Tales and Novels Volume III Part 60

"How _against_ me?"

"They are evidently as applicable to second as to first loves, I think."

"Perhaps they are," said Belinda; "but I really and truly am not inclined to think of love at present; particularly as there is no necessity that I should."

Belinda took up a book, and Lady Delacour for one half hour abstained from any farther raillery. But longer than half an hour she could not be silent on the subject uppermost in her thoughts.

"If Clarence Hervey," cried she, "were not the most honourable of blockheads, he might be the most happy of men. This Virginia!--oh, how I hate her!--I am sure poor Clarence cannot love her."

"Because you hate her--or because you hate her without having ever seen her?" said Belinda.

"Oh, I know what she must be," replied Lady Delacour: "a soft, sighing, dying damsel, who puts bullfinches into her bosom. Smile, smile, my dear; you cannot help it; in spite of all your generosity, I know you must think as I do, and wish as I do, that she were at the bottom of the Black Sea this instant."

Lady Delacour stood for some minutes musing, and then exclaimed, "I will move heaven and earth to break off this absurd match."

"Good Heavens! my dear Lady Delacour, what do you mean?"

"Mean! my dear--I mean what I say, which very few people do: no wonder I should surprise you."

"I conjure you," cried Belinda, "if you have the least regard for my honour and happiness--"

"I have not the least, but the greatest; and depend upon it, my dear, I will do nothing that shall injure that _dignity of mind and delicacy of character_, which I admire and love, as much as Clarence Hervey did, and does. Trust to me: not Lady Anne Percival herself can be more delicate in her notions of propriety than I am for my friends, and, since my reformation, I hope I may add, for myself. Fear nothing." As she finished these words, she rang for her carriage. "I don't ask you to go out with me, my dear Belinda; I give you leave to sit in this armchair till I come back again, with your feet upon the fender, a book in your hand, and this little table beside you, like Lady S.'s picture of Comfort."

Lady Delacour spent the rest of the morning abroad; and when she returned home, she gave no account of what she had been doing, or of what or whom she had seen. This was so unusual, that Belinda could not avoid taking notice of it. Notwithstanding her ladys.h.i.+p's eulogium upon her own delicate sense of propriety, Miss Portman could not confide, with perfect resignation, in her prudence.

"Your ladys.h.i.+p reproached me once," said she, in a playful tone, "for my provoking want of curiosity: you have completely cured me of this defect, for never was woman more curious than I am, at this instant, to know the secret scheme that you have in agitation."

"Have patience a little longer, and the mystery will be unravelled. In the mean time, trust that every thing I do is for the best. However, as you have behaved pretty well, I will give you one leading hint, when you have explained to me what you meant by saying that your heart is not at present inclined to love. Pray, have you quarrelled with love for ever?"

"No; but I can exist without it."

"Have you a heart?"

"I hope so."

"And it can exist without love? I now understand what was once said to me by a foolish lordling:--' Of what use is the sun to the dial?'" [10]

Company came in, and relieved Belinda from any further raillery. Lady Boucher and Mrs. Margaret Delacour were, amongst a large party, to dine at Lady Delacour's. At dinner, the dowager seized the first auspicious moment of silence to announce a piece of intelligence, which she flattered herself would fix the eyes of all the world upon her.

"So Mr. Clarence Hervey is married at last!"

"Married!" cried Lady Delacour: she had sufficient presence of mind not to look directly at Belinda; but she fixed the dowager's eyes, by repeating, "Married! Are you sure of it?"

"Positive--positive! He was privately married yesterday at his aunt, Lady Almeria's apartments, at Windsor, to Miss Hartley. I told you it was to be, and now it is over; and a very extraordinary match Mr. Hervey has made of it, after all. Think of his going at last, and marrying a girl who has been his mistress for years! n.o.body will visit her, to be sure. Lady Almeria is excessively distressed; she did all she could to prevail on her brother, the bishop, to marry his nephew, but he very properly refused, giving it as a reason, that the girl's character was too well known."

"I thought the bishop was at Spa," interposed a gentleman, whilst the dowager drew breath.

"O dear, no, sir; you have been misinformed," resumed she. "The bishop has been returned from Spa this great while, and he has refused to see his nephew, to my certain knowledge. After all, I cannot but pity poor Clarence for being driven into this match. Mr. Hartley has a prodigious fine fortune, to be sure, and he hurried things forward at an amazing rate, to patch up his daughter's reputation. He said, as I am credibly informed, yesterday morning, that if Clarence did not marry the girl before night, he would carry her and her fortune off the next day to the West Indies. Now the fortune was certainly an object."

"My dear Lady Boucher," interrupted Lord Delacour, "you must be misinformed in that particular: fortune is no object to Clarence Hervey; he is too generous a fellow to marry for fortune. What do you think--what do you say, Lady Delacour?"

"I say, and think, and feel, as you do, my lord," said Lady Delacour.

"You say, and think, and feel the same as my lord.--Very extraordinary indeed!" said the dowager. "Then if it were not for the sake of the fortune, pray why did Mr. Hervey marry at all? Can any body guess?"

"I should guess because he was in love," said Lord Delacour "for I remember that was the reason I married myself."

