Lady Susan
arrived yesterday. I heard a carriage at the door, as I was sitting
with my children while they dined; and supposing I should be wanted,
left the nursery soon afterwards, and was half-way downstairs, when
Frederica, as pale as ashes, came running up, and rushed by me into her
own room. I instantly followed, and asked her what was the matter.
“Oh!” said she, “he is come—Sir James is come, and what shall I do?”
This was no explanation; I begged her to tell me what she meant. At
that moment we were interrupted by a knock at the door: it was
Reginald, who came, by Lady Susan’s direction, to call Frederica down.
“It is Mr. De Courcy!” said she, colouring violently. “Mamma has sent
for me; I must go.” We all three went down together; and I saw my
brother examining the terrified face of Frederica with surprize. In the
breakfast-room we found Lady Susan, and a young man of gentlemanlike
appearance, whom she introduced by the name of Sir James Martin—the
very person, as you may remember, whom it was said she had been at
pains to detach from Miss Mainwaring; but the conquest, it seems, was
not designed for herself, or she has since transferred it to her
daughter; for Sir James is now desperately in love with Frederica, and
with full encouragement from mamma. The poor girl, however, I am sure,
dislikes him; and though his person and address are very well, he
appears, both to Mr. Vernon and me, a very weak young man. Frederica
looked so shy, so confused, when we entered the room, that I felt for
her exceedingly. Lady Susan behaved with great attention to her
visitor; and yet I thought I could perceive that she had no particular
pleasure in seeing him. Sir James talked a great deal, and made many
civil excuses to me for the liberty he had taken in coming to
Churchhill—mixing more frequent laughter with his discourse than the
subject required—said many things over and over again, and told Lady
Susan three times that he had seen Mrs. Johnson a few evenings before.
He now and then addressed Frederica, but more frequently her mother.
The poor girl sat all this time without opening her lips—her eyes cast
down, and her colour varying every instant; while Reginald observed all
that passed in perfect silence. At length Lady Susan, weary, I believe,
of her situation, proposed walking; and we left the two gentlemen
together, to put on our pelisses. As we went upstairs Lady Susan begged
permission to attend me for a few moments in my dressing-room, as she
was anxious to speak with me in private. I led her thither accordingly,
and as soon as the door was closed, she said: “I was never more
surprized in my life than by Sir James’s arrival, and the suddenness of
it requires some apology to you, my dear sister; though to _me_, as a
mother, it is highly flattering. He is so extremely attached to my
daughter that he could not exist longer without seeing her. Sir James
is a young man of an amiable disposition and excellent character; a
little too much of the rattle, perhaps, but a year or two will rectify
_that:_ and he is in other respects so very eligible a match for
Frederica, that I have always observed his attachment with the greatest
pleasure; and am persuaded that you and my brother will give the
alliance your hearty approbation. I have never before mentioned the
likelihood of its taking place to anyone, because I thought that whilst
Frederica continued at school it had better not be known to exist; but
now, as I am convinced that Frederica is too old ever to submit to
school confinement, and have, therefore, begun to consider her union
with Sir James as not very distant, I had intended within a few days to
acquaint yourself and Mr. Vernon with the whole business. I am sure, my
dear sister, you will excuse my remaining silent so long, and agree
with me that such circumstances, while they continue from any cause in
suspense, cannot be too cautiously concealed. When you have the
happiness of bestowing your sweet little Catherine, some years hence,
on a man who in connection and character is alike unexceptionable, you
will know what I feel now; though, thank Heaven, you cannot have all my
reasons for rejoicing in such an event. Catherine will be amply
provided for, and not, like my Frederica, indebted to a fortunate
establishment for the comforts of life.” She concluded by demanding my
congratulations. I gave them somewhat awkwardly, I believe; for, in
fact, the sudden disclosure of so important a matter took from me the
power of speaking with any clearness. She thanked me, however, most
affectionately, for my kind concern in the welfare of herself and
daughter; and then said: “I am not apt to deal in professions, my dear
Mrs. Vernon, and I never had the convenient talent of affecting
sensations foreign to my heart; and therefore I trust you will believe
me when I declare, that much as I had heard in your praise before I
knew you, I had no idea that I should ever love you as I now do; and I
must further say that your friendship towards me is more particularly
gratifying because I have reason to believe that some attempts were
made to prejudice you against me. I only wish that they, whoever they
are, to whom I am indebted for such kind intentions, could see the
terms on which we now are together, and understand the real affection
we feel for each other; but I will not detain you any longer. God bless
you, for your goodness to me and my girl, and continue to you all your
present happiness.” What can one say of such a woman, my dear mother?
