# Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 23

CHAPTER XXIII.
"Arthur, my dear fellow, I understand from Frederic that, during your short residence in town, you ventured to fall in love?"
A torrent of blushes rose to the brow of the accused, and he gave Frederic an angry look. "Was this kind, Lord Meersbrook?" broke from his lips.
"It was meant for kindness, of a quality you are not likely to meet again, even among your naval friends, Arthur, for your brother wants me to disinherit him for the sake of conciliating Lady Anne Granard."
"Lady Anne be ——! I beg pardon, but she is no more like Aunt Margaret than a jib boom's like a compass, and the last woman living I should choose to knuckle to. I would not take a rood of land from Frederic to be appointed to a man-of-war to-morrow morning, for I looked on it as his (God grant it may be long ere he touch it!) ever since I was the height of a handspike. Why, the place is positively sacred, as old as the hills, and belongs to eldest sons of eldest sons from generation to generation. For aught I know, Adam planted the garden, and Eve watered the ​flowers; however, be it what it may, I have nothing to do with it beyond admiring it, and thinking a gentle swell and a light breeze would make it all the pleasanter."
"But how are you to make a wife a settlement, Arthur?"
"I have got five thousand pounds of my own, and, with the interest of that and half of my pay, if she cannot live in a cottage near Portsmouth very snug, I shall wonder. The first lieutenant's wife hasn't so much, and the captain's very little more; when prize money or promotion comes, of course she will have the best share, and shall have lumber of her own in abundance."
"I fear she will not be content with that; I am sure her mother will not."
"Those cat-like mothers, who beat off their children at a given period, have no claims on them; and, if Georgiana can't take a warm heart and a decent cabin, I'll whistle her down the wind speedily, as pretty as she is, and as modest looking. I ask for no thing but love on her part, and I give both that and all my worldly goods (to say nothing of my being a sailor) into the bargain. Then look at my connexions, and——"
"And yourself, dear Arthur," said the old lady; "I am sure, if I were a young girl, I should look at you very often, and think nothing too much to give you."
​ "Well said, Margaret; though you are not young, there is no love lost between you, and we shall keep you to your word."
"With all my heart, provided Frederic thinks it right, for you know, poor dear boy, he was my first love; and I certainly have been saving for him these twenty years. I had rather give than leave, so, whatever I have that you think I can spare, take it at once. There is this convenience, it is all at hand, as one may say; and since here I was born, and here I hope to die, a very little will serve me, if you buy Judith an annuity."
"Well done, sister! Who says the heart grows cold as the man grows old?"
"But I am not a man, brother, you know."
"No, Margaretta, I could almost wish you were, for there would be a good man the more amongst us, and the world needs such. I think, if we enable Arthur to settle six hundred a year on her daughter, Lady Anne cannot grumble, since her own husband was only able to leave her and all her children less. But of her, in point of fact, I do not think; our business is to render Arthur happy, and place him in the situation his father would have desired to see him occupy. Frederic will furnish his house, and find a wedding present for his lady, and if, as he says, she will live near the coast, or at Leamington, or Bath, they will do very well."
"Or at Tunbridge Wells, brother, for then we can ​send all kind of things by the carrier every Friday. Fruit, eggs, butter, poultry, game, bacon, tongues, pies, cream, and many more things, which will come into my head by degrees."
"The slower the better, say I."
"Pigeons, too, and venison; mince meat and potted veal; cakes of all kinds, can be carried," said Mrs. Margaret, speaking in soliloquy.
"What a cormorant's nest that woman is filling! by and by we shall have the 'beeves and the beer, and the jolly new year,' following en train," said the good baronet.
"Oh, grandpapa," said Arthur, looking with the affectionate yet half ashamed face of days gone by, "how good you are to think of doing so much for me now that you don't know Georgiana! I know not what to say; I feel that——"
"That you could give better than take, my dear fellow. But that would not be altogether right to those so much your elders; so make yourself as happy as you can under your circumstances. I can rely on Meersbrook's judgment in this affair, because he is not in love, you know; and I can rely on your word, if you give it me, to do nothing in a hurry, nothing that shall induce the world to look lightly on her who is to bear your name, and find countenance and kind ness from your family."
