself, hat he had proposed to cultivate his naturally good voice. Miss Hope felt, if Mr. and Mrs. Derrick suspected, as they could scarcely help doing, the growth of Mr. John's attachment to herself, that they approved of it. His pleasure in the governess's society was greater and more unmixed than that of his noble betrothed. Miss Hope was older, more experienced, and had more tact. Lady Eveline was timid and sensitive; she did not love him well enough to be confiding and affectionate, and though they were engaged, he had always stood a little in awe of her. Under a very commonplace character, John Derrick concealed an enormous amount of vanity, and a disposition to take deep offence if he was slighted, so that Miss Hope, who really loved him, and to whom he was the most important person in he world, was sure to be a pleasanter companion than the inexperienced girl who had been persuaded into an engagement with him for family and worldly reasons, and whose parents underrated all but the wealth of her suitor.
When Lady Eveline's name was mentioned in conversation between pupil and teacher, John Derrick thought it rather good fun to speak slightingly of her beauty and other attractions. His promise to keep the engagement secret allowed of this latitude, and as Charlotte and Anne were always praising the Lady Eveline, he though it necessary to say something different in order to throw Miss Hope off the scent. He had discovered Miss Hope's wishes, and had been flattered and amused by them. He knew that he was a very eligible person; his reception from the Earl and Countess had strengthened his opinion of his importance; but the idea that even the governess's obscure position had not protected her heart from his powers of fascination was rather amusing; so he played the game, with nothing staked on his part and everything on Miss Hope's, with considerable skill and success.
In the mean time, Lady Eveline's negative amount of affection for him had no food but a few short and far from ardent or romantic letters. Indeed, even if he had been a good correspondent, which he was not, a man of average capacity can scarcely write good love-letters to one woman when he is deep in a flirtation with another. His whole powers in that way are forestalled, and even at the best it was Lady Eveline's rank and position that he had been most attached to. Miss Hope's person and manners were far more to his taste, and if her other qualifications had been equally attractive there was no doubt as to whom he should have preferred. He fancied that the style of beauty which Lady Eveline possessed, which was a complete contrast to his own, was that which he admired, and that her ethereal elegance, her transparently fair complexion, her deep blue eyes, and sunny hair with its rippling curls, was his type of beauty; whereas he really in his heart preferred Miss Hope's, which was more like his own, but with softened expression and more regular features. He was not ill-looking, but his face was rather heavy and clumsy, whereas Miss Hope was really fine woman, large and well made, whose dark eyes, fine straight black hair, strongly defined eyebrows, and short black eyelashes, clear brown complexion with a warm glow through it, rather large mouth, with white and regular teeth, made her altogether somewhat like himself, but considerably handsomer. She would have won him if she had not been his sister's governess, but even with that disadvantage he could not help being fascinated.
The only mark of attention he ventured on to remind Lady Eveline of his engagement was suggested by his father, and consisted in a magnificent set of jewels to appear in at a large party at Gower's Court. They were given through the Countess of Darlington, and arrived at a time when Eveline was disposed to forget all about her engagement. She had entreated that her aunt should know nothing of the matter, and as she was disposed to be a little restive under the excellent family arrangement, her mother and the Earl had consented that nothing should be said about it. There was n young Lord Martingale at Gower's Court for the Christmas holidays who was heir to a marquisate, and as Lady Gower was satisfied that Eveline was prettier than she promised to be, if she had any chance there the less that was said about the Manchester family the better. But Lord Martingale knew his own value too well to throw himself away on the daughter of the spendthrift Darlington, and Eveline's style was not at all to his taste, no that he baffled his hostess's attempts to throw them together. Though Lady Gower was a leader of fashion, and very exclusive in many of her ideas, she had a pride in getting up agreeable parties, and this could not be made up entirely of eligibles. It was necessary for the success even of parties in town to have a large sprinkling of detrimentals, in the shape of younger sons, clever young professional men, officers with very little beyond their pay, and even of a few litterateurs, now that literature was becoming so much the rage. If for parties in town,how much more valuable were such people for a six weeks' campaign at Christmas, when the neighbours were slow, and when there were possibilities of frost setting in and putting a stop to field sports.
