Tales and Novels, Vol. III by Maria Edgeworth

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TALES AND NOVELS, VOL. III

BELINDA.

BY

MARIA EDGEWORTH.

IN TEN VOLUMES. WITH ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.

1857.

CONTENTS.

I. Characters

II. Masks

III. Lady Delacour's History

IV. The same continued

V. Birthday Dresses

VI. Ways and Means

VII. The Serpentine River

VIII. A Family Party

IX. Advice

X. The Mysterious Boudoir

XI. Difficulties

XII. The Macaw

XIII. Sortes Virgilianae

XIV. The Exhibition

XV. Jealousy

XVI. Domestic Happiness

XVII. Rights of Woman

XVIII. A Declaration

XIX. A Wedding

XX. Reconciliation

XXI. Helena

XXII. A Spectre

XXIII. The Chaplain

XXIV. Peu a peu

XXV. Love me, love my dog

XXVI. Virginia

XXVII. A Discovery

XXVIII. E O

XXIX. A Jew

XXX. News

XXXI. The Denouement

BELINDA

CHAPTER I.

CHARACTERS.

Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in that branch of knowledge
which is called the art of rising in the world, had, with but a small
fortune, contrived to live in the highest company. She prided herself upon
having established half a dozen nieces most happily, that is to say, upon
having married them to men of fortunes far superior to their own. One
niece still remained unmarried--Belinda Portman, of whom she was
determined to get rid with all convenient expedition. Belinda was
handsome, graceful, sprightly, and highly accomplished; her aunt had
endeavoured to teach her that a young lady's chief business is to please
in society, that all her charms and accomplishments should be invariably
subservient to one grand object--the establishing herself in the world:

"For this, hands, lips, and eyes were put to school,
And each instructed feature had its rule."

Mrs. Stanhope did not find Belinda such a docile pupil as her other
nieces, for she had been educated chiefly in the country; she had early
been inspired with a taste for domestic pleasures; she was fond of
reading, and disposed to conduct herself with prudence and integrity. Her
character, however, was yet to be developed by circumstances.

Mrs. Stanhope lived at Bath, where she had opportunities of showing her
niece off, as she thought, to advantage; but as her health began to
decline, she could not go out with her as much as she wished. After
manoeuvring with more than her usual art, she succeeded in fastening
Belinda upon the fashionable Lady Delacour for the season. Her ladyship
was so much pleased by Miss Portman's accomplishments and vivacity, as to
invite her to spend the winter with her in London. Soon after her arrival
in town, Belinda received the following letter from her aunt Stanhope.

"Crescent, Bath.

"After searching every place I could think of, Anne found your bracelet in
your dressing-table, amongst a heap of odd things, which you left behind
you to be thrown away: I have sent it to you by a young gentleman, who
came to Bath (unluckily) the very day you left me--Mr. Clarence Hervey--an
acquaintance, and great admirer of my Lady Delacour. He is really an
uncommonly pleasant young man, is highly connected, and has a fine
independent fortune. Besides, he is a man of wit and gallantry, quite a
connoisseur in female grace and beauty--just the man to bring a new face
into fashion: so, my dear Belinda, I make it a point--look well when he is
introduced to you, and remember, what I have so often told you, that
nobody _can_ look well without taking some pains to please.

