Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
description of wolves in Mr. Thomson’s ‘Winter.’”
“That were scarcely a soothing subject; but we might find calm in
something less agitating and more familiar. Perhaps you can recall
something too firmly imprinted on your memory to be disturbed by these
emotions.”
Aurelia bethought herself that she must not disappoint her friend on
what might prove their last evening; she began very unsteadily:--
“’ Hence, loathed Melancholy.’”
However by the time “Jonson’s learned sock” was on, her mechanical
repetition had become animated, and she had restored herself to
equanimity. When the clock struck nine, her auditor added his thanks,
“In case we should not meet again thus, let me beg of my kind visitor to
wear this ring in memory of one to whom she has brought a breath indeed
from L’Allegro itself. It will not be too large. It was made for a
lady.”
And amid her tearful thanks she felt a light kiss on her fingers,
revealing to her that the hermit must possess a beard, a fact, which
in the close-shaven Hanoverian days, conveyed a sense of squalor and
neglect almost amounting to horror.
In her own room she dropped many a tear over the ring, which was of
course the Cupid intaglio, and she spent the night in strange mixed
dreams and yearnings, divided between her father, Betty, and Eugene on
the one hand, and Mr. Belamour and the children on the other. Home-sick
as she sometimes felt, dull as Bowstead was, she should be sadly grieved
to leave those to whom she felt herself almost necessary, though her
choice must needs be for her home.
Early the next day arrived an old roomy berlin loaded heavily with
luggage, and so stuffed with men and maids that four stout horses had
much ado to bring it up to the door. The servants, grumbling heartily,
declared that my Lady was only going to lie here for a single night, and
that Sir Amyas was not with her.
Late in the afternoon, a couple of outriders appeared to say that the
great lady was close at hand, and Aurelia, in her best blue sacque,
and India muslin cap, edged with Flanders lace, had her three little
charges, all in white with red shoes, red sashes, and red ribbons in
their caps, drawn up in the hall to welcome their mother.
Up swept the coach with six horses, Mr. Dove behind--runners in fact,
who at times rested themselves by an upright swing on the foot-board.
The door of the gorgeous machine was thrown open, and forth sprang a
pretty little boy. Next descended the friendly form of Mrs. Dove, then
a smart person, who was my Lady’s own woman, and finally something
dazzlingly grand and beautiful in feathers, light blue, and silver.
Aurelia made her reverence, and so did the little triad; the great lady
bent her head, and gave a light kiss to the brow of each child, and the
boy sprang forward, crying: “You are my sisters. You must play with me,
and do whatever I choose.” Amoret and he began kissing on the spot, but
Fidelia, regarding _must_ as a forbidden word, looked up at Aurelia with
an inquiring protest in her eyes; but it was not heeded, in the doubt
whether to follow Lady Belamour, who, with a stately greeting to Mrs.
Aylward, had sailed into the withdrawing-room. The question was decided
by Mrs. Aylward standing back to make room, and motioning her forward,
so she entered, Letty preceding her and Fay clinging to her.
By the hearth stood the magnificent figure, holding out a long,
beautiful, beringed hand, which Aurelia shyly kissed, bending as before
a queen, while her forehead received the same slight salute as had been
given to the little girls. “My cousin Delavie’s own daughter,” said the
lady: “You have the family likeness.”
“So I have been told, madam.”
“Your father is well, I hope.”
“He was pretty well, I thank you Ladyship, when I heard from my sister
ten days ago.”
“I shall see him in a week’s time, and shall report well of his little
daughter,” said Lady Belamour kindly. “I am under obligations to you, my
dear. You seem to have tamed my little savages.”
Aurelia was amazed, for the universal awe of my Lady had made her expect
a harsh and sever Semiramis style of woman, whereas she certainly saw a
majestic beauty, but with none of the terrors that she had anticipated.
The voice was musical and perfectly modulated, the manner more caressing
than imperious towards herself, and studiously polite to the house
keeper. While orders were being given as to arrangements, Aurelia took
in the full details of the person of whom she had heard so much.
It seemed incredible that Lady Belamour could have been mother to
contemporaries of Betty, for she looked younger than Betty herself. Her
symmetry and carriage were admirable, and well shown by the light blue
habit laced richly and embroidered with silver. A small round hat with a
cluster of white ostrich feathers was placed among the slightly frizzed
and powdered masses of mouse-coloured hair, surmounting a long ivory
neck, whose graceful turn, the theme of many a sonnet, was not concealed
by the masculine collar of the habit. The exquisite oval contour of the
cheek, the delicate ear, and Grecian profile were as perfect in moulding
as when she had been Sir Jovian’s bride, and so were the porcelain blue
of the eyes, the pencilled arches of eyebrow, and the curve of the lips,
while even her complexion retained its smooth texture, and tints of the
lily and rose. Often as Aurelia had heard of her beauty, its splendour
dazzled and astonished her, even in this travelling dress.
Archer, who was about a year older than his sisters, was more like
Amoret than the other two, with azure eyes, golden curls, and a plump
rosy face, full of fun and mischief. Tired of the confinement of the
coach, he was rushing round the house with Amoret, opening the doors and
looking into the rooms. The other little sisters remained beside Aurelia
till their mother said, pointing to Fay: “That child seems to mean to
eat me with her eyes. Let all the children be with Nurse Dove, Mrs.
