Book: Alice, or The Mysteries, Book V
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Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Alice, or The Mysteries, Book V
"It is true, sir," answered the old gentleman; "and I feel the cold the
more, having just quitted the genial atmosphere of the South."
"Of Italy?"
"No, of England only. I see by this paper (I am not much of a
politician) that there is a chance of a dissolution of parliament, and
that Mr. Maltravers is likely to come forward for this county; are you
acquainted with him, sir?"
"A little," said Cleveland, smiling.
"He is a man I am much interested in," said the old gentleman; "and I
hope soon to be honoured with his acquaintance."
"Indeed! and you are going into his neighbourhood?" asked Cleveland,
looking more attentively at the stranger, and much pleased with a certain
simple candour in his countenance and manner.
"Yes, to Merton Rectory."
Maltravers, who had been hitherto stationed by the window, turned round.
"To Merton Rectory?" repeated Cleveland. "You are acquainted with Mr.
Merton, then?"
"Not yet; but I know some of his family. However, my visit is rather to
a young lady who is staying at the rectory,--Miss Cameron."
Maltravers sighed heavily; and the old gentleman looked at him curiously.
"Perhaps, sir, if you know that neighbourhood, you may have seen--"
"Miss Cameron! Certainly; it is an honour not easily forgotten."
The old gentleman looked pleased.
"The dear child!" said he, with a burst of honest affection, and he
passed his hand over his eyes. Maltravers drew near to him.
"You know Miss Cameron; you are to be envied, sir," said he.
"I have known her since she was a child; Lady Vargrave is my dearest
friend."
"Lady Vargrave must be worthy of such a daughter. Only under the light
of a sweet disposition and pure heart could that beautiful nature have
been trained and reared."
Maltravers spoke with enthusiasm; and, as if fearful to trust himself
more, left the room.
"That gentleman speaks not more warmly than justly," said the old man,
with some surprise. "He has a countenance which, if physiognomy be a
true science, declares his praise to be no common compliment; may I
inquire his name?"
"Maltravers," replied Cleveland, a little vain of the effect his
ex-pupil's name was to produce.
The curate--for it was he--started and changed countenance.
"Maltravers! but he is not about to leave the county?"
"Yes, for a few months."
Here the host entered. Four horses, that had been only fourteen miles,
had just re-entered the yard. If Mr. Maltravers could spare two to that
gentleman, who had, indeed, pre-engaged them?
"Certainly," said Cleveland; "but be quick."
"And is Lord Vargrave still at Mr. Merton's?" asked the curate, musingly.
"Oh, yes, I believe so. Miss Cameron is to be married to him very
shortly,--is it not so?"
"I cannot say," returned Aubrey, rather bewildered. "You know Lord
Vargrave, sir?"
"Extremely well!"
"And you think him worthy of Miss Cameron?"
"That is a question for her to answer. But I see the horses are put to.
Good-day, sir! Will you tell your fair young friend that you have met an
old gentleman who wishes her all happiness; and if she ask you his name,
say Cleveland?"
So saying, Mr. Cleveland bowed, and re-entered the carriage. But
Maltravers was yet missing. In fact, he returned to the house by the
back way, and went once more into the little parlour. It was something
to see again one who would so soon see Evelyn!
"If I mistake not," said Maltravers, "you are that Mr. Aubrey on whose
virtues I have often heard Miss Cameron delight to linger? Will you
believe my regret that our acquaintance is now so brief?"
As Maltravers spoke thus simply, there was in his countenance, his voice,
a melancholy sweetness, which greatly conciliated the good curate; and as
Aubrey gazed upon his noble features and lofty mien, he no longer
wondered at the fascination he had appeared to exercise over the young
Evelyn.
"And may I not hope, Mr. Maltravers," said he, "that before long our
acquaintance may be renewed? Could not Miss Cameron," he added, with a
smile and a penetrating look, "tempt you into Devonshire?"
