Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

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

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The sigh and look of penitence with which she pronounced these words were
accepted as expiation--Mr. Barclay stopped and returned; while sweeping the
wreck of her tower from the table, she repeated,

"Easy, as when ashore an infant stands,
And draws imagined houses on the sands,
The sportive wanton, pleased with some new play,
Sweeps the slight works and fancied domes away:
Thus vanish at thy touch the tow'rs and walls,
The toil of _mornings_ in a moment falls."

"Beautiful lines!" said Mr. Barclay.

"And charmingly repeated," said Sir James Harcourt: "are they your
ladyship's own?"

"No; Homer's," said she, smiling; "Pope's Homer's, I mean."

To cover his blunder as fast as possible, Sir James went on to something
else, and asked what her ladyship thought of Flaxman's sketches from
the Iliad and Odyssey? He had seen the book lying on the library table
yesterday: indeed, his eye had been caught, as it lay open, by a striking
resemblance--he knew it was very rude to talk of likenesses--but, really,
the resemblance was striking between a lady he had in his view, and one of
the figures in Flaxman, of Venus, or Penelope, he could not say which, but
he would look for the book and see in a moment.

The book was not to be found on the library table; Mrs. Hungerford said she
believed it was in the Oriel: Sir James went to look--Miss Caroline Percy
was drawing from it--that was unlucky, for Mr. Barclay followed, stayed
to admire Miss Percy's drawings, which he had never seen before, and
in looking over these sketches of hers from Flaxman's Homer, and from
Euripides and AEschylus, which the Lady Pembrokes showed him, and in
speaking of these, he discovered so much of Caroline's taste, literature,
and feeling, that he could not quit the Oriel. Lady Angelica had followed
to prevent mischief, and Mrs. Hungerford had followed to enjoy the pleasure
of seeing Caroline's modest merit appreciated. Whilst Mr. Barclay admired
in silence, Sir James Harcourt, not with his usual politeness, exclaimed,
"I protest I had no notion that Miss Caroline Percy drew in this style!"

"That's possible," cried Lady Mary Pembroke, colouring with that prompt
indignation which she was prone to feel when any thing was said that seemed
derogatory to her friends, "that's possible, Sir James; and yet you find
Miss Caroline Percy does draw in this very superior style--yes, and it is
the perfection of her accomplishments, that they are never exhibited."

"You have always the pleasure of discovering them," said Mrs. Hungerford;
"they are as a woman's accomplishments and acquirements ought to be, more
retiring than obtrusive; or as my old friend, Dr. South, quaintly but aptly
expresses it--more in intaglio than in cameo."

At this instant a sudden scream was heard from Lady Angelica Headingham,
who caught hold of Mr. Barclay's arm, and writhed as if in agony.

"Good Heavens! What is the matter?" cried Mr. Barclay.

"Oh! cramp! cramp! horrid cramp! in my foot--in my leg!"

"Rest upon me," said Mr. Barclay, "and stretch your foot out."

"Torture!--I can't." It was impossible that she could stand without the
support of both gentlemen.

"Carry me to the sofa--there!"

When they had carried her out of the Oriel to the sofa in the library, and
when her ladyship found that she had excited sufficient interest, and drawn
the attention of Mr. Barclay away from Caroline, her ladyship began to
grow a little better, and by graceful degrees recovered the use of her
pretty limbs. And now, as she had reason to be satisfied with the degree
of feeling which Mr. Barclay had involuntarily shown for her when he
thought she was suffering, if her vanity had had any touch of gratitude or
affection mixed with it, she would not have taken this moment to torment
the heart of the man--the only man who ever really loved her; but all in
her was vanity: she began to coquet with Sir James Harcourt--she let him
put on her sandal and tie its strings--she sent him for her shawl, for she
had a mind to walk in the park--and when Mr. Barclay offered to attend her,
and when she found that Caroline and the Lady Pembrokes were going, she had
a mind not to go, and she resolved to detain them all in admiration of her.
She took her shawl from Sir James, and throwing it round her in graceful
drapery, she asked him if he had ever seen any of Lady Hamilton's
attitudes, or rather scenic representations with shawl drapery.

Yes, he had; but he should be charmed to see them in perfection from her
ladyship.

Notwithstanding the hint Mrs. Hungerford had given about _exhibiting_,
and notwithstanding Mr. Barclay's grave looks, Lady Angelica, avowedly
to please Sir James Harcourt, consented to give the exhibition of the
passions. She ran into the Oriel--attired herself in a most appropriate
manner, and appeared first in the character of Fear--then of Hope: she
acted admirably, but just as

"Hope enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair,"

her ladyship's auburn tresses caught on some ornament in the room. The
whole fabric was raised a little from the fair head on which it seemed to
grow--Caroline sprang forward instantly, and dexterously disentangling the
accomplished actress, relieved her from this imminent and awkward peril.