I was therefore a lively circle into which Lady Eveline Darlington was introduced as a fresh face and a fresh nature; and she felt the attentions, the badinage, the smart conversation, the careless gaiety of that pleasure-loving and pleasure-seeking coterie something as delightful as it was new. Her father had been of the old school of self-indulgence, and she had had no brothers, so that it was a great deal more to her than to other young ladies of rank to come out. The Derricks had been very slow and stupid compared to this gay assembly, and she could not help contrasting John Derrick unfavourably with several of he young gentlemen whose compliments were much better turned, and whose attentions were much less clumsy. She received her fair share of admiration, if not from Lord Martingale or Sir Henry Overton, from one or two others whom she though much more agreeable; and especially from Mr. Gerald Staunton, a young barrister who was toiling up the many slow steps that lead in one case out of ten thousand to the woolsack, and which that remote chance tempts so many adventurous spirits to climb.
He had never seen anything out of his dreams so fresh and innocent as Lady Eveline Darlington, and sunned himself in the presence of one so unconsciously charming. Her enthusiasm about books, and pictures, and landscapes, her ignorance of the ways of the world, her frankness in asking information, her evident pleasure in every thing he said to her, were dangerous to the peace of mind of a briefless barrister with all the world certainly before him, but still a long way off.
Lady Gower had thought she had given her niece sufficient warning when she had said to her a day or two after her arrival: "Lady Darlington trusts that I will not put any nonsense into your head or let any one else do it, so I need only tell you that, with the exception of Lord Maringale, and Sir Harry Overton, and Mr. Seymour, there is not an eligible person at Gower's Court. As for the others, whatever they may say, you know it means nothing. Mr. Staunton, for instance, is well enough to pass an hour with, but he has nothing and neither have you, and he knows it. I only speak to you because you are so utterly inexperienced; a year hence you will see these things for yourself."
"Oh! I am safe enough, dear aunt," said Eveline with a laugh and a little sigh, "you need not tell me to take care of my heart." She thought her engagement, uncomfortable as it was, was defensive armour sufficient for all her requirements.
"My dear Eveline," said Lady Gower, a fortnight after this warning, "I told you to take care of your heart, and you said you were quite safe, but you ought to take care of poor Gerald Staunton's too. You are not sufficiently distant with him. I really should blame you if he has the presumption to fall in love with you, absurd and preposterous as it would be. We cannot do without these creatures, and ye they are a world of trouble to us; silly moths fluttering around dangerous candles. I think I overheard you saying you wished he could go to Darlington Castle to see some view or another, but there is one comfort, Darlington will not invite him."
Eveline heard this warning with a little feeling of shame, but not altogether without pleasure. The idea that Gerald Staunton was falling in love with her mos imprudently and hopelessly, was far more romantic and interesting to her, than John Derrick's proposal to make an exchange between rank and money; it was far more like books, and unfortunately Eveline nothing of life but from books, and neither her querulous mother nor her fashionable aunt tried to guide her hear or judgment in any other but the most worldly way.
There was an additional glow on Lady Eveline's cheek when Gerald again sat beside her and resumed the sparkling but still occasionally serious conversation, which they always took up just where they had left off. Each recollected so distinctly the other's last words, each had been thinking over the subject in the interval, and was ready to throw or to receive any new light on it. Lady Gower's eye was upon them, and she could hear all that they said, but there was not a word that she could take exception to. It was simply that they were interested in subjects that did not interest her that she was suspicious, Lady Eveline flattered herself;—but it was the amount of interest, and the looks and tones in which the conversation was conducted, that alarmed that clever woman of the world.
Gerald Staunton was one of her best talkers; she had always liked to place him where he could enliven a dull corner, but she did not like that her niece should appreciate his lively humour, his apt quotations, his fluent narrative so keenly. Nothing he said or did ever jarred on Eveline, his taste was so good, his opinions so just, his criticisms so keen. She was a little ashamed of her omnivorous capacity for novel reading, and her indiscriminating taste for poetry, and was now determined to like and dislike with better judgment, that is to say, with Gerald Staunton's judgment.
