Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

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

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43

He changed the conversation by asking some questions about a celebrated
English writer. In return for the information Mr. Percy gave him, he spoke
of some recent foreign publications--related several anecdotes of literary
foreigners. His anecdotes were interesting, because, in each, there was
something characteristic of the individual, or illustrative of some general
principle of human nature. To gratify Mr. Percy, the Count spoke of some
public events of which he had had means of obtaining information. He had
not neglected any of the opportunities he enjoyed, and whether he talked of
civil or military affairs, he showed the same _efficient_ knowledge, and
the same superior ability.

Caroline, leaning on her father's arm, listened with a countenance full of
intelligence, animation, and sympathy; she looked alternately at the Count
and at her father, whose satisfaction she saw and enjoyed. Feeling that
he was appreciated by the father, inspired by the charms of the daughter,
and excited by the idea he had formed of her character, Count Altenberg
had indeed been uncommonly agreeable, entertaining, and eloquent. During
this walk, though Caroline said but little, yet that little, to a man of
the Count's discernment, was sufficient to show good judgment and great
capacity. This increased the admiration and interest which her beauty and
manners, and all he had heard of her conduct, created.

It is said to be one of the characteristics of genius, that it is
able quickly to discover and elicit genius, wherever it exists. It
is certain that with the celerity of intuition, of sympathy, or of
practised penetration, Count Altenberg perceived Caroline's intellectual
superiority. He had been, at first, curious to discover whether her mental
qualifications were equal to her extraordinary personal beauty; but he
had soon forgotten his intention of trying her abilities, in anxiety to
convince her of his own. The whole turn and style of his conversation
now proved, more than any compliment could possibly have shown, the high
opinion he had of her understanding, and of the elevation of her mind. A
woman may always judge of the real estimation in which she is held, by the
conversation which is addressed to her.

All this time, where were Rosamond, Mrs. Percy, and Mr. Temple? Mr.
Temple had taken them to see a fine view; Mr. Percy proposed to sit down
and quietly wait their return; Caroline and the Count seemed to have no
objection to oblige him, and they placed themselves under a spreading
beech. They had not been seated many minutes, before they were interrupted
by the appearance of Commissioner Falconer, who came, by a cross path, from
the house.

"At last I have found you. What a prodigious walk you have taken!" cried
the commissioner, wiping his forehead. "But where's Mrs. Percy and the rest
of your party? I have so walked to catch you--rode over on purpose to pay
my compliments to the ladies before they return home--and I come charge
d'affaires from Mrs. Falconer to Mrs. Percy. I must see Mrs. Percy--Oh!
here she is, coming down the hill--ay, from the _point of view_--Mercy! how
you have walked: I am not equal to the _grand tour_--it kills me. But I am
so sorry I was not here time enough to do the honours of Clermont-park,
as Lord Oldborough is confined. Who has Mrs. Percy for her cicerone?
Ha! Mr. Temple--I thought he was always so busy--deputed by Lord
Oldborough--really!--Hum--I hope Lord Oldborough did not conceive that
there was any want of _empressement_ on my part--I should have been here
a full hour sooner, but that my ladies were so late at breakfast after
sitting up--and I thought your ladies might have been fatigued too--but
Miss Caroline Percy, I see, fresh as a rose--"

The commissioner then, as if half in jest, half in earnest, paid Caroline a
profusion of compliments upon her appearance the preceding night--numbered
on his fingers the conquests she had made, and the hearts she had broken.
Mrs. Percy, Rosamond, and Mr. Temple came up; and as soon as they had
expressed their raptures on the beauty of this view, the commissioner
presented his note from Mrs. Falconer to Mrs. Percy, to which, he said,
he was most anxious to be the bearer of a favourable answer, as he knew
that he should otherwise be ill-received at home, and the disappointment
would be great. The note contained a pressing invitation to a play, which
the young people at Falconer-court had it in contemplation to represent.
Whether it was to be Zara or Cato, they had not yet positively decided--for
Cato they were in terrible distress for a Marcia--could Miss Caroline Percy
be prevailed upon to try Marcia? She would look the part so well, and, no
doubt, act it so well. Or if she preferred Zara, Miss Georgiana Falconer
would, with pleasure, take the part of the confidante. Dresses in great
forwardness, Turkish or Roman, convertible, in a few hours' notice--should
wait Miss Percy's decision.

"Well, my dear Caroline, what say you?" cried Mrs. Percy.