Aylward. Miss Delavie will do me the pleasure of supping with me at
seven. Present my compliments to Mr. Belamour, and let him know that I
will be with him at eight o’clock on particular business.” Then turning
to the two children, she asked their names, and was answered by each
distinctly, with the orthodox “madam” at the end.
“You are improved, little ones,” she said: “Did Cousin Aurelia teach
you?”
“And Mammy Rolfe,” said constant Fay.
“She must teach you next not to stare,” said Lady Belamour. “I intend
to take one to be a companion to my boy, in the country. When I saw
them before, they were rustic little monsters; but they are less
unpresentable now. Call your sister, children.” And, as the two left the
room, she continued: “Which do you recommend, cousin?”
“Fidelia is the most reasonable, madam,” said Aurelia.
“But not the prettiest, I trust. She is too like her father, with those
dark brows, and her eyes have a look deep enough to frighten one. They
will frighten away the men, if she do not grow out of it.”
Here the door burst open, and, without any preliminary bow, Master
Archer flew in, crying out “Mamma, mamma, we _must_ stay here. The
galleries are so long, and it is such a place for whoop-hide!”
His sisters were following his bad example, and rushing in with equal
want of ceremony, but though their mother held the boy unchecked on
her knee, Aurelia saw how she could frown. “You forget yourselves,” she
said.
Amoret looked ready to cry, but at a sign from their young instructress,
they backed and curtsied, and their mother reviewed them; Letitia was
the most like the Delavies, but also the smallest, while Amoret was
on the largest scale and would pair best with her brother, who besides
loudly proclaimed his preference for her, and she was therefore elected
to the honour of being taken home. Aurelia was requested as a favour to
bid the children’s woman have the child’s clothes ready repaired to her
own room.
The little wardrobe could only be prepared by much assistance from
Aurelia herself, and she could attend to nothing else; while the
children were all devoted to Archer, and she only heard their voices
in the distance, till--as she was dressing for her _tete-a-tete_
supper--Fay came to her crying, “Archer is a naughty boy--he said wicked
words--he called her ugly, and had cuffed and pinched her!”
Poor child! she was tired out, and disappointed, and Aurelia could only
comfort her by hearing her little prayers, undressing her, and giving
her the highly-esteemed treat of sleeping in Cousin Aura’s bed; while
the others were staying up as long as it pleased Master Archer. This
actually was the cause of my Lady being kept waiting, and an apology was
needful. “Fidelia was tired out, and was crying.”
“A peevish child! I am glad I did not choose her.”
“She is usually very good, madam,” said Aurelia, eagerly.
“Is she your favourite?”
“I try not to make favourites, madam.”
“Ah! there spoke the true Manor House tone,” said her Ladyship, rather
mockingly. “Maybe she will be a wit, for she will never be a beauty, but
the other little one will come on in due time after Amoret.”
“Your Ladyship will find Amoret a dear, good, affectionate child,” said
Aurelia. “Only---”
“Reserve that for nurse, so please you, my good girl. It is enough for
me to see the brats on their good manners now and then. You have had
other recreations--shall I call them, or cares? I never supposed, when
I sent you here to attend on the children, that the hermit of Bowstead
would summon you! I assure you it is an extraordinary honour.”
“I so esteem it, madam,” said Aurelia, blushing.
“More honour than pleasure, eh?”
“A great pleasure, madam.”
“Say you so?” and the glittering blue eyes were keenly scanning the
modest face. “I should have thought a young maid like you would have had
the dismals at the mere notion of going near his dark chamber. I promise
you it gives me the megrim [migraine--D.L.] to look forward to it.”
“I was affrighted at first, madam,” said Aurelia; “but Mr. Belamour is
so good and kind to me that I exceedingly enjoy the hours I spend with
him.”
“La, child, you speak with warmth! We shall have you enamoured of a
voice like the youth they make sonnets about--what’s his name?”
“Narcissus, madam,” said Aurelia, put out of countenance by the banter.
“Oh, you are learned. Is Mr. Belamour your tutor, pray? And--oh fie! I
have seen that ring before!”
“He gave it to me yesterday,” faltered Aurelia, “in case you should
intend to take me away, and I should not see him again. I hope I was not
wrong in accepting it, madam.”
“Wrong, little fool, assuredly not,” said my Lady, laughing. “It is an
ensign of victory. Why, child, you have made a conquest worthy of--let
me see. You, or the wits, could tell me who it was that stormed the very
den of Cocytus and bore off the spoil!”
Aurelia liked the tone too little to supply the names; yet she felt
flattered; but she said quietly, “I am happy to have been the means of
cheering him.”
The grave artlessness of the manner acted as a kind of check, and Lady
Belamour said in a different tone, “Seriously, child, the family are
truly obliged for your share in rousing the poor creature from his
melancholy. My good man made the attempt, but all in vain. What do you
to divert him?”
In inquires of this kind the supper hour passed, and Lady Belamour was
then to keep her appointment with her brother-in-law. She showed so
much alarm and dread that Aurelia could not but utter assurances and
encouragements, which again awoke that arch manner, partly bantering,
partly flattering, which exercised a sort of pleasant perplexing
fascination on the simple girl.
After being dismissed, Aurelia went in search of Mrs. Dove, whom she