In the course of conversation one day the name of John Derrick happened to be mentioned, and Eveline heard with secret emotion that he had been a fellow-student with Staunton at Harrow and Oxford. As he did not know that she had any intimate knowledge of the family, or any connection with John Derrick in particular, Staunton could not guess how she was pained to hear anecdotes of his sensitive vanity, of his deficient scholarship, of his want of gentlemanly feeling, of his desire to fasten himself on great people, and of the rebuffs he had met with. Lady Gower acknowledged that it took several generations of wealth to get the tradesman's spirit out of the blood of these money magnates, and laughed at Mr. Staunton's description as heartily as the others, lamenting that so fine a property as Stanmore should have fallen into such hands, and bringing in a disparaging allusion to the Pennithorne alliance which Herbert Darlington had contracted. "Nothing can be done with her, Eveline. I made an effort and went to her, but she is hopeless, absolutely hopeless. And Manchester is several devotees lower than London of course."
All his must be true—quite true, for Eveline believed implicitly in Staunton, and how much more distressing was her engagement to her. Her indifference was fast changing into positive dislike, when the packet with the handsome ornaments arrived.
Lady Eveline took them to her aunt, determining to confide in her, and to implore her assistance to get free.
At first Lady Gower was astonished at the idea of her brother embarrassing himself to get such expensive ornaments for Eveline, especially as she had written that Lord Martingale had left Gower's Court; but when she heard the girl's confused and hesitating confession of where they came from, and what right Mr. John Derrick had to send them, her countenance cleared, and she took a very cheerful view of the whole proceeding. I was astonishing how differently Lady Gower looked on the Derricks when she heard of the formal proposal accepted by her brother on Eveline's behalf.
"I never heard of Darlington doing a wiser thing," said she. "Upon my word, Eveline, I am delighted to hear this, though it was not fair to keep-me in the dark so long."
"But you laugh at them all," said Eveline.
"I laugh at everything and everybody, as you know very well; and besides, I did not know at the time of the connection likely to be formed, and that was your fault. You sly thing, coming to me so young and innocent, to be introduced into the world, and with your cards all played beforehand and played so well too. And I might have saved myself all that trouble about Lord Martingale. Oh! I can scarcely forgive you for no telling me. We must bring them forward; I suppose they are improveable. Harrow and Oxford and the Continent they have done their best for him, and you must not mind what a flippant fellow like Staunton says, who would give his ears for such a position. John Derrick does not sound very aristocratic, but Lady-Eveline Derrick will do."
"But my dearest aunt, I am sure I do not like him well enough. I really was taken by surprise at his offer, and they all said that I had engaged myself when I had no intention of doing so. Oh! do, dear aunt, help me out of this terrible entanglement," and Eveline burst into tears.
"Nonsense, my dear child; it is the best thing that could possibly happen. I would have done the best I could for you, but I don't think you are likely to take in the set I mix with, and you know the Derricks are immensely rich. One is sure of property that is newly acquired, whereas no one can tell the incumbrances that are on old estates, and I am very glad that Darlington and your mamma exerted a little parental authority to reassure you."
"But I think I shall be miserable; I know I do no love him."
"Your head is so full of romances that you have no idea of what is really required as love from a young lady of rank."
"And besides, I am pretty sure he does not care much for me," said Lady Eveline sullenly.
"Oh! yes, I'm convinced that he does. I am sure these are most striking proofs of atachment. But I see how it is. It was the greatest folly not to tell me of this affair before you came to Gower's Court. If you had not been here, and seen a number of idle flattering creatures that appear to you to be more lively and agreeable than the excellent young man in whom you are engaged, you would have been quite satisfied with your chains. Never mind, these are really beautiful, and you may wear them with an easier mind than I thought you could have, for you know that they were paid for."
"Paid for—yes—" said Lady Eveline with a sigh, "but I would give them all and a great deal more to be able to return them and feel that I was free."
