Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
“They say they will not have my inclinations forced, and that they had
rather undergo anything than that I should be driven to--to--”
“To be as much a sacrifice as Iphigenia,” he concluded the sentence.
“Indeed, sir,” said Aurelia, quite restored, “I cannot see why they
should imagine me to have such objections, or want me to be so cautious
and considerate. I shall write to my papa that it is not at all
repugnant to me, for that you are very, very good to me; and if I can
make your time pass ever so little more pleasantly, it is a delight to
me. I am sure I shall like you better than if---”
“Stay, stay, child,” he said, half laughing; “remember, it is as a
father that I ask you to love and trust the old recluse.”
She thought she had been forward, crimsoned in the dark, and retired
into her shell for the rest of the evening. She was glad when with his
usual tact, Mr. Belamour begged for the recitation he knew she could
make with the least effort of memory.
At the end, however, she ventured to ask--“Sir, shall I be permitted
ever to see my father and sister?”
“Certainly, my child. In due time I hope you will enjoy full liberty,
though you may have to wait for it.”
Aurelia durst not ask what was in her mind, whether they would not
come to the wedding, but that one great hope began to outweigh all
the strange future. She began to say something about being too young,
ignorant, and foolish for him, but this was kindly set aside, she hardly
knew how. Mr. Belamour himself suggested the formula in which she might
send her consent to Lady Belamour, begging at the same time to retain
the company of the little Misses Wayland. To her father she wrote such
a letter as might satisfy all doubts as to the absence of all repugnance
to the match, and though the Major had sacrificed all to love and honour
himself, _mariages de convenance_ were still so much the rule, and
wives, bestowed in all passiveness with unawakened hearts, so
often proved loving and happy matrons, that it would have been held
unreasonable to demand more than absence of dislike on the part of the
bride.
Therewith things returned to their usual course, and she was beginning
to feel as if all had been a dream, when one evening, about a week
later, her suitor appeared to have one of those embarrassing fits of
youthful ardour; her hand was passionately seized, caressed, toyed with
by a warm strong hand, and kissed by lips that left a burning impression
and that were no longer hairy. Surely he had been shaving! Was the time
for which he bade her wait, his full recovery, and the resumption of the
youthfulness that seemed to come on him in fits and starts, and then to
ebb away, and leave him the grave courteous old man she had first
known? And why was it always in a whisper that he spoke forth all those
endearments which thrilled her with such strange emotions?
When she came into the light, she found her fourth finger encircled with
an exquisite emerald ring, which seemed to bind her to her fate, and
make her situation tangible. Another time she was entreated to give a
lock of her hair, and she of course did so, though it was strange that
it should confer any pleasure on her suitor in the dark.
CHAPTER XX. THE MUFFLED BRIDEGROOM.
This old fantastical Duke of dark corners.--
_Measure for Measure._
There was some coming and going of Mr. Hargrave in the ensuing weeks;
and it began to be known that Miss Delavie was to become the wife of
the recluse. Mrs. Aylward evidently knew it, but said nothing; Molly
preferred a petition to be her waiting maid; Jumbo grinned as if
over-powered with inward mirth; the old ladies in the pew looked more
sour and haughty than ever to discourage “the artful minx,” and the
little girls asked all manner of absurd and puzzling questions.
My Lady was still at Bath, and Aurelia supposed that the marriage would
take place on her return; and that the Major and Betty would perhaps
accompany her. The former was quite in his usual health again, and had
himself written to give her his blessing as a good dutiful maiden,
and declare that he hoped to be with her for her wedding, and to give
himself to his honoured friend.
She was the more amazed and startled when, one Sunday evening in spring,
Mr. Hargrave came to her as she sat in her own parlour, saying, “Madam,
you will be amazed, but under the circumstances, the parson and
myself being both here, Mr. Belamour trusts you will not object to the
immediate performance of the ceremony.”
Aurelia took some moments to realise what the ceremony was; and then she
cried, “Oh! but my father meant to have been here.”
“Mr. Belamour thinks it better not to trouble Major Delavie to come
up,” said Mr. Hargrave; and as Aurelia stood in great distress and
disappointment at this disregard of her wishes, he added, “I think Miss
Delavie cannot fail to understand Mr. Belamour’s wishes to anticipate
my Lady’s arrival, so that he may be as little harassed as possible with
display and publicity. You may rely both on his honour and my vigilance
that all is done securely and legally.”
“Oh! I know that,” said Aurelia, blushing; “but it is so sudden! And I
was thinking of my father---”
“Your honoured father has given full consent in writing,” said the
steward. “Your doubts and scruples are most natural, my dear madam, but
under the circumstances they must give way, for it would be impossible
to Mr. Belamour to go through a public wedding.”
That Aurelia well knew, though she had expected nothing so sudden or
so private; but she began to feel that she must allow all to be as he
chose; and she remembered that she had never pressed on him her longing
for her father’s presence, having taken it as a matter of course, and
besides, having been far too shy to enter on the subject of her wedding.
So she rose up as in a dream, saying, “Shall I go as I am?”