"I am sure I'm exceedingly obliged to Miss Caroline Percy," said her
ladyship, adjusting her head-dress. "There, now, all's right again--thank
you, Miss Percy--don't trouble yourself, pray."

The heartless manner of these thanks, and her ladyship's preparing to go on
again with her exhibition, so displeased and disgusted Mr. Barclay, that
he left her to the flattery of Sir James Harcourt, and, sighing deeply,
quitted the room.

Lady Angelica, proud of showing her power of tormenting a man of his sense,
smiled victorious; and, in a half whisper, said to Mrs. Hungerford, "Exit
Mr. Barclay, jealous, because he thinks I did the shawl attitudes for
Sir James, and not for him--Poor man! he's very angry; but he'll ride it
off--or I'll smile it off."

Mrs. Hungerford shook her head. When her ladyship's exhibition had
finished, and when Sir James had continued repeating, either with his words
or his looks, "Charming! Is not she charming?" till the time of dressing,
an hour to which he was always punctual, he retired to his toilette, and
Lady Angelica found herself alone with Mrs. Hungerford.

"Oh! how tired I am!" cried her ladyship, throwing herself on a sofa beside
her. "My spirits do so wear me out! I am sure I'm too much for you, Mrs.
Hungerford; I am afraid you think me a strange wild creature: but, dear
madam, why do you look so grave?"

"My dear Lady Angelica Headingham," said Mrs. Hungerford, in a serious but
affectionate tone, laying her hand upon Lady Angelica's as she spoke, "I
was, you know, your mother's most intimate friend--I wish to be yours.
Considering this and my age, I think I may venture to speak to you with
more freedom than any one else now living could with propriety--it grieves
me to see such a woman as you are, being spoiled by adulation."

"Thank you, my dear Mrs. Hungerford! and now do tell me all my faults,"
said Lady Angelica: "only first let me just say, that if you are going to
tell me that I am a coquette, and a fool, I know I am--both--and I can't
help it; and I know I am what some people call _odd_--but I would not for
the world be a common character."

"Then you must not be a coquette," said Mrs. Hungerford, "for that _is_
common character--the hackneyed character of every play, of every novel.
And whatever is common is vulgar, you know: airs and affectation are common
and paltry--throw them aside, my dear Lady Angelica; disdain flattery,
prove that you value your own esteem above vulgar admiration, and then,
with such beauty and talents as you possess, you may be what you admire, an
uncommon character."

"_May_be!" repeated Lady Angelica in a voice of vexation. "Well, I know I
have a hundred faults; but I never before heard any body, friend or enemy,
deny that I _am_ an uncommon character. Now, Mrs. Hungerford, do you know
any one of a more uncommon character?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Hungerford, smiling, "I know the thing that's most
uncommon,

'I know a reasonable woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend.'"

"Oh! your friend, Miss Caroline Percy, I suppose. Well! though she is
so great a favourite of yours, I must say that, to my fancy, she is as
little of an uncommon character as any girl I ever saw--uncommon beauty, I
acknowledge, she has, though not the style of face I like."

"And an uncommonly good understanding, without one grain of envy,
affectation, or vanity," said Mrs. Hungerford.

"Vanity!--Stay till you see her tried," said Lady Angelica; "stay till she
has gone through one winter's campaign in London; stay till she has as many
admirers as--"

"As you have," said Mrs. Hungerford, smiling. "She seems to be in a fair
way of soon trying that experiment to your satisfaction."

A considerable pause ensued; during which many conflicting passions
appeared in Lady Angelica's countenance.

"After all, Mrs. Hungerford," resumed she, "do you think Mr. Barclay is
really attached to me?"

"I think he _was_ really attached to you, and strongly: but you have been
doing all you can to weaken and destroy his attachment, I fear."

"Fear nothing! I fear nothing," exclaimed Lady Angelica, "now you tell me,
dear Mrs. Hungerford, that you do not doubt the _reality_ of his love: all
the rest I will answer for--trust to me, I know my game."

Mrs. Hungerford sighed; and replied, "I am old, have stood by, and seen
this game played and lost so often, and by as able players as Lady Angelica
Headingham--take care--remember I warn you."

Miss Caroline Percy came into the room at this instant--Lady Angelica went
to her toilette to repair her charms.

