Lady Susan
as well as I could, the danger of an intimate acquaintance, with so
artful a woman as Lady Susan, to a young man of his age, and high
expectations. I meant, moreover, to have reminded him of our being
quite alone now, and very much in need of him to keep up our spirits
these long winter evenings. Whether it would have done any good can
never be settled now, but I am excessively vexed that Sir Reginald
should know anything of a matter which we foresaw would make him so
uneasy. He caught all your fears the moment he had read your letter,
and I am sure he has not had the business out of his head since. He
wrote by the same post to Reginald a long letter full of it all, and
particularly asking an explanation of what he may have heard from Lady
Susan to contradict the late shocking reports. His answer came this
morning, which I shall enclose to you, as I think you will like to see
it. I wish it was more satisfactory; but it seems written with such a
determination to think well of Lady Susan, that his assurances as to
marriage, &c., do not set my heart at ease. I say all I can, however,
to satisfy your father, and he is certainly less uneasy since
Reginald’s letter. How provoking it is, my dear Catherine, that this
unwelcome guest of yours should not only prevent our meeting this
Christmas, but be the occasion of so much vexation and trouble! Kiss
the dear children for me.
Your affectionate mother,
C. DE COURCY.
XIV
_Mr. De Courcy to Sir Reginald._
Churchhill.
My dear Sir,—I have this moment received your letter, which has given
me more astonishment than I ever felt before. I am to thank my sister,
I suppose, for having represented me in such a light as to injure me in
your opinion, and give you all this alarm. I know not why she should
choose to make herself and her family uneasy by apprehending an event
which no one but herself, I can affirm, would ever have thought
possible. To impute such a design to Lady Susan would be taking from
her every claim to that excellent understanding which her bitterest
enemies have never denied her; and equally low must sink my pretensions
to common sense if I am suspected of matrimonial views in my behaviour
to her. Our difference of age must be an insuperable objection, and I
entreat you, my dear father, to quiet your mind, and no longer harbour
a suspicion which cannot be more injurious to your own peace than to
our understandings. I can have no other view in remaining with Lady
Susan, than to enjoy for a short time (as you have yourself expressed
it) the conversation of a woman of high intellectual powers. If Mrs.
Vernon would allow something to my affection for herself and her
husband in the length of my visit, she would do more justice to us all;
but my sister is unhappily prejudiced beyond the hope of conviction
against Lady Susan. From an attachment to her husband, which in itself
does honour to both, she cannot forgive the endeavours at preventing
their union, which have been attributed to selfishness in Lady Susan;
but in this case, as well as in many others, the world has most grossly
injured that lady, by supposing the worst where the motives of her
conduct have been doubtful. Lady Susan had heard something so
materially to the disadvantage of my sister as to persuade her that the
happiness of Mr. Vernon, to whom she was always much attached, would be
wholly destroyed by the marriage. And this circumstance, while it
explains the true motives of Lady Susan’s conduct, and removes all the
blame which has been so lavished on her, may also convince us how
little the general report of anyone ought to be credited; since no
character, however upright, can escape the malevolence of slander. If
my sister, in the security of retirement, with as little opportunity as
inclination to do evil, could not avoid censure, we must not rashly
condemn those who, living in the world and surrounded with temptations,
should be accused of errors which they are known to have the power of
committing.
I blame myself severely for having so easily believed the slanderous
tales invented by Charles Smith to the prejudice of Lady Susan, as I am
now convinced how greatly they have traduced her. As to Mrs.
Mainwaring’s jealousy it was totally his own invention, and his account
of her attaching Miss Mainwaring’s lover was scarcely better founded.
Sir James Martin had been drawn in by that young lady to pay her some
attention; and as he is a man of fortune, it was easy to see _her_
views extended to marriage. It is well known that Miss M. is absolutely
on the catch for a husband, and no one therefore can pity her for
losing, by the superior attractions of another woman, the chance of
being able to make a worthy man completely wretched. Lady Susan was far
from intending such a conquest, and on finding how warmly Miss
Mainwaring resented her lover’s defection, determined, in spite of Mr.
and Mrs. Mainwaring’s most urgent entreaties, to leave the family. I
have reason to imagine she did receive serious proposals from Sir
James, but her removing from Langford immediately on the discovery of
his attachment, must acquit her on that article with any mind of common
candour. You will, I am sure, my dear Sir, feel the truth of this, and
will hereby learn to do justice to the character of a very injured
woman. I know that Lady Susan in coming to Churchhill was governed only
by the most honourable and amiable intentions; her prudence and economy
are exemplary, her regard for Mr. Vernon equal even to _his_ deserts;
and her wish of obtaining my sister’s good opinion merits a better
return than it has received. As a mother she is unexceptionable; her
solid affection for her child is shown by placing her in hands where
her education will be properly attended to; but because she has not the
blind and weak partiality of most mothers, she is accused of wanting
maternal tenderness. Every person of sense, however, will know how to
value and commend her well-directed affection, and will join me in
wishing that Frederica Vernon may prove more worthy than she has yet
done of her mother’s tender care. I have now, my dear father, written
my real sentiments of Lady Susan; you will know from this letter how
highly I admire her abilities, and esteem her character; but if you are
not equally convinced by my full and solemn assurance that your fears
have been most idly created, you will deeply mortify and distress me.