"My dear child, that cannot be. It is very wrong to trifle with a young man's feelings in this way, and very disgraceful to break off an engagement. If Mr. Derrick broke it off, every one would cry shame on him, and you should feel your own responsibilities too. I would be very dishonorable conduct, considering that has given you no cause of complain, and has as you say been as silent as to his success as you could wish. As for any attentions you may have met with here, I assure you that they mean nothing, absolutely nothing. You are known to be the daughter of the poorest and most extravagant peer in Great Britain, who has no political influence whatever, and no man in his senses would think of falling in love with you unless it was some one circumstanced like Mr. Derrick."
"Why did you tell me to take care, then, if there was no danger of anyone being insane enough to care about me?" said Eveline indignantly.
"Oh! these are words of course which I address to every young girl under my care whom I see flirting with such people. Gerald Staunton does no really care about you any more than you do about him; but I am really very glad to hear of this engagement."
Eveline was hurt at her aunt's supposing that she had given more affection than was felt for her; her pride was roused at the humiliating idea, and her manners to Gerald changed. He thought she had had a lesson from her aunt and was acting upon it. It was very proper certainly that she should grow cold to him, and much better for them both, for he knew it was the most imprudent of all possible attachments, but yet it had been her frankness and girlish simplicity that had so much won upon his heart. His apparent disappointment at her more distant manner awoke a delightful though agitated consciousness that her aunt had been mistaken, and that he really loved her; her old fascination returned, and one day out of doors, with a clear frosty sky above and a carpet of snow under their feet, her desire to know that she really held a high place in his regard led him on so far as to confess that he loved her.
How differently this declaration was received from that of John Derrick! How quickly it was apprehended, and even in spite of the miserableness of her pre-engagement, how proud she felt for the love of such a man!
It could not be accepted—of course not—"I am already engaged," she faltered out.
Gerald Staunton's countenance changed. He was horror-struck at her heartless conduct in leading him on to make a rash and mad proposal, while all the time she had no intention or power of returning his affection.
"Forgive me, Lady Eveline, my presumptuous folly," he said coldly. "If I had known of this before, I should have been saved a great deal of wish you all happiness." He was turning to go when he observed the white face of the girl, and her remorseful expression as she moved her lips as if to speak. He stopped to hear what she had to say.
"It is I who ought to ask forgiveness. I see that concealment is wrong; but I have been in the wrong about it altogether. Try to forgive me for the pain I have given you."
"I know it was the height of presumption on my part," said he; "I never intended to breathe a word of my feelings towards you, but I was foolish enough to misunderstand your manner, or your words, or something."
He had only understood her too well, but how useless and vain to say so.
"Mr. Staunton," said she slowly, "his engagement of mine was not of my seeking, but papa and mamma have set their hearts upon it, and so has Lady Gower, and things have gone so far that it would be dishonourable to break it off, and I will never think of doing such a thing; but—but I am not very happy, and when I think that I have made you unhappy too, I feel as if my hear would break."
Mr. Staunton could not help trying to comfort her a little; he guessed that if things had been brighter and more promising with him, Lady Eveline would not object to break off her engagement, but what had he to offer? His birth was by no means equal to hers, and his fortune was all to make, and an engagement for an indefinite period to a struggling man was what her noble relatives would never consent to, but her remorse and her grief only made the consciousness of his position more painful.
At this point in their conversation they were interrupted by Lady Gower, who guessed there had been something serious passing between them. She looked angrily at her niece, and ordered her to go in, and stay in her own room till she could speak with her. She then turned to the presumptuous lover.
"Tiffs will never do, Mr. Staunton," said she.
"So it appears," replied Staunton.
"We cannot allow of such things in our society. Lady Eveline is my niece, and under my care. She is young and inexperienced, and does not know the world."
"I hope she never may."
"But young as she is, she is engaged," said Lady Gower.
"So Lady Eveline has just told me, and astonished me very much by the information."
"She is engaged to John Derrick, your college friend."
"Engaged to John Derrick, and I have been speaking so thoughtlessly about him! She is a great deal too good for him."
"No, no, the young man is well enough, and will make her an excellent husband; but you will understand that for your own happiness, it will be better to see as little as possible of her for the future, so I do not expect to see much of you in town when I return, and for the present I think you had better go back to your chambers."
"Has not Lady Eveline been coerced into this engagement?" asked Gerald.
