Book: Helen

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Helen







CHAPTER VI.


THE first tidings of Beauclerc came in a letter from him to the general,
written immediately after his arrival at Paris. But it was plain that it
must have been written before Lady Cecilia's letter, forwarded by Madame de
St. Cymon, could have reached him. It was evident that matters were as yet
unexplained, from his manner of writing about "the death-blow to all his
hopes," and now he was setting off with Lord Beltravers for Naples, to
follow M. de St. Cymon, and settle the business of the sister's divorce.
Lady Cecilia could only hope that her letter would follow him thither,
enclosed in this Madame de St. Cymon's despatches to her brother; and now
they could know nothing more till they could hear from Naples.

Meanwhile, Helen perceived that, though the general continued to be as
attentive and kind to her as usual, yet that there was something more
careful and reserved in his manner than formerly, less of spontaneous
regard, and cordial confidence. It was not that he was displeased by her
having discouraged the addresses of his ward, fond as he was of Beauclerc,
and well as he would have been pleased by the match. This he distinctly
expressed the only time that he touched upon the subject. He said, that
Miss Stanley was the best and the only judge of what would make her happy;
but he could not comprehend the nature of the mistake she had made;
Cecilia's explanations, whatever they were, had not made the matter clear.
There was either some caprice, or some mystery, which he determined not to
inquire into, upon his own principle of leaving people to settle their love
affairs in their own way. Helen's spirits were lowered: naturally of great
sensibility, she depended more for her happiness on her inward feelings
than upon any external circumstances. A great deal of gaiety was now going
on constantly among the young people at Clarendon Park, and this made
her want of spirits more disagreeable to herself, more obvious, and more
observed by others. Lady Katrine rallied her unmercifully. Not suspecting
the truth, her ladyship presumed that Miss Stanley repented of having,
before she was asked, said No instead of Yes, to Mr. Churchill. Ever since
his departure she had evidently worn the willow.

Lady Cecilia was excessively vexed by this ill-natured raillery: conscious
that she had been the cause of all this annoyance to Helen, and of much
more serious evil to her, the zeal and tenderness of her affection now
increased, and was shown upon every little occasion involuntarily, in a
manner that continually irritated her cousin Katrine's jealousy. Helen had
been used to live only with those by whom she was beloved, and she was not
at all prepared for the sort of warfare which Lady Katrine carried on; her
perpetual sneers, innuendoes, and bitter sarcasms, Helen did not resent,
but she felt them. The arrows, ill-aimed and weak, could not penetrate far;
it was not with their point they wounded, but by their venom--wherever
that touched it worked inward mischief. Often to escape from one false
imputation she exposed herself to another more grievous. One night, when
the young people wished to dance, and the usual music was not to be
had, Helen played quadrilles, and waltzes, for hours with indefatigable
good-nature, and when some of the party returned their cordial thanks, Lady
Katrine whispered, "our musician has been well paid by Lord Estridge's
admiration of her white hands." His lordship had not danced, and had been
standing all the evening beside Helen, much to the discomfiture of Lady
Katrine, who intended to have had him for her own partner. The next night,
Helen did not play, but joined the dance, and with a boy partner, whom
nobody could envy her. The general, who saw wonderfully quickly the by-play
of society, marked all this, and now his eye followed Helen through the
quadrille, and he said to some one standing by, that Miss Stanley danced
charmingly, to his taste, and in such a lady-like manner. He was glad to
see her in good spirits again; her colour was raised, and he observed that
she looked remarkably well. "Yes," Lady Katrine answered, "remarkably well;
and black is so becoming to that sort of complexion, no doubt this is the
reason Miss Stanley wears it so much longer than is customary for an uncle.
Short or long mournings are, to be sure, just according to fashion,
or feeling, as some say. For my part, I hate long mournings--so like
ostentation of sentiment; whatever I did, at any rate I would be
consistent. I never would dance in black. Pope, you know, has such a good
cut at that sort of thing. Do you recollect the lines?"

"'And bear about the mockery of woe
To midnight dances and the public show.'"

