Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
brings fresh tidings of our Aura. The darling is as fair and sprightly
as a May morning, and beloved by all who come near her--bless her!”
Palmer echoed a fervent “Amen!” and Betty asked, “Is this my Lady’s
report?”
“Suspicious Betty! You will soon be satisfied,” said the Major in high
glee. “Did not Dove meet me at the front door, and Mrs. Dove waylay me
in the hall to tell me that the child looked blooming and joyous, and
in favour with all, gentle and simple? Come her, Eugene, ay, and Harriet
and Arden too. Let us hear what my little maid says for herself. For
look here!” and he held aloft Aurelia’s packet, at sight of which Eugene
capered high, and all followed into the parlour.
Mr. Arden was constantly about the house. There was no doubt that he
would soon be preferred to a Chapter living in Buckinghamshire, and he
had thus been emboldened to speak out his wishes. It would have been
quite beneath the dignity of a young lady of Miss Harriet’s sensibility
to have consented, and she was in the full swing of her game at coyness
and reluctance, daily vowing that nothing should induce her to resign
her liberty, and that she should be frightened out of her life by Mr.
Arden’s experiments; while her father had cordially received the
minor Canon’s proposals, and already treated him as one of the family.
Simpering had been such a fattening process that Harriet was beginning
to resume more of her good looks than had ever been brought back by
Maydew.
“Open the letter, Betty. Thanks, Arden,” as the minor Canon began to
pull off his boots, “only take care of my knee. My Lady has brought
down her little boy, and one of Aurelia’s pupils; I declare they are a
perfect pair of Loves. What are you fumbling at, Betty?”
“The seal, sir, it is a pity to break it,” said Betty, producing her
scissors from one of her capacious pockets. “It is an antique, is it
not, Mr. Arden?”
“A very beautiful gem, a sleeping Cupid,” he answered.
“How could the child have obtained it?” said Harriet.
“I can tell you,” said the Major. “From old Belamour. My Lady was
laughing about it. The little puss has revived the embers of gallantry
in our poor recluse. Says she, ‘He has actually presented her with a
ring, nay, a ring bearing Love himself.’”
Somehow the speech, even at second hand, jarred upon Betty, but her
father was delighted with my Lady’s description of his favourite, and
the letters were full of contentment. When the two sisters, arrayed in
their stiffest silks, went up to pay their respects to my Lady the next
afternoon, their reception was equally warm. My Lady was more caressing
to her old acquaintance, Betty, than that discreet personage quite
liked, while she complimented and congratulated Harriet on her lover,
laughing at her bashful disclaimers in such a charmingly teasing fashion
as quite to win the damsel’s heart, and convince her that all censure of
Lady Belamour was vile slander. The children were sent for, and Amoret
was called on to show how Cousin Aurelia had taught her to dance,
sing and recite. The tiny minuet performed by her and Archer was an
exceedingly pretty exhibition as far as it went, but the boy had no
patience to conclude, and jumped off into an extemporary _pas seul_,
which was still prettier, and as Amoret was sole exhibitor of the
repetition of Hay’s “Hare and many friends,” he became turbulent after
the first four lines, and put a stop to the whole.
Then came in a tall, large, handsome, dashing-looking man, with the air
of a “_beau sabreur_,” whom Lady Belamour presented to her cousins as
“Colonel Mar, my son’s commandant, you know who has been kind enough to
take Carminster on his way, so as to escort me to the Bath. I am such
a sad coward about highwaymen. And we are to meet dear Lady Aresfield
there to talk over a little matter of business.”
Colonel Mar made a magnificent bow, carelessly, not to say
impertinently, scanned the two ladies, and having evidently decided they
had neither beauty nor fashion to attract him, caught up little Amy in
his arms, and began to play a half teasing, half caressing game with the
children. Betty thought it high time to be gone, and as she took leave,
was requested to send up her little brother to play with his cousins.
This did not prove a success, for Eugene constituted himself champion to
Amoret, of whom Archer was very jealous, though she was his devoted
and submissive slave. Master Delavie’s rustic ways were in consequence
pronounced to be too rude and rough for the dainty little town-bred boy,
the fine ladies’ pet.
The Major dined at the Great House, but came home so much dismayed and
disgusted that he could hardly mention even to Betty what he had seen
and heard. He only groaned out at intervals, “This is what the service
is coming to! That fop to be that poor lad’s commanding officer! That
rake to be always hovering about my cousin!”
Others spoke out more plainly. Stories were afloat or orgies ending
in the gallant Colonel being under the supper table, a thing only too
common, but not in the house of a solitary lady who had only lately
quitted the carousers. Half the dependants on the estate were
complaining of the guest’s swaggering overbearing treatment of
themselves, or of his insolence to their wives or daughters; and
Betty lived in a dreadful unnamed terror lest he should offer some
impertinence to her father which the veteran’s honour might not brook.
However, there was something in the old soldier’s dignity and long
service that kept the arrogance of the younger man in check, and
repressed all bluster towards him.