CHAPTER XVII.

While Mrs. Hungerford was wasting her good advice upon Lady Angelica, Sir
James Harcourt at his toilette received this day's letters, which he read,
as usual, while his hair was dressing. Some of these letters were from
creditors, who were impatient to hear when his _advantageous marriage_
would be concluded, or when he would obtain that place which had been so
long promised. The place at court, as he was by this post informed by a
_private, very confidential_ letter, under a government cover and huge
seal, from his intimate friend, my Lord Skreene, ministers had found
themselves under the unfortunate necessity of giving away, to secure three
votes on a certain cabinet question.

Sir James threw the letter from him, without reading the rest of his
dear friend's official apologies: "So, the place at court is out of the
question--a wife must be my last resource," thought he, "but how to bring
her to the point?"

Sir James knew that though he was now in high favour, he might, at some
sudden turn of caprice, be discarded or deserted by his fair one, as had
been the fate of so many of his predecessors. The ruling passion, vanity,
must be touched, and the obvious means of awakening jealousy were in
his power. He determined to pay attentions to Miss Caroline Percy: his
experience in the tactics of gallantry supplying the place of knowledge of
the human heart, he counterfeited the symptoms of a new passion, and acted
"The Inconstant" so well, that Lady Angelica had no doubt of his being
what be appeared. She was not prepared for this turn of fate, well as she
thought she knew her game, and at this unlucky moment, just when she wanted
to play off Sir James against Mr. Barclay--and in an old castle in the
country too, where no substitute was to be had!

Her ladyship was the more vexed, because Mrs. Hungerford must see her
distress. Unused to any thing that opposed her wishes, she lost all temper,
and every word and look manifested resentment and disdain towards her
innocent and generous rival. In this jealousy, as there was no mixture of
love to colour and conceal its nature, it could not pass for refinement of
sentiment--it bore no resemblance to any thing noble--it must have been
detected, even by a less penetrating and less interested observer than Mr.
Barclay. His eyes were now completely opened.

In the mean time, Caroline's character, the more it was brought into light,
the more its value, goodness, and purity appeared. In the education of a
beauty, as of a prince, it is essential early to inspire an utter contempt
of flattery, and to give the habit of observing, and consequently the power
of judging, of character.

Caroline, on this occasion, when, perhaps, some little temptation
might have been felt by some ladies, remembered her own prayer against
coquetry--her manner towards Sir James was free from all possibility of
reproach or misconstruction: and by simply and steadily adhering to the
truth, and going the straight road, she avoided all the difficulties in
which she would have been involved, had she deviated but for a moment into
any crooked path.

But to return to Lady Angelica Headingham. She was pleased to see Sir James
Harcourt disconcerted, and delighted to see him mortified. Her ladyship's
disdainful manner towards Caroline was thrown aside,

"And all the cruel language of the eye"

changed at once. Lady Angelica acknowledged that no one could show more
magnanimity than Miss Caroline Percy had displayed in her conduct to Sir
James Harcourt. This speech was made of course to be repeated, and when
Caroline heard it she could not help smiling at the word magnanimity, which
sounded to her rather too grand for the occasion.

Sir James Harcourt finding himself completely foiled in his schemes, and
perceiving that the parties were closing and combining in a manner which
his knowledge of the world had not taught him to foresee, endeavoured with
all possible address and expedition to make his separate peace with Lady
Angelica. Her ladyship, however, was proud to show that she had too much
sense and spirit to accept again the homage of this recreant knight. He
had not time to sue for pardon--his adventure might have ended in a jail;
so forthwith he took his departure from Hungerford Castle, undetermined
whether he should again haste to court to beg a place, or bend his course
to the city, there to barter his fashion against the solid gold of some
merchant, rolling in his majesty's coin, who might be silly enough to give
his daughter, for a bow, to a courtier without a shilling. On one point,
however, Sir James was decided--betide him weal, betide him woe--that his
next mistress should neither be a wit, nor a beauty, nor yet a patroness.

After the departure of the baronet, the Lady Angelica expected to find her
remaining lover at her feet, in transports of joy and gratitude for this
haughty dismissal of his rival. No such thing: Mr. Barclay seemed disposed
to throw himself at the feet of another, and of the last person in the
world at whose feet her ladyship could bear to think of seeing him. Yet if
she had even now taken Mrs. Hungerford's friendly warning, she might still
have saved herself from mortification; but she was hurried on by her evil
genius--the spirit of coquetry.

