Book: Helen

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Helen




One morning General Clarendon, stopping Cecilia as she was coming down to
breakfast, announced that he was obliged to set off instantly for London,
on business which could not be delayed, and that she must settle with Miss
Stanley whether they would accompany him or remain at Clarendon Park. He
did not know, he said, how long he might be detained.

Cecilia was astonished, and excessively curious; she tried her utmost
address to discover what was the nature of his business, in vain. All that
remained was to do as he required without more words. He left the room, and
Cecilia decided at once that they had better accompany him. She dreaded
some delay; she thought that, if the general went alone to town, he
might be detained Heaven knows how long; and though the marriage must be
postponed at all events, yet if they went with the general, the ceremony
might be performed in town as well as at Clarendon Park; and she with some
difficulty convinced Helen of this. Beauclerc feared nothing but delay.
They were to go. Lady Cecilia announced their decision to the general, who
immediately set off, and the others in a few hours followed him.




CHAPTER III.

"In my youth, and through the prime of manhood, I never entered London
without feelings of hope and pleasure. It was to me the grand theatre of
intellectual activity, the field for every species of enterprise and
exertion, the metropolis of the world, of business, thought, and action.
There, I was sure to find friends and companions, to hear the voice of
encouragement and praise. There, society of the most refined sort offered
daily its banquets to the mind, and new objects of interest and ambition
were constantly exciting attention either in politics, literature, or
science."

These feelings, so well described by a man of genius, have probably been
felt more or less by most young men who have within them any consciousness
of talent, or any of that enthusiasm, that eager desire to have or to give
sympathy, which, especially in youth, characterises noble natures. But
after even one or two seasons in a great metropolis these feelings often
change long before they are altered by age. Granville Beauclerc had already
persuaded himself that he now detested, as much as he had at first been
delighted with, a London life. From his metaphysical habits of mind, and
from the sensibility of his temper, he had been too soon disgusted by that
sort of general politeness which, as he said, takes up the time and place
of real friendship; and as for the intellectual pleasures, they were, he
said, too superficial for him; and his notions of independence, too, were
at this time quite incompatible with the conventional life of a great
capital. His present wish was to live all the year round in the country,
with the woman he loved, and in the society of a few chosen friends. Helen
quite agreed with him in his taste for the country; she had scarcely ever
known any other life, and yet had always been happy; and whatever youthful
curiosity had been awakened in her mind as to the pleasures of London, had
been now absorbed by stronger and more tender feelings. Her fate in life,
she felt, was fixed, and wherever the man she loved wished to reside, that,
she felt, must be her choice. With these feelings they arrived at General
Clarendon's delightful house in town.

Helen's apartment, and Cecilia's, were on different floors, and had no
communication with each other. It was of little consequence, as their
stay in town was to be but short, yet Helen could not help observing that
Cecilia did not express any regret at it, as formerly she would have done;
it seemed a symptom of declining affection, of which, every the slightest
indication was marked and keenly felt by Helen, the more so because she
had anticipated that such must be the consequence of all that had passed
between them, and there was now no remedy.

Among the first morning visitors admitted were Lady Castlefort and Lady
Katrine Hawksby. They did not, as it struck Cecilia, seem surprised to see
that Miss Stanley was Miss Stanley still, though the day for the marriage
had been announced in all the papers as fixed; but they did seem now full
of curiosity to know how it had come to pass, and there was rather too
apparent a hope that something was going wrong. Their first inquisitive
look was met by Lady Cecilia's careless glance in reply, which said better
than words could express, "Nothing the matter, do not flatter yourselves."
Then her expertness at general answers which give no information,
completely baffled the two curious impertinents. They could only learn that
the day for the marriage was not fixed, that it could not be definitively
named till some business should be settled by the general. Law business
they supposed, of course. Lady Cecilia "knew nothing about it. Lawyers
are such provoking wretches, with their fast bind fast find. Such an
unconscionable length of time as they do take for their parchment doings,
heeding nought of that little impatient flapper Cupid."