Maltravers shook his head, and, muttering something not very audible,
quitted the room. The curate heard the whirl of the wheels, and the host
entered to inform him that his own carriage was now ready.
"There is something in this," thought Aubrey, "which I do not comprehend.
His manner, his trembling voice, bespoke emotions he struggled to
conceal. Can Lord Vargrave have gained his point? Is Evelyn, indeed, no
longer free?"
CHAPTER V.
CERTES, c'est un grand cas, Icas,
Que toujours tracas ou fracas
Vous faites d'une ou d'autre sort;
C'est le diable qui vous emporte!*--VOITURE.
* "Certes, it is the fact, Icas, that you are always engaged in
tricks or scrapes of some sort or other; it must be the devil
that bewitches you."
LORD VARGRAVE had passed the night of the ball and the following morning
at Knaresdean. It was necessary to bring the counsels of the scheming
conclave to a full and definite conclusion; and this was at last
effected. Their strength numbered, friends and foes alike canvassed and
considered, and due account taken of the waverers to be won over, it
really did seem, even to the least sanguine, that the Saxingham or
Vargrave party was one that might well aspire either to dictate to, or to
break up, a government. Nothing now was left to consider but the
favourable hour for action. In high spirits, Lord Vargrave returned
about the middle of the day to the rectory.
"So," thought he, as he reclined in his carriage,--"so, in politics, the
prospect clears as the sun breaks out. The party I have espoused is one
that must be the most durable, for it possesses the greatest property and
the most stubborn prejudice--what elements for Party! All that I now
require is a sufficient fortune to back my ambition. Nothing can clog my
way but these cursed debts, this disreputable want of gold. And yet
Evelyn alarms me! Were I younger, or had I not made my position too
soon, I would marry her by fraud or by force,--run off with her to
Gretna, and make Vulcan minister to Plutus. But this would never do at
my years, and with my reputation. A pretty story for the newspapers,
d-----n them! Well, nothing venture, nothing have; I will brave the
hazard! Meanwhile, Doltimore is mine; Caroline will rule him, and I rule
her. His vote and his boroughs are something,--his money will be more
immediately useful: I must do him the honour to borrow a few
thousands,--Caroline must manage that for me. The fool is miserly,
though a spendthrift; and looked black when I delicately hinted the other
day that I wanted a friend--_id est_, a loan! money and friendship same
thing,--distinction without a difference!" Thus cogitating, Vargrave
whiled away the minutes till his carriage stopped at Mr. Merton's door.
As he entered the hall he met Caroline, who had just quitted her own
room.
"How lucky I am that you have on your bonnet! I long for a walk with you
round the lawn."
"And I, too, am glad to see you, Lord Vargrave," said Caroline, putting
her arm in his.
"Accept my best congratulations, my own sweet friend," said Vargrave,
when they were in the grounds. "You have no idea how happy Doltimore is.
He came to Knaresdean yesterday to communicate the news, and his
neckcloth was primmer than ever. C'est un bon enfant."
"Ah, how can you talk thus? Do you feel no pain at the thought
that--that I am another's?"
"Your heart will be ever mine,--and that is the true fidelity. What
else, too, could be done? As for Lord Doltimore, we will go shares in
him. Come, cheer thee, _m'amie_; I rattle on thus to keep up your
spirits. Do not fancy I am happy!"
Caroline let fall a few tears; but beneath the influence of Vargrave's
sophistries and flatteries, she gradually recovered her usual hard and
worldly tone of mind.
"And where is Evelyn?" asked Vargrave. "Do you know, the little witch
seemed to be half mad the night of the ball. Her head was turned; and
when she sat next me at supper, she not only answered every question I
put to her _a tort et a travers_, but I fancied every moment she was
going to burst out crying. Can you tell what was the matter with her?"
"She was grieved to hear that I was to be married to the man I do not
love. Ah, Vargrave, she has more heart than you have!"
"But she never fancies that you love me?" asked Lumley, in alarm. "You
women are so confoundedly confidential!"