"I see--or at least when I went out more than my health will at present
permit--I used to see multitudes of silly girls, seemingly all cut out
upon the same pattern, who frequented public places day after day, and
year after year, without any idea farther than that of diverting
themselves, or of obtaining transient admiration. How I have pitied and
despised the giddy creatures, whilst I have observed them playing off
their unmeaning airs, vying with one another in the most _obvious_, and
consequently the most ridiculous manner, so as to expose themselves before
the very men they would attract: chattering, tittering, and flirting; full
of the present moment, never reflecting upon the future; quite satisfied
if they got a partner at a hall, without ever thinking of a partner for
life! I have often asked myself, what is to become of such girls when they
grow old or ugly, or when the public eye grows tired of them? If they have
large fortunes, it is all very well; they can afford to divert themselves
for a season or two, without doubt; they are sure to be sought after and
followed, not by mere danglers, but by men of suitable views and
pretensions: but nothing to my mind can be more miserable than the
situation of a poor girl, who, after spending not only the interest, but
the solid capital of her small fortune in dress, and frivolous
extravagance, fails in her matrimonial expectations (as many do merely
from not beginning to speculate in time). She finds herself at five or
six-and-thirty a burden to her friends, destitute of the means of
rendering herself independent (for the girls I speak of never think of
_learning_ to play cards), _de trop_ in society, yet obliged to hang upon
all her acquaintance, who wish her in heaven, because she is unqualified
to make the _expected_ return for civilities, having no home, I mean no
establishment, no house, &c. fit for the reception of company of a certain
rank.--My dearest Belinda, may this never be your case!--You have every
possible advantage, my love: no pains have been spared in your education,
and (which is the essential point) I have taken care that this should be
known--so that you have _the name_ of being perfectly accomplished. You
will also have the name of being very fashionable, if you go much into
public, as doubtless you will with Lady Delacour.--Your own good sense
must make you aware, my dear, that from her ladyship's situation and
knowledge of the world, it will always be proper, upon all subjects of
conversation, for her to lead and you to follow: it would be very unfit
for a young girl like you to suffer yourself to stand in competition with
Lady Delacour, whose high pretensions to wit and beauty are
_indisputable_. I need say no more to you upon this subject, my dear. Even
with your limited experience, you must have observed how foolish young
people offend those who are the most necessary to their interests, by an
imprudent indulgence of their vanity.

"Lady Delacour has an incomparable taste in dress: consult her, my dear,
and do not, by an ill-judged economy, counteract my views--apropos, I have
no objection to your being presented at court. You will, of course, have
credit with all her ladyship's tradespeople, if you manage properly. To
know how and when to lay out money is highly commendable, for in some
situations, people judge of what one can afford by what one actually
spends.--I know of no law which compels a young lady to tell what her age
or her fortune may be. You have no occasion for caution yet on one of
these points.

"I have covered my old carpet with a handsome green baize, and every
stranger who comes to see me, I observe, takes it for granted that I have
a rich carpet under it. Say every thing that is proper, in your best
manner, for me to Lady Delacour.

"Adieu, my dear Belinda,

"Yours, very sincerely,

"SELINA STANHOPE."

It is sometimes fortunate, that the means which are taken to produce
certain effects upon the mind have a tendency directly opposite to what is
expected. Mrs. Stanhope's perpetual anxiety about her niece's appearance,
manners, and establishment, had completely worn out Belinda's patience;
she had become more insensible to the praises of her personal charms and
accomplishments than young women of her age usually are, because she had
been so much flattered and _shown off_, as it is called, by her
match-making aunt.--Yet Belinda was fond of amusement, and had imbibed
some of Mrs. Stanhope's prejudices in favour of rank and fashion. Her
taste for literature declined in proportion to her intercourse with the
fashionable world, as she did not in this society perceive the least use
in the knowledge that she had acquired. Her mind had never been roused to
much reflection; she had in general acted but as a puppet in the hands of
others. To her aunt Stanhope she had hitherto paid unlimited, habitual,
blind obedience; but she was more undesigning, and more free from
affectation and coquetry, than could have been expected, after the course
of documenting which she had gone through. She was charmed with the idea
of a visit to Lady Delacour, whom she thought the most agreeable--no, that
is too feeble an expression--the most fascinating person she had ever
beheld. Such was the light in which her ladyship appeared, not only to
Belinda, but to all the world--that is to say, all the world of fashion,
and she knew of no other.--The newspapers were full of Lady Delacour's
parties, and Lady Delacour's dresses, and Lady Delacour's _bon mots_:
every thing that her ladyship said was repeated as witty; every thing that
her ladyship wore was imitated as fashionable. Female wit sometimes
depends on the beauty of its possessor for its reputation; and the reign
of beauty is proverbially short, and fashion often capriciously deserts
her favourites, even before nature withers their charms. Lady Delacour
seemed to be a fortunate exception to these general rules: long after she
had lost the bloom of youth, she continued to be admired as a fashionable
_bel esprit_; and long after she had ceased to be a novelty in society,
her company was courted by all the gay, the witty, and the gallant. To be
seen in public with Lady Delacour, to be a visitor at her house, were
privileges of which numbers were vehemently ambitious; and Belinda Portman
was congratulated and envied by all her acquaintance, for being admitted
as an inmate. How could she avoid thinking herself singularly fortunate?

