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Tales and Novels, Vol. V by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales and Novels, Vol. V




Though she liked to have it to say that she was a great deal with Lady
Pierrepoint, yet the time always passed most heavily in her company; nor
was the inferiority of this lady's understanding compensated by an
affectionate heart. Her smoothly polished exterior prevented all
possibility of obtaining any hold over her. She had the art at once to
seem to be intimate with people, and to keep them at the greatest
distance; as, in certain optical deceptions, an object which appears
close to us, eludes our hand if we attempt to grasp it. Almeria felt the
want of that species of unreserved confidence and friendship which she
had formerly enjoyed with Ellen. In judging of what will make us happy,
we are apt to leave time out of the account; and this leads to most
important errors. For a short period we may be amused or gratified by
what will fatigue and disgust us if long continued. The first winter
that she spent in dissipation she was amused; but winter after winter
passed; and the recurrence of the same public diversions, and the same
faces, and the same common-place conversation, wearied instead of
interesting her. But as the pleasure of novelty declined, the power of
habit increased; and she continued the same course of life for six
years--six long years! against both her judgment and her feelings, the
absolute slave of an imaginary necessity. Thus the silly chicken remains
prisoner in a circle of chalk: even when the hand by which it was held
down is removed, it feels an imaginary pressure, from which it dares not
even attempt to escape.

Almeria, however, was now arrived at an age when she could no longer,
with any propriety, be called a chicken: she was seven-and-twenty; and
the effect of keeping late hours, and the continual petty irritations to
which she had been subject, were sufficiently visible in her
countenance. She looked in a morning so faded and haggard, that any one
not used to the _wear and tear_ of fashionable faces would have guessed
Almeria's age to be seven-and-thirty instead of seven-and-twenty. During
her six campaigns in London, she or her fortune had made many conquests;
but none of her London captives had ever obtained any power over her
affections, and her ambition could not decide upon the pretensions of
her several suitors. Lady Pierrepoint, who was her prime adviser, had an
interest in keeping her unmarried; because during this time her ladyship
employed most advantageously certain moneys, which she had borrowed from
our heiress. This female politician made some objection to every
proposal; continually repeating, that Miss Turnbull might do
better--that she might look higher--that with her pretensions, there
could be no doubt that she would have a variety of advantageous
offers--and that her _play_ should be to raise her value by rejecting,
without hesitation, all pretenders but those of the first distinction.
Lady Pierrepoint, who usually spoke with all the ambiguity of an oracle,
seemed on this subject more than usually mysterious. She dropped half
sentences, then checked herself, hinted that she was not at liberty to
speak out; but that she had her own private reasons for advising her
friend Miss Turnbull not to be precipitate in her choice. Her ladyship's
looks said more than her words, and Almeria interpreted them precisely
as she wished. There was a certain marquis, whom she sometimes met at
Lady Pierrepoint's, and whom she would have been pleased to meet more
frequently. He was neither young, nor handsome, nor witty, nor wise.
What was he then?--He was a marquis--and is not that enough?--Almeria
saw that he was looked up to as a person of great influence and
importance, and she now had the habit of trusting to the eyes and ears
of others. She now considered what people were _thought of_, not what
they really were; and according to this mode of estimation she could not
fail to form a high opinion of this exalted personage. He paid her
distinguished, but not decisive attention; and perhaps the uncertainty
in which she was kept as to his views increased her interest upon the
subject. There was always some obstacle, which seemed to prevent him
from declaring himself:--at one time he was suddenly obliged to go
ambassador to some foreign court; he went, and stayed a year; at his
return he was immersed in politics, and deplored his hard fate in terms
which Almeria thought it was impossible not to construe favourably to
her wishes. She thought she was upon the point of becoming a
marchioness, when his lordship was again sent into what he called
banishment. Lady Pierrepoint had constantly letters from him, however;
passages from which she from time to time read to Almeria, in whose weak
mind this kept alive an indistinct hope, for which she had no rational
foundation. She was confirmed in her belief that the marquis had serious
thoughts of her, by the opinion of Mrs. Vickars, who she thought was in
the secret, and who certainly would not speak decidedly without
sufficient reason. Indeed, nothing but the pleasure she received from
Mrs. Vickars's favourable prognostics upon this subject could have in
any degree balanced the pain she daily endured from this lady's fretful
temper. Almeria submitted to her domineering humour, and continued to
propitiate her with petty sacrifices, more from fear than love--from
fear that her adverse influence might be fatal to her present scheme of
aggrandizement. Weak minds are subject to this apprehension of control
from secret causes utterly inadequate to their supposed effects; and
thus they put their destiny into the hands of persons who could not
otherwise obtain influence over their fate.