She had promised to pay a visit this summer to an aunt of Mr. Barclay, Lady
B----, who lived in Leicestershire. And now, when every thing was arranged
for her reception, Lady Angelica changed her mind, and told Mr. Barclay
that she could not go, that she had just received letters from town, from
several of her fashionable friends, who were setting out for Weymouth, and
who insisted upon her meeting them there--and there was a delightful Miss
Kew, a protegee of hers, who was gone to Weymouth in the hope and trust
that her ladyship would _produce_ her and her new novel at the reading
parties which Lady Angelica had projected. She declared that she could
not possibly disappoint Miss Kew; besides, she had promised to carry Mr.
Seebright to Weymouth, to introduce him and his poem to her friends--his
subscription and the success of his poem entirely depended upon her going
to Weymouth--she could not possibly disappoint _him_.

Mr. Barclay thought more of his own disappointment--and said so: at which
her ladyship rejoiced, for she wished to make this a trial of her power;
and she desired rather that her reasons should not appear valid, and that
her excuses should not be reasonable, on purpose that she might compel
Mr. Barclay to submit to her caprice, and carry him off in triumph in her
train.

She carelessly repeated that Leicestershire was out of the question at this
time, but that Mr. Barclay might attend her, if he pleased.

But it did not please him: he did not think that his aunt was properly
treated, and he preferred her to all the bel-esprits and fine ladies who
were going to Weymouth--her charming self excepted.

She depended too much on the power of that charming self. Mr. Barclay,
whose bands she had gradually loosened, now made one resolute effort,
asserted and recovered his liberty. He declared that to Weymouth he could
not have the honour of attending her: if her ladyship thought the claims
and feelings of her protegees of greater consequence than his, if she held
herself more bound by the promises she had given to Mr. Seebright, Miss
Kew, or any of her bel-esprit friends, than by those with which she had
honoured his aunt, he could not presume to dispute her pleasure, or further
to press Lady B.'s request; he could only lament--and submit.

Lady Angelica flattered herself that this was only a bravado, or a
temporary ebullition of courage, but, to her surprise and dismay, Mr.
Barclay continued firm, calm, and civil. His heart now turned to the object
on which his understanding had long since told him it should fix. He saw
that Miss Caroline Percy was all that could make him happy for life, if he
could win her affections; but of the possibility of succeeding he had great
doubts. He had, to be sure, some circumstances in his favour: he was of a
good family, and had a considerable fortune; in a worldly point of view
he was a most advantageous match for Caroline Percy, but he knew that an
establishment was not the _first_ object, either with her, or with her
parents; neither could he wish that any motives of interest should operate
in his favour. His character, his principles, were good, and he had reason
to believe that Mr. Percy was impressed with a highly favourable opinion of
his good sense and general understanding. Caroline talked to him always as
if she liked his conversation, and felt esteem for his character; but the
very freedom and ease of her manner showed that she had no thoughts of him.
He was many years older than Caroline: it did not amount to an absolute
disparity, but it was an alarming difference. Mr. Barclay, who estimated
himself with perfect impartiality and candour, was sensible that though
his temper was good, yet that he was somewhat fastidious, and though his
manners were polite, yet they were reserved--they wanted that amenity,
gaiety, and frankness, which might be essential to win and keep a lady's
heart. The more his love, the more doubts of his own deserts increased;
but at last he determined to try his fate. He caught a glimpse of Caroline
one morning as she was drawing in the Oriel. Her sister and the two Lady
Pembrokes were in the library, and he thought he was secure of finding her
alone.

"May I beg the favour of a few minutes?"--he began with a voice of much
emotion as he entered the room; but he stopped short at the sight of Lady
Angelica.

In spite of all the rouge she wore, her ladyship's change of colour was
striking. Her lips trembled and grew pale. Mr. Barclay's eyes fixed
upon her for one moment with astonishment, then turning calmly away, he
addressed himself to Caroline, his emotion recurring, though he merely
spoke to her of a drawing which she was examining, and though he only said,
"Is this yours?"

"Yes, Lady Angelica has just given it to me; it is one of her drawings--a
view of Weymouth."

"Very beautiful," said Mr. Barclay, coldly--"a view of Weymouth."

"Where I hope to be the day after to-morrow," cried Lady Angelica, speaking
in a hurried, piqued, and haughty voice--"I am dying to get to Weymouth.
Mr. Barclay, if you have any letters for your friends there, I shall be
happy to carry them. Only let them be given to my woman in time," added her
ladyship, rising; "and now I must go and say _vivace! presto! prestissimo!_
to her preparations. Well, have you any commands?"

"No commands--but my best wishes for your ladyship's health and happiness,
whenever and wherever you go."