"No, she does not suspect our secret."
"Then I scarcely think your approaching marriage was a sufficient cause
for so much distraction."
"Perhaps she may have overheard some of the impertinent whispers about
her mother,--'Who was Lady Vargrave?' and 'What Cameron was Lady
Vargrave's first husband?' _I_ overheard a hundred such vulgar
questions; and provincial people whisper so loud."
"Ah, that is a very probable solution of the mystery; and for my part, I
am almost as much puzzled as any one else can be to know who Lady
Vargrave was!"
"Did not your uncle tell you?"
"He told me that she was of no very elevated birth and station,--nothing
more; and she herself, with her quiet, say-nothing manner, slips through
all my careless questionings like an eel. She is still a beautiful
creature, more regularly handsome than even Evelyn; and old Templeton had
a very sweet tooth at the back of his head, though he never opened his
mouth wide enough to show it."
"She must ever at least have been blameless, to judge by an air which,
even now, is more like that of a child than a matron."
"Yes; she has not much of the widow about her, poor soul! But her
education, except in music, has not been very carefully attended to; and
she knows about as much of the world as the Bishop of Autun (better known
as Prince Talleyrand) knows of the Bible. If she were not so simple, she
would be silly; but silliness is never simple,--always cunning; however,
there is some cunning in her keeping her past Cameronian Chronicles so
close. Perhaps I may know more about her in a short time, for I intend
going to C-----, where my uncle once lived, in order to see if I can
revive under the rose--since peers are only contraband
electioneerers--his old parliamentary influence in that city: and they
may tell me more there than I now know."
"Did the late lord marry at C-----?"
"No; in Devonshire. I do not even know if Mrs. Cameron ever was at
C-----."
"You must be curious to know who the father of your intended wife was?"
"Her father! No; I have no curiosity in that quarter. And, to tell you
the truth, I am much too busy about the Present to be raking into that
heap of rubbish we call the Past. I fancy that both your good
grandmother and that comely old curate of Brook-Green know everything
about Lady Vargrave; and, as they esteem her so much, I take it for
granted she is _sans tache_."
"How could I be so stupid! _A propos_ of the curate, I forgot to tell
you that he is here. He arrived about two hours ago, and has been
closeted with Evelyn ever since!"
"The deuce! What brought the old man hither?"
"That I know not. Papa received a letter from him yesterday morning, to
say that he would be here to-day. Perhaps Lady Vargrave thinks it time
for Evelyn to return home."
"What am I to do?" said Vargrave, anxiously. "Dare I yet venture to
propose?"
"I am sure it will be in vain, Vargrave. You must prepare for
disappointment."
"And ruin," muttered Vargrave, gloomily. "Hark you, Caroline, she may
refuse me if she pleases. But I am not a man to be baffled. Have her I
will, by one means or another; revenge urges me to it almost as much as
ambition. That girl's thread of life has been the dark line in my woof;
she has robbed me of fortune, she now thwarts me in my career, she
humbles me in my vanity. But, like a hound that has tasted blood, I will
run her down, whatever winding she takes."
"Vargrave, you terrify me! Reflect; we do not live in an age when
violence--"
"Tush!" interrupted Lumley, with one of those dark looks which at times,
though very rarely, swept away all its customary character from that
smooth, shrewd countenance. "Tush! We live in an age as favourable to
intellect and to energy as ever was painted in romance. I have that
faith in fortune and myself that I tell you, with a prophet's voice, that
Evelyn shall fulfil the wish of my dying uncle. But the bell summons us
back."
On returning to the house, Lord Vargrave's valet gave him a letter which
had arrived that morning. It was from Mr. Gustavus Douce, and ran
thus:--
FLEET STREET, ----- 20, 18--.
MY LORD,--It is with the greatest regret that I apprise you, for Self &
Co., that we shall not be able in the present state of the Money Market
to renew your Lordship's bill for 10,000 pounds, due the 28th instant.