Certain that Lady Cecilia was only playing with their curiosity, yet
unable to circumvent her, Lady Katrine changed the conversation, and Lady
Castlefort preferred a prayer, which was, she said, the chief object of her
visit, that Lady Cecilia and Miss Stanley would come to her on Monday; she
was to have a few friends--a very small party, and independently of the
pleasure she should have in seeing them, it would be advantageous perhaps
to Miss Stanley, as Lady Castlefort, in her softest voice, added, "For from
the marriage being postponed even for a few days, people might talk, and
Mr. Beauclerc and Miss Stanley appearing together would prevent anybody's
thinking there was any little--Nothing so proper now as for a young lady to
appear with her _futur_; so I shall expect you, my dear Cecilia, and Miss
Stanley,"--and so saying, she departed. Helen's objections were all
overruled, and when the engagement was made known to Beauclerc, he
shrugged, and shrank, and submitted; observing, "that all men, and all
women, must from the moment they come within the precincts of London life,
give up their time and their will to an imaginary necessity of going when
we do not like it, where we do not wish, to see those whom we have no
desire to see, and who do not care if they were never to see us again,
except for the sake of their own reputation of playing well their own parts
in the grand farce of mock civility" Helen was sorry to have joined in
making an engagement for him which he seemed so much to dislike. But Lady
Cecilia, laughing, maintained that half his reluctance was affectation, and
the other half a lover-like spirit of monopoly, in which he should not be
indulged, and instead of pretending to be indifferent to what the world
might think, he ought to be proud to show Helen as a proof of his taste.

In dressing Helen this night, Felicie, excited by her lady's exhortations,
displayed her utmost skill. Mademoiselle Felicie had a certain _petite
metaphysique de toilette_, of which she was justly vain. She could talk,
and as much to the purpose as most people of "le genre classique," and "le
genre romantique," of the different styles of dress that suit different
styles of face; and while "she worked and wondered at the work she made,"
she threw out from time to time her ideas on the subject to form the taste
of Helen's little maid. Rose, who, in mute attention, held the light and
assiduously presented pins. "Not your pin so fast one after de other Miss
Rose--Tenez! tenez!" cried mademoiselle. "You tink in England alway too
much of your pin in your dress, too little of our taste--too little of our
elegance, too much of your what you call _tidiness_, or God know what! But
never you mind dat so much, Miss Rose; and you not prim up your little
mouth, but listen to me. Never you put in one pin before you ask yourself,
Miss Rose, what for I do it? In every toilette that has taste there is
above all--tenez--a character--a sentiment to be support; suppose your
lady is to be superbe, or she will rather be elegante, or charmante, or
interessante, or distinguee--well, dat is all ver' well, and you dress to
that idee, one or oder--well, very well--but none of your wat you call
_odd_. No, no, never, Miss Rose--dat is not style noble; 'twill only become
de petit minois of your English originale. I wash my hand of dat always."
The toilette superbe mademoiselle held to be the easiest of all those which
she had named with favour, it may be accomplished by any common hands; but
_head_ is requisite to reach the toilette distinguee. The toilette superbe
requires only cost--a toilette distinguee demands care. There was a
happiness as well as care in Felicie's genius for dress, which, ever
keeping the height of fashion in view, never lost sight of nature,
adapting, selecting, combining to form a perfect whole, in which art itself
concealed appeared only, as she expressed it, in the sublime of simplicity.
In the midst of all her talking, however, she went on with the essential
business, and as she finished, pronounced "Precepte commence, exemple
acheve."

When they arrived at Lady Castlefort's, Lady Cecilia was surprised to find
a line of carriages, and noise, and crowds of footmen. How was this? She
had understood that it was to be one of those really small parties, those
select reunions of some few of the high and mighty families who chance to
be in town before Christmas.--"But how is this?" Lady Cecilia repeated to
herself as she entered the hall, amazed to find it blazing with light, a
crowd on the stairs, and in the anteroom a crowd, as she soon felt, of an
unusual sort. It was not the soft crush of aristocracy, they found hard
unaccustomed citizen elbows,--strange round-shouldered, square-backed men
and women, so over-dressed, so bejewelled, so coarse--shocking to see,
impossible to avoid; not one figure, one face, Lady Cecilia had ever seen
before; till at last, from the midst of the throng emerged a fair form--a
being as it seemed of other mould, certainly of different caste. It was one
of Cecilia's former intimates--Lady Emily Greville, whom she had not seen
since her return from abroad. Joyfully they met, and stopped and talked;
she was hastening away, Lady Emily said, "after having been an hour on
duty; Lady Castlefort had made it a point with her to stay after dinner,
she had dined there, and had stayed, and now guard was relieved."

