Book: Marriage

S >> Susan Edmonstone Ferrier >> Marriage




Lady Emily little thought how near she was the the truth when she talked
in this random way. Colonel Lennox saw the wound he had innocently
inflicted on Mary's feelings, and a warmer sentiment than any he had
hitherto experienced had sprung up in his heart. Formerly he had merely
looked upon her as an amiable sweet-tempered girl; but when he saw he
roused to a sense of her own dignity, and marked the struggle betwixt
tender affection and offended delicacy he, formed a higher estimate of
her character, and a spark was kindled that wanted but opportunity to blaze
into a flame, pure and bright as the shrine on which it burned. Such is
the waywardness and price of even the best affections of the human
breast.





CHAPTER XVIII

"C'est a moi de _choisir_ mon gendre;
Toi, tel qu'il est, c'est a it toi de Ie prendre;
De vous aimer, si vous pouvez tous deux, Et d'obeir
a tout ce que je veux." _L'Enfant Prodigue._



"AND now," said Lady Emily, "that I have listened to your story, which
after all is really a very poor affair, do you listen to mine. The
heroine in both is the same, but the hero differs by some degrees. Know,
then, as the ladies in novels say, that the day which saw you depart
from Beech Park was the day destined to decide your fate, and dash your
hopes, if ever you had any, of becoming Duchess of Altamont. The Duke
arrived, I know, for the express purpose of being enamoured of you; but,
alas! you were not. And there was Adelaide so sweet--so gracious--so
beautiful--the poor gull was caught, and is now, I really believe, as
much in love as it is in the nature of a stupid man to be. I must own
she has played her part admirably, and has made more use of her time
than I, with all my rapidity, could have thought possible. In fact, the
Duke is now all but her declared lover, and that merely stands upon a
point of punctilio."

"But Lord Lindore!" exclaimed Mary in astonishment.

"Why, that part of the story is what I _don't_ quite comprehend.
Sometimes I think it is a struggle with Adelaide. Lindore, poor,
handsome, captivating, on one hand; his Grace, rich, stupid,
magnificent, on the other. As for Lindore, he seems to stand quite
aloof. Formerly, you know, he never used to stir from her side, or notice
anyone else. Now he scarcely notices her, at least in presence of the
Duke, Sometimes he affects to look unhappy, but I believe it is mere
affectation. I doubt if he ever thought seriously of Adelaide, or indeed
anybody else, that he could have in a straightforward Ally Croker sort
of a way--but something too much of this. While all this has been going
on in one corner, there comes regularly everyday Mr. William Downe
Wright, looking very much as if he had lost his shoestring, or pocket
handkerchief, and had come there to look for it. I had some suspicion of
the nature of the loss, but was hopeful he would have the sense to keep
it to himself. No such thing: he yesterday stumbled upon Lady Juliana
all alone, and, in the weakest of his weak moments, informed her that
the loss he had sustained was no less than the loss of that precious
jewel his heart; and that the object of his search was no other than
that of Miss Mary Douglas to replace it! He even carried his
_betise_ so far as to request her permission, or her influence,
or, in short, something that her Ladyship never was asked for by any
mortal in their senses before, to aid him in his pursuit. You know how
it delights her to be dressed in a little brief authority; so you may
conceive her transports at seeing the sceptre of power thus placed in
her hands. In the heat of her pride she makes the matter known to the
whole household. Redgills, cooks, stable-boys, scullions, all are quite
_au_ _fait_ to your marriage with Mr. Downe Wright; so I hope you'll
allow that it was about time _you _should be made acquainted with it
yourself. But why so pale and frightened-looking?"

Poor Mary was indeed shocked at her cousin's intelligence. With the
highest feelings of filial reverence, she found herself perpetually
called upon either to sacrifice her own principles or to act indirect
opposition to her mother's will, and upon this occasion she saw nothing
but endless altercation awaiting her; for her heart revolted from the
indelicacy of such measures, and she could not for a moment brook the
idea of being _bestowed_ in marriage. But she had little time for
reflection. They were now at Beech Park; and as she alighted a servant
informed her Lady Juliana wished to see her in her dressing-room
immediately. Thither she repaired with a beating heart and agitated
step. She was received with greater kindness than she had ever yet
experienced from her mother.