Caroline was going to answer.

"No, no, don't answer yet," interrupted the commissioner: "let me add,
what I find Mrs. Falconer took it for granted I would say, that there can
be no possible difficulty or inconvenience about the goings and comings,
and horses and carriages, and beds, and all that sort of thing--for
our horses and carriages can have nothing to do whilst the ladies are
rehearsing--shall attend you any day--any hour--and beds we can contrive:
so, I beseech you, let none of these vulgar sublunary considerations
deprive us of a Zara or a Marcia--But say, which shall it be?--Which
character, my charming cousin, will you do us the honour and pleasure to
take?"

Count Altenberg advanced a step, full of eager expectation. When he heard
Caroline pronounce, with great politeness, a refusal, for the first moment
he looked disappointed, but the next seemed satisfied and pleased. It would
have highly gratified and interested him to have seen Caroline act either
the sublime or the tender heroine, but he preferred seeing her support her
own character with modest dignity.

Commissioner Falconer pleaded and pressed in vain; Caroline was steady in
her refusal, though the manner of it was so gentle, that every instant he
thought he should vanquish her reluctance. At length he turned from the
ladies to the gentlemen for assistance.

"Mr. Temple, I am sure you will join my entreaties--Count Altenberg--"

Count Altenberg "would not presume to ask a favour, which had been refused
to the commissioner and to Mrs. Falconer." Caroline understood, and gave
him credit for his politeness.

"Then, if I must give up this point," said the commissioner, "at least do
not let me return disappointed in every respect--let me hope that you will
all favour us with your company at our play."

This invitation was accepted with many thanks.

"And, remember, you must not run away from us that night," added
the commissioner. "Mrs. Falconer will have reason to be jealous of
Clermont-park, if she finds that it draws our friends and relations away
from Falconer-court."

The carriage, which had been ordered to the great gate of the park, was now
waiting there, and the commissioner took leave of his relations, with
many shakes of the hand and many expressions of regret. Count Altenberg
continued talking to Caroline till the last moment; and after he had handed
her into the carriage, as he took leave of Mr. Percy, he said that he had
to thank him and his family for some of the most agreeable among the many
agreeable hours he had passed since he came to England.

On their way home, this happy family-party eagerly talked over every thing
and every body that had interested them--first and chiefly they spoke
of Count Altenberg. Caroline said how often, during their walk, she had
regretted her mother's and sister's absence. She recollected and reminded
her father of some of the striking circumstances they had heard, and Mr.
Percy and she repeated so many curious and interesting anecdotes, so many
just observations and noble sentiments, that Mrs. Percy and Rosamond were
quite charmed with the Count. Rosamond, however, was surprised by the
openness and ease with which Caroline praised and talked of this gentleman.

"I will say nothing," thought she; "for I am determined to be prudent this
time. But certainly here is no danger that her love should unsought be won.
Only this I may and must think, that Caroline cannot, without affectation,
avoid seeing that she has made a conquest."

Mistaken again, Rosamond--Caroline had neither seen nor suspected it. Count
Altenberg's gratitude for the hospitality shown to his countrymen at the
time of the shipwreck, his recent acquaintance with her brother Alfred, and
all he had heard of her father from the grateful tenants at Percy-hall,
accounted, as Caroline justly thought, for the eagerness he had shown to be
introduced to her family. His conversing so much with her, she thought, was
natural, as he was a stranger to most of the company, and had some subjects
of conversation in common with her and her family. Caroline was not apt to
imagine admiration in every word or look; she was not expert in construing
every compliment into a declaration or an innuendo of love.

His conversation, during their walk, had been perfectly free from all
compliment. It had been on subjects so interesting, that she had been
carried on without having had time to think of love. A good and great
character had opened to her view, and she had been so absorbed in sympathy,
that though she had thought of nothing but Count Altenberg, she had never
thought of him with any reference to herself.

The morning after their return home, Count Altenberg came to the Hills,
accompanied by Mr. Temple. They stayed till it was late; for the Count
seemed to forget the hour of the day, till reminded of it by Mr. Temple.
Caroline, in her own family, at her home, pleased Count Altenberg
particularly. The interest he felt about her increased, and he afterwards
took or made frequent opportunities of calling at the Hills: his
conversation was generally addressed to Mr. Percy, but he observed
Caroline with peculiar attention--and Rosamond was confirmed in her
opinion. A few weeks passed in this manner, while the play was preparing
at Falconer-court. But before we go to the play, let us take a peep behind
the scenes, and inquire what is and has been doing by the Falconer family.
Even they who are used to the ennui subsequent to dissipation, even they
who have experienced the vicissitudes of coquetry, the mortifications of
rivalship, and the despair of disappointed vanity, can scarcely conceive
the complication of disagreeable ideas and emotions with which Miss
Georgiana Falconer awoke the morning after the magnificent ball.