A short time after her arrival at Lady Delacour's, Belinda began to see
through the thin veil with which politeness covers domestic
misery.--Abroad, and at home, Lady Delacour was two different persons.
Abroad she appeared all life, spirit, and good humour--at home, listless,
fretful, and melancholy; she seemed like a spoiled actress off the stage,
over-stimulated by applause, and exhausted by the exertions of supporting
a fictitious character.--When her house was filled with well-dressed
crowds, when it blazed with lights, and resounded with music and dancing,
Lady Delacour, in the character of Mistress of the Revels, shone the soul
and spirit of pleasure and frolic: but the moment the company retired,
when the music ceased, and the lights were extinguishing, the spell was
dissolved.

She would sometimes walk up and down the empty magnificent saloon,
absorbed in thoughts seemingly of the most painful nature.

For some days after Belinda's arrival in town she heard nothing of Lord
Delacour; his lady never mentioned his name, except once accidentally, as
she was showing Miss Portman the house, she said, "Don't open that
door--those are only Lord Delacour's apartments."--The first time Belinda
ever saw his lordship, he was dead drunk in the arms of two footmen, who
were carrying him up stairs to his bedchamber: his lady, who was just
returned from Ranelagh, passed by him on the landing-place with a look of
sovereign contempt.

"What is the matter?--Who is this?" said Belinda.

"Only the body of my Lord Delacour," said her ladyship: "his bearers have
brought it up the wrong staircase. Take it down again, my good friends:
let his lordship go his _own way_. Don't look so shocked and amazed,
Belinda--don't look so _new_, child: this funeral of my lord's intellects
is to me a nightly, or," added her ladyship, looking at her watch and
yawning, "I believe I should say a _daily_ ceremony--six o'clock, I
protest!"

The next morning, as her ladyship and Miss Portman were sitting at the
breakfast-table, after a very late breakfast, Lord Delacour entered the
room.

"Lord Delacour, sober, my dear,"--said her ladyship to Miss Portman, by
way of introducing him. Prejudiced by her ladyship, Belinda was inclined
to think that Lord Delacour sober would not be more agreeable or more
rational than Lord Delacour drunk. "How old do you take my lord to be?"
whispered her ladyship, as she saw Belinda's eye fixed upon the trembling
hand which carried his teacup to his lips: "I'll lay you a wager,"
continued she aloud--"I'll lay your birth-night dress, gold fringe, and
laurel wreaths into the bargain, that you don't guess right."

"I hope you don't think of going to this birth-night, lady Delacour?" said
his lordship.

"I'll give you six guesses, and I'll bet you don't come within sixteen
years," pursued her ladyship, still looking at Belinda.

"You cannot have the new carriage you have bespoken," said his lordship.
"Will you do me the honour to attend to me, Lady Delacour?"

"Then you won't venture to guess, Belinda," said her ladyship (without
honouring her lord with the smallest portion of her attention)--"Well, I
believe you are right--for certainly you would guess him to be
six-and-sixty, instead of six-and-thirty; but then he can drink more than
any two-legged animal in his majesty's dominions, and you know that is an
advantage which is well worth twenty or thirty years of a man's
life--especially to persons who have no other chance of distinguishing
themselves."

"If some people had distinguished themselves a little less in the world,"
retorted his lordship, "it would have been as well!"

"As well!--how flat!"

"Flatly then I have to inform you, Lady Delacour, that I will neither be
contradicted nor laughed at--you understand me,--it would be as well, flat
or not flat, my Lady Delacour, if your ladyship would attend more to your
own conduct, and less to others!"

"To _that_ of others--his lordship means, if he means any thing. Apropos,
Belinda, did not you tell me Clarence Hervey is coming to town?--You have
never seen him.--Well, I'll describe him to you by negatives. He is _not_
a man who ever says any thing flat--he is _not_ a man who must he wound up
with half a dozen bottles of champaign before he can _go_--he is _not_ a
man who, when he does go, goes wrong, and won't be set right--he is _not_
a man, whose whole consequence, if he were married, would depend on his
wife--he is _not_ a man, who, if he were married, would be so desperately
afraid of being governed by his wife, that he would turn gambler, jockey,
or sot, merely to show that he could govern himself."

"Go on, Lady Delacour," said his lordship, who had been in vain attempting
to balance a spoon on the edge of his teacup during the whole of this
speech, which was delivered with the most animated desire to provoke--"Go
on, Lady Delacour--all I desire is, that you should go on; Clarence Hervey
will be much obliged to you, and I am sure so shall I. Go on, my Lady
Delacour--go on, and you'll oblige me."