"I do pledge you my word to that effect. I expect to be called to my ship every day, and all I desire ​for the present is, permission to correspond with Georgiana, for I have reason to believe I shall not be long absent. We are both of us young enough I know to wait, but I confess I am by no means patient in matters that concern one nearly."
Whilst these things were going on in Kent, what were the "sayings and doings" of Welbeck Street? for thither we must return, though to quit the family party at Meersbrook, in their integrity and kindness, to contemplate Lady Anne and her contrivances, is quitting the light of day for the gloom of Stygian night.
"Georgiana, put on your blue muslin, and ask Fanchette to make your hair a little comme-il-faut; and pray try to look well and cheerful; you were not up late, and ought to appear the better for it."
"I slept very little last night, I confess, ma'am."
"Then take a turn in the square, but don't stay a moment beyond the half hour—you will still have time to change your dress."
"What is mamma going to do, I wonder?" said Georgiana to Helen.
"I fear to tell you, my love, yet I think I ought to do so. The Marquis of Wentworthdale is going to call and see if you are better. Lady Anne told him last night you were poorly."
"He is a very nice old man, and if he wants to say any thing particular to mamma, he can surely do it better than through the medium of her daughters."
​ "He thinks nothing about her—you are his object, so take care what you do, dear Georgiana; for should you be mistaken in the intentions of Lieutenant Hales, you will have a terrible persecution to undergo, I can foresee."
"I am not mistaken, Helen; Arthur loves me, but perhaps he cannot as yet ask me to marry him, and I have no Mr. Glentworth to smooth the way for me, as Louisa had. Happy Louisa!"
"Lord Meersbrook will not be wanting to his brother. Mrs. Palmer said he was all that was generous and considerate."
"I cannot doubt that; they are like each other in both mind and person; but if this wicked old marquis should indeed have taken such a foolish fancy into his head, mamma would refuse any body for his sake. His title and his wealth would outweigh an angel in her estimation."
Helen felt the truth of this observation too decidedly to contradict it, and only replied by a sigh; and after walking some time in silence, Georgiana said, in a hesitating voice—
"Helen, could you like the marquis? He is not so very old, and he is really agreeable, and undoubtedly there are advantages in wealth and rank. One can have many pleasures, and do a great deal of good with money. Now if you think you could, perhaps we might all be satisfied, for I am sure a sensible man of his description, when he knows both, would prefer you."
​ "I don't want to marry, but I might not have objected to oblige mamma a short time ago; but I can no more marry him now than yourself. If your heart refuses him, so does mine. Ask me no question, I have no right to the hopes that sustain you, Georgiana, but I cannot marry the marquis. Indeed, I shall never marry—I shall share the fate of Mary."
"Ah! what a splendid home might my sacrifice find you both. I wonder if I could forget Arthur, and in my gratitude to the old man become contented to be a gay, fashionable, woman."
"Think not of it for a moment; you could not, Georgiana, bear it even so well as I, for I remember something of Granard Park and splendid doings, but you do not, and cannot regret what you never enjoyed. If you were married to the man you loved, as Louisa is, though with fewer comforts than she has, you would still be happy; and oh! how glad should I be to share your humble abode, and assist you to manage your little income!"
"Don't talk so, dear Helen, for I cannot be sure I shall have one to manage; and if he should say nothing till he returns from the next voyage, who knows in what a situation Arthur may find me! Surely Charles and Louisa will interfere to save me from persecution! Yet, alas! they would be proud of the connexion; so would Glentworth and Isabella."
"Do not allow yourself to think of any one but yourself in this case, Georgiana, for there is no occasion. If by a great marriage you could have helped all your sisters, I will not say it would have been an error; but now that we are so much better off than we were, it would be cruel to yourself, and not kind to us. I had a thousand times rather go on as we do to the end of my days, than see you pining under the load of life which no grandeur could enliven, no power or splendour could sweeten."