"Come in, my dear," cried she, as she extended two fingers to her, and
slightly touched her cheek. "You look very well this morning--much
better than usual. Your complexion is much improved. At the same time
you must be sensible how few girls are married merely for their
looks--that is, married well--unless, to be sure, their beauty is
something _a merveilleuse_--such as your sister's, for instance.
I assure you, it is an extraordinary piece of good fortune in a merely
pretty girl to make what is vulgarly called a good match. I know, at
least, twenty really very nice young women at this moment who cannot get
themselves established."

Mary was silent; and her mother, delighted at her own good sense and
judicious observations, went on--

"That being the case, you may judge how very comfortable I must feel at
having managed to procure for you a most excessive good
establishment--just the very thing I have long wished, as I have felt
quite at a loss about you of late, my dear. When your sister marries, I
shall, of course, reside with her; and as I consider your _liaison _with
those Scotch people as completely at an end, I have really been quite
wretched as to what was to become of you. I can't tell you, therefore,
how excessively relieved I was when Mr. Downe Wright yesterday asked my
permission to address you. Of course I could not hesitate an instant; so
you will meet him at dinner as your accepted. By-the-bye, your hair is
rather blown. I shall send Fanchon to dress it for you. You have really
got very pretty hair; I wonder never remarked it before. Oh! and Mrs.
Downe Wright is to wait upon me to-morrow, I think; and then I believe
we must return the visit. There is a sort of etiquette, you know, in all
these matters--that is the most unpleasant part of it; but when that is
over you will have nothing to think of but ordering your things."

For a few minutes Mary was too much confounded by her mother's rapidity
to reply. She had expected to be urged to accept of Mr. Downe Wright;
but to be told that was actually done for her was more than she was
prepared for. At length she found voice to say that Mr. Downe Wright was
almost a stranger to her, and she must therefore be excused from
receiving his addresses at present.

"How excessively childish!" exclaimed Lady Juliana angrily. "I won't
hear of anything so perfectly foolish. You know (or, at any rate, I do)
all that is necessary to know. I know that he is a man of family and
fortune, heir to a title, uncommonly handsome, and remarkably sensible
and well-informed. I can't conceive what more you would wish to know!"

"I would wish to know something of his character, his principles, his
habits, temper, talents--in short, all those things on which my
happiness would depend."

"Character and principles!--one would suppose you were talking of your
footman! Mr. Downe Wright's character is perfectly good. I never heard
anything against it. As to what you call his principles, I must profess
my ignorance. I really can't tell whether he is a Methodist; but 1 know
he is a gentleman--has a large fortune--is very good-looking--and is not
at all dissipated, I believe. In short, you are most excessively
fortunate in meeting with such a man."

"But I have not the slightest partiality for him," said Mary,
colouring. "It cannot be expected that I should, when I have not been
half a dozen time in his company. I must be allowed some time before I
can consent even to consider--"

"I don't mean that you are to marry to-morrow. It may probably be six
weeks or two months before everything can be arranged."

Mary saw she must speak boldly.

"But I must be allowed much longer time before I can consider myself as
sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Downe Wright to think of him at all in
that light. And even then--he may be very amiable, and yet"--hesitating--
"I may not be able to love him as I ought."

"Love!" exclaimed Lady Juliana, her eyes sparkling with anger; "I
desire I may never hear that word again from any daughter of mine. I am
determined I shall have no disgraceful love-marriages in the family. No
well-educated young woman ever thinks of such a thing now, and I won't
hear a syllable on the subject."

"I shall never marry anybody, I am sure, that you disapprove of," said
Mary timidly.

"No; I shall take care of that. I consider it the duty of parents to
establish their children properly in the world, without any regard to
their ideas on the subject. I think I must be rather a better judge of
the matter than you can possibly be, and I shall therefore make a point
of your forming what I consider a proper alliance. Your sister, I know,
won't hesitate to sacrifice her own affections to please me. She was
most excessively attached to Lord Lindore--everybody knew that; but she
is convinced of the propriety of preferring the Duke of Altamont, and
won't hesitate in sacrificing her own feelings to mine. But indeed she
has ever been all that I could wish--so perfectly beautiful, and, at the
same time, so excessively affectionate and obedient. She approves
entirely of your marriage with Mr. Downe Wright, as, indeed, all your
friends do. I don't include _your_ friend Lady Emily in that number. I
look upon her as a most improper companion for you; and the sooner you
are separated from her the better. So now good-bye for the present. You
have only to behave as other young ladies do upon those occasions,
which, by-the-bye, is generally to give as much trouble to their friends
as they possibly can."