"I never will oblige you, my lord, that you may depend upon," cried her
ladyship, with a look of indignant contempt.

His lordship whistled, rang for his horses, and looked at his nails with a
smile. Belinda, shocked and in a great confusion, rose to leave the room,
dreading the gross continuance of this matrimonial dialogue.

"Mr. Hervey, my lady," said a footman, opening the door; and he was
scarcely announced, when her ladyship went forward to receive him with an
air of easy familiarity.--"Where have you buried yourself, Hervey, this
age past?" cried she, shaking hands with him: "there's absolutely no
living in this most stupid of all worlds without you.--Mr. Hervey--Miss
Portman--but don't look as if you were half asleep, man--What are you
dreaming of, Clarence? Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?"

"Oh! I have passed a miserable night," replied Clarence, throwing himself
into an actor's attitude, and speaking in a fine tone of stage
declamation.

"What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me,"

said her ladyship in a similar tone.--Clarence went on--

"O Lord, methought what pain it was to dance!
What dreadful noise of fiddles in my ears!
What sights of ugly _belles_ within my eyes!
----Then came wandering by,
A shadow like a devil, with red hair,
'Dizen'd with flowers; and she bawl'd out aloud,
Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence!"

"O, Mrs. Luttridge to the life!" cried Lady Delacour: "I know where you
have been now, and I pity you--but sit down," said she, making room for
him between Belinda and herself upon the sofa, "sit down here, and tell
me what could take you to that odious Mrs. Luttridge's."

Mr. Hervey threw himself on the sofa; Lord Delacour whistled as before,
and left the room without uttering a syllable.

"But my dream has made me forget myself strangely," said Mr. Hervey,
turning to Belinda, and producing her bracelet: "Mrs. Stanhope promised me
that if I delivered it safely, I should be rewarded with the honour of
putting it on the owner's fair arm." A conversation now took place on the
nature of ladies' promises--on fashionable bracelets--on the size of the
arm of the Venus de Medici--on Lady Delacour's and Miss Portman's--on the
thick legs of ancient statues--and on the various defects and absurdities
of Mrs. Luttridge and her wig. On all these topics Mr. Hervey displayed
much wit, gallantry, and satire, with so happy an effect, that Belinda,
when he took leave, was precisely of her aunt's opinion, that he was a
most uncommonly pleasant young man.

Clarence Hervey might have been more than a pleasant young man, if he had
not been smitten with the desire of being thought superior in every thing,
and of being the most admired person in all companies. He had been early
flattered with the idea that he was a man of genius; and he imagined that,
as such, he was entitled to be imprudent, wild, and eccentric. He affected
singularity, in order to establish his claims to genius. He had
considerable literary talents, by which he was distinguished at Oxford;
but he was so dreadfully afraid of passing for a pedant, that when he came
into the company of the idle and the ignorant, he pretended to disdain
every species of knowledge. His chameleon character seemed to vary in
different lights, and according to the different situations in which he
happened to be placed. He could be all things to all men--and to all
women. He was supposed to be a favourite with the fair sex; and of all his
various excellencies and defects, there was none on which he valued
himself so much as on his gallantry. He was not profligate; he had a
strong sense of honour, and quick feelings of humanity; but he was so
easily led, or rather so easily excited by his companions, and his
companions were now of such a sort, that it was probable he would soon
become vicious. As to his connexion with Lady Delacour, he would have
started with horror at the idea of disturbing the peace of a family; but
in her family, he said, there was no peace to disturb; he was vain of
having it seen by the world that he was distinguished by a lady of her wit
and fashion, and he did not think it incumbent on him to be more
scrupulous or more attentive to appearances than her ladyship. By Lord
Delacour's jealousy he was sometimes provoked, sometimes amused, and
sometimes flattered. He was constantly of all her ladyship's parties in
public and private; consequently he saw Belinda almost every day, and
every day he saw her with increasing admiration of her beauty, and with
increasing dread of being taken in to marry a niece of "the
_catch-match-maker_," the name by which Mrs. Stanhope was known amongst
the men of his acquaintance. Young ladies who have the misfortune to be
_conducted_ by these artful dames, are always supposed to be partners in
all the speculations, though their names may not appear in the firm. If he
had not been prejudiced by the character of her aunt, Mr. Hervey would
have thought Belinda an undesigning, unaffected girl; but now he suspected
her of artifice in every word, look, and motion; and even when he felt
himself most charmed by her powers of pleasing, he was most inclined to
despise her, for what he thought such premature proficiency in scientific
coquetry. He had not sufficient resolution to keep beyond the sphere of
her attraction; but, frequently, when he found himself within it, he
cursed his folly, and drew back with sudden terror. His manner towards her
was so variable and inconsistent, that she knew not how to interpret its
language. Sometimes she fancied, that with all the eloquence of eyes he
said, "_I adore you_, Belinda;" at other times she imagined that his
guarded silence meant to warn her that he was so entangled by Lady
Delacour, that he could not extricate himself from her snares. Whenever
this last idea struck her, it excited, in the most edifying manner, her
indignation against coquetry in general, and against her ladyship's in
particular: she became wonderfully clear-sighted to all the improprieties
of her ladyship's conduct. Belinda's newly acquired moral sense was so
much shocked, that she actually wrote a full statement of her observations
and her scruples to her aunt Stanhope; concluding by a request, that she
might not remain under the protection of a lady, of whose character she
could not approve, and whose intimacy might perhaps be injurious to her
reputation, if not to her principles.