"But who are all these people? What is all this, my dear Lady Emily?" asked
Cecilia.

"Do not you know? Louisa has trapped you into coming then, to-night without
telling you how it is?" "Not a word did she tell me, I expected to meet
only our own world."

"A very different world you perceive this! A sort of farce this is to the
'Double Distress,' a comedy;--in short, one of Lord Castlefort's brothers
is going to stand for the City, and citizens and citoyennes must be
propitiated. When an election is in the case all other things give place:
and, besides, he has just married the daughter of some amazing merchant,
worth I don't know how many plums; so _le petit Bossu_, who is proud of his
brother, for he is reckoned the genius of the family! made it a point with
Louisa to do this. She put up her eyebrows, and stood out as long as
she could, but Lord Castlefort had his way, for he holds the purse you
know,--and so she was forced to make a party for these Goths and Vandals,
and of course she thought it best to do it directly, out of season, you
know, when nobody will see it--and she consulted me whether it should
be large or small; I advised a large party, by all means, as crowded as
possible."

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Cecilia; "to hide the shame in the
multitude; vastly well, very fair all this, except the trapping us into it,
who have nothing to do with it."

"Nothing to do with it! pardon me," cried Lady Emily. "It could not have
been done without us. Entrapping us!--do not you understand that we are the
baits to the traps? Bringing those animals here, wild beasts or tame, only
to meet one another, would have been 'doing business no how.' We are what
they are 'come for to see,' or to have it to say that they have seen the
Exclusives, Exquisites, or Transcendentals, or whatever else they call us."

"Lady Emily Greville's carriage!" was now called in the anteroom.

"I must go, but first make me known to your friend Miss Stanley, you see I
know her by instinct;" but "Lady Emily Greville's carriage!" now resounded
reiteratedly, and gentlemen with cloaks stood waiting, and as she put hers
on, Lady Emily stooped forward and whispered,

"I do not believe one word of what they say of her," and she was off, and
Lady Cecilia stood for an instant looking after her, and considering what
she could mean by those last words. Concluding, however, that she had not
heard aright, or had missed some intervening name, and that these words, in
short, could not possibly apply to Helen, Lady Cecilia turned to her,
they resumed their way onward, and at length they reached the grand
reception-room.

In the middle of that brilliantly lighted saloon, immediately under the
centre chandelier, was ample verge and space enough reserved for the
_elite_ of the world; circle it was not, nor square, nor form regularly
defined, yet the bounds were guarded. There was no way of getting to the
further end of the saloon, or to the apartments open in the distance beyond
it, except by passing through this enclosed space, in which one fair
entrance was practicable, and one ample exit full in view on the opposite
side. Several gentlemen of fashionable bearing held the outposts of this
privileged place, at back of sofa, or side of fauteuil, stationary, or
wandering near. Some chosen few were within; two caryatides gentlemen
leaned one on each side of the fireplace, and in the centre of the rug
stood a remarkably handsome man, of fine figure, perfectly dressed, his
whole air exquisitely scornful, excruciatingly miserable, and loftily
abstract. 'Twas wonderful, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange! how one
so lost to all sublunary concerns, so far above the follies of inferior
mortals, as he looked, came here--so extremely well-dressed too! How
happened it? so nauseating the whole, as he seemed, so wishing that the
business of the world were done! With half-closed dreamy eyelids he looked
silent down upon two ladies who sat opposite to him, rallying, abusing, and
admiring him to his vanity's content. They gave him his choice of three
names, l'Ennuye, le Frondeur, or le Blase. L'Ennuye? he shook his head; too
common; he would have none of it. Le Frondeur? no; too much trouble; he
shrugged his abhorrence. Le Blase? he allowed, might be too true. But would
they hazard a substantive verb? He would give them four-and-twenty hours to
consider, and he would take twenty-four himself to decide. They should have
his definitive to-morrow, and he was sliding away, but Lady Castlefort, as
he passed her, cried, "Going, Lord Beltravers, going are you?" in an accent
of surprise and disappointment; and she whispered, "I am hard at work
here, acting receiver general to these city worthies; and you do not pity
me--cruel!" and she looked up with languishing eyes, that so begged for
sympathy. He threw upon her one look of commiseration, reproachful. "Pity
you, yes! But why will you do these things? and why did you bring me here
to do this horrid sort of work?" and he vanished.

