Tales and Novels Volume VII Part 57

When Caroline saw Lady Jane restored to her strength, and in excellent spirits, preparing to take possession of a handsome house in Spring-Gardens, she thought she might be spared to return to her own family. But Lady Jane would not part with her; she insisted upon keeping her the remainder of the winter, promising to carry her back to the Hills in a few weeks. It was plain that refusing this request would renew the ire of Lady Jane, and render irreconcilable the quarrel between her ladys.h.i.+p and the Percy family. Caroline felt extremely unwilling to offend one whom she had obliged, and one who really showed such anxiety for her happiness.

"I know, my dear Lady Jane," said she, smiling, "that if I stay with you, you will form a hundred kind schemes for my establishment; but forgive me when I tell you, that it is upon the strength of my belief in the probability that they will none of them be accomplished, that I consent to accept your ladys.h.i.+p's invitation."

"Perverse! provoking and incomprehensible!--But since you consent to stay, my dear, I will not quarrel with your motives: I will let them rest as philosophically unintelligible as you please. Be satisfied, I will never more accuse you of perversity in refusing me formerly; nor will I convict you of inconsistency for obliging me now. The being convicted of inconsistency I know is what you people, who pique yourselves upon being rational, are so afraid of. Now we _every-day people_, who make no pretensions to be reasonable, have no character for consistency to support--you cannot conceive what delightful liberty we enjoy. In lieu of whole tomes of casuistry, the simple phrase, 'I've changed my mind,' does our business. Do let me hear if you could prevail upon yourself to say so."

"I've changed my mind," said Caroline, playfully.

"That's candid--now I love as well as admire you."

"To be entirely candid, then," said Caroline, "I must, my dear Lady Jane, if you will give me leave, tell you more."

"As much as you please," said Lady Jane, "for I am naturally curious, particularly when young ladies blush."

Caroline thought, that however Lady Jane and she might differ on some points, her ladys.h.i.+p's anxiety to promote her happiness, in the way she thought most advantageous, deserved not only her grat.i.tude but her confidence. Besides, it would be the most effectual way, she hoped, of preventing Lady Jane from forming any schemes for her establishment, to confess at once that she really believed it was not likely she should meet with any person, whose character and merits were equal to those of Count Altenberg, and any one inferior to him she was determined never to marry. She added a few words, as delicately as she could, upon the dread she felt of being presented in society as a young lady wis.h.i.+ng for an establishment.

Lady Jane heard all she said upon this subject with much attention; but when she had finished, her ladys.h.i.+p said to herself, "Nonsense!--Every young lady thinks one lover perfect till she has seen another. Before Caroline has pa.s.sed a month in fas.h.i.+onable society, provided she has a fas.h.i.+onable admirer, we shall hear no more of this Count Altenberg."

"Well, my dear," said she, holding out her hand to Caroline, "I will give you my word I will, to the best of my ability, comply with all your conditions. You shall not be advertised as a young lady in search of a husband--but just as if you were a married woman, you will give me leave to introduce my acquaintance to you; and if they should find out, or if in time you should find out, that you are not married, you know, I shall not be to blame."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

Behold Lady Jane Granville reinstated in her fortune, occupying a fine house in a fas.h.i.+onable situation, with suitable equipage and establishment! carriages rolling to her door; tickets crowding her servants' hands; an influx, an affluence of friends, and congratulations such as quite astonished Caroline.

"Where were these people all the time she lived in Clarges-street?"

thought she.

Lady Jane, though she knew from experience the emptiness and insincerity of such demonstrations of regard, was, nevertheless, habitually pleased by them, and proud to be in a situation where numbers found it worth while to pay her attentions. But notwithstanding her _foibles_, she was not a mere fas.h.i.+onable friend. She was warm in her affection for Caroline. The _producing_ her young friend in the great London world was her prime object.

The pretensions of individuals are often cruelly mortified when they come to encounter the vast compet.i.tion of a capital city. As King James said to the country-gentleman at court, "The little vessels, that made a figure on the lake, appear insignificant on the ocean!"

