# Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV.
The conference taking place between the sisters was broken up by a summons from Lady Anne, who was in the breakfast parlour.
"Helen, you are now nearly of age, and may be considered a responsible person. I consider you, myself, as of good character and constitution (indeed, my children seldom died even when babies), and I think there are people who would lend you a hundred pounds for a few months; you must try to borrow it for me; we cannot go to Brighton without it."
"Then we had better stay at home, mamma," said Georgiana, seeking to make a diversion in Helen's favour, as she seemed positively awe-struck and stupified.
"What business have you in the matter, miss? nobody will lend you any thing, of course."
"I thought, I feared, you were inconveniencing yourself on my account."
"So I am ostensibly; but actually I don't choose to remain in London when there is nobody left in it, and the agent has an offer for the house from some man of fashion, who pays a month in advance, and may keep it for three, so that go we must. Who do you ​think of applying to, Helen? old Palmer, Charles Penrhyn, or who? You must see clearly that I cannot do it in either case."
"It is very difficult for me, mamma, because I have no fortune, and cannot repay it, you know."
"So much the better; you are free from deception, which is the worst part of every difficult transaction, and one nearly always attached to money matters."
"But surely it will be a strange thing and a bold thing for a young woman, without the means of returning it, to say 'pray, sir——'"
"Amuse yourself as long as you please, Miss Helen Granard, by making rueful faces and awkward speeches, but get me the money or a check for the money tonight. You had better go to Penrhyn's, in the first place, and find out whether Charles has got it, for those city people, at times, are pinched as much as people of fashion, and, of course, his wife has been troubling him, of late, for baby linen; if you think you can't get it, don't ask for it; go to old Palmer."
"But he is—he must be so offended that really—"
Lady Anne arose, and, with true Siddonian majesty, stalked out of the room; but her latest look at the bewildered Helen told her that "she would be obeyed," and there was so much pleasure in the prospect of spending a few hours with Louisa (about whose health and welfare they were in great anxiety), that they endeavoured to balance the pain with the pleasure, and set out to walk, attended by the page. In a short ​time both became exceedingly weary—the result of their long confinement, and Georgiana was positively too weak to proceed. The boy was, therefore, despatched for a coach; he hesitated a moment, and then, clapping his hand on his pocket, said to himself, "I has my half-crown," and darted off.
"We will borrow his half-crown," said Helen, "or we shall have the half-sovereign taken from us. Oh! Georgiana, what a terrible thing is the want of money; the actual want which we are experiencing now! One may well feel for the poor when they beg for pence, after finding one's sister dropping, as it were, in the streets of London for want of a few shillings. Mamma scolds me for pitying beggars. I wonder she is not herself the most charitable woman in London; for surely "a fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind."
"I am convinced that James knows how poor she is, and that we have no money; how mortifying that is! but he does not look knowing, which is a great comfort."
Louisa was delighted to see them, and immediately guessed their errand, which saved all the pain and trouble of explanation: as, however, her husband was gone into the country, and would be absent a few days, the money could not be procured that night; but hastily was her own well-filled purse drawn out to supply the wants of her sisters, who told her all that had occurred, ending with Helen's proposition of leaving the letter with Louisa, as then it would be safe.
​ The precious deposit was placed in her pocket-book, and Georgiana told to remember where it was laid; "for, you see," said Louisa, with a tremulous voice, "God only knows whether I may live to return it to you! Charles will be back as soon as possible—I know he will be here in three days; but a person in my situation is apt to get low, and I durst not ask for either of you to be with me, which is a little hard. I wonder my mother can think of leaving town for the next fortnight; if things should not go well with me, how desolate I should be without one member of my own family near me, especially her whose experience and kindness should be my support!"
"You shall not be so left," said Helen, warmly. "I will be with you, and help to nurse you, if poor Georgiana can do without me."
"I can, my love; the letter has put new life into me. I shall be much happier, knowing you are with Louisa; and I will beg mamma so earnestly, she will give you leave to do it, which will be best; it is no credit to any one to be on bad terms with her own mother."