Lady Cecilia Clarendon and Miss Stanley now appeared in the _offing_, and
now reached the straits: Lady Castlefort rose with vivacity extraordinary,
and went forward several steps. "Dear Cecilia! Miss Stanley, so good! Mr.
Beauclerc, so happy! the general could not? so sorry!" Then with hand
pressed on hers, "Miss Stanley, so kind of you to come. Lady Grace, give me
leave--Miss Stanley--Lady Grace Bland," and in a whisper, "Lord Beltravers'
aunt."

Lady Grace, with a haughty drawback motion, and a supercilious arching of
her brows, was "happy to have the honour." Honour nasally prolonged, and
some guttural sounds followed, but further words, if words they were, which
she syllabled between snuffling and mumbling, were utterly unintelligible;
and Helen, without being "very happy," or happy at all, only returned bend
for bend.

Lady Cecilia then presented her to a group of sister graces standing near
the sofas of mammas and chaperons--not each a different grace, but similar
each, indeed upon the very same identical pattern air of young-lady
fashion--well-bred, and apparently well-natured. No sooner was Miss Stanley
made known to them by Lady Cecilia, than, smiling just enough, not a muscle
too much, they moved; the ranks opened softly, but sufficiently, and Helen
was in the group; amongst them, but not _of_ them--and of this she became
immediately sensible, though without knowing how or why. One of these
daughters had had expectations last season from having been frequently Mr.
Beauclerc's partner, and the mother was now fanning herself opposite to
him. But Helen knew nought of this: to her all was apparently soft, smooth,
and smiling. While, whenever any of the unprivileged multitude, the city
monsters, passed near this high-born, high-bred group, they looked as
though the rights of pride were infringed, and, smiling scorn, they dropped
from half-closed lips such syllables of withering contempt, as they thought
these vulgar victims merited: careless if they heard or not, rather
rejoicing to see the sufferers wince beneath the wounds which they
inflicted in their pride and pomp of sway. "Pride!" thought Helen, "was it
pride?" If pride it was, how unlike what she had been taught to consider
the proper pride of aristocracy; how unlike that noble sort which she had
seen, admired, and loved! Helen fancied what Lady Davenant would have
thought, how ignoble; how mean, how vulgar she would have considered these
sneers and scoffs from the nobly to the lowly born. How unworthy of their
rank and station in society! They who ought to be the first in courtesy,
because the first in place.

As these thoughts passed rapidly in Helen's mind, she involuntarily looked
towards Beauclerc; but she was so encompassed by her present companions
that she could not discover him. Had she been able to see his countenance,
she would have read in it at once how exactly he was at that instant
feeling with her. More indignant than herself, for his high chivalrous
devotion to the fair could ill endure the readiness with which the
gentlemen, attendants at ottoman or sofa, lent their aid to mock and to
embarrass every passing party of the city tribe, mothers and their hapless
daughter-train.

At this instant Lady Bearcroft, who, if she had not good breeding,
certainly had good-nature, came up to Beauclerc, and whispered earnestly,
and with an expression of strong interest in her countenance, "As you love
her, do not heed one word you hear anybody say this night, for it's all on
purpose to vex you; and I am certain as you are it's all false--all envy.
And there she goes, Envy herself in the black jaundice," continued she,
looking at Lady Katrine Hawksby, who passed at that instant.

"Good Heavens!" cried Beauclerc, "what can----"

"No, no," interrupted Lady Bearcroft, "no, no, do not ask--better not; best
you should know no more--only keep your temper whatever happens. Go you
up the hill, like the man in the tale, and let the black stones bawl
themselves hoarse--dumb. Go you on, and seize your pretty singing thinking
bird--the sooner the better. So fare you well."

