Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
found with Molly, taking stock of Amoret’s little wardrobe. The good
woman rose joyfully. “Oh, my dear missie! I am right thankful to see you
looking so purely. I don’t know how I could have held up my head to Miss
Delavie if I had not seen you!”
“Ah! you will see my sister and all of them,” cried Aurelia, a sudden
rush of home-sickness bringing tears to her eyes, in oblivion alike of
her recluse and her pupils. “Oh! if I were but going with you! But what
folly am I talking? You must not let them think I am not happy, for
indeed I am. Will you kindly come to my room, dear nurse, and I will
give you a packet for them?”
Mrs. Dove willingly availed herself of the opportunity of explaining how
guiltless she had been of the sudden separation at Knightsbridge four
months back. She had been in such haste to ride after and overtake the
coach, that she had even made Dove swear at her for wanting to give the
horses no time to rest, and she had ridden off on her own particular
pillion long before the rest. She had been surprised that she never
succeeded in catching up the carriage, but never suspected the truth
till she had dismounted in Hanover Square and asked whether “Miss” were
with my Lady. Nobody knew anything about Miss Delavie, nor expected her;
and the good woman’s alarm was great until she had had an interview with
her Ladyship, when she was told not to concern herself about the young
lady, who was safely bestowed in the country with the Miss Wayland. “But
that it was here, if you’ll believe me, missie, I was as innocent as the
babe unborn, and so was his Honour, Sir Amyas. Indeed, my Lady gave him
to understand that she had put you to boarding-school with his little
sisters.”
“Oh! nurse, that is impossible!”
“Lawk-a-day, missie, there’s nothing my Lady wouldn’t say to put him off
the scent. Bless you, ‘tis not for us servants to talk, or I could tell
you tales! But there, mum’s the word, as my Dove says, or he wouldn’t
ha’ sat on his box these twenty year!”
“My Lady is very kind to me,” said Aurelia, with a little assumption of
her father’s repressive manner.
“I’m right glad to hear it, Miss Aureely. A sweet lady she can be when
she is in the mood, though nothing like so sweet as his Honour. ‘Tis
ingrain with him down to the bone, as I may say--and I should know,
having had him from the day he was weaned. To see him come up to the
nussery, and toss about his little brother, would do your very heart
good; and then he sits him down, without a bit of pride, and will have
me tell him all about our journey up to Lunnon, and the fair, and the
play and all; and the same with Dove in the stables. He would have the
whole story, and how we was parted at Knightsbridge, I never so much as
guessing where you was--you that your sister had given into my care! At
last, one day when I was sitting a darning of stockings in the window
at the back, where I can see out over to the green fields, up his Honour
comes, and says he, with his finger to his lips, ‘Set your heart at
rest, nurse, I’ve found her!’ Then he told me how he went down to see
his old uncle. Mr. Wayland had been urging him on one side that ‘twas no
more than his duty; and her Ladyship, on the other, would have it that
Mr. Belamour was right down melancholy mad, and would go into a raving
fit if his nevvy did but go near the place.”
“She did not say that!”
“Oh yes, she did, miss, I’ll take my oath of it, for I was in the coach
with Master Wayland on my knee, when she was telling a lady how hard it
was they could have no use of Bowstead, because of Sir Jovian’s brother
being there, who had got the black melancholics, and could not be
removed. The lady says how good she was to suffer it, and she answers,
that there was no being harsh with poor Sir Jovian’s brother, though he
had a strange spleen at her and her son, and always grew worse when they
did but go near the house; but that some measures must be taken when her
son came of age or was married.”
“But he came at last!”
“He said he wanted to see for himself, and thought he could at least
find out from the servants whether his uncle was in the state they
reported. And there he found his three little sisters, and that you was
their tutoress, and they couldn’t say enough about you, nor the poor
gentleman neither. ‘I didn’t see her, nurse,’ says he, ‘but there’s a
bit of her own sweet fingers’ work.’ And sure enough, I knew it, for
it was a knot of the very ribbon you had in your hair the day I came to
talk to your sister about the journey.”
“That was what Amy told me she gave him.”
“Nothing loth would he be to take it, miss! Though says he, ‘Don’t you
let my mother know I have tracked her, nurse,’ says he. ‘It is plain
enough why she gives out that I am not to go near my uncle, and if she
guessed where I had been, she would have some of her fancies.’ ‘Now your
Honour, my dear,’ says I, ‘you’ll excuse your old nurse, but her sister
put her in my charge, and though I bless Heaven that you are no young
rake, yet you will be bringing trouble untold on her and hers if you go
down there a courting of her unbeknownst.’ ‘No danger of that, nurse,’
says he; ‘why there’s a she-dragon down there (meaning Mrs. Aylward)
that was ready to drive me out of my own house when I did but speak of
waiting to see her.’”
“No, I am glad he will not come again. Yet it makes his uncle happy to
see him. I will keep out of the way if he does.”
“Right too, miss. A young lady never loses by discretion.”
“Oh, do not speak in--in that way,” said Aurelia, blushing at
the implication. “Besides, he is going home with my Lady to dear
Carminster.”
“No, no, he remains with his regiment in town, unless he rides down
later when he can have his leave of absence, and my Lady is at the Bath.