Mrs. Stanhope answered Belinda's letter in a very guarded style; she
rebuked her niece severely for her imprudence in mentioning _names_ in
such a manner, in a letter sent by the common post; assured her that her
reputation was in no danger; that she hoped no niece of hers would set up
for a prude--a character more suspected by men of the world than even that
of a coquette; that the person alluded to was a perfectly fit chaperon for
any young lady to appear with in public, as long as she was visited by the
first people in town; that as to any thing in the _private_ conduct of
that person, and as to any _private brouillieries_ between her and her
lord, Belinda should observe on these dangerous topics a profound silence,
both in her letters and her conversation; that as long as the lady
continued under the protection of her husband, the world might whisper,
but would not speak out; that as to Belinda's own principles, she would be
utterly inexcusable if, after the education she had received, they could
be hurt by any bad examples; that she could not be too cautious in her
management of a man of ----'s character; that she could have no _serious_
cause for jealousy in the quarter she apprehended, as marriage there could
not be the object; and there was such a difference of age, that no
permanent influence could probably be obtained by the lady; that the most
certain method for Miss Portman to expose herself to the ridicule of one
of the parties, and to the total neglect of the other, would be to betray
anxiety or jealousy; that, in short, if she were fool enough to lose her
own heart, there would be little chance of her being wise enough to win
that of------, who was evidently a man of gallantry rather than of
sentiment, and who was known to play his cards well, and to have good luck
whenever _hearts_ were trumps.

Belinda's fears of Lady Delacour, as a dangerous rival, were much quieted
by the artful insinuations of Mrs. Stanhope, with respect to her age, &c.;
and in proportion as her fears subsided, she blamed herself for having
written too harshly of her ladyship's conduct. The idea that whilst she
appeared as Lady Delacour's friend she ought not to propagate any stories
to her disadvantage, operated powerfully upon Belinda's mind, and she
reproached herself for having told even her aunt what she had seen in
private. She thought that she had been guilty of treachery, and she wrote
again immediately to Mrs. Stanhope, to conjure her to burn her last
letter; to forget, if possible, its contents; and to believe that not a
syllable of a similar nature should ever more be heard from her: she was
just concluding with the words--"I hope my dear aunt will consider all
this as an error of my judgment, and not of my heart," when Lady Delacour
burst into the room, exclaiming, in a tone of gaiety, "Tragedy or comedy,
Belinda? The masquerade dresses are come. But how's this?" added she,
looking full in Belinda's face--"tears in the eyes! blushes in the cheeks!
tremors in the joints! and letters shuffling away! But, you novice of
novices, how awkwardly shuffled!--A niece of Mrs. Stanhope's, and so
unpractised a shuffler!--And is it credible she should tremble in this
ridiculous way about a love-letter or two?"

"No love-letters, indeed, Lady Delacour," said Belinda, holding the paper
fast, as her ladyship, half in play, half in earnest, attempted to snatch
it from her.

"No love-letters! then it must be treason; and see it I must, by all
that's good, or by all that's bad--I see the name of Delacour!"--and her
ladyship absolutely seized the letters by force, in spite of all Belinda's
struggles and entreaties.

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