The time at length arrived when our heroine was to be confirmed in her
expectations, or wakened from her state of self-delusion. The marquis
returned from abroad, and Lady Pierrepoint wrote a note more
mysteriously worded than usual, signifying that she "wished to have a
conference with Miss Turnbull on a subject of some importance; and
begged to know at what hour in the morning she might be secure of the
pleasure of finding her at home." Almeria named her hour, and waited for
its arrival with no small impatience. Lady Pierrepoint's thundering
knock at the door was heard; her ladyship was shown up stairs; and she
entered the room with a countenance that seemed to promise well. She
preluded with many flattering phrases--declared that ever since she had
been first acquainted with Miss Turnbull at Cheltenham, she had always
considered her with sentiments of esteem, of which she had since given
indeed the most convincing proofs, by accepting of obligations from her.

"Obligations!" exclaimed Almeria, with an air of polite astonishment.

"Yes, my dear Miss Turnbull," continued her ladyship, with still more
polite humility, "I am under obligations to you assuredly. Things of a
pecuniary nature ought not to be named, I confess, in the same sentence
with friendship; yet for the sake of one's family it is, whilst we
remain in this world, the duty of every one to pay a certain degree of
attention to such points; and a person who has, like me, advantages of
situation and connexions, would not be justifiable in neglecting, under
due limitations, to make use of them."

Miss Turnbull readily assented to these guarded truisms, but wondered to
what all this was to lead.

"The money which you have had the goodness to trust in my hands,"
continued her ladyship, "has, without in the least impoverishing, or, I
hope, _inconveniencing_ you, been of the most material advantage to me."

Almeria comprehended that her ladyship referred to her speculations in
the stocks, and she congratulated her upon her success; and added
assurances, that for her own part she had not been in the slightest
degree _inconvenienced_. Whilst Miss Turnbull uttered these assurances,
however, she was not sorry to see Lady Pierrepoint take out of her
pocket-book bank notes to the amount of her debt; for in plain truth,
the interest of this loan had never been punctually paid; and Almeria
had often regretted that she had placed so much of her fortune out of
her own power. "Let me now return these to you with a thousand thanks,"
said her ladyship. "Indeed, my niece Gabriella has more reason even than
I have to thank you; for you must know, my dear Miss Turnbull, that all
my speculations have been for her. From the time that she came to live
with me, I was determined that she should be properly established; and
you must be sensible that, for a young lady's establishment in our days,
money is as essential as beauty. La belle Gabrielle is now provided for
as she ought to be, and of course the consequence will be a suitable
alliance." Miss Turnbull expressed her satisfaction at finding that her
money had been instrumental in attaining so happy a purpose, and
presumed to ask if her ladyship had any immediate alliance in view.

"It is a secret as yet; but I have no secrets for you, my dear Miss
Turnbull: indeed, I came here this morning by our dear Gabriella's
particular desire to communicate it to you. I flatter myself you will
approve of her choice--our favourite marquis."

Almeria was so much astonished and shocked by these words, that she
turned as pale as if she were going to faint. "Our favourite marquis!"
she repeated in a faltering voice; "I thought----"

The fear of becoming ridiculous restrained her anger, and she
paused.--"You thought, perhaps," resumed the perfectly-composed Lady
Pierrepoint, "you thought, perhaps, my dear, that there was too great a
disparity of age between Gabriella and the marquis."

"Oh! no."

"Why, that is an objection, I confess; at least it would be to some
young ladies: but as Gabriella is satisfied, we may waive that."