Lady Castlefort took Miss Stanley aside, after the dance was over, to
whisper to her so good-naturedly, how shockingly severe Katrine had been;
faithfully repeating every word that her sister had said. "And so cruel,
to talk of your bearing about the _mockery_ of woe!--But, my sweet little
lamb, do not let me distress you so." Helen, withdrawing from the false
caresses of Lady Castlefort, assured her that she should not be hurt by
any thing Lady Katrine could say, as she so little understood her real
feelings; and at the moment her spirit rose against the injustice, and felt
as much superior to such petty malice as even Lady Davenant could have
desired. She had resolved to continue in mourning for the longest period
in which it is worn for a parent, because, in truth, her uncle had been a
parent to her; but the morning after Lady Katrine's cruel remarks, Cecilia
begged that Helen would oblige her by laying aside black. "Let it be on my
birthday." Lady Cecilia's birth-day was to be celebrated the ensuing week.
"Well, for that day certainly I will," Helen said; "but only for that day."
This would not satisfy Cecilia. Helen saw that Lady Katrine's observations
had made a serious impression, and, dreading to become the subject of daily
observation, perhaps altercation, she yielded. The mourning was thrown
aside. Then every thing she wore must be new. Lady Cecilia and Mademoiselle
Felicie, her waiting-maid, insisted upon taking the matter into their
own hands. Helen really intended only to let one dress for her friend's
birth-day be bespoken for her; but from one thing she was led on to
another. Lady Cecilia's taste in dress was exquisite. Her first general
principle was admirable--"Whatever you buy, let it be the best of its kind,
which is always the cheapest in the end." Her second maxim was--"Never have
anything but from such and such people, or from such and such places,"
naming those who were at the moment accredited by fashion. "These, of
course, make you pay high for the name of the thing; but that must be. The
name is all," said Lady Cecilia. "Does your hat, your bonnet, whatever it
be, come from the reigning fashionable authority? then it is right, and you
are quite right. You can put down all objections and objectors with the
magic of a name. You need think no more about your dress; you have no
trouble; while the poor creatures who go toiling and rummaging in cheap
shops--what comes of it? but total exhaustion and disgrace! Yesterday, now,
my dear Helen, recollect. When Lady Katrine, after dinner, asked little
Miss Isdall where she bought that pretty hat, the poor girl was quite out
of countenance. 'Really she did not know; she only knew it was very cheap.'
You saw that nobody could endure the hat afterwards; so that, cheap as it
might be, it was money to all intents and purposes absolutely thrown away,
for it did not answer its purpose."

Helen, laughing, observed, that if its purpose had been to look well, and
to make the wearer look well, it had fully succeeded. "Sophistry, my dear
Helen. The purpose was not to look well, but to have a distinguished air.
Dress, and what we call fashion and taste altogether, you know, are mere
matters of opinion, association of ideas, and so forth. When will you learn
to reason, as mamma says? Do not make me despair of you."

Thus, half in jest, half in earnest, with truth and falsehood, sense and
nonsense, prettily blended together, Lady Cecilia prevailed in overpowering
Helen's better judgment, and obtained a hasty submission. In economy, as in
morals, false principles are far more dangerous than any one single error.
One false principle as to laying out money is worse than any bad bargain
that can be made, because it leads to bad bargains innumerable. It was
settled that all Helen wanted should be purchased, not only from those who
sold the best goods, but from certain very expensive houses of fashionably
high name in London. And the next point Lady Cecilia insisted upon was,
that Helen's dress should always be the same as her own. "You know it used
to be so, my dear Helen, when we were children; let it be so now."

"But there is such a difference _now_" said Helen; "and I cannot
afford----"

"Difference! Oh! don't talk of differences--let there be none ever between
us. Not afford!--nonsense, my dear--the expense will be nothing. In
these days you get the materials of dress absolutely for nothing--the
fashion--the making-up is all, us Felicie and I, and everybody who knows
anything of the matter, can tell you. Now all that sort of thing we can
save you--here is my wedding paraphernalia all at your service--patterns
ready cut--and here is Felicie, whose whole French soul is in the
toilette--and there is your own little maid, who has hands, and head, and
heart, all devoted to you--so leave it to us--leave it to us, my dear--take
no thought what you shall put on--and you will put it on all the better."
Felicie was summoned. "Felicie, remember Miss Stanley's dress is always
to be the same as my own. It must be so, my dear. It will be the greatest
pleasure to me," and with her most persuasive caressing manner, she added,
"My own dear Helen, if you love me, let it be so."

