Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
Man of the world and brilliant talker as he had been, he had no notion
of the difficulty of the task he had imposed on the simple open-hearted
girl, accustomed to share all her thoughts with her sister; and she was
too gay and joyous to take full note of all his cautions, only replying
sincerely that she hoped that she should say nothing amiss, and that she
would do her best to be heedful of his wishes.
In spite of all such cautions, she was too happy to take in the notion
of anxiety. She rose early in the morning, caring for the first time
to array herself in the insignia of her new rank. Knowing that the
bridle-path lay through parks, woodlands and heaths, so that there was
no fear of dust, she put on a dainty habit of white cloth, trimmed and
faced with blue velvet, and a low-crowned hat with a white feather. On
her pretty grey horse, the young Madam Belamour was a fair and gracious
sight, as she rode into the yard of the Red Lion at Brentford. Harriet
was at the window watching for her, and Mr. Arden received her as she
sprang off her steed, then led her up to the parlour, where breakfast
was spread awaiting her.
“Aurelia, what a sweet figure you make,” cried Harriet, as the sisters
unwound their arms after the first ecstasy of embracing one another
again. “Where did you get that exquisite habit?”
“It came down from London with another, a dark blue,” said Aurelia. “I
suppose Mr. Belamour ordered them, for they came with my horse. It is
the first time I have worn it.”
“Ah! fine things are of little account when there is no one to see
them,” said Mrs. Arden, shaking her head in commiseration.
She was attired in a grey riding-dress with a little silver lace about
it, and looked wonderfully plump and well, full of importance and
complacency, and with such a return of comeliness that Aurelia would
hardly have recognised the lean, haggard, fretful Harriet of the
previous year. Her sentiment and romance, her soft melancholy and little
affectations had departed, and she was already the notable prosperous
wife of a beneficed clergyman, of whose abilities she was very
proud, though she patronised with good-humoured contempt his dreamy,
unpractical, unworldly ways.
The questions poured forth from Aurelia’s heart-hunger about
brother, sister and home, were answered kindly and fully over the
breakfast-table; but as if Harriet had turned that page in her life, and
expected Aurelia to have done the same, every now and then exclaiming:
“La! you have not forgotten that! What a memory you have, child!”
She wanted much more to talk of the parsonage and glebe of Rundell
Canonicorum, and of how many servants and cows she should keep,
and showed herself almost annoyed when Aurelia brought her back to
Carminster by asking whether Eugene had finished his Comenius, and if
the speckled hen had hatched many chickens, whether Palmer had had his
rheumatic attack this spring, or if the Major’s letter to Vienna had
produced any tidings of Nannerl’s relation. Harriet seemed only to
be able to reply by an effort of memory, and was far more desirous of
expatiating on the luxuries at alderman Arden’s, and the deference
with which she had been treated, in contrast to the indignity of Lady
Belamour’s neglect.
It was disappointing to find that her father had heard nothing from my
Lady about the settlement of the Manor House.
“Was the promise in writing?” asked Mr. Arden, who had been silent all
this time.
“Certainly, in a letter to me.”
“I recommend you to keep it carefully until Mr. Wayland’s return,” said
Mr. Arden: “he will see justice done to you.”
“Poor Mr. Wayland! When he does return, I pity him; but it is his own
fault for leaving his lady to herself. Have you ever seen the gallant
colonel, sister?”
“Never.”
“Ah! most like he is not much at Bowstead. But do not folk talk there?”
“My dear,” said Mr. Arden, “you would do well to imitate your honoured
father’s discretion on certain points.”
“Bless me, Mr. Arden, how you startled me. I thought you were in a
brown study.” She winked at Aurelia as if to intimate that she meant to
continue the subject in his absence, and went on; “I assure you, I had
to be on the alert all the way to take care he looked at the sign-posts,
or we might have been at York by this time. And in London, what do you
think was all my gentleman cared to go and see? Why, he must needs go to
some correspondents of his who are Fellows of the Royal Society. I took
it for granted they must be friends of his Majesty or of the Prince of
Wales at the least, and would have had him wait for his new gown and
cassock; but la! it was only a set of old doctors and philosophers, and
he wished to know what musty discoveries they had been making. That was
one thing he desired in London, and the other was to hear that crazy
Parson Wesley preach a sermon hours long!”
“I was well rewarded in both instances,” said Mr. Arden gravely.
Aurelia did not take advantage of the opportunity of shining in the
eyes of her new brother-in-law by showing her acquaintance with the
discussions on electricity which she had studied for Mr. Belamour’s
benefit, nor did she speak of Dr. Godfrey’s views of Wesley and
Whitfield. Had she so ventured, her sister would have pitied her,
and Mr. Arden himself been somewhat shocked at her being admitted to
knowledge unbecoming to a pretty young lady. Intellect in ladies would
have been a startling idea, and though very fond of his wife, he never
thought of her as a companion, but only as the mistress of his house and
guardian of his welfare.
The dinner was ordered at one, and at three Aurelia would ride home,
while Mr. and Mrs. Arden went on about twelve miles to the house of
a great grazier, brother to the Alderman’s wife, where they had been
invited to make their next stage, and spend the next day, Sunday, when
Harriet reckoned on picking up information about cattle, if she were
not actually presented with a cow or a calf. They went out and walked a
little about the town, where presently they met Mrs. Hunter. Aurelia
met her puzzled stare with a curtsey, and she shouted in her hearty tone
“Miss Delavie!--I mean Mrs. Belamour! Who would have thought of seeing
you here!”