Such earnestness, such solemnity of expression! and yet I cannot help
suspecting the truth of everything she says. As for Reginald, I believe
he does not know what to make of the matter. When Sir James came, he
appeared all astonishment and perplexity; the folly of the young man
and the confusion of Frederica entirely engrossed him; and though a
little private discourse with Lady Susan has since had its effect, he
is still hurt, I am sure, at her allowing of such a man’s attentions to
her daughter. Sir James invited himself with great composure to remain
here a few days—hoped we would not think it odd, was aware of its being
very impertinent, but he took the liberty of a relation; and concluded
by wishing, with a laugh, that he might be really one very soon. Even
Lady Susan seemed a little disconcerted by this forwardness; in her
heart I am persuaded she sincerely wished him gone. But something must
be done for this poor girl, if her feelings are such as both I and her
uncle believe them to be. She must not be sacrificed to policy or
ambition, and she must not be left to suffer from the dread of it. The
girl whose heart can distinguish Reginald De Courcy, deserves, however
he may slight her, a better fate than to be Sir James Martin’s wife. As
soon as I can get her alone, I will discover the real truth; but she
seems to wish to avoid me. I hope this does not proceed from anything
wrong, and that I shall not find out I have thought too well of her.
Her behaviour to Sir James certainly speaks the greatest consciousness
and embarrassment, but I see nothing in it more like encouragement.
Adieu, my dear mother.
Yours, &c.,
C. VERNON.
XXI
_Miss Vernon to Mr. De Courcy._
Sir,—I hope you will excuse this liberty; I am forced upon it by the
greatest distress, or I should be ashamed to trouble you. I am very
miserable about Sir James Martin, and have no other way in the world of
helping myself but by writing to you, for I am forbidden even speaking
to my uncle and aunt on the subject; and this being the case, I am
afraid my applying to you will appear no better than equivocation, and
as if I attended to the letter and not the spirit of mamma’s commands.
But if you do not take my part and persuade her to break it off, I
shall be half distracted, for I cannot bear him. No human being but
_you_ could have any chance of prevailing with her. If you will,
therefore, have the unspeakably great kindness of taking my part with
her, and persuading her to send Sir James away, I shall be more obliged
to you than it is possible for me to express. I always disliked him
from the first: it is not a sudden fancy, I assure you, sir; I always
thought him silly and impertinent and disagreeable, and now he is grown
worse than ever. I would rather work for my bread than marry him. I do
not know how to apologize enough for this letter; I know it is taking
so great a liberty. I am aware how dreadfully angry it will make mamma,
but I remember the risk.
I am, Sir, your most humble servant,
F. S. V.
XXII
_Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson._
Churchhill.
This is insufferable! My dearest friend, I was never so enraged before,
and must relieve myself by writing to you, who I know will enter into
all my feelings. Who should come on Tuesday but Sir James Martin! Guess
my astonishment, and vexation—for, as you well know, I never wished him
to be seen at Churchhill. What a pity that you should not have known
his intentions! Not content with coming, he actually invited himself to
remain here a few days. I could have poisoned him! I made the best of
it, however, and told my story with great success to Mrs. Vernon, who,
whatever might be her real sentiments, said nothing in opposition to
mine. I made a point also of Frederica’s behaving civilly to Sir James,
and gave her to understand that I was absolutely determined on her
marrying him. She said something of her misery, but that was all. I
have for some time been more particularly resolved on the match from
seeing the rapid increase of her affection for Reginald, and from not
feeling secure that a knowledge of such affection might not in the end
awaken a return. Contemptible as a regard founded only on compassion
must make them both in my eyes, I felt by no means assured that such
might not be the consequence. It is true that Reginald had not in any
degree grown cool towards me; but yet he has lately mentioned Frederica
spontaneously and unnecessarily, and once said something in praise of
her person. _He_ was all astonishment at the appearance of my visitor,
and at first observed Sir James with an attention which I was pleased
to see not unmixed with jealousy; but unluckily it was impossible for
me really to torment him, as Sir James, though extremely gallant to me,
very soon made the whole party understand that his heart was devoted to
my daughter. I had no great difficulty in convincing De Courcy, when we
were alone, that I was perfectly justified, all things considered, in
desiring the match; and the whole business seemed most comfortably
arranged. They could none of them help perceiving that Sir James was no
Solomon; but I had positively forbidden Frederica complaining to
Charles Vernon or his wife, and they had therefore no pretence for
interference; though my impertinent sister, I believe, wanted only
opportunity for doing so. Everything, however, was going on calmly and
quietly; and, though I counted the hours of Sir James’s stay, my mind
was entirely satisfied with the posture of affairs. Guess, then, what I
must feel at the sudden disturbance of all my schemes; and that, too,
from a quarter where I had least reason to expect it. Reginald came
this morning into my dressing-room with a very unusual solemnity of
countenance, and after some preface informed me in so many words that
he wished to reason with me on the impropriety and unkindness of
allowing Sir James Martin to address my daughter contrary to her
inclinations. I was all amazement. When I found that he was not to be
laughed out of his design, I calmly begged an explanation, and desired
to know by what he was impelled, and by whom commissioned, to reprimand
me. He then told me, mixing in his speech a few insolent compliments