# Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 56

CHAPTER LVI.
Though we take the liberty to dissent from many of Lady Anne's dogmas, we certainly agree with her as to the value of employment to those whose minds are in a state of anxiety, or even of actual grief, if in that grade which admits of any exertion. Its great value to Mr. Glentworth will be evident when we remember that, during the years when he was in business, he was perpetually suffering all the hopes and fears consequent on an unhappy attachment, endured throughout that period of existence when sensibility is most acute and passion most ardent; yet, that his mind was by no means overthrown in the manner it was afterwards, when more subdued and better regulated feelings might have been expected by those who glance over the surface. In his case, the boy was parent to the man, in those misfortunes which nurtured feeling at the expence of firmness.
The following day, whilst Helen accompanied Mrs. Palmer to Mrs. Penrhyn, Lady Anne took a rapid survey of her own wants for her supper-table, so far as her daughters could supply them.
​ "I must have a large bouquet of wax flowers, and a new set of baskets for glass dishes—they look very pretty and hold little—then, I have not a hand-screen in the house; all went to Brighton, more pity; what money I have thrown away on you girls, in the last twelve months!—however, 'tis of no use repining; if it answers, I shall be satisfied—hunt up all your materials, and bring them hither; there is no occasion to have two fires."
So saying, with an air of resignation to her troubles and of due regard to her finances, Lady Anne dismissed her daughter and took up the Times, in which she had not proceeded far before she found mention made of many injuries done to the shipping by the late winds, and particular fears expressed as to the safety of the Thetis, Capt. Middlemore, she having been seen in a dismantled and suffering state off Corunna, during a severe gale, and it was well known she had been previously enduring much from stress of weather, being spoken with off the African coast, when it was said the captain was actually dying of fatigue.
Lady Anne read the whole twice over, and then turned up her eyes as if to heaven:—
"So Cornish men, who dwell upon the shore,
Look out when storms descend and billows roar,
Devoutly praying with uplifted hands,
That some well-laden ship may strike the sands."
Lady Anne now turned to the theatrical news, little dreaming that the short, hurried knock she had heard, but not attended to, had admitted a visitant to her daughter, Georgiana, who, however contrary to etiquette, was at this moment alone with him in the dining-room. She heard herself inquired for, and instantly obeyed the summons, for the voice was familiar—it was that of Lord Meersbrook.
​ "Georgiana," said he, taking her hand and looking in her face, "it is proper, my dear girl, you should know that the Thetis has been seen in great danger, and as the late winds have strewed our own coasts with wrecks, we may infer that similar effects have taken place elsewhere; but then she is such a fine vessel, Georgiana,—mind what I say—such a very fine vessel, with a capital crew and admirable officers, there is great reason to hope she would wear out the gale."
Georgiana could not reply; her sobs were suffocating, and Lord Meersbrook, fearing the infection of her tears, went on to say,—
"My grandfather and my great aunt will be in town this evening, at the neighbouring hotel. I am going immediately to Plymouth, that I may be on the spot to learn the tidings, and I trust to——, yes, Georgiana, I trust in Heaven (for to God alone must we look), to receive our dear Arthur. Give them all the time, pay them all the attention you can, Lady Anne's consent sanctions you, which is a great comfort to me now. Tell them I was well and in spirits, Georgiana."
Georgiana tried to look up, for she had received comfort, however mingled with sorrow; she saw that he was pale to ghastliness, but she comprehended his charge, and said "she would do her best, ​she would not cry before Sir Edward, and she wished to know Mrs. Margaret very much."
"How is Helen, dear Georgiana? I know she is gone out with Mrs. Palmer, or I should have begged to see her, and yet it is better I should not; but how is she?"
"Much better in health; indeed she is well, and looking well, but her spirits are not good in general, and just now she feels much for me, for all of us."
Lord Meersbrook pressed Georgiana's hand convulsively, touched her cheek with his lips, and muttered something in which the word sister was alone distinct, sprang into his cab, and was gone.
"Mamma has consented, yet never told me; what can be the meaning of this? She has always an intention in every thing she does or lets alone. Alas! my fate is in far different hands to hers, and compared to which she is an atom; but I cannot see her now. I will read the prayers for those at sea, in my own room."