“I fear a fuller toilet would be lost upon the bridegroom,” said the
lawyer with some commiseration, as he looked at the beautiful young
creature about to be bound to the heart-broken old hermit. “You will
have to do me the honour of accepting my services in the part of
father.”
He was a man much attached to the family, and especially to Mr.
Belamour, his first patron, and was ready to do anything at his bidding
or for his pleasure. Such private weddings were by no uncommon up to
the middle of the last century. The State Law was so easy as to render
Gretna Green unnecessary, when the presence of any clergyman anywhere,
while the parties plighted their troth before witnesses, was sufficient
to legalise the union; nor did any shame or sense of wrong necessarily
attach to such marriages. Indeed they were often the resource of
persons too bashful or too refined to endure the display and boisterous
merriment by which a public wedding was sure to be attended. Every one
knew of excellent and respectable couples who had not been known to be
married till the knot had been tied for several days or weeks--so that
there was nothing in this to shock the bride. And as usual she did as
she was told, and let Mr. Hargrave lead her by her finger-tips towards
Mr. Belamour’s apartments. Mrs. Aylward was waiting in the lobby, with
a fixed impassive countenance, intended to imply that though obedient
to the summons to serve as a witness, it was no concern of hers. On the
stairs behind her the maids were leaning over the balusters, stuffing
their aprons into their mouths lest their tittering should betray them.
The sitting-room was nearly, but not quite, dark, for a lamp, closely
shaded, cast a dim light on a Prayer-book, placed on a small table,
behind which stood poor Mr. Greaves--a black spectre, whose white bands
were just discernible below a face whose nervous, disturbed expression
was lost in the general gloom. He carefully avoided looking at the
bride, fearing perhaps some appeal on her part such as would make his
situation perplexing. Contempt and poverty had brought his stamp of
clergymen very low, and rendered them abject. He had been taken by
surprise, and though assured that this was according to my Lady’s will,
and with the consent of the maiden’s father, he was in an agony of
fright, shifting awkwardly from leg to leg, and ruffling the leaves
of the book, as a door opened and the bridegroom appeared, followed by
Jumbo.
Aurelia looked up with bashful eagerness, and saw in the imperfect light
a tall figure entirely covered by a long dark dressing-gown, a grey,
tight curled lawyer’s wig on the head, and the upper part of the face
sheltered from the scanty rays of the lamp by a large green shade.
Taking his place opposite to her as Mr. Hargrave arranged them, he bowed
in silence to the clergyman, who, in a trembling voice, began the rite
which was to unite Amyas Belamour to Aurelia Delavie. He intended to
shorten the service, but his nervous terror and the obscurity of the
room made him stumble in finding the essential passages, and blunder in
dictating the vows, thus increasing the confusion and bewilderment of
poor little Aurelia. Somehow her one comfort was in the touch of the
hand that either clasped hers, or held the ring on her finger--a strong,
warm, tender, trustworthy hand, neither as white nor as soft as she
would have expected, but giving her a comfortable sense both of present
support and affection, and of identity with that eager one which had
sought to fondle and caress her. There was a certain tremor about
both, but hers was from bashful fright, his, from scarcely suppressed
eagerness.
The steward had a form of certificate ready for signature. When it was
presented to the bridegroom he put up his hand for a moment as if to
push back the shade, but, in dread of admitting even a feeble ray of
light, gave up the attempt, took the pen and wrote Amyas Belamour where
the clergyman pointed. Aurelia could hardly see what she was doing, and
knew she had written very badly. The lawyer and housekeeper followed as
witnesses; and the bridegroom, laying a fee of ten guineas on the desk,
took his bride by the hand and led her within the door whence he had
issued. It was instantly closed, and at the same moment she was enfolded
in a pair of rapturous arms, and held to a breast whose throbs wakened
response in her own, while passionate kisses rained on her face, mingled
with ecstatic whispers and murmurs of “Mine! mine! my own!”
On a knock at the door she was hastily released, and Mr. Hargrave said,
“Here are the certificates, sir.”--Mr. Belamour put one into her hand,
saying “Keep it always about you; never part with it. And now, my child,
after all the excitement you have gone through, you shall be subjected
to no more to-night. Fare you well, and blessings attend your dreams.”
Strange that while he was uttering this almost peremptory dismissal, she
should feel herself in a clinging grasp, most unwilling to let her go!
What did it all mean? Could she indeed be a wife, when here she was
alone treading the long dark stair, in looks, in habits, in externals,
still only the little governess of my Lady’s children! However, she had
hardly reached her room, before there was a knock at the door, and
the giggling, blushing entrance of Molly with “Please, ma’am, Madam
Belamour, I wishes you joy with all my heart. Please can’t I do nothing
for you? Shall I help you undress, or brush your hair?”
Perhaps she expected a largesse in honour of the occasion, but Aurelia
had spent all her money on Christmas gifts, and had nothing to bestow.
However, she found on the breakfast-table a parcel addressed to Madam
Belamour, containing a purse with a startling amount of golden guineas
in it. She was rather surprised at the title, which was one generally