Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

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

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A long and loud knocking at the door came to Caroline's relief: it was
repeated with imperious impatience. "Who is it, my dear? look out of the
window, but don't let yourself be seen."

Caroline did not know any of the fashionable equipages, which to Lady Jane
appeared a great defect in her education: upon this occasion, however, she
thought she recollected the livery to be Mrs. Falconer's.

"Oh! no, my dear, quite impossible--the Falconers have not been near me
this age. I will tell you whose livery it is--there is a resemblance,
but it is astonishing to me a girl of your sense cannot learn the
difference--it is old Lady Brangle's livery."

"It might very possibly be so," Caroline allowed.

The servant however brought in cards and a note from Mrs. Falconer--the
note was to announce to Lady Jane Granville the approaching marriage of
Miss Falconer with Sir Robert Percy--the day was named, and the honour of
Lady Jane Granville's company was requested at the wedding. Lady Jane knew
that this communication was made, not in the least in the kindness, but in
the pride of Mrs. Falconer's heart; and precisely in the same spirit in
which it was written Lady Jane thought it incumbent upon her to receive and
answer it. Her ladyship was really warm and honest in her friendships, and
very grateful to _her branch_ of the Percy family, for the kindness they
had shown her in adversity.

"I think it extremely ill-judged and ill-bred of Mrs. Falconer to invite
me to this wedding. Does she think I have no feeling? My own near
relations and best friends deprived of their birth-right by this Sir
Robert Percy--does she conceive it possible that I _could_ go to such a
wedding?--No; nor did she wish or expect it; she only wrote from vanity,
and I shall answer her with pride, which, at least, is somewhat superior to
that mean passion; and I shall go, I am now determined, to Mr. Gresham's--I
do nothing by halves."

Her ladyship immediately wrote answers to both the invitations. Nothing for
months had done her so much good as the exertion, interest, and imaginary
self-importance these two notes created. At Mr. Gresham's on the day of the
wedding her ladyship appeared with great dignity, and was satisfied that
she had conferred honour and serious obligation. Could she have seen into
the minds of all the company, she would have been astonished to find how
little she occupied their thoughts. It would be difficult to determine
whether it is more for the happiness or misery of man and womankind that
politeness should cherish, or truth destroy, these little delusions of
self-love.

Presently there appeared in the newspapers a splendid account of the
marriage at St. George's church, Hanover-square, of Sir Robert Percy, of
Percy-hall, with Arabella, the eldest daughter of J. Falconer, Esquire:
present at the ceremony was a long list of _fashionable friends_, who, as
Lady Jane Granville observed, "would not have cared if the bride had been
hanged the next minute." The happy pair, after partaking of an elegant
collation, set out in a barouche and four for Percy-hall, the seat of Sir
Robert Percy.

"So!" cried Lady Jane, throwing down the paper, "Mrs. Falconer has
accomplished that match at last, and has got one of her daughters well off
her hands--the ugly one too. Upon my word, she is amazingly clever. But,
after all, the man has a horrid temper, and a very bad character. Now it
is over, my dear Caroline, I must tell you, that long ago, before I was so
well aware of what sort of a man he was, I had formed the plan of marrying
him to you, and so uniting the two branches, and bringing the estate into
your family; but we have often reason to rejoice that our best-concerted
schemes don't succeed. I give Mrs. Falconer joy. For worlds I would not
have such a man married to any relation or friend of mine--Oh! if I recover
my fortune, Caroline, I have hopes for you!"

Her ladyship was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Gresham, who came to
take leave, as he was just setting out for Holland. He was a man who said
less and did more for his friends, as Caroline observed, than almost any
person she knew. On seeing his gallery of paintings, she had noticed some
beautiful miniatures; he now brought all those which she had admired, and
begged to leave them with her during his absence, that she might at her
leisure copy any of them she liked. He knew she painted in miniature, for
he had long ago, when at the Hills, seen her copy of M. de Tourville's
picture of Euphrosyne.