Georgiana pursued her way, repeating, as she climbed the many stairs, "He stilleth the raging of the sea, He maketh the storm to cease, so that the waves thereof are still," and she certainly felt a trust in Providence strangely contrasting itself with fear of her mother—a kind of dread that should Arthur, in answer to the prayers of the good, be mercifully spared, still Lady Anne might wrest her from his ​arms. If, in pursuing this train of thought, poor Georgiana attributed to her mamma more of the powers of the principle of evil than she or any other lady ever possessed, let it be remembered that she had suffered more from the fear of persecution than any of her sisters, and that she was at this period without personal possession of that ring, which she considered to be a talisman that would protect her from all danger.
Long before Georgiana had risen from her knees, Count Riccardini might have been heard in expostulation with the page.
"I tell you she will see me, ask Mam'selle Fanchette if she will not? l am not as another gentleman, I am the relation, the doctare, the frien. Now you go before me and say, 'the Signor Riccardini is come.'"
The button-covered servitor had no doubt but that his sovereign's answer would be in reply, "Then he may go;" but he was mistaken, for Lady Anne had discovered that she looked well in her beautiful lace nightcaps, as most people do when their flesh has fallen away, and they are verging to the lantern jaw; therefore, she received the Count very graciously, and accepted his congratulations on her daughter's marriage in the most cordial manner, but when he adverted to the bad weather, the numerous wrecks, and the supposed loss of the Thetis, she interrupted him with,—
​ "Dear Count, do not allow your conversation (usually so agreeable) to 'suffer a sea change,' for really I have not nerves for it, and you are certain I shall be very sufficiently troubled by that silly girl, Georgiana, who, I find, with an utter disregard of all etiquette, has seen Lord Meersbrook this morning, for two minutes, after which she ran up stairs, with eyes as red as a burning coal; a pretty object he must have thought her."
"I don't believe he look at her, save for the sympathy. I have meet him myself, and he is overwhelm with the solicitude, the anxiety."
"Solicitude!—anxiety! I thought he was come to tell her that his brother was really drowned. I am sure it would be the best thing that could happen to him. I can't conceive a more disagreeable thing than tossing about, night after night and day after day, without a morsel of warm victuals, or even dry clothes; all the while the headsman standing over the officers, and the hangman over the crew, ready to do execution, as it were, yet still delaying. Oh! it is terrible to think of. I am sure I hope he is out of his pain before now; but pray don't let us talk about him."
"I will say no more, but I must think for sake of Georgiana; but are you really well? has the native air make you strong?"
"Oh, yes, I am well, of course, but I shall not ​be strong all at once, especially with such trying weather; one week at Paris will set me up completely."
"Does the physician say you must go there? have you see him to-day?"
These words were uttered with such deep interest, such sincere pity, that, few as they were, they awoke in Lady Anne's mind a train of thought, on which she instantly acted. Fixing her eyes on those glittering with kindly drops of compassion for her altered appearance, she said in a low serious voice—
"Count, I have no physician, nor do I mean to have one. I paid more to those medical men at Brighton than is satisfactory to my conscience on reflection; but, as I took care of the prescription, I get my drugs from the chymists, and make them up at home."
"Oh! that will never do; what is right at one time, is no right at another. I am great nurse. I know all the steps which take the complaint; you must have doctare."
"Doctors must have fees, Count. Rotheles said, 'you must go home, Anne, you must have advice,' but he omitted the purse of sovereigns, which might have purchased the advice."
"It was pity, great pity, but the rich man do not know the want, so he no think, he is not bad, but ​he fail in the good, for want of think. I will tell you what I will do. When I come from Brighton, I buy myself a horse and a cab, so you call him, quite diminutif cab, and together he is smart affaire. I sell him, and bring you the sovereign—never I will borrow the money, never I will be in the difficult, my principe no allow that; but I sell my indulgence, my toy."