"Oh! no, nothing of the kind. Indeed, Mr. Derrick asked her in the first place, and she very properly referred him to Lord Darlington, and so the matter was settled. There is no such thing as coercion or compulsion now-a-day. It is altogether a most delightful arrangement, and I am quite sure that Lady Eveline has no desire to break it off. Your attentions might make her uncomfortable and unhappy, but they can do nothing further, and I am quite sure that as an honourable man you must feel what you ought to do under the circumstances."
Gerald Staunton took the advice of his hostess, and left Gower's Court at once, and Eveline knew that he had given up all hope of her, but believed that he loved her still. People who have once loved must love for ever, and though nothing would happen to break off her engagement, her dislike to it was as strong as ever. Lady Gower had determined on declaring it, and invited John Derrick to Gower's Court, where he had the pleasure of seeing his present worn, and his choice justified; for after she was known to be engaged, Eveline met with more general admiration than before. His friends and acquaintances congratulated him on having won the young beauty before she had come out, and he was favourably introduced by Lady Gower to the society he had longed for. He accompanied Lady Eveline to Darlington Castle, and if the kindest reception possible from the Earl and Countess could have made up for the coldness and timidity of his bride-elect, he might have been satisfied. To a certain extent he was satisfied; Eveline would of course grow very fond of him when she was married to him, and in the mean time she was not teasing or exacting; he had more liberty in his state of engagement than any young fellow of his acquaintance.
Miss Hope had wondered at John Derrick's being invited to Gower's Court, and after that to Darlington Castle, but as he had parted from her with regret, and as his letters to his sister always contained a message to Miss Hope, and as he had once written her a note on his own account, requesting the words of one of her favourite songs, she felt sure that she was not forgotten. Still the visit to Darlington Castle was alarming.
"We are all so fond of Lady Eveline; we saw so much of her when we were at Brighton. Is it not delightful that we are going to have her for a sister, Miss Hope ?" said Charlotte Derrick to her governess one day.
Miss Hope was leaning over Charlotte's drawing board pointing out a defect in the perspective, when she heard this astounding piece of news. She drew back with a slight exclamation, which, however, was nothing more than such intelligence deserved.
"And to think how sly they have both been about it," continued Charlotte. "They have been engaged since August, and never let Anne or me know, though papa and mamma knew all about it. I hoped that it might happen some time or other when John was asked to Gower's Court, but as it turns out they had settled it long ago."
"She is so lovely and so distinguished looking," said Anne; "and only seventeen. Is it not delightful, Miss Hope?"
Miss Hope bit her lip at the thought of how she had been duped and blinded. John Derrick had really given her cause to think he loved her, and more unmistakeably after he was bound to Lady Eveline than before.
"Of course with John's prospects it is an excellent match for Lady Eveline," said Charlotte; "for though she is an Earl's daughter, she is as poor as—as poor as you are, Miss Hope. John gave her her diamonds to be presented at Court in, and papa will not say how much they cost. If he had not she must have appeared in old things of her great grandmother's. I like new things. When I go to Court I shall coax papa to get me as handsome a set. If they had not made so mighty a secret of it, I might have had a look at it. Don't you think I should have as handsome things as John's wife?"
"Oh! yes, of course, yes," said the governess.
"Lady Eveline is coming here on a visit soon and you will see her. I am sure you will think her lovely, and she has such an exquisite voice, and is so fond of music. That is the reason why John has been so anxious to learn from you lately. You know it was after we returned to Stanmore from Brighton that he became so enthusiastic."
Miss Hope remembered the time and the circumstances, and did not feel at all soothed by the recollection. It was some time before John Derrick returned to Stanmore, and by that time she had schooled herself to hide the deep offence which she had felt at his conduct. He was disposed to be as friendly with her as ever, and as every one spoke openly to him of his relations to Lady Eveline, he thought it was perhaps due to Miss Hope to explain the matter to her. To her he made light of his attachment, did not praise the beauty or the elegance of his betrothed, said she was rather young and shy, but would probably acquire confidence by-and-bye, and gave it to be understood that the young lady and her family had rather sought him out than been sought by him, for of course it was a capital chance for them, and the governor had taken up the idea very cordially, and they had settled the mater very summarily in the room which the Earl called most inappropriately his study. Miss Hope drew the conclusion that his attachment was not very profound, and she was prepared to dislike Lady Eveline and all the family unseen and unheard.