"Oh! yes, certainly."

"One cannot help being interested for him; he is such a respectable
character--and so much in love! It would really surprise you, my dear;
for you know he was a man, one would have imagined, so much immersed in
politics--I protest I never had a suspicion of his having a thought of
Gabriella, till the proposal was absolutely made."

"I am sure _I_ never suspected the marquis's attachment to Lady
Gabriella," said Miss Turnbull: "on the contrary--"

"On the contrary," pursued Lady Pierrepoint, "he paid her always, as
I remember, less attention than to twenty others, who were
indifferent to him."

The struggle was still violent in our heroine's mind between rage and
the dread of exposing herself to ridicule. Lady Pierrepoint saw this,
and coolly held her in this dilemma.

"Now," continued her ladyship, "men are such unaccountable creatures,
one never can understand them. Do you know, my dear Miss Turnbull, I
had, till his lordship explained himself unequivocally to me, a notion
that he was in love with you."

"Really!" said our heroine, forcing a laugh.

"Did your friend Mrs. Vickars never tell you so?"

"Yes, she did--frequently."

"Both of us mistaken, you see, my dear. Mortifying! to find one's
judgment so fallible. I tell the marquis, he might absolutely have been
privately married to Gabriella without my finding him out--it is so easy
now, the easiest thing in the world, to impose upon me. Well, I must bid
you adieu for the present, my dear Miss Turnbull--you may imagine I have
a world of business on my hands."

With the utmost appearance of cordiality Lady Pierrepoint shook our
heroine's receding hand; and, without seeming to notice the painful
emotions visible in Almeria's countenance, departed smiling, and
perfectly composed.

The moment that her ladyship had left the room, our heroine retired to
her own apartment, and hastily bolted the door to prevent the intrusion
of Mrs. Vickars, whose curiosity and condolence, whether real or
affected, she was not in a humour to endure. She walked up and down the
room in great agitation, by turns angry with Lady Pierrepoint, with the
marquis, with Lady Gabriella, with Mrs. Vickars, and with herself. After
her anger had spent itself, the sorrowful certainty that it was
unavailing remained; the disappointment was irremediable, and her
mortification was the more poignant, because she had no human being to
sympathize in her feelings, no one to whom she could complain.

"So this is fashionable friendship!" said she to herself. "This is the
end of all Lady Pierrepoint's and Lady Gabriella's professions of regard
for me!--Fool that I have been, to become their dupe!--With my eyes open
I saw nothing that was going forward, though now I can recollect a
thousand and a thousand circumstances, by which I might have been
undeceived. But I trusted implicitly--idiot that I was!--to the
friendship of this treacherous, unfeeling courtier. Once I had a friend,
to whom I might trust implicitly--I never, never, shall find her equal."

A transient recollection of former times crossed her mind--but those
times could not be recalled; and the present pressed upon her most
forcibly. Frustrated in all her ambitious schemes, she was sensible
that all that now remained for her was to conceal her disappointment,
and to avoid the contempt to which she would be exposed in the world,
if it were whispered that Miss Turnbull had fancied that the Marquis
of ---- was in love with her, whilst he was all the while paying his
addresses to Lady Gabriella Bradstone. This powerful fear of ridicule
conquered, or suppressed, all other feelings. With all the resolution
she could assume, Almeria went to Mrs. Vickars, and congratulated her
upon the happy event which was soon likely to take place in her family:
she even constrained herself so far, as, without expressing either
suspicion or resentment, to hear her companion disclaim all knowledge of
the affair, and declare that she had, that morning, for the first time,
heard of it from Lady Pierrepoint, with a degree of astonishment from
which she had not yet recovered.

In a few weeks afterwards Lady Gabriella's marriage took place. Our
heroine's mortification was much increased by the splendour in which the
bride appeared, and by the great share of the public attention which the
fair marchioness seemed for some days to engross. Miss Turnbull was
weary of hearing the praises of her equipages and dress; and the
dissimulation she was continually obliged to practise towards Mrs.
Vickars became intolerable. Nothing but a pretext for quarrelling with
this lady was wanting to Almeria, and nothing but an excuse for leaving
Almeria was now desired by Mrs. Vickars, who had received an invitation
from the marchioness, which she was impatient to accept. The ladies one
morning after breakfast fell into a dispute upon the comparative merits
of blue and green. It was not to all appearance a very dangerous
subject, but in certain situations every subject becomes dangerous.