"But Isabella married a husband far older than herself, and she is happy."
"She married the man she dearly loved and preferred to every human being, yet she is not as happy as Louisa, I am confident; and it must be the disparity between them which gave that anxious look to her countenance. Now, you do not love the marquis?"
"Certainly not!"
"And you do love somebody else, Georgiana?"
"I fear I do indeed; but you are older than me, dear Helen, and may assist to cure me."
Helen shook her head despairingly. They were a little—and but a little—behind their time, but their mother would have severely reprimanded them if she had not feared to discompose the complacency of her own features, and make the eyes of her youngest daughter red. As things turned out, she "kept up appearances" most happily. Georgiana, apprehensive ​of words, she feared either to admit or repel, changed complexion every moment, thereby justifying the account given of a trifling indisposition, and when relieved from her present fears by the pleasant and general conversation of Lord Wentworthdale, looked up to him with such an air of confiding respect, that he again believed she had a certain admiration for him, which might be improved into a tender sentiment; and where is the man, at his time of life, that would dispute the possibility of a fair girl's attachment, so new to the world, and supposed to be entirely free from all other predilection?
At one time the brothers were slightly alluded to, as having been Lady Anne's attendants the preceding evening, and the young ladies became simultaneously covered with blushes. Lady Anne was angry, and her own colour rose a little, as she said—"My girls are both ashamed of their mother's inhospitality, marquis; for those inseparable brothers came home with us last night in our neighbour's coach, but as Georgiana had been long in bed, and I knew Helen would instantly fly to her, I did not ask them in; in fact, I was quite wearied, and I could do nothing with young men by myself at so late an hour. Besides, I knew they wanted to leave London at an early one this morning."
"You were perfectly right, I am certain, nor would they expect it otherwise; for more modest and sensible young men I never met with. The eldest has ​much of the person and talent of his father; the youngest is still handsomer, and is quite a naval Apollo."
Georgiana did not blush, but she became pale as marble, and even her breathing was impeded by the terror she felt, lest her mother should read what was passing in her heart.
Her fears were not in vain, for Lady Anne saw through and through her victim, but her cheek did not blanch, nor her pulse flutter; when, at the moment the door had closed on the marquis, she said—
"But for my care, you would have made a very pretty fool of yourself, miss! It is become high time to tell you, that by conducting yourself properly you may have the unmerited honour of becoming Marchioness of Wentworthdale; and listen to my words, for they are final. You never shall be the wife of that young sailor! No! not if his brother endowed him with half his fortune. On that point my mind has been made up for years. The two sons-in-law I have and the one I expected to have were all only sons, and either only or eldest sons shall ever enter my family."
"Indeed, dear mamma," said Helen, "poor Georgiana wants nobody's son."
"'Tis a lie!" cried Lady Anne, vehemently: "little as she has seen of him, and hateful as she knows he is to me, she has the immodesty, the shamelessness to be hankering after that sailor-fellow; and you, madam! ​your blushes had a cause within, though not without, for Lord Meersbrook thinks nothing of you now; and it may be as well for you not to disgust him by your forwardness, or otherwise by exhibiting your weakness. Go away, I beseech you; I cannot bear the sight of indecent young women, even if they are my daughters!"
The marquis called on the morrow, but he saw only that Georgiana was unwell, and that the furtive glances she gave him indicated that either mind or body was more disordered than Lady Anne would allow. He had become really fond of her as a gentle and interesting girl, and the tones of his voice, and the pity in his eyes, really called forth so much of gratitude and esteem, that she wished for nothing so much as an opportunity to tell him how sincerely she thanked his intentions, and how much she was grieved that she could not accede to his wishes. But these wishes had never been expressed; nor could she refer to a preference to another, since that other was not heard of. That letters, and callers, and presents, even individuals on matters of business, had arrived at the house both sisters knew; but such good care was taken, either from good-will or ill, to prevent them from knowing who gave the presents, who wrote the notes, who made the calls, that both sisters remained in utter ignorance of circumstances which perpetually excited their curiosity and anxiety, because connected with ​the dearest interest the heart can know in early and unmarried life.