The image of her beautiful rival disturbed her morning dreams, and stood
before her fancy the moment she opened her eyes. Wakening, she endeavoured
to recollect and compare all that had passed the preceding night; but there
had been such tumult in her mind, that she had only a vague remembrance of
the transactions: she had a confused idea that the Count was in love, and
that he was not in love with her: she had fears that, during the heat of
competition, she had betrayed unbecoming emotion; but gradually, habitual
vanity predominated; her hopes brightened; she began to fancy that the
impression made by her rival might be easily effaced, and that they
should see no more of the fair phantom. That branch of the Percy family,
she recollected, were to be considered only as decayed gentry; and she
flattered herself that they would necessarily and immediately sink again
into that obscurity from which her mother's ill-fated civility had raised
them. Her mother, she knew, had invited these Percys against her will, and
would be particularly careful on account of Sir Robert Percy (and Arabella)
not to show them any further attention. Thus things would, in a day or two,
fall again into their proper train. "No doubt the Count will call this
morning, to know how we do after the ball."

So she rose, and resolved to dress herself with the most becoming
negligence.

Very different was the result of her experienced mother's reflections. Mrs.
Falconer saw that her daughter's chance of the Count was now scarcely worth
considering; that it must be given up at once, to avoid the danger of utter
ruin to other speculations of a more promising kind. The mother knew the
unmanageable violence of her daughter's temper: she had seen her Georgiana
expose herself the preceding night at the ball to her particular friends,
and Mrs. Falconer knew enough of the world to dread reports originating
from particular friends; she dreaded, also, that on some future similar
occasion, the young lady's want of command over her jealousy should produce
some terribly ridiculous scene, confirm the report that she had an unhappy
passion for Count Altenberg, stigmatize her as a forlorn maiden, and ruin
her chance of any other establishment. In this instance she had been misled
by her own and her daughter's vanity. It was mortifying, to be sure, to
find that she had been wrong; and still more provoking to be obliged to
acknowledge that Mr. Falconer was right; but in the existing circumstances
it was absolutely necessary, and Mrs. Falconer, with a species of
satisfaction, returned to her former habits of thinking, and resumed
certain old schemes, from which the arrival of the Count had diverted her
imagination. She expected the two Mr. Clays at Falconer-court the next day.
Either of them, she thought, might be a good match for Georgiana. To be
sure, it was said that French Clay had gaming debts to a large amount upon
his hands--this was against him; but, in his favour, there was the chance
of his elder brother's dying unmarried, and leaving him Clay-hall. Or,
take it the other way, and suppose English Clay to be made the object--he
was one of the men who professedly have a horror of being taken in to
marry; yet no men are more likely "to run into the danger to avoid the
apprehension." Suppose the worst, and that neither of the Clays could be
worked to any good purpose, Mrs. Falconer had still in reserve that _pis
aller_ Petcalf, whose father, the good general, was at Bath, with the
gout in his stomach; and if he should die, young Petcalf would pop into
possession of the general's lodge in _Asia Minor_ [Footnote: A district in
England so called.]: not so fine a place, to be sure, nor an establishment
so well appointed as Clay-hall; but still with a nabob's fortune a great
deal might be done--and Georgiana might make Petcalf throw down the lodge
and build. So at the worst she might settle very comfortably with young
Petcalf, whom she could manage as she pleased, provided she never let him
see her _penchant_ for Count Altenberg. Mrs. Falconer determined to turn
the tables dexterously, and to make it appear that the Count admired
Georgiana, but saw she could not be induced to leave England. "We must,"
said she to herself, "persuade English Clay that I would not for any
consideration give my daughter to a foreigner."