I am, &c., &c.,
R. DE COURCY.
XV
_Mrs. Vernon to Lady De Courcy._
Churchhill
My dear Mother,—I return you Reginald’s letter, and rejoice with all my
heart that my father is made easy by it: tell him so, with my
congratulations; but, between ourselves, I must own it has only
convinced _me_ of my brother’s having no _present_ intention of
marrying Lady Susan, not that he is in no danger of doing so three
months hence. He gives a very plausible account of her behaviour at
Langford; I wish it may be true, but his intelligence must come from
herself, and I am less disposed to believe it than to lament the degree
of intimacy subsisting between them, implied by the discussion of such
a subject. I am sorry to have incurred his displeasure, but can expect
nothing better while he is so very eager in Lady Susan’s justification.
He is very severe against me indeed, and yet I hope I have not been
hasty in my judgment of her. Poor woman! though I have reasons enough
for my dislike, I cannot help pitying her at present, as she is in real
distress, and with too much cause. She had this morning a letter from
the lady with whom she has placed her daughter, to request that Miss
Vernon might be immediately removed, as she had been detected in an
attempt to run away. Why, or whither she intended to go, does not
appear; but, as her situation seems to have been unexceptionable, it is
a sad thing, and of course highly distressing to Lady Susan. Frederica
must be as much as sixteen, and ought to know better; but from what her
mother insinuates, I am afraid she is a perverse girl. She has been
sadly neglected, however, and her mother ought to remember it. Mr.
Vernon set off for London as soon as she had determined what should be
done. He is, if possible, to prevail on Miss Summers to let Frederica
continue with her; and if he cannot succeed, to bring her to Churchhill
for the present, till some other situation can be found for her. Her
ladyship is comforting herself meanwhile by strolling along the
shrubbery with Reginald, calling forth all his tender feelings, I
suppose, on this distressing occasion. She has been talking a great
deal about it to me. She talks vastly well; I am afraid of being
ungenerous, or I should say, _too_ well to feel so very deeply; but I
will not look for her faults; she may be Reginald’s wife! Heaven forbid
it! but why should I be quicker-sighted than anyone else? Mr. Vernon
declares that he never saw deeper distress than hers, on the receipt of
the letter; and is his judgment inferior to mine? She was very
unwilling that Frederica should be allowed to come to Churchhill, and
justly enough, as it seems a sort of reward to behaviour deserving very
differently; but it was impossible to take her anywhere else, and she
is not to remain here long. “It will be absolutely necessary,” said
she, “as you, my dear sister, must be sensible, to treat my daughter
with some severity while she is here; a most painful necessity, but I
will _endeavour_ to submit to it. I am afraid I have often been too
indulgent, but my poor Frederica’s temper could never bear opposition
well: you must support and encourage me; you must urge the necessity of
reproof if you see me too lenient.” All this sounds very reasonable.
Reginald is so incensed against the poor silly girl! Surely it is not
to Lady Susan’s credit that he should be so bitter against her
daughter; his idea of her must be drawn from the mother’s description.
Well, whatever may be his fate, we have the comfort of knowing that we
have done our utmost to save him. We must commit the event to a higher
power.
Yours ever, &c.,
CATHERINE VERNON.
XVI
_Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson._
Churchhill.
Never, my dearest Alicia, was I so provoked in my life as by a letter
this morning from Miss Summers. That horrid girl of mine has been
trying to run away. I had not a notion of her being such a little devil
before, she seemed to have all the Vernon milkiness; but on receiving
the letter in which I declared my intention about Sir James, she
actually attempted to elope; at least, I cannot otherwise account for
her doing it. She meant, I suppose, to go to the Clarkes in
Staffordshire, for she has no other acquaintances. But she shall be
punished, she shall have him. I have sent Charles to town to make
matters up if he can, for I do not by any means want her here. If Miss
Summers will not keep her, you must find me out another school, unless
we can get her married immediately. Miss S. writes word that she could
not get the young lady to assign any cause for her extraordinary
conduct, which confirms me in my own previous explanation of it.
Frederica is too shy, I think, and too much in awe of me to tell tales,
but if the mildness of her uncle should get anything out of her, I am
not afraid. I trust I shall be able to make my story as good as hers.
If I am vain of anything, it is of my eloquence. Consideration and
esteem as surely follow command of language as admiration waits on
beauty, and here I have opportunity enough for the exercise of my
talent, as the chief of my time is spent in conversation.
Reginald is never easy unless we are by ourselves, and when the weather
is tolerable, we pace the shrubbery for hours together. I like him on
the whole very well; he is clever and has a good deal to say, but he is