And she disappeared in the crowd. Beauclerc, to whom she was perfectly
unknown, (though she had made him out,) totally at a loss to imagine what
interest she could take in Helen or in him, or what she could possibly
mean, rather inclined to suppose she was a mad women, and he forgot
everything else as he saw Helen with Lady Cecilia emerging from the bevy
of young ladies and approaching him. They stopped to speak to some
acquaintance, and he tried to look at Helen as if he were an indifferent
spectator, and to fancy what he should think of her if he saw her now for
the first time. He thought that he should be struck not only with her
beauty, but with her graceful air--her ingenuous countenance, so expressive
of the freshness of natural sensibility. She was exquisitely well dressed
too, and that, as Felicie observed, goes for much, even with your most
sensible men. Altogether he was charmed, whether considering her as with
the eyes of an unbiased stranger or with his own. And all he heard
confirmed, and, although he would not have allowed it, strengthened his
feelings. He heard it said that, though there were some as handsome women
in the room, there were none so interesting; and some of the young men
added, "As lovely as Lady Blanche, but with more expression." A citizen,
with whom Beauclerc could have shaken hands on the spot, said, "There's one
of the highbreds, now, that's well-bred too." In the height of the rapture
of his feelings he overtook Lady Cecilia, who telling him that they were
going on to another room, delivered Helen to his care, and herself taking
the arm of some ready gentleman, they proceeded as fast as they could
through the crowd to the, other end of the room.

This was the first time Helen had ever seen Lady Cecilia in public, where
certainly she appeared to great advantage. Not thinking about herself,
but ever willing to be pleased; so bright, so gay, she was sunshine which
seemed to spread its beams wherever she turned. And she had something to
say to everybody, or to answer quick to whatever they said or looked, happy
always in the _apropos_ of the moment. Little there might be, perhaps, in
what she said, but there was all that was wanted, just what did for the
occasion. In others there often appeared a distress for something to say,
or a dead dullness of countenance opposite to you. From others, a too
fast hazarded broadside of questions and answers--glads and sorrys
in chain-shots that did no execution, because there was no good
aim--congratulations and condolences playing at cross purposes--These were
mistakes, misfortunes, which could never occur in Lady Cecilia's natural
grace and acquired tact of manner. Helen was amused, as she followed her,
in watching the readiness with which she knew how to exchange the necessary
counters in the commerce of society: she was amused, till her attention
was distracted by hearing, as she and Beauclerc passed, the whispered
words--"_I promessi sposi_--look--_La belle fiancee_." These words were
repeated as they went on, and Lady Cecilia heard some one say, "I thought
it was broken off; that was all slander then?" She recollected Lady Emily's
words, and, terrified lest Helen should hear more of--she knew not what,
she began to talk to her as fast as she could, while they were stopped in
the door-way by a crowd. She succeeded for the moment with Helen; she had
not heard the last speech, and she could not, as long as Lady Cecilia
spoke, hear more; but Beauclerc again distinguished the words "_Belle
fiancee_;" and as he turned to discover the speaker, a fat matron near him
asked, "Who is it?" and the daughter answered, "It is that handsome girl,
with the white rose in her hair."--"Hush!" said the brother, on whose arm
she leaned; "Handsome is that handsome does."

Handsome does! thought Beauclerc: and the mysterious warning of his unknown
friend recurred to him. He was astonished, alarmed, furious; but the
whispering party had passed on, and just then Lady Cecilia descrying Mr.
Churchill in the distance, she made towards him. Conversation sure to be
had in abundance from him. He discerned them from afar, and was happily
prepared both with a ready bit of wit and with a proper greeting. His
meeting with Lady Cecilia was, of course, just the same as ever. He took it
up where he left off at Clarendon Park; no difference, no hiatus. His bow
to Beauclerc and Helen, to Helen and Beauclerc, joined in one little sweep
of a congratulatory motion, was incomparable: it said everything that a bow
could say, and more. It implied such a happy freedom from envy or jealousy;
such a polite acquiescence in the decrees of fate; such a philosophic
indifference; such a cool sarcastic superiority to the event; and he began
to Lady Cecilia with one of his prepared impromptus: "At the instant
your ladyship came up, I am afraid I started, actually in a trance, I do
believe. Methought I was--where do you think? In the temple of Jaggernaut."

"Why?" said Lady Cecilia smiling.

"Methought," continued Horace, "that I was in the temple of
Jaggernaut--that one strange day in the year, when ill castes meet, when
all distinction of castes and ranks is forgotten--the abomination of mixing
them all together permitted, for their sins no doubt--high caste and low,
from the abandoned Paria to the Brahmin prince, from their Billingsgate
and Farringilon Without, suppose, up to their St. James's, Street and
Grosvenor Square, mingle, mingle, ye who mingle may, white spirits and
grey, black spirits and blue. Now, pray look around: is not this Jaggernaut
night with Lady Castlefort?"

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