Happily for Caroline, she had not formed high expectations of pleasure, any hope of producing _effect_, or even _sensation_, upon her first appearance in the fas.h.i.+onable world. As she said in her letters to her friends at home, nothing could be more dull or tiresome than her first experience of a young lady's introduction into life; nothing, as she a.s.sured Rosamond, could be less like the reality than the delightful representations in novels, where every day produces new scenes, new adventures, and new characters. She was ashamed to write such stupid letters from London; but unless she were to have recourse to invention, she literally had not any thing entertaining to tell. She would, if Rosamond was in despair, invent a few conquests; and like great historians, put in some fine speeches supposed to have been spoken by celebrated characters.

In reality, Caroline's beauty had not pa.s.sed so completely un.o.bserved as her modesty and inexperience imagined. She did not know the signs of the times. On her first entrance into a public room eyes turned upon her--the eyes of mothers with apprehension, of daughters with envy. Some gentlemen looked with admiration, others with curiosity.

"A new face! Who is she?"

"A relation of Lady Jane Granville."

"What has she?"

"I don't know--nothing, I believe."

"Nothing, certainly--a daughter of the Percy who lost his fortune."

All apprehensions ceased on the part of the ladies, and generally all admiration on the part of the gentlemen. Opera-gla.s.ses turned another way. Pity succeeding to envy, a few charitably disposed added, "Ah! poor thing! unprovided for--What a pity!"

"Do you dance to-night?"

"Does our quadrille come next?"

Some gentleman, an abstract admirer of beauty, perhaps, asked the honour of her hand--to dance; but there the abstraction generally ended. A few, indeed, went farther, and swore that she was a fine girl, prophesied that she would _take_, and declared they would be d----d if they would not _think_ of her, if they could afford it.

From their prophecies or their oaths nothing ensued, and even the civilities and compliments she received from Lady Jane's particular friends and acquaintance, though in a more polite style, were equally unmeaning and unproductive. Days pa.s.sed without leaving a trace behind.

Unluckily for Caroline, her brother Alfred was about this time obliged to leave town. He was summoned to the country by Dr. Leicester. Dr.

Percy was so continually employed, that she could scarcely have a few minutes in a week of his company, now that Lady Jane's health no longer required his professional attendance. Caroline, who had always been used to domestic society and conversation, was thus compelled to live completely in public, without the pleasures of home, and without the amus.e.m.e.nt young people generally enjoy in company, when they are with those of their own age to whom they can communicate their thoughts.

Lady Jane Granville was so much afraid of Caroline's not appearing fas.h.i.+onable, that she continually cautioned her against expressing her natural feelings at the sight of any thing new and surprising, or at the perception of the tiresome or ridiculous. Her ladys.h.i.+p would never permit her protegee to ask the name of any person in public places or at private parties--because not to know certain people "argues yourself unknown."

"I'll tell you who every body is when we go home;" but when she was at home, Lady Jane was generally too much tired to explain or to comprehend the description of these nameless bodies; and even when her ladys.h.i.+p was able to satisfy her curiosity, Caroline was apt to mistake afterwards the t.i.tles and histories of the personages, and by the misnomers of which she was guilty, provoked Lady Jane past endurance. Whether it was from want of _natural genius_ in the scholar, or interest in the study, or from the teacher's thus unphilosophically separating the name and the idea, it is certain that Caroline made but slow progress in acquiring her fas.h.i.+onable nomenclature. She was nearly in despair at her own want of memory, when fortunately a new instructress fell in her way, who was delighted with her ignorance, and desired nothing better than to tell her who was who; in every private party and public place to point out the ridiculous or notorious, and at the moment the figures were pa.s.sing, whether they heard or not, to relate anecdotes characteristic and ill.u.s.trative: this new, entertaining preceptress was Lady Frances Arlington. Her ladys.h.i.+p having quarrelled with Miss Georgiana Falconer, hated to go out with Mrs. Falconer, hated still more to stay at home with the old tapestry-working d.u.c.h.ess her aunt, and was delighted to have Lady Jane Granville to take her every where. She cared little what any person thought of herself, much less what they thought of Caroline: therefore, free from all the delicacies and anxieties of Lady Jane's friends.h.i.+p and systems, Lady Frances, though from different premises coming to the same conclusion, agreed that thinking of Caroline's advantage was _stuff_! and that all she had to do was to amuse herself in town. Caroline was the most convenient companion to go out with, for she never crossed her ladys.h.i.+p about partners, or admirers, never vied with her for admiration, or seemed to mind her _flirtations_; but quietly suffering her to draw off all the fas.h.i.+onable beaux, whom Lady Jane stationed upon duty, she let Lady Frances Arlington talk, or dance, to her heart's content, and was satisfied often to sit still and be silent. The variety of words and ideas, facts and remarks, which her lively and practised companion poured into her mind, Caroline was left to cla.s.s for herself, to generalize, and to make her own conclusions.