This was an appeal which Helen could not resist. She thought that she could
not refuse without vexing Cecilia; and, from a sort of sentimental belief
that she was doing Cecilia "a real kindness,"--that it was what Cecilia
called "a sisterly act," she yielded to what she knew was unsuited to her
circumstances--to what was quite contrary to her better judgment. It often
so happens, that our friends doubly guard one obvious point of weakness,
while another exists undiscovered by them, and unknown to ourselves. Lady
Davenant had warned Helen against the dangers of indecision and coquetry
with her lovers, but this danger of extravagance in dress she had not
foreseen--and into how much expense this one weak compliance would lead
her, Helen could not calculate. She had fancied that, at least, till she
went to town, she should not want anything expensive--this was a great
mistake. Formerly in England, as still in every other country but England,
a marked difference was made in the style of dress in the country and in
town. Formerly, overdressing in the country was reprobated as quite vulgar;
but now, even persons of birth and fashion are guilty of this want of taste
and sense. They display almost as much expensive dress in the country as in
town.

It happened that, among the succession of company at Clarendon Park
this summer, there came, self-invited, from the royal party in the
neighbourhood, a certain wealthy lady, by some called "Golconda," by others
"the Duchess of Baubleshire." She was passionately fond of dress, and she
eclipsed all rivals in magnificence and variety of ornaments. At imminent
peril of being robbed, she brought to the country, and carried about
everywhere with her, an amazing number of jewels, wearing two or three
different sets at different times of the day--displaying them on the most
absurdly improper occasions--at a fete champetre, or a boat race.

Once, after a riding-party, at a pic-nic under the trees, when it had been
resolved unanimously that nobody should change their dress at dinner-time,
Golconda appeared in a splendid necklace, displayed over her riding-dress,
and when she was reproached with having broken through the general
agreement not to dress she replied, that, "Really she had put the thing on
in the greatest hurry, without knowing well what it was, just to oblige her
little page who had brought three sets of jewels for her choice--she had
chosen the _most undressed_ of the three, merely because she could not
disappoint the poor little fellow."

Every one saw the affectation and folly, and above all, the vulgarity of
this display, and those who were most envious were most eager to comfort
themselves by ridicule. Never was the "Golconda" out of hearing, but Lady
Katrine was ready with some instance of her "absurd vanity." "If fortune
had but blessed her with such jewels," Lady Katrine said, "she trusted she
should have worn them with better grace;" but it did not appear that the
taste for baubles was diminished by the ridicule thrown upon them--quite
the contrary, it was plain that the laughers were only envious, and envious
because they could not be envied.

Lady Cecilia, who had no envy in her nature--who was really
generous--entered not into this vain competition; on the contrary, she
refrained from wearing any of her jewels, because Helen had none; besides,
simplicity was really the best taste, the general said so--this was well
thought and well done for some time, but there was a little lurking love
of ornaments in Cecilia's mind, nor was Helen entirely without sympathy in
that taste. Her uncle had early excited it in her mind by frequent fond
presents of the prettiest trinkets imaginable; the taste had been matured
along with her love for one for whom she had such strong affection, and it
had seemed to die with its origin. Before she left Cecilhurst, Helen had
given away every ornament she possessed; she thought she could never want
them again, and she left them as remembrances with those who had loved her
and her uncle.

Cecilia on her birthday brought her a set of forget-me-nots to match those
which she intended to wear herself, and which had been long ago given to
Lady Cecilia by the dear good dean himself. This was irresistible to Helen,
and they were accepted. But this was only the prelude to presents of more
value, which Helen scrupled to receive; yet--

"Oft to refuse and never once offend"

was not so easily done as said, especially with Lady Cecilia; she was so
urgent, so caressing, and had so many plausible reasons, suitable to all
occasions. On the general's birthday, Lady Cecilia naturally wished to wear
his first gift to her--a pair of beautiful pearl bracelets, but then Helen
must have the same. Helen thought that Roman pearl would do quite as well
for her. She had seen some such excellent imitations that no eye could
detect the difference. "No eye! very likely; but still your own conscience,
my dear!" replied Lady Cecilia. "And if people ask whether they are real,
what could you say? You know there are everywhere impertinent people;
malicious Lady Katrines, who will ask questions. Oh! positively I cannot
bear to think of your being detected in passing off counterfeits. In all
ornaments, it should be genuine or none--none or genuine."