"This riband is a beautiful blue," said Miss Turnbull.

"I confess I do not think so," said Mrs. Vickars; "it is a very
unbecoming shade of blue."

"Unbecoming!--I have been told by twenty people, that it is remarkably
becoming to me. Mrs. Ingoldsby told me yesterday, that she never saw so
beautiful a blue."

"Mrs. Ingoldsby's taste is not infallible, I imagine," said Mrs.
Vickars, with a contemptuous smile.

"It may not be infallible," replied our heroine, "but it is at least as
much to be relied upon as other people's."

"I am sure I do not pretend to compare my taste to Mrs. Ingoldsby's; but
I may be permitted to have an opinion of my own, I hope: and in my
opinion it is a frightful blue, and shockingly unbecoming. And at all
events I like green infinitely better than blue; and I beseech you, Miss
Turnbull, not to wear this hideous riband."

"I am sure I don't pretend to set my taste in competition with Mrs.
Vickars's, but I must confess I cannot think this a frightful blue, or
shockingly unbecoming; nor can I agree with any body in preferring
green to blue; and for once I shall take the liberty of following my
own fancy."

"For once!--I am sorry I ever presumed to offer an opinion upon this or
any other subject to Miss Turnbull--I shall be more cautious in future;
but I candidly own I did think I might prefer green to blue without
giving offence."

"It gives me no offence, I assure you, Mrs. Vickars, that you should
prefer green to blue; I am not so ridiculous. But people who cannot bear
to be contradicted themselves are always apt to fancy that others have
the same strange sort of domineering temper."

"People who can bear nothing but flattery, Miss Turnbull, should have
such a friend as Mrs. Ingoldsby, who would swear that blue is green, and
black white, I make no doubt," said Mrs. Vickars; "for my part, I am
sorry I cannot get rid of my troublesome sincerity."

"Sincerity! Sincerity!--To do you justice, Mrs. Vickars, whatever I may
have felt about trifles, in affairs of importance I have never found
your _sincerity_ troublesome."

The ironical accent upon the word _sincerity_ sufficiently marked Miss
Turnbull's meaning.

The irritable temper of Mrs. Vickars put it out of her power to act a
part with that "exquisite dissimulation," for which some of her sex have
been celebrated by the judicious Davila. Thrown off her guard by the
last sarcastic insinuation, Mrs. Vickars burst into an angry defence of
her own sincerity with respect to the affair of the marquis and Lady
Gabriella. Almeria observed, that this "defence was quite unnecessary,
as she had not made any accusation; and these apologies could be
prompted only by Mrs. Vickars's own _tenderness_ of conscience." Mrs.
Vickars replied with increasing acrimony. She said, that her "conduct
needed no apologies, and that she should not stoop to make any, to
soothe the disappointed ambition of any person whatever." Reproach
succeeded reproach--sarcasm produced sarcasm--till at last Mrs. Vickars
declared, that after what had passed it was impossible she should remain
another day in Miss Turnbull's house. This declaration was heard by
Almeria with undisguised satisfaction. The next day Mrs. Vickars
accepted of an invitation from the marchioness; and our heroine
afterwards protested that she was as much rejoiced to be freed from the
encumbrance of such a companion as Sinbad the sailor was to get rid of
the old man of the sea, who fastened himself upon his shoulders with
such remorseless tenacity.