Now she had means of amus.e.m.e.nt, she took pleasure in observing all that was going on, and she knew something of the characters and motives of the actors in such different scenes. As a spectator, she was particularly struck by the eagerness of all the players, at their different games of love, interest, or ambition; and in various sets of company, she was diverted by observing how each thought themselves the whole world: here a party of young ladies and gentlemen, practising, morning, noon, and night, steps for their _quadrille_; and while they are dancing the _quadrille_, jockey gentlemen ranged against the wall in the ball-room, talking of their horses; grave heads and snuff-boxes in a corner settling the fate of Europe, proving that, they were, are, or ought to be, behind the scenes; at the card-tables, sharpened faces seeing nothing in the universe but their cards; and at the piano-forte a set of signers and signoras, and ladies of quality, mingled together, full of duets, solos, overtures, cavatinas, expression, execution, and thorough ba.s.s--mothers in agonies, daughters pressed or pressing forward--some young and trembling with shame--more, though young, yet confident of applause--others, and these the saddest among the gay, veteran female exhibitors, tired to death, yet forced to continue the unfruitful glories. In one grand party, silence and state; in another group, rival matrons chasing round the room the heir presumptive to a dukedom, or wedging their daughters closer and closer to that door-way through which Lord William * * * * * must pa.s.s. Here a poet acting enthusiasm with a _chapeau bras_--there another dying of ennui to admiration; here a wit cutting and slas.h.i.+ng right or wrong; there a man of judgment standing by, silent as the grave--all for notoriety. Whilst others of high rank, birth, or wealth, without effort or merit, secure of distinction, looked down with sober contempt upon the poor stragglers and wranglers for fame.

Caroline had as yet seen but few of the literary candidates for celebrity; only those privileged few, who, combining the pretensions of rank and talent, had a natural right to be in certain circles; or those who, uniting superior address to superior abilities, had risen or forced their way into fine company. Added to these were two or three, who were invited to parties as being the wonder and show of the season--persons whom the pride of rank found it gratifying to have at command, and who afforded to them a most happy relief from the dulness of their habitual existence. Caroline, though pitying the exhibitors, whenever she met any of this description, had great curiosity, to see more of literary society; but Lady Jane systematically hung back on this point, and evaded her promises.

"Yes, my dear, I did promise to take you to Lady Angelica Headingham's, and Lady Spilsbury's, but there's time enough--not yet--not till I have established you in a higher society: not for your advantage to get among the blue-stockings--the blue rubs off--and the least shade might ruin you with some people. If you were married, I should introduce you to that set with pleasure, for they entertain me vastly, and it is a great privation to me this winter--a long fast; but even this abstinence from wit I can endure for your sake, my dear Caroline--you are my first object. If you would take the _bel esprit_ line decidedly--Talents you have, but not courage sufficient; and even if you had, you are scarce old enough: with your beauty and grace, you have a better chance in the circle you are in, my dear."