In consequence of these plans and reflections, Mrs. Falconer began her new
system of operations, by writing that note full of superfluous civility to
Mrs. Percy, with which Commissioner Falconer had been charged: the pressing
Caroline to play Zara or Marcia, the leaving to her the choice of dresses
and characters, the assurance that Miss Georgiana Falconer would take
the confidante's part with pleasure, were all strokes of Mrs. Falconer's
policy. By these means she thought she could most effectually do away all
suspicion of her own or her daughter's jealousy of Miss Caroline Percy.
Mrs. Falconer foresaw that, in all probability, Caroline would decline
acting; but if she had accepted, Mrs. Falconer would have been sincerely
pleased, confident, as she was, that Caroline's inferiority to her
Georgiana, who was an accomplished actress, would be conspicuously
manifest.

As soon as Mrs. Percy's answer, and Caroline's refusal, arrived, Mrs.
Falconer went to her daughter Georgiana's apartment, who was giving
directions to her maid, Lydia Sharpe, about some part of Zara's dress.

"My dear," said Mrs. Falconer, looking carelessly at the dress, "you won't
want a very expensive dress for Zara."

"Indeed, ma'am, I shall," cried Georgiana: "Zara will be nothing, unless
she is well dressed."

"Well, my dear, you must manage as well as you can with Lydia Sharpe.
Your last court-dress surely she can make do vastly well, with a little
alteration to give it a Turkish air."

"Oh! dear me, ma'am!--a little alteration!" cried Lydia: "no alteration
upon the face of Heaven's earth, that I could devise from this till
Christmas, would give it a Turkish air. You don't consider, nor conceive,
ma'am, how _skimping_ these here court-trains are now--for say the
length might answer, its length without any manner of breadth, you know,
ma'am--look, ma'am, a mere strip!--only two breadths of three quarters bare
each--which gives no folds in nature, nor drapery, nor majesty, which, for
a Turkish queen, is indispensably requisite, I presume."

"Another breadth or two would make it full enough, and cotton velvet will
do, and come cheap," said Mrs. Falconer.

"Cotton velvet!" cried Miss Georgiana. "I would not wear cotton
velvet--like the odious, shabby Miss Chattertons, who are infamous for it."

"But on the stage, what eye could detect it, child?" said Mrs. Falconer.

"Eye, ma'am! no, to be sure, at that distance: but the first touch to any
body that understands velvets would betray it--and them that is on the
stage along with Miss Georgiana, or behind the scenes, will detect it.
And I understood the ladies was to sup in their dresses, and on such an
occasion I presumed you would like Miss Georgiana to have an entire _cap a
pie_ new dress, as the Lady Arlingtons and every body has seen her appear
in this, and has it by heart, I may say--and the Count too, who, of course,
will expect, to see Zara spick and span--But I leave it all to your own
better judgment, ma'am--I am only just mentioning--"

"All I know is, that the play will be nothing unless it is well dressed,"
cried Miss Georgiana; "and I never will play Zara in old trumpery."

"Well, my dear, there's your amber satin, or your pink, or your green, or
your white, or--I am sure you have dresses enough. Lydia, produce them, and
let me see."

Lydia covered the bed with various finery; but to every dress that was
produced some insuperable objection was started by the young lady or by her
maid.

"I remember you had a lavender satin, that I do not see here, Georgiana,"
said Mrs. Falconer.

"The colour did not become me, ma'am, and I sold it to Lydia."

_Sold! gave_, perhaps some innocent reader may suspect that the young lady
meant to say.--No: this buying and selling of finery now goes on frequently
between a certain class of fashionable maids and mistresses; and some young
ladies are now not ashamed to become old clothes-women.

"Vastly well," said Mrs. Falconer, smiling; "you have your own ways and
means, and I am glad of it, for I can tell you there is no chance of my
getting you any money from your father; I dare not speak to him on that
subject--for he was extremely displeased with me about Mrs. Sparkes' last
bill: so if you want a new dress for Zara, you and Lydia Sharpe must settle
it as well as you can between you. I will, in the mean time, go and write a
note, while you make your bargain."

"Bargain! Me, ma'am!" cried Lydia Sharpe, as Mrs. Falconer left the room;
"I am the worst creature extant at bargaining, especially with ladies. But
any thing I can do certainly to accommodate, I shall, I'm sure, be happy."

"Well, then," said Miss Georgiana, "if you take this white satin off my
hands, Lydia, I am sure I shall be happy."

"I have no objection, ma'am--that is, I'm in duty bound to make no manner
of objections," said Lydia, with a very sentimental air, hanging her
head aside, and with one finger rubbing her under-lip slowly, as she
contemplated the white satin, which her young mistress held up for sale. "I
am really scrupulous--but you're sensible, Miss Georgiana, that your white
satin is so all frayed with the crape sleeves. Lady Trant recommended--"

"Only a very little frayed."