Lady Angelica sunk down upon her seat--made a strong effort to rise
again--but was unable. Caroline, without appearing to take any notice of
this, turned to Mr. Barclay, and said, "Will you have the goodness now to
give me the book which you were so kind as to promise me?"

Mr. Barclay went in search of it. Caroline proceeded with her drawing, gave
Lady Angelica time to recover, and left her the hope that her perturbation
had not been noticed. Her ladyship, as soon as she could, left the room,
repeating that she had some orders to give for her departure. Caroline
waited some time in vain for Mr. Barclay and his book. Afterwards, as
she was going up stairs, she was met by Rosamond, who, with a face full
of mystery, whispered, "Caroline, my father wants you this instant in
my mother's dressing-room--Mr. Barclay," added she, in a low voice, and
nodding her head, "Oh! I see you know what I mean--I knew how it would
be--I said so last night. Now go to my father, and you will hear all the
particulars."

Caroline heard from her father the confirmation of Rosamond's intelligence,
and she received from him and from her mother the kind assurance that
they would leave her entirely at liberty to accept or refuse Mr. Barclay,
according as her own judgment and feelings might dictate. They said, that
though it might be, in point of fortune, a highly advantageous match,
and though they saw nothing to which they could object in his character,
understanding, and temper, yet they should not attempt to influence her in
his favour. They begged her to decide entirely for herself, and to consult
only her own happiness.

"All I insist upon, my dear daughter, is, that you should, without any
idle or unjust generosity, consider first and solely what is for your own
happiness."

"And for Mr. Barclay's," said Caroline.

"And for Mr. Barclay's, as far as you are concerned: but, remember, the
question he asks you is, whether you can love him, whether you will marry
him, not whether you would advise him to love or marry somebody else? Don't
I know all that passes in your mind?"

"Not all, perhaps," said Caroline, "nor can I tell it you, because it is
another person's secret; therefore, I am sure you will not question me
further: but since you are so kind as to trust to my judgment, trust to
it entirely, when I assure you that I will, without any idle or unjust
generosity, consider, principally, what is for my own happiness."

"I am satisfied," said Mr. Percy, "no--one thing more: without meaning or
wishing to penetrate into any other person's affairs, I have a full right
to say to my daughter all that may be necessary to assist her in deciding
on a point the most material to her happiness. Now, Caroline," continued
her father, looking away from her, "observe, I do not endeavour, from my
knowledge of your countenance, even to guess whether what I imagine is
fact; but I state to you this supposition--suppose you had been told that
another lady is attached to Mr. Barclay?"

"I never was told so," interrupted Caroline, "but I have discovered it
by accident--No, I have said too much--I do not think _that person_ is
attached to him, but that she might easily have become attached, if this
proposal had been made to her instead of to me; and I think that their
two characters are exactly suited to each other--much better suited than
mine could be to Mr. Barclay, or his to me: she has wit and imagination,
and great vivacity; he has judgment, prudence, and solid sense: in each
there is what would compensate for what is wanting in the other, and both
together would make a happy union."

"My dear Caroline," said her father, "I must put you upon your guard
against the too easy faith of a sincere affectionate heart. I am really
surprised that you, who have always shown such good judgment of character,
should now be so totally mistaken as to think a woman capable of a real
love who is merely acting a part from vanity and coquetry."

"Vanity! coquetry!" repeated Caroline: "nobody upon earth is more free from
vanity and coquetry than--Surely you do not imagine I am thinking of Lady
Angelica Headingham?--Oh! no; I have no compassion for her. I know that if
she suffers from losing Mr. Barclay, it will be only from losing 'the dear
delight of giving pain,' and I should be very sorry she ever again enjoyed
that delight at Mr. Barclay's expense. I assure you, I am not thinking of
Lady Angelica."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Percy were in doubt whether Caroline was thinking of her
sister Rosamond or of her friend Lady Mary Pembroke; but without attempting
to discover, they only repeated that, whoever the person in question might
be, or however amiable or dear to Caroline, she ought not to let this idea
interfere with her own happiness, or influence her in giving an answer
to Mr. Barclay's proposal, which she ought either to accept or decline,
according as her own feelings and judgment should decide.--"If you wish
to take time to decide, your father and I will make Mr. Barclay clearly
understand that he is not to consider this as any encouragement; and as to
the rest," added Mrs. Percy, "when you are sure that you mean right, and
that you do right, you will not, my dear Caroline, I hope, be deterred from
determining upon what is best for your own happiness, merely by the weak
fear of what idle foolish people will say about an affair in which they
have no concern."