If Lady Anne had any portion of that property she had just, to the great joy of her auditor, laid claim to, i.e, conscience, we may suppose it gave her at this moment a gentle twinge, but she loved a scheme, had pleasure in the exercise of those faculties by which it was pursued, and had a truly masculine mind in the pursuit and attainment of any object self-love selected as desirable. She had now two wants, each demanding money, therefore, when she said, "Indeed I cannot think of your doing any such thing, my dear Count," she by no means repressed the cough, which made him see the necessity for doing so. When she was able to speak, she mentioned being all the poorer at this time, from having paid a large sum to Mr. Palmer, adding, "But really, Count, it would be a thousand pities to part with your carriage, for it was only yesterday that Mrs. Pevensey was saying that you and it altogether were the prettiest set out in town, and much admired in the parks."
​ "So I have hear before," said the Count, rising, "they tell me myself, and another foreign Count, bring in fashion the middle age gentilman; he is more yong than me a little, but I preserve my figure better than him; bah, bah, this is nonsense, only it is good, so far as it make large the price. I buy my horse cheap, because he is starve, poor thing; the Bibel say, 'the merciful man, he is merciful to his beast,' so I have much mercy to him, and he grow very handsome, and I understand the ménage, so we look good together. When I will sell, come the rich Englishman, perhaps he is short and round, or perhaps he is long, and ill-made n'importe he jump on my horse, and he say, 'now I am look like the Count Riccardini,' bah, bah, he give large money, and I bring him money to you for the doctare fees."
"Really, dear Count, you are too kind. I thought you had been rich, or I could not have taken so much from you last autumn."
"Rich! so I am, my good madam, in Italy, and not poor in England, but many degrees from the rich in your estimation, and always shall be great way from the poor in my own; 'cause I have no debt, no show, no pretence; I no injure the poor man, that is baseness; I no rival the rich man, that is foolishness."
Lady Anne had many times made efforts of this ​nature to learn the actual amount of the Count's income, but she never failed to be baffled—it was hard for her endeavours of any kind to be thus eluded by a man who usually held his heart and his history in his hand for any one to read, but yet every trial she made to this end was sure to be foiled, and she was always compelled to recur to the truth of her own assertion to her daughters, "the Count is a very odd man, but he is no fool."
The evening of the second day after this occurred, he again visited her with every mark of pleasure in his countenance, but he said nothing on what was uppermost, until Lady Anne, by a gracious nod, told her daughters they might go, when, taking a canvas bag from his pocket, he emptied its contents on the table, saying, "Here is the money for doctare, all in gold, as I say: seventy-three pounds ten. I sell my horse for one hundred, and my expence is ten. With a little more put to the remainder, I treat myself to Paris for kiss my Bambino, and welcome the bride and Glentworth, and dear Margarita, (so like her angil cousine). Oh! I must see them, my heart have no peace till it see."
Nothing could be more satisfactory than this declaration to Lady Anne; she almost felt capable of giving him five sovereigns of his own money to help his journey, so willing was she that he should ​go soon, and she inquired eagerly, "what day he would go?"
"I think it will be Monday."
"So soon as that? Well, then, since we are alone, I will give you a commission, (the only one I shall trouble you with) seeing I shall be soon there myself, you know. It is to dispose of a diamond ring, which you can manage better than I can, a great deal."
As Lady Anne spoke, she opened a cabinet, and took from a little drawer a diamond ring, which she put upon the fore-finger of her right hand, and passed before the lamp.
"It is very splendid, indeed," said the Count, "I would not have you sell it; Lady Allerton should have it for a wedding present."
At this moment Fanchette appeared with a large fur lined cloak, saying the chair-men could not wait, as there was a rout in the neighbourhood, and she began hastily to draw on that glove of her lady's which was on the table.
"It is a monstrous bore, but I am going over the way to meet Sir Edward Hales and his sister; you might as well go with me, and I will tell you about the ring, which, by the way, is still on my finger."
To account for its being so situated, we must inform the reader that poor Georgiana, at the time ​when her sister and Mrs. Palmer returned, was heard to exclaim, "Helen, did you bring my work-box with your own hands? Please to give me my work-box, Fanchette," on which Lady Anne just opened her dressing-room door, and beheld Georgiana hugging her box to her bosom, as she made her way to her own room, as if it were a precious something she could not value enough.
"Rather odd that, after so much crying," said Lady Anne; "she can have very little money, nothing to be anxious about, certainly. I must examine that box, young lady; most probably there have been letters, but there may have been presents."