But Lady Frances Arlington, who thought only of her own chance of amus.e.m.e.nt, seconded Caroline's wish to see the literary set. Nothing could be more stupid, her ladys.h.i.+p said, than running round always in the same circle; for her part, she loved to see clever odd people, and though her aunt-d.u.c.h.ess would not let her go to Lady Spilsbury's, yet Lady Frances was sure that, with Lady Jane Granville for her chaperon, she could get a pa.s.sport for Lady Angelica Headingham's, "because Lady Angelica is a sort of cousin, I can't tell you how many times removed, but just as many as will serve my present purpose--a connexion quite near enough to prove her fas.h.i.+onable, and respectable, and all that: so, my dear Lady Jane--I'll ask leave," concluded Lady Frances, "and we will go next conversazione day."

No--Lady Jane was firm to what she believed to be for Caroline's interest, and she refused to take her into _that set_, and therefore declined the honour of chaperoning her ladys.h.i.+p to Lady Angelica Headingham's.

"Oh! my dear Lady Jane, you couldn't, you wouldn't be so cruel! When I am dying with impatience to see my cousin make herself ridiculous, as I hear she does more and more every day with that Baron Wilhelmberg--Wilhelmberg, I said, not Altenberg--Miss Caroline Percy need not have turned her head so quickly. Lady Angelica's man is a German, and yours was a Pole, or Prussian, was not he?--Do you know, the ugliest man I ever saw in my life, and the handsomest, were both Poles--but they are all well-bred."

"But about Lady Angelica's German baron?" interrupted Lady Jane.

"Yes, what sort of a person is he?" said Caroline.

"As unlike your Count Altenberg as possible--an oddish looking genius--oldish, too--like one's idea of an alchymist, or a professor, or a conjuror--like any thing rather than a man of fas.h.i.+on; but, nevertheless, since he has got into fas.h.i.+on, the ladies have all found out that he is very like a Roman emperor--and so he is--like _any_ head on an old coin."

"But how comes there to be such a value set on this head?--How came he into fas.h.i.+on?" said Lady Jane.

"Is it possible you don't know? Oh! it was when you were out of the world he first made the great noise--by dreaming--yes, dreaming--dreaming himself, and making every body else dream as he pleases; he sported last season a new theory of dreaming--joins practice to theory, too--very extraordinary--interprets all your dreams to your satisfaction, they say--and, quite on philosophical principles, can make you dream whatever he pleases. True, upon my veracity."

"Did your ladys.h.i.+p ever try his skill?" said Lady Jane.

"Not I; for the d.u.c.h.ess would not hear of him--but I long the more to know what he could make me dream. He certainly is very clever, for he was asked last winter everywhere. All the world ran mad--Lady Spilsbury, and my wise cousin, I understand, came to pulling wigs for him. Angelica conquered at last; you know Angelica was always a little bit of a coquette--not a _little_ bit neither. At first, to be sure, she thought no more of love for the German emperor than I do this minute; but he knew how to coquet also--Who would have thought it?--So there were notes, and verses, and dreams, and interpretations, and I can't tell you what. But, so far, the man is no charlatan--he has made Lady Angelica dream the very dream he chose--the strangest, too, imaginable--that she is in love with him. And the interpretation is, that she will take him 'for better for worse.'"

"That is your own interpretation, is not it, Lady Frances?" said Caroline.

"Is it possible there is any truth in it?" said Lady Jane.

"All true, positively, I hear. And of all things, I should like to see Lady Angelica and the baron face to face--tete-a-tete--or profile by profile, in the true Roman emperor and empress medal style."

"So should I, I confess," said Lady Jane, smiling.

"The best or the worst of it is," continued Lady Frances, "that, after all, this baron bold is, I've a notion, no better than an adventurer: for I heard a little bird sing, that a certain amba.s.sador hinted confidentially, that the Baron de Wilhelmberg would find it difficult to prove his sixteen quarterings. But now, upon both your honours, promise me you'll never mention this--never give the least confidential hint of it to man, woman, or child; because it might get round, spoil our sport, and never might I have the dear delight of drawing the caricature."