"If," said Mr. Gresham, observing that Caroline scrupled to take charge of
so many precious pictures, "if you are too proud to receive from me the
slightest kindness without a return, I am willing to put myself under an
obligation to you. While I am away, at your leisure, make me a copy of that
Euphrosyne--I shall love it for your sake, and as reminding me of the time
when I first saw it--the happiest time perhaps of my life," added he, in a
low voice.

"Oh, Rosamond!" thought Caroline, "if you had heard that!--and if you knew
how generously kind he has been to your brothers!"

At parting from Alfred and Erasmus, he said to them, "My good young
friends, why don't either of you marry? To be sure, you are young enough;
but think of it in time, and don't put off, put off, till you grow into old
bachelors. I know young men generally in these days say, they find it too
expensive to marry--some truth in that, but more selfishness: here's young
Mr. Henry has set you a good example. Your practice in your professions,
I suppose, puts you as much at ease in the world by this time as he is.
Malthus, you know, whom I saw you studying the other day, objects only to
people marrying before they can maintain a family. Alfred, when I was at
the Hills, I heard of a certain Miss Leicester. If you shall think of
marrying before I come back again, you'll want a house, and I've lent mine
already--but money, you know, can place one in any part of the town you
might like better--I have a sum lying idle at my bankers, which I have just
had transferred to the account of Alfred and Erasmus Percy--whichever of
you marry before I come back, must do me the favour to purchase a good
house--I must have it at the polite end of the town, or I shall be worse
than an old bachelor--let me find it well furnished and aired--nothing airs
a house so well as a warm friend: then, you know, if I should not fancy
your purchase, I leave it on your hands, and you pay me the purchase-money
year by year, at your leisure--if you can trust that I will not throw you
into jail for it."

The warmth of Alfred's thanks in particular showed Mr. Gresham that he had
not been mistaken about Miss Leicester.

"I wish I had thought, or rather I wish I had spoken of this sooner," added
Mr. Gresham: "perhaps I might have had the pleasure of seeing you married
before my leaving England; but--no--it is best as it is--I might have
hurried things--and in these matters every body likes to go their own pace,
and their own way. So fare ye well--God bless you both, and give you good
wives--I can ask nothing better for you from Heaven."

No man could he more disposed than Alfred felt himself at this instant to
agree with Mr. Gresham, and to marry immediately--visions of beauty and
happiness floated before his imagination; but a solicitor knocking at the
door of his chambers recalled him to the sense of the sad necessity of
finishing some law-papers instead of going into the country to see his fair
mistress. His professional duty absolutely required his remaining in town
the whole of this term--Lady Jane Granville's business, in particular,
depended upon him--he gave his mind to it. She little knew how difficult
it was to him at this time to fix his attention, or how much temper it
required in these circumstances to bear with her impatience. The week
before her cause was expected to come to trial, her ladyship's law-fever
was at its height--Alfred avoided her presence, and did her business.

The day arrived--her cause came on--Alfred's exertions proved
successful--and hot from the courts he brought the first joyful news--a
decree in her favour!

Lady Jane started up, clasped her hands, embraced Alfred, embraced
Caroline, returned thanks to Heaven--again and again, in broken sentences,
tried to express her gratitude. A flood of tears came to her relief. "Oh!
Alfred, what pleasure your generous heart must feel!"

From this day--from this hour, Lady Jane's health rapidly recovered; and,
as Erasmus observed, her lawyer had at last proved her best physician.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXXIV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A new face! Who is she?"

"A relation of Lady Jane Granville."

"What has she?"

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

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

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

"Do you dance to-night?"

"Does our quadrille come next?"

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

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

Unluckily for Caroline, her brother Alfred was about this time obliged to
leave town. He was summoned to the country by Dr. Leicester. Dr. Percy was
so continually employed, that she could scarcely have a few minutes in a
week of his company, now that Lady Jane's health no longer required his
professional attendance. Caroline, who had always been used to domestic
society and conversation, was thus compelled to live completely in public,
without the pleasures of home, and without the amusement young people
generally enjoy in company, when they are with those of their own age to
whom they can communicate their thoughts. Lady Jane Granville was so much
afraid of Caroline's not appearing fashionable, that she continually
cautioned her against expressing her natural feelings at the sight of
any thing new and surprising, or at the perception of the tiresome or
ridiculous. Her ladyship would never permit her protegee to ask the name
of any person in public places or at private parties--because not to know
certain people "argues yourself unknown."