The worst of all their troubles, as a present evil, was an interdict to any communication "with the people over the way;" and for so long a time had they looked to those good friends for some pleasures and many consolations—so possible was it that a single word of theirs might have relieved the gloom which hung over them, that the sight of Mr. Palmer would have been almost as dear to their eyes as either of those graceful youths on whose high brows "the hyacinthine curls hung clustering." Nor was the desire unreturned for many a regretful look was hourly cast towards that enchanted castle, which, if not environed by a moat, was certainly defended by a warder (perhaps a she-dragon) of no common resolution and abilities, and who became a positive prisoner herself to become the jailer of others.
Louisa and her husband had repeatedly called, of course; and Helen had seen them twice for a few minutes only, when she appeared so distrait, that Charles could not forbear to press Lady Anne to permit her to return with them "for a little change of air;" but he was informed "that, as it was time for her usual trip to Brighton, better air than the city environs could offer would soon be obtained." The second time this was mentioned, and Georgiana's company also requested, the young couple were gravely informed, that "the young ladies' conduct had been of late by no means respectful or amiable; and it could not be ​supposed, that placing them under the roof with a person so notorious for disobedience and impropriety as Mrs. Penrhyn would improve their manners. With the weakness too common in mothers, and which Louisa would understand some time, she had been induced to pardon her imprudent marriage, and forget the gross improprieties which preceded it; but——"
"Gross improprieties!" exclaimed Charles Penrhyn, in a voice of thunder—a voice his gentle wife had never heard before. "What can you mean? What do you dare to insinuate? How can you mingle a thought of my pure——"
"Charles, Charles! do not speak so loud, it terrifies me, it does indeed. Mamma means it was wrong to leave the house clandestinely, to take refuge with strangers, do you not, mamma?"
"Certainly I do, madam, thereby forcing your low connexions upon me."
"Ought you not to add, Lady Anne," said Charles, recovering himself a little, "thereby saving me from all wedding expenses, and enabling me to come out in a new light, as a tender mother, with new schemes to entrap the unwary!"
Falsehood is bad to bear—we all shrink from a scandal; but truth is absolutely intolerable; and Lady Anne, with all her practised forbearance, her assumed dignity, plausibility, or whatever other qualities she might inherently possess or occasionally borrow, were put instantly to the route, and violent, unmitigated ​rage succeeded—for what was Charles Penrhyn, that she should control herself for him? and there were few words of vituperative abuse furnished by a lady's vocabulary (and even some beyond it) that were not launched upon his head, as a "city tradesman," that of the "puling baby," his wife, his flirting sister and her wittol husband; but even the last, beyond saying simply "you know that to be false," failed to recall the anger which had distressed Louisa, and he hastened out of the house to take refuge in that of Mr. Palmer, literally trembling for her safety.
When poor Louisa "had cried and was better," Mr. Penrhyn, having explained, as far as was necessary, the cause of her emotion, and referred to the cruelty of wounding any person's feelings "in his dear wife's situation," Mrs. Palmer could not forbear to exclaim, "What will become of those dear girls! they will die by inches! How I wish Lord Rotheles was aware of their situation."
Louisa wept afresh, and the kind-hearted Mrs. Palmer suddenly dropped the subject, and only sought to console her visitor, who at length admitted the comfort Helen's power of flight, from the time her minority ceased, afforded. "Yet, how could Georgiana be left alone! her situation was now bad, then it would be worse!" The young couple departed in Mr. Palmer's coach, silent and sorrowful, Louisa mourning for her sisters, Charles apprehensive for his wife.
Shocked by the quarrel she had witnessed, and ​terrified by the rage of her mother, Helen speedily retreated from the scene of combat, feeling as if she had seen Louisa for the last time, and that with her had departed the promise of all earthly happiness to her self and Georgiana.
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON: F. SHOBERL, JUN., 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET, PRINTER TO H.R.H. PRINCE ALBERT.