Demands for money were, as usual, made, but the settlement of accounts
was deferred till the arrival of Hargrave, the family man of business,
who came by coach to Bath, and then rode across to Carminster. The Major
dined that day at the Great House, and came home early, with something
so strange and startled about his looks that Betty feared that her worst
misgivings were realised. It was a relief to hear him say, “Come hither,
Betty, I want a word with you.” At least it was no duel!
“What is it, dear sir?” she asked, as she shut his study door. “Is it
come at last? Must we quit this place?”
“No, I could bear that better, but what do you think she asks of me
now?--to give my little Aurelia, my beautiful darling, to that madman in
the dark!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Betty, in a strange tone of discovery. “May I inquire
what you said?”
“I said--I scarce know what I said. I declared it monstrous, and not
to be thought of for a moment; and then she went on in her fashion that
would wile a bird off a bush, declaring that no doubt the proposal was a
shock, but if I would turn the matter over, I should see it was for the
dear child’s advantage. Belamour dotes on her, and after being an old
man’s darling for a few years, she may be free in her prime, with an
honourable name and fortune.”
“I dare say. As if one could not see through the entire design. My Lady
would call her sister-in-law to prevent her being daughter-in-law!”
“That fancy has had no aliment, and must long ago have died out.”
“Listen to Nurse Dove on that matter.”
“Women love to foster notions of that sort.”
“Nay, sir, you believe, as I do, that the poor child was conveyed to
Bowstead in order that the youth might lose sight of her, and since he
proves refractory to the match intended for him, this further device is
found for destroying any possible hope on his part.”
“I cannot say what may actuate my Lady, but if Amyas Belamour be the man
I knew, and as the child’s own letters paint him, he is not like to lend
himself to any such arrangement.”
“Comes the offer from him, or is it only a scheme of my Lady’s?”
“He never writes more than a signature, but Hargrave is empowered to
make proposals to me, very handsome proposals too, were not the bare
idea intolerable.”
“Aurelia is not aware of it, I am sure,” said Betty, to whom Hargrave
had brought another packet of cheerful innocent despatches, of which, as
usual, the unseen friend in the dark was the hero.
“Certainly not, and I hope she never may be. I declared the notion was
not to be entertained for a moment; but Urania never, in her life, would
take no for an answer, and she talked me nearly out of my senses, then
bade me go home, think it over, and discuss it with my excellent and
prudent daughter; as if all the thinking and talking in the world could
make it anything but more intolerable.”
His prudent daughter understood in the adjective applied to her a
hint which the wily lady would not have dared to make direct to
the high-spirited old soldier, namely, that the continuance of his
livelihood might depend on his consent. Betty knew likewise enough of
the terrible world of the early eighteenth century to be aware that
even such wedlock as this was not the worst to which a woman like Lady
Belamour might compel the poor girl, who was entirely in her power, and
out of reach of all protection; unless--An idea broke in on her--“If we
could but go to Bowstead, sir,” she said, “then we could judge whether
the notion be as repugnant to Aurelia as it is to us, and whether Mr.
Belamour be truly rational and fit to be trusted with her.”
“I tell you, Betty, it is a mere absurdity to think of it. I believe the
child is fond of, and grateful to, the poor man, but if she supposed she
loved him, it would be mere playing on her ignorance.”
“Then we could take her safely home and bear the consequences together,
without leaving her alone exposed to any fresh machination of my Lady.”
“You are right, Betty. You have all your sainted mother’s good sense.
I will tell my cousin that this is not a matter to be done blindly, and
that I withhold my reply till I have seen and spoken with her and this
most preposterous of suitors.”
“Yes, it is the only way,” said Betty. “We can then judge whether it be
a cruel sacrifice, or whether the child have affection and confidence
enough in him to be reasonably happy with him. What is his age, father?”
“Let me see. Poor Sir Jovian was much older than Urania, but he died at
forty years old. His brother was some three years his junior. He cannot
be above forty-six or seven. That is not the objection, but the moody
melancholy--Think of our gay sprightly child!”
“We will see, sir.”
“We! Mistress Betty? The cost will be severe without you!”
“Nay, sir, I cannot rest without going too; you might be taken ill.”
“You cannot trust a couple of old campaigners like Palmer and me? What
did we do without you?”
“Got lamed for life,” said Betty, saucily. “No, I go on a pillion behind
Palmer, and my grandfather’s diamond ring shall pay expenses.”
“Sir Archibald’s ring that he put on two baby fingers of yours when he
went off to Scotland.”
“Better part with that then resign my Aurelia in the dark, uncertain
whether it be for her good.”
CHAPTER XVIII. THE PROPOSAL.
Love sweetest lies concealed in night.--T. MOORE.
The Major rode up to the Great House to announce that he would only give
his answer after having conferred with both his daughter and the suitor.
With tears in her beautiful blue eyes, Lady Belamour demanded why her
dear cousin Harry could not trust the Urania he had known all her life
to decide what was for the happiness of the sweet child whom she loved
like her own.
She made him actually feel as if it were a cruel and unmerited
suspicion, but she did not over come him. “Madam,” he said, “it would be
against my orders, as father of a family, to give my child away without
doing my poor best for her.”
There, in spite of all obstacles suggested and all displeasure
manifested, he stuck fast, until, without choosing to wait till a shower
of sleet and rain was over. Vexation and perplexity always overset