When Georgiana was able to speak without tears, she related her short interview with Lord Meersbrook, and inquired if she might accompany Mrs. Palmer to call on Mrs. Margaret Hales, adding, "Sir Edward was very kind to me when he was at Rotheles Castle."
"Yes, you may go, and take Helen with you; of course you will apologize for me properly, but don't encourage the old people to come here much, it would be a dreadful bore. However, it can't last long; we shall be gone soon, I trust."
As they were descending, Lady Anne recalled Helen, to ask her to leave her the key of her work-box, as she had mislaid her own, and Helen, of ​course, put it in her hand, saying, "she was afraid it would be found too small."
All the work-boxes of the sisters had been presents of Mr. Glentworth's, and were exactly alike, so that there was not the slightest difficulty in opening Georgiana's box with Helen's key, and Lady Anne was not long in finding a small satin bag, in which was placed her one precious love-letter, in the folds of which was found a brilliant ring of such extraordinary beauty and apparent value as to be perfectly dazzling. "Oh, oh! Certainly, it must be said the sailor has done the thing handsomely; if he is drowned she has got something to remember him by. Not that the thing is fit for so young a girl at all. Doubtless this has been a prize. If I thought it were a family jewel I would not touch it, of course; but that is out of the question, for Lord Meersbrook would have been the possessor in that case. No! it is some transaction of the sailor's, so I shall take it and sell it; it is a surer card than the Count's horse a good deal, for it will fetch two hundred pounds from a jeweller at least. However, as she knows nothing of its worth, yet may have a great value for it, suppose I put her one into the letter, just to kiss and to cry over."
Lady Anne generally wore a great many rings, and she drew from her hand one of little value, but which ​was, perhaps, about the same size with Georgiana's, and put it into the letter so adroitly, it might have lain there undisturbed for months; since, although it had been much the poor girl's custom to gaze on her prize, to press it to her lips and her bosom, since she knew every word of the letter, it was of late her habit to caress the bag which contained it, and be content with feeling the ring instead of seeing it. In consequence, she never missed it; and two days had passed, in which Lady Anne remained in quiet possession of her secret, and, what she emphatically deemed, "a prize." There were further conjectures respecting the Thetis, but nothing of any importance was added to the information originally given, and which was of so alarming a character.
Under these circumstances, the party assembled at Mr. Palmer's was unavoidably of a very serious description, and Lady Anne took what she called "their cue," though she could not fail to make many comparisons between them and herself, very much in favour of the latter. "They are very much older than me," said she; "though they carry things off mighty well; and really, if that Mrs. Margaret chose to dress properly, she might take from her looks a good ten years, not but the close coiffure and the milk-white hair parted on her brow has something pretty in it, when supported by that fair, smooth, unwrinkled face. She never ​can have known a care; any one may see she has neither a debt nor a daughter."
Our readers will have seen that debts and daughters did not necessarily go together, but it was always Lady Anne's will to class them as part and parcel of each other, without a due regard to either justice or mercy.
Count Riccardini was invaluable to the party: he met the trial of the time, not eluded it. As a dweller on the banks of the ocean, he related various accounts of the sufferers by tempest; and in every case where the vessel was seaworthy it eventually overcame its difficulties, and without directly saying "that British men-of-war could not, and did not go down," he yet enabled every one to make a favourable inference; and as it was impossible for the most positive man of the world not to rely on the truth of his stories, even when they clearly saw the end he had in view, so, of course, the artless and upright implicitly believed him, and thankfully accepted the consolations he offered them. These were naturally enhanced by the respect they entertained for his character as a convert to Protestantism; and Mrs. Margaret, who had heard of his open renunciation of the error of his creed, and, on more than one occasion, classed him with those individuals represented in Fox's Martyrs tied to the stake,and holding up their clasped ​hands amid flames that were any thing but light, was absolutely astonished to see a man who, although no longer young and lovely, like Frederic and Arthur, was handsome enough to have charmed bloody Mary herself, and could hardly have failed to touch the heart of the virgin queen, who was the object of her special veneration. A single evening sufficed to place the Count in the same position in the hearts of his new acquaintance which he had always held in those who had known him long and intimately. The sincere are the confiding, and integrity and kindness possess intuitive faculties for distinguishing and preferring each other: penetration is not the exclusive property of the worldly-wise, though they are perpetually claiming it.