Respectfully calling your Lordship's attention to the same, I have the
honour to be, for Self & Co., my Lord,
Your Lordship's most obedient and most obliged humble servant,
GUSTAVUS DOUCE.
To the Right Hon. LORD VARGRAVE, etc.
This letter sharpened Lord Vargrave's anxiety and resolve; nay, it seemed
almost to sharpen his sharp features as he muttered sundry denunciations
on Messrs. Douce and Co., while arranging his neckcloth at the glass.
CHAPTER VI.
_Sol._ Why, please your honourable lordship, we were talking
here and there,--this and that.--_The Stranger_.
AUBREY had been closeted with Evelyn the whole morning; and, simultaneous
with his arrival, came to her the news of the departure of Maltravers.
It was an intelligence that greatly agitated and unnerved her; and,
coupling that event with his solemn words on the previous night, Evelyn
asked herself, in wonder, what sentiments she could have inspired in
Maltravers. Could he love her,--her, so young, so inferior, so
uninformed? Impossible! Alas! alas! for Maltravers! His genius, his
gifts, his towering qualities,--all that won the admiration, almost the
awe, of Evelyn,--placed him at a distance from her heart! When she asked
herself if he loved her, she did not ask, even in that hour, if she loved
him. But even the question she did ask, her judgment answered erringly
in the negative. Why should he love, and yet fly her? She understood
not his high-wrought scruples, his self-deluding belief. Aubrey was more
puzzled than enlightened by his conversation with his pupil; only one
thing seemed certain,--her delight to return to the cottage and her
mother.
Evelyn could not sufficiently recover her composure to mix with the party
below; and Aubrey, at the sound of the second dinner-bell, left her to
her solitude, and bore her excuses to Mrs. Merton.
"Dear me!" said that worthy lady; "I am so sorry. I thought Miss Cameron
looked fatigued at breakfast, and there was something hysterical in her
spirits; and I suppose the surprise of your arrival has upset her.
Caroline, my dear, you had better go and see what she would like to have
taken up to her room,--a little soup and the wing of a chicken."
"My dear," said Mr. Merton, rather pompously, "I think it would be but a
proper respect to Miss Cameron, if you yourself accompanied Caroline."
"I assure you," said the curate, alarmed at the avalanche of politeness
that threatened poor Evelyn,--"I assure you that Miss Cameron would
prefer being left alone at present; as you say, Mrs. Merton, her spirits
are rather agitated."
But Mrs. Merton, with a sliding bow, had already quitted the room, and
Caroline with her.
"Come back, Sophy! Cecilia, come back!" said Mr. Merton, settling his
_jabot_.
"Oh, dear Evy! poor dear Evy!--Evy is ill!" said Sophy; "I may go to Evy?
I must go, Papa!"
"No, my dear, you are too noisy; these children are quite spoiled, Mr.
Aubrey."
The old man looked at them benevolently, and drew them to his knee; and,
while Cissy stroked his long white hair, and Sophy ran on about dear
Evy's prettiness and goodness, Lord Vargrave sauntered into the room.
On seeing the curate, his frank face lighted up with surprise and
pleasure; he hastened to him, seized him by both hands, expressed the
most heartfelt delight at seeing him, inquired tenderly after Lady
Vargrave, and, not till he was out of breath, and Mrs. Merton and
Caroline returning apprised him of Miss Cameron's indisposition, did his
rapture vanish; and, as a moment before he was all joy, so now he was all
sorrow.
The dinner passed off dully enough; the children, re-admitted to dessert,
made a little relief to all parties; and when they and the two ladies
went, Aubrey himself quickly rose to join Evelyn.
"Are you going to Miss Cameron?" said Lord Vargrave; "pray say how
unhappy I feel at her illness. I think these grapes--they are very
fine--could not hurt her. May I ask you to present them with my
best--best and most anxious regards? I shall be so uneasy till you
return. Now, Merton (as the door closed on the curate), let's have
another bottle of this famous claret! Droll old fellow that,--quite a
character!"