"None, then, let it be for me this time, dear Cecilia."

Cecilia seemed to submit, and Helen thought she had well settled it. But
on the day of the general's _fete_, the pearl bracelets were on her
dressing-table. They were from the general, and could not be refused.
Cecilia declared she had nothing to do with the matter.

"Oh, Cecilia!"

"Upon my word!" cried Lady Cecilia; "and if you doubt me, the general shall
have the honour of presenting, and you the agony of refusing or accepting
them in full salon."

Helen sighed, hesitated, and submitted. The general, on her appearing with
the bracelets, bowed, smiled, and thanked her with his kindest look; and
she was glad to see him look kindly upon her again.

Having gained her point so pleasantly this time, Lady Cecilia did not stop
there; and Helen found there was no resource but to bespeak beforehand for
herself whatever she apprehended would be pressed upon her acceptance.

Fresh occasions for display, and new necessities for expense, continually
occurred. Reviews, and races, and race-balls, and archery meetings, and
archery balls, had been, and a regatta was to be. At some of these the
ladies had appeared in certain uniforms, new, of course, for the day; and
now preparations for the regatta had commenced, and were going on. It was
to last several days: and after the boat-races in the morning, there were
to be balls at night. The first of these was to be at Clarendon Park, and
Mademoiselle Felicie considered her lady's dress upon this occasion as one
of the objects of first importance in the universe. She had often sighed
over the long unopened jewel-box. Her lady might as well be nobody.
Mademoiselle Felicie could no ways understand a lady well born not wearing
that which distinguished her above the common; and if she was ever to
wear jewels, the ball-room was surely the proper place. And the sapphire
necklace would look _a ravir_ with her lady's dress, which, indeed, without
it, would have no effect; would be quite _mesquine_ and _manquee_.

Now Lady Cecilia had a great inclination to wear that sapphire necklace,
which probably Felicie saw when she commenced her remonstrances, for it is
part of the business of the well-trained waiting-woman, to give utterance
to those thoughts which her lady wishes should be divined and pressed into
accomplishment. Cecilia considered whether it would not be possible to
divide the double rows of her sapphires, to make out a set for Helen as
well as for herself; she hesitated only because they had been given to her
by her mother, and she did not like to run the hazard of spoiling the set;
but still she could manage it, and she would do it. Mademoiselle Felicie
protested the attempt would be something very like sacrilege; to prevent
which, she gave a hint to Helen of what was in contemplation.

Helen knew that with Cecilia, when once she had set her heart upon a
generous feat of this kind, remonstrance would be in vain; she dreaded
that she would, if prevented from the meditated division of the sapphires,
purchase for her a new set: she had not the least idea what the expense
was, but, at the moment, she thought anything would be better than letting
Cecilia spoil her mother's present, or put her under fresh obligations of
this sort. She knew that the sapphires had been got from the jewellers with
whom her uncle had dealt, and who were no strangers to her name; she wrote,
and bespoke a similar set to Lady Cecilia's.

"_Charmante!_ the very thing," Mademoiselle Felicie foresaw, "a young lady
so well born would determine on doing. And if she might add a little word,
it would be good at the same opportunity to order a ruby brooch, the same
as her lady's, as that would be the next object in question for the second
day's regatta ball, when it would be indispensable for that night's
appearance; _positivement_, she knew her lady would do it for Miss Stanley
if Miss Stanley did not do it of her own head."

Helen did not think that a brooch could be very expensive; there was not
time to consider about it--the post was going--she was afraid that Lady
Cecilia would come in and find her writing, and prevent her sending the
letter. She hastily added an order for the brooch, finished the letter, and
despatched it. And when it was gone she told Cecilia what she had done.
Cecilia looked startled; she was well aware that Helen did not know the
high price of what she had bespoken. But, determining that she would settle
it her own way, she took care not to give any alarm, and shaking her head,
she only reproached Helen playfully with having thus stolen a march upon
her.

"You think you have out-generaled me, but we shall see. Remember, I am the
wife of a general, and not without resources."




CHAPTER VII.


Of the regatta, of the fineness of the weather, the beauty of the
spectacle, and the dresses of the ladies, a full account appeared in the
papers of the day, of which it would be useless here to give a repetition,
and shameful to steal or seem to steal a description. We shall record only
what concerns Helen.