The promised visit to Stanmore was not paid so soon as expected; Lady Eveline had shrunk from it, and John did not press it. He enjoyed showing her to his friends and being congratulated on his choice, and receiving compliments on her beauty and accomplishments, but he disliked the trouble of trying to win the heart he took for granted would be sufficiently his own for domestic comfort. Miss Hope disliked Lady Eveline still more when she saw her. Her pupils were never weary of praising her, and the old people liked her modest unpresuming manners, and her acquiescence in all the arrangements they made or proposed for her future home; but Miss Hope saw the truth with the quickness of perception which her own wrongs and her own indignation had sharpened; the girl gave no heart to John Derrick; she was making a worldly marriage of convenience. She had ousted her, Miss Hope, without any excuse or palliation of the offence; she was mercenary, she was deceitful. She could discover the lack of affection in all she said and did, and in all she did not say and did not do. There was no lingering with him in quiet corners of the room, no separating from the party for a quiet tête-à-tête during a walk or excursion, no brightening of her eye as he entered the room in which she sat. She would sit down to the piano to avoid conversation with John Derrick, she would suggest any arrangement that would prevent him from being her only escort to or from a place. The girls thought she was extremely fond of them, But Miss Hope saw a different cause for her desire for their company wherever she was.
And yet this pair were to be married; there appeared to be no help for it. How terribly quickly the weeks and months flew past for both Lady Eveline and Miss Hope. It seemed as if nothing could break the charmed net that entangled them, but Miss Hope once made the attempt.
"How very happy you must be, Lady Eveline," said she to her one day.
"Happy!" echoed the girl with a sigh and a start.
"It is so seldom when young people make a marriage of affection that the parents on both sides are so reasonable as they have been in your case," said Miss Hope with a slight accent on the word affection.
"Yes, I suppose so," said Lady Eveline. "I believe it is very rare."
"Mr. John Derrick is so agreeable, quite the life of our society at Stanmore," said Miss Hope.
"Is he? Do you think so? I have seen so little of the world You know I am very young."
Miss Hope thought Eveline was boastful of her youth, whereas in fact she wished she was older and had more determination.
"Old enough, however, to choose for yourself. It is astonishing how soon young ladies learn to do that," said Miss Hope.
"To choose for myself?" said Eveline with a bewildered air. "No, I did not do that."
"Then you had happiness thrust upon you by affectionate friends. No matter how it comes, if you are quite sure it is happiness," said Miss Hope.
"I don't know why you should speak in such a way to me, for even though I am so young I am not your pupil."
"Certainly you are not," said Miss Hope, "and as everything appears to be so satisfactory, there is very little occasion for you to take a hint from any one," and the matter dropped.
Lady Eveline did not know and could not guess that Miss Hope had found the man irresistible to whom she was herself so indifferent; she had considered her insinuations very impertinent, and had answered her with a hauteur which was not at all usual or natural to her. She had felt Miss Hope's eyes often on her, and they had made her feel uncomfortable. Her conscience was uneasy; she knew she was in the wrong; but all her authorized advisers had persuaded her that she was irrevocably committed, and that an engagement ought to be held as sacred as a marriage, so that she could see no way out of it.
Old Mr. Derrick behaved very handsomely; he took a house for the young people in London, and furnished it splendidly. He made most handsome presents to the bride, and thought she was charmingly conscious in her embarrassed gratitude, but unfortunately she did not take to him or to the old lady, and in the long weary months of her engagement she even tired of the society of Charlotte and Anne.
The two years specified came to an end, and the marriage took place. The trousseau was superb, and the ceremony was performed at a most fashionable church by a fashionable clergyman. The Morning Post gave a full and particular description of the dress of the bride and of the bridesmaids, and announced to the world that the happy couple had gone to make their wedding tour in Scotland. Both families received the congratulations of their friends on the happy event, and the Earl and Countess felt very glad that it was so well over.