There are some people who, furious themselves at opposition, cannot
understand the possibility of others being equally firm and decided in a
gentle manner. Lady Juliana was one of those who always expect to carry
their point by a raised voice and sparkling eyes; and it was with
difficulty Mary, with her timid air and gentle accents, could convince
her that she was determined to judge for herself in a matter in which
her happiness was so deeply involved. When at last brought to comprehend
it, her Ladyship's indignation knew no bounds; and Mary was accused in
the same breath with having formed some low connection in Scotland, and
of seeking to supplant her sister by aspiring to the Duke of Altamont.
And at length the conference ended pretty much where it began--Lady
Juliana resolved that her daughter should marry to please her, and her
daughter equally resolved not to be driven into an engagement from which
her heart recoiled.




CHAPTER XIX.

"Qu'on vante en lui la foi, l'honneur, la probite;
Qu'on prise sa candeur et sa civilite;
Qu'il soit doux, complaisant, oflicieux, sincere:
On Ie veut, j'y souscris, et suis pret a me taire."

BOILEAU.

WHEN Mary entered the drawing-room she found herself, without knowing
how, by the side of Mr. Downe Wright. At dinner it was the same; and in
short it seemed an understood thing that they were to be constantly
together.

There was something so gentle and unassuming in his manner that, almost
provoked as she was by the folly of his proceedings, she found it
impossible to resent it by her behaviour towards him; and indeed,
without being guilty of actual rudeness, of which she was incapable, it
would not have been easy to have made him comprehend the nature of her
sentiments. He appeared perfectly satisfied with the toleration he met
with; and, compared to Adelaide's disdainful glances, and Lady Emily's
biting sarcasms, Mary's gentleness and civility might well be mistaken
for encouragement. But even under the exhilarating influence of hope and
high spirits his conversation was so insipid and commonplace, that Mary
found it a relief to turn even to Dr. Redgill. It was evident the Doctor
was aware of what was going on, for he regarded her with that increased
respect due to the future mistress of a splendid establishment. Between
the courses he made some complimentary allusions to Highland mutton and
red deer; and he even carried his attentions so far as to whisper, at
the very first mouthful, that _les cotellettes de saumon_ were
superb, when he had never been known to commend anything to another
until he had fully discussed it himself. On the opposite side of the
table sat Adelaide and the Duke of Altamont, the latter looking still
more heavy and inanimate than ever. The operation of eating over, he
seemed unable to keep himself awake, and every now and then yielded to a
gentle slumber, from which, however, he was instantly recalled at the
sound of Adelaide's voice, when he exclaimed, "Ah! Charming--very
charming, ah!"--Lady Emily looked _from_ them as she hummed some part
of Dryden's Ode--

"Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate, etc.
The lovely Thais by his side,
Look'd like a blooming Eastern bride."

Then, as his Grace closed his eyes, and his head sank on his shoulder--

"With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod."

Lady Juliana, who would have been highly incensed had she suspected the
application of the words, was so unconscious of it as to join
occasionally in singing them, to Mary's great confusion and Adelaide's
manifest displeasure.

When they returned to the drawing-room, "Heavens! Adelaide," exclaimed
her cousin, in an affected manner, "what are you made of? Semele herself
was but a mere cinder-wench to you! How can you stand such a
Jupiter--and not scorched! not even singed, I protest!" pretending to
examine her all over. "I vow I trembled at your temerity--your
familiarity with the imperial nod was fearful. I every instant expected
to see you turned into a live coal."

"I did burn," said Adelaide, "with shame, to see the mistress of a house
forget what was due to her father's guests."

"There's a slap on the cheek for me! Mercy! how it burns! No, I did not
forget what was due to my father's guests; on the contrary, I consider
it due to them to save them, if I can, from the snares that I see set
for them. I have told you that I abhor all traps, whether for the poor
simple mouse that comes to steal its bit of cheese, or for the dull
elderly gentleman who falls asleep with a star on his breast."

"This is one of the many kind and polite allusions for which I am
indebted to your Ladyship," said Adelaide haughtily; "but I trust the
day will come when I shall be able to discharge what I owe you."

And she quitted the room, followed by Lady Juliana, who could only make
out that Lady Emily had been insolent, and that Adelaide was offended. A
pause followed.