With the freshness of youth and of her naturally happy temper, she was
delighted with the whole, to her a perfectly new spectacle, and every body
was pleased except Lady Katrine, who, in the midst of every amusement,
always found something that annoyed her, something that "should not have
been so." She was upon this occasion more cross than usual, because this
morning's uniform was not becoming to her, and was most particularly so to
Miss Stanley, as all the gentlemen observed.

Just in time before the ladies went to dress for the ball at night, the
precious box arrived, containing the set of sapphires. Cecilia opened it
eagerly, to see that all was right. Helen was not in the room. Lady Katrine
stood by, and when she found that these were for Helen, her envious
indignation broke forth. "The poor daughters of peers cannot indulge
in such things," cried she; "they are fit only for rich heiresses! I
understood," continued she, "that Miss Stanley had given away her fortune
to pay her uncle's debts, but I presume she has thought better of that, as
I always prophesied she would----generosity is charming, but, after all,
sapphires are so becoming!"

Helen came into the room just as this speech was ended. Lady Katrine had
one of the bracelets in her hand. She looked miserably cross, for she
had been disappointed about some ornaments she had expected by the same
conveyance that brought Miss Stanley's. She protested that she had nothing
fit to wear to-night. Helen looked at Cecilia; and though Cecilia's look
gave no encouragement, she begged that Lady Katrine would do her the honour
to wear these sapphires this night, since she had not received what her
ladyship had ordered. Lady Katrine suffered herself to be prevailed on, but
accepted with as ill a grace as possible. The ball went on, and Helen at
least was happier than if she had worn the bracelets. She had no pleasure
in being the object of envy, and now, when she found that Cecilia could be
and was satisfied, though their ornaments were not exactly alike, it
came full upon her mind that she had done foolishly in bespeaking these
sapphires: it was at that moment only a transient self-reproach for
extravagance, but before she went to rest this night it became more
serious.

Lady Davenant had been expected all day, but she did not arrive till late
in the midst of the ball, and she just looked in at the dancers for a few
minutes before she retired to her own apartment. Helen would have followed
her, but that was not allowed. After the dancing was over, however, as she
was going to her room, she heard Lady Davenant's voice, calling to her as
she passed by; and, opening the door softly, she found her still awake, and
desiring to see her for a few minutes, if she was not too much tired.

"Oh no, not in the least tired; quite the contrary," said Helen.

After affectionately embracing her, Lady Davenant held her at arms' length,
and looked at her as the light of the lamp shone full upon her face and
figure. Pleased with her whole appearance, Lady Davenant smiled, and said,
as she looked at her--"You seem, Helen, to have shared the grateful old
fairy's gift to Lady Georgiana B. of the never-fading rose in the cheek.
But what particularly pleases me, Helen, is the perfect simplicity of your
dress. In the few minutes that I was in the ball-room to-night, I was
struck with that over-dressed duchess: her figure has been before my eyes
ever since, hung round with jewellery, and with that _aureole_ a foot and
a-half high on her head: like the Russian bride's headgear, which Heber
so well called 'the most costly deformity he ever beheld.' Really, this
passion for baubles," continued Lady Davenant, "is the universal passion of
our sex. I will give you an instance to what extravagance it goes. I know a
lady of high rank, who hires a certain pair of emerald earrings at fifteen
hundred pounds per annum. She rents them in this way from some German
countess in whose family they are an heir-loom, and cannot be sold." Helen
expressed her astonishment. "This is only one instance, my dear; I could
give you hundreds. Over the whole world, women of all ages, all ranks, all
conditions, have been seized with this bauble insanity--from the counter to
the throne. Think of Marie Antoinette and the story of her necklace; and
Josephine and her Cisalpine pearls, and all the falsehoods she told about
them to the emperor she reverenced, the husband she loved--and all for
what?--a string of beads! But I forget," cried Lady Davenant, interrupting
herself, "I must not forget how late it is: and I am keeping you up, and
you have been dancing: forgive me! When once my mind is moved, I forget all
hours. Good night--or good morning, my dear child; go, and rest." But just
as Helen was withdrawing her hand, Lady Davenant's eye fixed on her pearl
bracelets--"Roman pearls, or real? Real, I see, and very valuable!--given
to you, I suppose, by your poor dear extravagant uncle?"

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