She resolved to be more cautious in choice of her next companion. There
were many candidates for the honour of supplying the place of Mrs.
Vickars; amongst these was Mrs. Ingoldsby, a lady who was perfect
mistress of the whole art of flattery, by means of which she had so far
ingratiated herself with Miss Turnbull, that she felt secure of a
preference over all competitors. Almeria had indeed almost decided in
her favour, when she received a note from a Mrs. Wynne, an old lady with
whom she had formerly been acquainted in Yorkshire, and who, being just
come to town, was eager to renew her intimacy with Miss Turnbull. She
was a woman of an excellent heart, and absolutely incapable of
suspecting that others could be less frank or friendly than herself. She
was sometimes led into mistakes by this undistinguishing benevolence;
for she imagined that all which appeared wrong would prove right, if
properly understood; that there must be some good reason for every thing
that seemed to be bad; that every instance of unkindness or insolence
was undesigned; and that every quarrel was only a misunderstanding.
Possessed by this good-natured kind of wrong-headedness, she frequently
did the most provoking, by way of doing the most obliging things
imaginable.

Upon this principle she would place contending parties by surprise in
the very situation which of all others they most wished to avoid, and
then give the signal for a pitched battle, by begging the enemies would
shake hands with one another. Now she had heard it reported in Yorkshire
that there was some coolness between the Elmours and Miss Turnbull; but
she was morally certain there could be no truth in this report, for a
variety of the very best reasons in the world.

"In the first place," argued Mrs. Wynne, "to my certain knowledge, Miss
Turnbull was, from her infancy, always the greatest favourite at Elmour
Grove, the pupil of the good old gentleman, and the intimate friend of
the daughter. During that odd Hodgkinson's lifetime, Almeria was always
with Miss Ellen Elmour, who treated her quite like a sister. I am sure I
remember, as if it was yesterday, her introducing Miss Turnbull to me,
and the affectionate way in which she spoke of her--and I particularly
recollect hearing Almeria Turnbull, amongst other grateful things, say,
that she should wish to live and die with her friends at Elmour Grove.
Then she had stronger reasons afterwards for being attached to them--you
know it was Mr. Frederick Elmour who gained her large fortune for her. I
was in the court-house in York the very day the cause was decided, and I
never heard a man speak with more energy and eloquence than Frederick
Elmour did in her defence. It was plain, indeed, that the eloquence came
from his heart--as to the law part of the business, I know my nephew,
who understands those things, said it was a very nice question, and that
if her cause had not been managed as ably as it was, she would not have
gained her fortune. Now of course this was a thing that never could be
forgotten. I own, I expected that there would have been a match between
Miss Turnbull and Mr. Elmour; but Sir Thomas Stock, her guardian, took
her away from us, and Mr. Elmour fell in love with another lady. But all
this time Miss Turnbull has never married, though she has been so much
in the great world, and from her large fortune must have had so many
offers. I heard it said yesterday, that she had refused Sir Thomas
Stock's eldest son, and my Lord Bradstone, and some others; now it is
plain she would not marry merely for money or title. My nephew, who is
so amiable and sensible, is just the man for her, and he had used to
admire her very much in former times, when he met her at Elmour Grove."
Mrs. Wynne hinted her wishes to her nephew, but he seemed not much
inclined towards Miss Turnbull, "because," said he, "though Frederick
and his sister never uttered a syllable to her disadvantage, I cannot,
from circumstances, help imagining, that she has not behaved well to
them; and besides, after five or six years spent in the great world, and
in all the dissipation in which she has lived, her disposition cannot
probably be the same as it was when I knew her in the country."

Mrs. Wynne could not, with her good-natured eyes, see the force of any
of these objections, and she was determined to convince her nephew of
their futility. With this view she formed a scheme which was to be kept
a profound secret from the parties concerned, till the moment when it
should be ripe for execution. She heard that Miss Turnbull was in want
of a companion; and she knew that Mrs. Henry Elmour, a very amiable
young widow, distantly related to the Elmour family, and who had
formerly been a friend of Almeria's, was at this moment in great
distress. She had no doubt that Miss Turnbull would be delighted with an
opportunity of serving any one connected with a family to whom she owed
such obligations. Mrs. Wynne fancied that this would be the finest
occasion imaginable to prove to her nephew, that, notwithstanding
Almeria had lately lived so much in the fashionable world, she had the
same grateful heart as formerly.

Eager to come to this demonstration, Mrs. Wynne wrote immediately to the
distressed widow, begging her to come to town with all possible
expedition; "for I have found, or at least I am morally sure of finding,
the most charming situation your heart can desire. I say no more, that I
may not deprive you of the pleasure of the surprise."