"I see you think I am in the wrong, Mary; I can read that in the little
reproachful glance you gave me just now. Well, perhaps I am; but I own
it chafes my spirit to sit and look on such a scene of iniquity. Yes,
iniquity I call it, for a woman to be in love with one man, and at the
same time laying snares for another. You may think, perhaps, that
Adelaide has no heart to love anything; but she has a heart, such as it
is, though it is much too fine for every-day use, and therefore it is
kept locked up in marble casket, quite out of reach of you or I. But I'm
mistaken if Frederick has not made himself master of it! Not that I
should blame her for that, if she would be honestly and downrightly in
love with him. But how despicable to see her, with her affections placed
upon one man, at the same time lavishing all her attentions on
another--and that other, if he had been plain John Altamont, Esq., she
would not have been commonly civil to! And, _apropos_ of
civility--I must tell you, if you mean to refuse your hero, you were too
civil by half to him. I observed you at dinner, you sat perfectly
straight, and answered everything he said to you."

"What could I do?" asked Mary, in some surprise.

"I'll tell you what I would have done, and have thought the most
honourable mode of proceeding; I should have turned my back upon him,
and have merely thrown him a monosyllable now and then over my
shoulder."

"I could not be less than civil to him, and I am sure I was not more."

"Civility is too much for a man one means to refuse. You'll never get
rid of a stupid man by civility. Whenever I had any reason to apprehend
a lover, I thought it my duty to turn short upon him and give him a
snarl at the outset, which rid me of him at once. But I really begin to
think I manage these matters better than anybody else--'Where I love, I
profess it: where I hate, in every circumstance I dare proclaim it.'"

Mary tried to defend her sister, in the first place; but though her
charity would not allow her to censure, her conscience whispered there
was much to condemn; and she was relieved from what she felt a difficult
task when the gentlemen began to drop in.

In spite of all her manoeuvres Mr. Downe Wright contrived to be next
her, and whenever she changed her seat, she was sure of his following
her. She had also the mortification of overhearing Lady Juliana tell the
Duke that Mr. Downe Wright was the accepted lover of her youngest
daughter, that he was a man of large fortune, and heir to his uncle,
Lord Glenallan!

"Ah! a nephew of my Lord Glenallan's!--Indeed--a pretty young man--like
the family!--Poor Lord Glenallan! I knew him very well. He has had the
palsy since then, poor man--ah!"

The following day Mary was compelled to receive Mrs. Downe Wright's
visit; but she as scarcely conscious of what passed, for Colonel Lennox
arrived at the same time; and it was equally evident that his visit was
also intended for her. She felt that she ought to appear unconcerned in
his presence, and he tried to be so; but still the painful idea would
recur that he had been solicited to love her, and, unskilled in the arts of
even innocent deception, she could only try to hide the agitation under
the coldness of her manner.

"Come, Mary," cried Lady Emily, as if in answer to something Colonel
Lennox had addressed to her in a low voice, "do you remember the promise
I made Colonel Lennox, and which it rests with you to perform?"

"I never consider myself bound to perform the promises of others,"
replied Mary gravely.

"In some cases that may be a prudent resolution, but in the present it
is surely an unfriendly one," said Colonel Lennox.

"A most inhuman one!" cried Lady Emily, "since you and I, it seems,
cannot commence our friendship without something sentimental to set us
agoing. It rests with you, Mary, to be the founder of our friendship;
and if you manage the matter well, that is, sing in your best manner, we
shall perhap, make it a triple alliance, and admit you as third."

"As every man is said to be the artificer of his own fortune, so every
one, I think, had best be the artificer of their own friendship," said
Mary, trying to smile, as she pulled her embroidery frame towards her,
and began to work.

"Neither can be the worse of a good friend to help them on," observed
Mrs. Downe Wright.

"But both may be materially injured by an injudicious one," said Colonel
Lennox; "and although, on this occasion, I am the greatest sufferer by
it, I must acknowledge the truth of Miss Douglas's observation.
Friendship and love, I believe, will always be found to thrive best when
left to themselves."

"And so ends my novel, elegant, and original plan for striking up a
sudden friendship," cried Lady Emily. "Pray, Mr. Downe Wright, can you
suggest anything better for the purpose than an old song?"

Mr. Downe Wright, who was not at all given to suggesting, looked a
little embarrassed.

"Pull the bell, William, for the carriage," said his mother; "we must
now be moving." And with a general obeisance to the company, and a
significant pressure of the hand to Mary, she withdrew her son from his
dilemma. Although a shrewd, penetrating woman, she did not possess that
tact and delicacy necessary to comprehend the finer feelings of a mind
superior to her own; and in Mary's averted looks and constrained manner
she saw nothing but what she thought quite proper and natural in her
situation. "As for Lady Emily," she observed, "there would be news of
her and that fine dashing-looking Colonel yet, and Miss Adelaide would
perhaps come down a pin before long."