"He is a great favourite with Lady Vargrave and Miss Cameron, I believe,"
said Mr. Merton. "A mere village priest, I suppose; no talent, no
energy--or he could not be a curate at that age."
"Very true,--a shrewd remark. The Church is as good a profession as any
other for getting on, if a man has anything in him. I shall live to see
_you_ a bishop!"
Mr. Merton shook his head.
"Yes, I shall; though you have hitherto disdained to exhibit any one of
the three orthodox qualifications for a mitre."
"And what are they, my lord?"
"Editing a Greek play, writing a political pamphlet, and apostatizing at
the proper moment."
"Ha, ha! your lordship is severe on us."
"Not I; I often wish I had been brought up to the Church,--famous
profession, properly understood. By Jupiter, I should have been a
capital bishop!"
In his capacity of parson, Mr. Merton tried to look grave; in his
capacity of a gentlemanlike, liberal fellow, he gave up the attempt, and
laughed pleasantly at the joke of the rising man.
CHAPTER VII.
WILL nothing please you?
What do you think of the Court?--_The Plain Dealer_.
ON one subject Aubrey found no difficulty in ascertaining Evelyn's wishes
and condition of mind. The experiment of her visit, so far as Vargrave's
hopes were concerned, had utterly failed; she could not contemplate the
prospect of his alliance, and she poured out to the curate, frankly and
fully, all her desire to effect a release from her engagement. As it was
now settled that she should return with Aubrey to Brook-Green, it was
indeed necessary to come to the long-delayed understanding with her
betrothed. Yet this was difficult, for he had so little pressed, so
distantly alluded to, their engagement, that it was like a forwardness,
an indelicacy in Evelyn to forestall the longed-for yet dreaded
explanation. This, however, Aubrey took upon himself; and at this
promise Evelyn felt as the slave may feel when the chain is stricken off.
At breakfast, Mr. Aubrey communicated to the Mertons Evelyn's intention
to return with him to Brook-Green on the following day. Lord Vargrave
started, bit his lip, but said nothing.
Not so silent was Mr. Merton.
"Return with you! my dear Mr. Aubrey, just consider; it is impossible!
You see Miss Cameron's rank of life, her position,--so very strange; no
servants of her own here but her woman,--no carriage even! You would not
have her travel in a post-chaise such a long journey! Lord Vargrave, you
can never consent to that, I am sure?"
"Were it only as Miss Cameron's _guardian_," said Lord Vargrave,
pointedly, "I should certainly object to such a mode of performing such a
journey. Perhaps Mr. Aubrey means to perfect the project by taking two
outside places on the top of the coach?"
"Pardon me," said the curate, mildly, "but I am not so ignorant of what
is due to Miss Cameron as you suppose. Lady Vargrave's carriage, which
brought me hither, will be no unsuitable vehicle for Lady Vargrave's
daughter; and Miss Cameron is not, I trust, quite so spoiled by all your
friendly attentions as to be unable to perform a journey of two days with
no other protector than myself."
"I forgot Lady Vargrave's carriage,--or rather I was not aware that you
had used it, my dear sir," said Mr. Merton. "But you must not blame us,
if we are sorry to lose Miss Cameron so suddenly; I was in hopes that
_you_ too would stay at least a week with us."
The curate bowed at the rector's condescending politeness; and just as he
was about to answer, Mrs. Merton put in,--
"And you see I had set my heart on her being Caroline's bridesmaid."
Caroline turned pale, and glanced at Vargrave, who appeared solely
absorbed in breaking toast into his tea,--a delicacy he had never before
been known to favour.
There was an awkward pause. The servant opportunely entered with a small
parcel of books, a note to Mr. Merton, and that most blessed of all
blessed things in the country,--the letter-bag.