The same day that she sent this letter to the post, she despatched the
following note to Almeria:


'MY DEAR MISS TURNBULL,

"I am too well persuaded of the goodness of your heart to fear that you
should think my present interference impertinent. We used to be very
good friends in Yorkshire, and I am sure shall be just the same in
London; therefore I write without ceremony, as friends should. I called
upon you twice, but found you were, unluckily, not at home. Now I have a
matter very near my heart to speak to you about, that perhaps will turn
out as much to your satisfaction as to mine. I cannot express myself so
well as I could wish in writing, but am sure you will not repent your
kindness, if you will do us the honour of dining with us in a family way
on Friday next; and in the mean time, let me beg you will not decide
your choice of a companion. I cannot be more explicit, lest (as I have
said once before to-day) I should deprive you of the pleasure of the
surprise. Dear madam, forgive this freedom in one who most sincerely
wishes you well (as Friday will prove). My nephew, Henry Wynne (whom you
may remember a great admirer of yours), desires his best respects; and
with every good wish I remain, Dear Miss Turnbull's

"Affectionate humble servant,
"M. WYNNE."

John Crace digests High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
Review: The Thin Blue Line: How Humanitarianism Went to War by Conor FoleyAid worker Foley conducts a fascinating and important analysis of recent wars and disasters around the world, says Steven Poole

Review: Under Two Dictators: Prisoner of Stalin and Hitler by Margarete Buber-Neumann

He might be almost 90 years old in real terms, but Christopher Robin and his bear of very little brain are set to make a literary comeback after the estate of AA Milne agreed to authorise the first-ever official sequel to the much-loved children's books.

Return to the Hundred Acre Wood by author David Benedictus picks up from the poignant ending of Milne's last Pooh book, The House at Pooh Corner, in which Christopher Robin is growing up and heading away to school. "Pooh, promise you won't forget about me, ever. Not even when I'm a hundred," he tells the bear, and they leave together.

The estates of Milne and EH Shepard, who provided the simple but enduring illustrations for the books, said they had been searching for a sequel that would do justice to the original stories for "a good many years".

Although Disney has franchised the characters in a number of films, there has not previously been an authorised literary sequel to Milne's books, Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner, first published in 1926 and 1928. Milne wrote the books for his son Christopher Robin, naming Pooh after his teddy bear.

The sequel, to be published by Egmont Publishing in Britain and Penguin imprint Dutton Children's Books in the US, is due out on 5 October, illustrated by Mark Burgess. Benedictus, who is familiar with the world of Winnie the Pooh after adapting and producing audio versions of the books starring Judi Dench, Stephen Fry and Jane Horrocks, did not reveal any more details, but promised that the book would both "complement and maintain Milne's idea that whatever happens, a little boy and his bear will always be playing".

Michael Brown, chairman of Pooh Properties, which manages the affairs of the Milne and Shepard estates, said the sequel would capture "the spirit and quality" of the original books.

Benedictus said all Milne's well-loved characters, from Tigger to Eeyore, would be making an appearance in his sequel, which features 10 stories and around 150 illustrations. The stories retain their original 1920s setting.

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Review: The Error World: An Affair with Stamps by Simon Garfield

One might say that Margarete Buber-Neumann had a charmed life, had it not been so horrible. She was fortunate - if that is the word - to be sent to a Soviet labour camp in 1939, during a momentary lull in the mass shooting of prisoners. Handed over to the Nazis in 1940, she was similarly lucky to be released from an SS concentration camp in 1945, just days before the remaining prisoners were forced on evacuation marches ending in death. It is a measure of the dismal times she lived through that such events marked her as fortunate, and it is a testament to her skill as a writer that this thoughtful, humane memoir (published in English in 1949) became an international bestseller. From the very first page we are with her, scurrying through Moscow surrounded by images of Stalin. We accompany her throughout the gruelling years ahead, encountering a host of characters, good and bad, and share in her dogged attempt to make sense of the madness of totalitarianism. This revised text is the definitive edition.

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