"I'll tell you who every body is when we go home;" but when she was at
home, Lady Jane was generally too much tired to explain or to comprehend
the description of these nameless bodies; and even when her ladyship was
able to satisfy her curiosity, Caroline was apt to mistake afterwards the
titles and histories of the personages, and by the misnomers of which she
was guilty, provoked Lady Jane past endurance. Whether it was from want
of _natural genius_ in the scholar, or interest in the study, or from the
teacher's thus unphilosophically separating the name and the idea, it is
certain that Caroline made but slow progress in acquiring her fashionable
nomenclature. She was nearly in despair at her own want of memory, when
fortunately a new instructress fell in her way, who was delighted with
her ignorance, and desired nothing better than to tell her who was who;
in every private party and public place to point out the ridiculous or
notorious, and at the moment the figures were passing, whether they heard
or not, to relate anecdotes characteristic and illustrative: this new,
entertaining preceptress was Lady Frances Arlington. Her ladyship having
quarrelled with Miss Georgiana Falconer, hated to go out with Mrs.
Falconer, hated still more to stay at home with the old tapestry-working
duchess her aunt, and was delighted to have Lady Jane Granville to take her
every where. She cared little what any person thought of herself, much less
what they thought of Caroline: therefore, free from all the delicacies and
anxieties of Lady Jane's friendship and systems, Lady Frances, though from
different premises coming to the same conclusion, agreed that thinking of
Caroline's advantage was _stuff_! and that all she had to do was to amuse
herself in town. Caroline was the most convenient companion to go out with,
for she never crossed her ladyship about partners, or admirers, never vied
with her for admiration, or seemed to mind her _flirtations_; but quietly
suffering her to draw off all the fashionable beaux, whom Lady Jane
stationed upon duty, she let Lady Frances Arlington talk, or dance, to
her heart's content, and was satisfied often to sit still and be silent.
The variety of words and ideas, facts and remarks, which her lively and
practised companion poured into her mind, Caroline was left to class for
herself, to generalize, and to make her own conclusions. Now she had means
of amusement, she took pleasure in observing all that was going on, and
she knew something of the characters and motives of the actors in such
different scenes. As a spectator, she was particularly struck by the
eagerness of all the players, at their different games of love, interest,
or ambition; and in various sets of company, she was diverted by observing
how each thought themselves the whole world: here a party of young ladies
and gentlemen, practising, morning, noon, and night, steps for their
_quadrille_; and while they are dancing the _quadrille_, jockey gentlemen
ranged against the wall in the ball-room, talking of their horses;
grave heads and snuff-boxes in a corner settling the fate of Europe,
proving that, they were, are, or ought to be, behind the scenes; at the
card-tables, sharpened faces seeing nothing in the universe but their
cards; and at the piano-forte a set of signers and signoras, and ladies
of quality, mingled together, full of duets, solos, overtures, cavatinas,
expression, execution, and thorough bass--mothers in agonies, daughters
pressed or pressing forward--some young and trembling with shame--more,
though young, yet confident of applause--others, and these the saddest
among the gay, veteran female exhibitors, tired to death, yet forced to
continue the unfruitful glories. In one grand party, silence and state; in
another group, rival matrons chasing round the room the heir presumptive
to a dukedom, or wedging their daughters closer and closer to that
door-way through which Lord William * * * * * must pass. Here a poet
acting enthusiasm with a _chapeau bras_--there another dying of ennui to
admiration; here a wit cutting and slashing right or wrong; there a man
of judgment standing by, silent as the grave--all for notoriety. Whilst
others of high rank, birth, or wealth, without effort or merit, secure of
distinction, looked down with sober contempt upon the poor stragglers and
wranglers for fame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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