Soon after Colonel Lennox took his leave, in spite of Lady Emily's
pressing invitation for him to spend the day there, and meet her
brother, who had been absent for some days, but was now expected home.
He promised to return again soon, and departed.

"How prodigiously handsome Colonel Lennox looked to-day," said she,
addressing Mary; "and how perfectly unconscious, at least indifferent,
he seems about it. It is quite refreshing to see a handsome man that is
neither a fool nor a coxcomb."

"Handsome! no, I don't think he is very handsome," said Lady Juliana.
"Rather dark, don't you think, my love?" turning to Adelaide, who sat
apart at a table writing, and had scarcely deigned to lift her head all
the time.

"Who do you mean? The man who has just gone out? Is his name Lennox?
Yes, he is rather handsome."

"I believe. you are right; he certainly is good-looking, but in a
peculiar style. I don't quite like the expression of his eye, and he
wants that air _distingue,_ which, indeed, belongs exclusively to
persons of birth."

"He has perfectly the air of a man of fashion," said Adelaide, in a
decided tone, as if ashamed to agree with her mother. "Perhaps _un peu
militaire,_ but nothing at all professional."

"Lennox!--it is a Scotch name," observed Lady Juliana contemptuously.

"And, to cut the matter short," said Lady Emily, as she was quitting the
room, "the man who has just gone out is Colonel Lennox, and not the Duke
of AItamont."

After a few more awkward, indefinite sort of visits, in which Mary found
it impossible to come to an explanation, she was relieved for the
present from the assiduities of her lover. Lady Juliana received a
note from Mrs. Downe Wright, apologising for what she termed her son's
unfortunate absence at such a critical time; but he had received accounts
of the alarming illness of his uncle Lord Glenallan, and had, in
consequence, set off instantly for Scotland, where she was preparing to
follow; concluding with particular regards to Miss Mary--hopes of being
soon able to resume their pleasant footing in the family, etc. etc.

"How excessively well arranged it will be that old man's dying at this
time!" said her Ladyship, as she tossed the note to her daughter; "Lord
Glenallan will sound so much better than Mr. Downe Wright. The name I
have always considered as the only objectionable part. You are really
most prodigiously fortunate."

Mary was now aware of the folly of talking reason to her mother, and
remained silent; thankful for the present peace this event would ensure
her, and almost tempted to wish that Lord Glenallan's doom might not
speedily be decided.




CHAPTER XX.

"It seems it is as proper to our age
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion."

_Hamlet._

LORD LINDORE and Colonel Lennox has been boyish acquaintances, and a
sort of superficial, intimacy was soon established between them, which
served as the ostensible cause of his frequent visits at Beech Park. But
to Mary, who was more alive to the difference of their characters and
sentiments than any other member of the family, this appeared very
improbable, and she could not help suspecting that love for the sister,
rather than friendship for the brother, was the real motive by which he
was actuated. In half jesting manner she mentioned her suspicions to
Lady Emily, who treated the idea with her usual ridicule.

"I really could not have supposed you so extremely missy-ish, Mary," said
she, "as to imagine that because two people like each other's society,
and talk and laugh together a little more than usual, that the must
needs be in love! I believe Charles Lennox loves me much the same as he
did eleven years ago, when I was a little wretch that used to pull his
hair and spoil his watch. And as for me, you know that I consider myself
quite as an old woman--at least as a married one; and he is perfectly
_au fait_ to my engagement with Edward. I have even shown him his
picture and some of his letters."

Mary looked incredulous.

"You may think as you please, but I tell you it is so. In my situation
I should scorn to have Colonel Lennox, or anybody else, in love with me.
As to his liking to talk to me, pray who else can he talk to? Adelaide
would sometimes _condescend_ indeed; but he won't be condescended to,
that's clear, not even by a Duchess. With what mock humility he meets
her airs! how I adore him for it! Then you are such a pillar of ice!--so
shy and unsociable when he is present!--and, by-the-bye, if I did not
despise recrimination as the _pis aller_ of all conscious Misses, I would
say you are much more the object of his _attention,_ at least, than I
am. Several times I have caught him looking very earnestly at you, when,
by the laws of good breeding, his eyes ought to have been fixed
exclusively upon me; and--"

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