He will not if he can help it, for he is dead set against the young lady
they want to marry him to, and she is to be there. What! you have not
heard? It is my Lady Arabella, sister to that there Colonel as is more
about our house than I could wish. She is not by the same mother as him
and my Lord Aresfield. Her father married a great heiress for his second
wife, whose father had made a great fortune by victualling the army in
the war time. Not that this Dowager Countess, as they call her, is a
bit like the real quality, so that it is a marvel how my Lady can put up
with her; only money-bags will make anything go down, more’s the pity,
and my Lady is pressed, you see, with her losses at play. It was about
this match that Sir Amyas was sent down to Battlefield, the Countess’s
place in Monmouthshire, when he came to Carminster last summer, and his
body servant, Mr. Grey, that has been about him from a child, told me
all about it. This Lady Belle, as they call her, is only about fourteen,
and such a spoilt little vixen, that they say nobody has been able to
teach her so much as to read, for her mother, the Dowager, never would
have her crossed in anything, and now she has got too headstrong for any
of ‘em. Mr. Grey said dressing for supper, they heard the most horrid
screams, and thought some one must be killed at least. Sir Amyas was for
running out, but at the door they met a wench who only said, ‘Bless
you! that’s nought. It’s only my young lady in her tantrums!’ So in the
servants’ hall, Grey heard it was all because her mamma wouldn’t let her
put on two suits of pearls and di’monds both together. She lies on her
back, and rolls and kicks till she gets her own way; and by what the
servants say, the Dowager heerself ain’t much better to her servants.
Her woman had got a black eye she had given her with her fan. She has
never had no breeding, you see, and there are uglier stories about her
than I like to tell you, Miss Aureely; and as to the young lady, Sir
Amyas saw her with his own eyes slap the lackey’s face for bringing her
brown sugar instead of white. She is a little dwarfish thing that puts
her finger in her mouth and sulks when she is not flying out into a
rage; but Colonel Mar is going to have her up to a boarding-school to
mend her manners, and he and my lady are as much bent on marrying his
Honour to her as if she was a perfect angel.”
“They never can!”
“Well, miss, they do most things they have a mind to; and they mean to
do this before my Lady’s husband comes home.”
“But Mr. Belamour is his nephew’s guardian.”
“That’s what my Lady is come down here for. Either she will get his
consent out of him, or she will make the poor gentleman out to be _non
compos_, and do without him.”
“Oh, nurse, he is the wisest, cleverest gentleman I ever saw, except my
papa.”
“Do you say do, miss? But you are young, you see. A gentleman to shut
himself up in the dark like that must needs be astray in his wits.”
“That is because of his eyes, and his wound. Nobody could talk to him
and doubt his reason.”
“Well, missie, I hope you are in the right; but what my Lady’s interest
is, that she is apt to carry out, one way or t’other! Bless me, if that
be not Master Archer screaming. I thought he was fast off to sleep.
There never was a child for hating the dark. Yes, yes, I’m coming, my
dearie! Lack a daisy, if his mamma heard!”
CHAPTER XVI. AUGURIES.
Venus, thy eternal sway
All the race of man obey.
EURIPIDES (Anstice).
Aurelia sat up late to finish her despatches to the beloved ones at
home, and pack the little works she had been able to do for each, though
my Lady’s embroidery took up most of her sedentary hours. Mrs. Dove
undertook the care of the guinea’s worth of presents to the little
sisters from Sir Amyas, which the prudent nurse advised her to
withhold till after Master Archer was gone, as he would certainly break
everything to pieces. He was up betimes, careering about the garden
with all his sisters after him, imperiously ordering them about, but
nevertheless bewitching them all, so that Amoretta was in ecstasies at
her own preferment, scarcely realising that it would divide her from the
others; while Letty made sure that she should soon follow, and Fidelia
gravely said, “I shall always know you are loving me still, Amy, as
Nurse Rolfe does.”
Lady Belamour breakfasted in her own room at about ten o’clock. Her
woman, Mrs. Loveday, a small trim active person, with the worn and
sharpened remains of considerable prettiness of the miniature brunette
style, was sent to summon Miss Delavie to her apartment and inspect the
embroidery she had been desired to execute for my Lady. Three or four
bouquets had been finished, and the maid went into such raptures over
them as somewhat to disgust their worker, who knew that they were not
half so well done as they would have been under Betty’s direction.
However, Mrs. Loveday bore the frame to her Ladyship’s room, following
Aurelia, who was there received with the same stately caressing manner
as before.
“Good morning, child. Your roses bloom well in the forenoon! Pity they
should be wasted in darkness. Not but that you are duly appreciated
there. Ah! I can deepen them by what our unhappy recluse said of you. I
shall make glad hearts at Carminster by his good opinion, and who knows
what preferment may come of it--eh? What is that, Loveday?”
“It is work your Ladyship wished me to execute,” said Aurelia.
“Handsome--yes; but is that all? I thought the notable Mistress Betty
brought you up after her own sort?”
“I am sorry, madam, but I could not do it quickly at first without my
sister’s advice, and I have not very much time between my care of the
children and preparing repetitions for Mr. Belamour.”
“Ha! ha! I understand. There are greater attractions! Go on, child.
Mayhap it may be your own wedding gown you are working at, if you finish
it in time! Heavens! what great wondering eyes the child has! All in