"But in the front breadth, ma'am; you know that makes a world of
difference, because there's no hiding, and with satin no turning--and not a
bit neither to new body."

"The body is perfectly good."

"I beg pardon for observing, but you know, ma'am, you noticed yourself how
it was blacked and soiled by wearing under your black lace last time, and
that you could not wear it again on that account."

"I!--but _you_--"

"To be sure, ma'am, there's a great deal of difference between I and you:
only when one comes to bargaining--"

She paused, seeing wrath gathering black and dire in her young lady's
countenance; before it burst, she changed her tone, and continued, "All I
mean to say, ma'am, is, that white satin being a style of thing I could not
pretend to think of wearing in any shape myself, I could only take it to
part with again, and in the existing circumstances, I'm confident I should
lose by it. But rather than disoblige, I'll take it at whatever you
please."

"Nay, I don't please about the matter, Lydia; but I am sure you had an
excellent bargain of my lavender satin, which I had only worn but twice."

"Dear heart!--La, ma'am! if you knew what trouble I had with Mrs. Sparkes,
the dress-maker, about it, because of the coffee-stain--And I vow to my
stars I am ashamed to mention it; but Mrs. Scrags, Lady Trant's woman, and
both the Lady Arlingtons' maids, can vouch for the truth of it. I did not
make a penny, but lost, ma'am, last year, by you and Miss Bell; that is,
not by you nor Miss Bell, but by all I bought, and sold to disadvantage;
which, I am morally certain, you would not have permitted, had you known of
it, as I told Mrs. Scrags, who was wondering and pitying of me: my young
ladies, Mrs. Scrags, says I--"

"No matter," interrupted Georgiana; "no matter what you said to Mrs.
Scrags, or Mrs. Scrags to you--but tell me at once, Lydia, what you can
afford to give me for these three gowns."

"I afford to give!" said Lydia Sharpe. "Well, the times is past, to be
sure, and greatly changed, since ladies used to give, but now it's their
maids must give--then, suppose--let's see, ma'am--for the three, the old
white satin, and the amber satin, and the black lace--why, ma'am, if you'd
throw me the pink crape into the bargain, I don't doubt but I could afford
to give you nine guineas, ma'am," said the maid.

"Then, Lydia Sharpe, you will never have them, I promise you," cried the
mistress: "Nine guineas! how can you have the assurance to offer me such a
sum? As if I had never bought a gown in my life, and did not know the value
or price of any thing! Do you take me for a fool?"

"Oh! dear no, miss--I'm confident that you know the value and price to the
uttermost penny--but only you forget that there's a difference betwixt
the buying and selling price for ladies; but if you please, ma'am--I
would do any thing to oblige and accommodate you--I will consult the
Lady Arlingtons' women, Miss Flora, and Miss Prichard, who is judges in
this line--most honourable appraisers; and if they praise the articles,
on inspection, a shilling higher, I am sure I shall submit to their
jurisdiction--if they say ten guineas, ma'am, you shall have it, for I love
to be at a word and a blow--and to do every thing genteel: so I'll step and
consult my friends, ma'am, and give you my ultimatum in half an hour."

So saying, whilst her young mistress stood flushed and swelling with pride
and anger, which, however, the sense of her own convenience and interest
controlled, the maid swept up the many coloured robes in her arms, and
carried them up the back stairs, to hold her consultation with her friends,
the most honourable of appraisers.

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Falconer, returning as she heard the maid quit
the room, "have you driven your bargain for the loan? Have you raised the
supplies?"

"No, indeed, ma'am--for Lydia is grown a perfect Jew. She may well say she
is related to Sharpe, the attorney--she is the keenest, most interested
creature in the world--and grown very saucy too."

"Like all those people, my dear; but one can't do without them."

"But one can change them."

"But, to use their own language, one is not sure of bettering oneself--and
then their wages are to be paid--and all one's little family secrets are at
their mercy."

"It's very provoking--it is very provoking!" repeated Miss Georgiana,
walking up and down the room. "Such an extortioner!--for my amber satin,
and my white satin, and my black lace, and my pink crape, only nine
guineas! What do you think of that, ma'am?"

"I think, my dear, you pay a prodigious premium for ready money; but nine
guineas will dress Zara decently, I dare say, if that's your object."