“I am here to meet my sister--Mrs. Arden. Let me--let me present you,”
said Aurelia in obedience to an imperious sign from her sister, going
through the form for the first time, while Harriet volubly declared her
happiness in making Mrs. Hunter’s acquaintance, and explained how they
were on their way to take possession of Mr. Arden’s rectory of Rundell
Canonicorum, the words rolling out of her mouth with magnificent
emphasis. “I congratulate you, ma’am,” said Mrs. Hunter, cordially, “and
you too, my dear,” she added, turning to Aurelia. “I would have been
out long ago to call on you--a sort of relation as you are now, as I may
say--but it was kept all so mum, one never knew the time to drink your
health; and my Cousins Treforth wouldn’t so much as give me a hint. But
la! says I, why should you talk about artfulness? I’m right glad
poor Mr. Amyas should find a sprightly young lady to cure him of his
mopishness. Never mind them, my dear, if they do look sour on you. I’ll
come over one of these days and talk to them. Now, I must have you come
in to take your dinner with us. The Doctor will be right pleased to find
you. I’ll take no excuse. I thank Heaven I’m always ready whoever may
drop in. There’s spring chicken and sparrow-grass.”
However, on hearing their dinner was ordered at the inn, the good lady
was satisfied that to dine with her was impossible; but she insisted on
their coming in to partake of wine and cake in her best parlour.
This, however, was a little more than Mr. Arden could endure, he made an
excuse about seeing to the horse, and escaped; while Mrs. Hunter led the
two sisters to her closely shut-up parlour, wainscoted, and hung with
two staring simpering portraits of herself and her husband, clean as
soap could make it, but smelling like a long closed box. She went to
a cupboard in the wall, and brought out a silver salver, a rich cake,
glasses and wine, and pouring out the wine, touched the glass with her
lips, as she wished health and happiness to the two brides before her.
“We shall soon have another wedding in the family, if report speaks
true,” she added. “They say--but you should be the best informed, Madam
Belamour--
“We hear nothing of the matter, ma’am,” said Aurelia.
“That’s odd, since Mr. Belamour is young Sir Amyas’s guardian; and
they cannot well pass him over now he has begun life again as it were,”
laughed Mrs. Hunter. “‘Tis said that my Lady is resolved the wedding
shall be within six weeks.”
“There are two words to that question,” said Harriet, oracularly; “I
know from good authority that young Sir Amyas is determined against the
match.”
“But is it true, ma’am,” cried Mrs. Hunter, eagerly, “that my Lady and
the Countess of Aresfield met at Bath, and that my Lady is to have 3,000
pounds down to pay off her debts before her husband comes home, the day
her son is married to Lady Arabella?”
“Every word of it is true, ma’am,” said Harriet, importantly.
“Well now, that folk should sell their own flesh and blood!”
“How have you heard it, sister Harriet?” asked Aurelia.
“From a sure hand, my love. No other than Mrs. Dove. She is wife to my
Lady’s coachman,” explained Mrs. Arden to her hostess, “and nurse to the
two children it is her pleasure to keep with her.”
“Dear good Nurse dove!” cried Aurelia, “did she come to see you?”
“Yes, that did she! So I have it from the fountain-head, as I may say,
that the poor young gentleman’s hand and heart are to be made over
without his will, that so his mother may not have such a schedule of
debts wherewith to face her husband on his return!”
“Her jewels have been all paste long ago, I know very well,” said Mrs.
Hunter, not to be outdone; “though, would you believe it, Doctor Hunter
is like all the men, and will believe nothing against her! But this
beats all the rest! Why, I have it from my maid, who is sister to one of
the servants at the boarding-school in Queen Square, whither they have
sent the Lady Belle, that she is a regular little shrew. She flew at one
of the young ladies like a wild cat, because she did not yield place to
her at once, and scratched her cheeks till the blood ran down, and tore
out whole handfuls of her hair. She was like one possessed, and they
had to call the lackey before they could get her safe tied down in bed,
where they kept her on bread and water, trying to get her to make her
apology; but not a word could be got out of her, till they had to yield
the point lest she should fall sick.”
Aurelia mentally applauded her own discretion in not capping this with
Mrs. Dove’s former tale, and only observing that the marriage could not
take place before the young baronet was of age, without the consent of
his personal guardian, Mr. Belamour.
“You will excuse me, my dear, in speaking of your husband, but he has
so long been incapable of acting, that they say his consent can be
dispensed with.”
“Aye, poor cousin Amyas Belamour!” said Mrs. Hunter. “He was the only
man who ever durst resist my Lady’s will before, and you see to what she
has brought him!”
“Her son is resisting her now,” said Harriet; “and our good Dove says it
makes her blood boil to see the way the poor young gentleman is treated.
He, who was the darling for whom nothing was good enough a while ago,
has now scarce a place in his mother’s own house. She is cold and
stately with him, and Colonel Mar, the Lady Belle’s brother, being his
commanding officer, there is no end to the vexations and annoyances they
give him, both at home and in his quarters. Mrs. Dove says his own man,