"What is this?" said the rector, opening his note, while Mrs. Merton
unlocked the bag and dispensed the contents: "Left Burleigh for some
months, a day or two sooner than he had expected; excuse French
leave-taking; return Miss Merton's books, much obliged; gamekeeper has
orders to place the Burleigh preserves at my disposal. So we have lost
our neighbour!"
"Did you not know Mr. Maltravers was gone?" said Caroline. "I heard so
from Jenkins last night; he accompanies Mr. Cleveland to Paris."
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Merton, opening her eyes. "What could take him to
Paris?"
"Pleasure, I suppose," answered Caroline. "I'm sure I should rather have
wondered what could detain him at Burleigh."
Vargrave was all this while breaking open seals and running his eyes over
sundry scrawls with the practised rapidity of the man of business; he
came to the last letter. His countenance brightened.
"Royal invitation, or rather command, to Windsor," he cried. "I am
afraid I, too, must leave you, this very day."
"Bless me!" exclaimed Mrs. Merton; "is that from the king? Do let me
see!"
"Not exactly from the king; the same thing though:" and Lord Vargrave,
carelessly pushing the gracious communication towards the impatient hand
and loyal gaze of Mrs. Merton, carefully put the other letters in his
pocket, and walked musingly to the window.
Aubrey seized the opportunity to approach him. "My lord, can I speak
with you a few moments?"
"Me! certainly; will you come to my dressing-room?"
CHAPTER VIII.
. . . THERE was never
Poor gentleman had such a sudden fortune.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _The Captain_, Act v. sc. 5.
"MY LORD," said the curate, as Vargrave, leaning back in his chair,
appeared to examine the shape of his boots, while in reality "his
sidelong looks;" not "of love," were fixed upon his companion,--"I need
scarcely refer to the wish of the late lord, your uncle, relative to Miss
Cameron and yourself; nor need I, to one of a generous spirit, add that
an engagement could be only so far binding as both the parties whose
happiness is concerned should be willing in proper time and season to
fulfil it."
"Sir!" said Vargrave, impatiently waving his hand; and, in his irritable
surmise of what was to come, losing his habitual self-control, "I know
not what all this has to do with you; surely you trespass upon ground
sacred to Miss Cameron and myself? Whatever you have to say, let me beg
you to come at once to the point."
"My lord, I will obey you. Miss Cameron--and, I may add, with Lady
Vargrave's consent--deputes me to say that, although she feels compelled
to decline the honour of your lordship's alliance, yet if in any
arrangement of the fortune bequeathed to her she could testify to you, my
lord, her respect and friendship, it would afford her the most sincere
gratification."
Lord Vargrave started.
"Sir," said he, "I know not if I am to thank you for this information,
the announcement of which so strangely coincides with your arrival. But
allow me to say that there needs no ambassador between Miss Cameron and
myself. It is due, sir, to my station, to my relationship, to my
character of guardian, to my long and faithful affection, to all
considerations which men of the world understand, which men of feeling
sympathize with, to receive from Miss Cameron alone the rejection of my
suit."
"Unquestionably Miss Cameron will grant your lordship the interview you
have a right to seek; but pardon me, I thought it might save you both
much pain, if the meeting were prepared by a third person; and on any
matter of business, any atonement to your lordship--"
"Atonement! what can atone to me?" exclaimed Vargrave, as he walked to
and fro the room in great disorder and excitement. "Can you give me back
years of hope and expectancy,--the manhood wasted in a vain dream? Had I
not been taught to look to this reward, should I have rejected all
occasion--while my youth was not yet all gone, while my heart was not yet
all occupied--to form a suitable alliance? Nay, should I have indulged
in a high and stirring career, for which my own fortune is by no means
qualified? Atonement! atonement! Talk of atonement to boys! Sir, I
stand before you a man whose private happiness is blighted, whose public
prospects are darkened, life wasted, fortunes ruined, the schemes of an
existence built upon one hope, which was lawfully indulged, overthrown;
and you talk to me of _atonement_!"