"My dear good lord--but when I tell you the girl had been his mistress, till he was tired of her--"

"My Lady Boucher," said Mrs. Margaret Delacour, who had hitherto listened in silence, "my Lady Boucher, you have been misinformed; Miss Hartley never was Clarence Hervey's mistress."

"I'm mighty glad you think so, Mrs. Delacour; but I a.s.sure you n.o.body else is so _charitable_. Those who live in the world hear a great deal more than those who live out of the world. I can promise you, n.o.body will visit the bride, and that is the thing by which we are to judge."

Then the dowager and the rest of the company continued to descant upon the folly of the match. Those who wished to pay their court to Lady Delacour were the loudest in their astonishment at his throwing himself away in this manner. Her ladys.h.i.+p smiled, and kept them in play by her address, on purpose to withdraw all eyes from Miss Portman, whilst, from time to time, she stole a glance at Belinda, to observe how she was affected by what pa.s.sed: she was provoked by Belinda's self-possession.

At last, when it had been settled that all the Herveys were _odd_, but that this match of Clarence's was the _oddest_ of all the odd things that any of the family had done for many generations, Mrs. Delacour calmly said, "Are you sure, Lady Boucher, that Mr. Hervey is married?"

"Positive! as I said before, positive! Madam, my woman had it from Lady Newland's Swiss, who had it from Lady Singleton's Frenchwoman, who had it from Longueville, the hairdresser, who had it from Lady Almeria's own woman, who was present at the ceremony, and must know if any body does."

"The report has come to us zigzag as quick as lightning, yet it does not flash conviction upon me," said Lady Delacour.

"Nor upon me," said Mrs. Delacour, "for this simple reason. I have seen Miss Hartley within these two hours, and I had it from herself that she is not married."

"Not married!" cried the dowager with terror.

"I rather think not; she is now with her father, at my house at dinner, I believe, and Clarence Hervey is at Lady Almeria's, at Windsor: her ladys.h.i.+p is confined by a fit of the gout, and sent for her nephew yesterday. If people who live out of the world hear less, they sometimes hear more correctly than those who live in it."

"Pray when does Mr. Hervey return from Windsor?" said the incorrigible dowager.

"To-morrow, madam," said Mrs. Delacour. "As your ladys.h.i.+p is going to several parties this evening, I think it but _charitable_ to set you right in these particulars, and I hope you will be so _charitable_ as to contradict the report of Miss Hartley's having been Clarence's mistress."

"Why, as to that, if the young lady is not married, we must presume there are good reasons for it," said the dowager. "Pray, on which side was the match broken off?"

"On neither side," answered Mrs. Delacour.

"The thing goes on then; and what day is the marriage to take place?"

said Lady Boucher.

"On Monday--or Tuesday--or Wednesday--or Thursday--or Friday--or Sat.u.r.day---or Sunday, I believe," replied Mrs. Delacour, who had the prudent art of giving answers effectually baffling to the curiosity of gossips.

The dowager consoled herself in her utmost need with a full plate of brandy peaches, and spoke not a word more during the second course. When the ladies retired after the dessert, she again commenced hostilities: she dared not come to open war with Mrs. Delacour; but in a bye-battle, in a corner, she carried every thing before her; and she triumphantly whispered, "We shall see, ma'am, that it will turn out, as I told you, that Miss Rachel, or Virginia, or whatever he pleases to call her, has been what I said; and, as I said, n.o.body will visit her, not a soul: fifty people I can count who have declared to me they've made up their minds; and my own's made up, I candidly confess; and Lady Delacour, I am sure by her silence and looks, is of my way of thinking, and has no opinion of the young lady: as to Miss Portman, she is, poor thing, of course, so wrapped up in her own affairs, no wonder she says nothing.

That was a sad business of Mr. Vincent's! I am surprised to see her look even so well as she does after it. Mr. Percival, I am told," said the well-informed dowager, lowering her voice so much that the lovers of scandal were obliged to close their heads round her--"Mr. Percival, I am informed, refused his consent to his ward (who is not of age) on account of an anonymous letter, and it is supposed Mr. Vincent desired it for an excuse to get off handsomely. Fighting that duel about her with Sir Philip Baddely settled his love--so he is gone to Germany, and she is left to wear the willow, which, you see, becomes her as well as everything else. Did she eat any dinner, ma'am? you sat next her."

"Yes; more than I did, I am sure."

"Very extraordinary! Then perhaps Sir Philip Baddely's _on_ again--Lord bless me, what a match would that be for her! Why, Mrs. Stanhope might then, indeed, deserve to be called the match-maker general. The seventh of her nieces this. But look, there's Mrs. Delacour leading Miss Portman off into the trictrac cabinet, with a face full of business--her hand in hers--Lord, I did not know they were on that footing! I wonder what's going forward. Suppose old Hartley was to propose for Miss Portman--there would be a denouement! and cut his daughter off with a s.h.i.+lling! Nothing's impossible, you know. Did he ever see Miss Portman?

I must go and find out, positively."

In the mean time, Mrs. Delacour, unconscious of the curiosity she had excited, was speaking to Belinda in the trictrac cabinet.