After seeing all the beautiful little wardrobe of the mother expectant, praising her delicate needlework, and inwardly regretting their own inability to add to it, they got a hearty lunch, intended for a dinner, and returned homewards, in better spirits the first half of the way, but much worse the remainder, for "how could they face dear Mr. Palmer, much less ask him ​for money!" When, however, the door turned on its hinges, and they were once more under that dear hospitable roof, where they had been so happy many a time, all fears and feelings, save the pleasurable, subsided, and they rushed forward into the library with schoolgirl impatience.
"Young ladies!" cried Mr. Palmer, in surprise, but not of pleasure.
"My dear girls!" said his lady, snatching the nearest to her heart, "how delighted I am to see you!"
"And we are so glad to come!" said Georgiana.
"And so ashamed and so sorry!" added Helen, looking pitiably towards Mr. Palmer.
"I must ask you a question in the first place, a very vulgar one, I confess—'Does your mother know you're out?'"
"Oh, yes! she sent us first to Mr. Penrhyn's, and then to Mr. Palmer's."
"I am very glad Lady Anne is come to her senses," replied Mrs. Palmer—"very glad indeed."
"As I am not her keeper, such lucid intervals give me little pleasure, I confess," said Mr. Palmer, drily.
"Come, come, Palmy!" said the lady, "don't speak in that way before these dear girls, who I am certain love us both very much, and who have had nothing but punishment since they were here before."
"That's true! for life itself would be a punishment to me, if spent under Lady Anne's roof; however, I don't want to grieve the poor things, so I will say not ​one more word respecting mamma, after Helen has told me the simple, unvarnished reason of their being sent hither."
"It is, sir—it is, in plain truth, the want of a hundred pounds."
"Yes, sir," added Georgiana, "to borrow a hundred pounds."
Mrs. Palmer saw that the previously pale faces of the pleaders were absolutely crimson; but her husband saw nothing, for so completely were his risible faculties aroused by what he inwardly termed "Lady Anne's impudence," that peal after peal of uncontrollable laughter burst from him, in which it was at times evident that his wife was nearly joining. Though extremely disconcerted in the first instance, yet the sisters soon became comforted; they very naturally thought that laughter and anger were incompatible, and that presently Mr. Palmer would come to himself, and hear what poor Helen had got to say on the subject. At the proper time she begun with, "It is I who would borrow the money, not mamma, in order that Georgiana may go to Brighton, which is necessary for her health."
"Very good, my dear; but, in reply, I have to say, I will not lend you a hundred pounds—you may marry, or you may die, and in either case I shall not be paid at all. It won't do, Helen; you are a good girl—you don't mean to cheat me, but you might do so, and sadly would you grieve to have done it."
​ "I told mamma I could not pay the debt, but she said 'she only wanted it for a few months;' at Christmas uncle will send her plenty."
"Well! if Lady Anne Granard will step over the way to 'those low people, the Palmers,' she will find 'the old man' in the library, and, if she chooses to give him a note, he will give her a check for a hundred pounds, or a trifle more should she need it; but he will not encourage her daughters to trot out on any such errands—there is something quite shocking in it, to my conception."
"Don't hasten home, my loves, for Mr. Palmer is not going out, and I shall retire before your mamma comes. I want to know how you found Mrs. Penrhyn, about whom I am very anxious. I shall contrive to drive thither to-morrow, and Mrs. Gooch will be with her on Friday."
Helen mentioned her ardent desire to go to her instead of going to Brighton, on which Mr. Palmer said, approvingly, "You may consider that point settled, my dear; is there any other circumstance you would accomplish that concerns mamma?"
"Louisa wishes to see her exceedingly."
"Then she shall go to-morrow with Mrs. Palmer, whose presence will induce her 'to assume a virtue, though she has it not.'"
"Thank you, thank you, dear Mr. Palmer! what would become of us without you! You will never call us young ladies again, but dear girls, won't you?"
"No, you will be borrowing baggages to-morrow!"
​ Helen moved quickly, but Georgiana's steps lingered; she had a question to ask that would not leave her lips, yet would not be repressed, and she looked from one to the other of the worthy couple, as if reading in the countenance which would be the most likely to answer. At length, whilst her hand was in that of her kind host, she said, "Pray, sir, has Mr. Hales—Lieutenant Hales—really sailed, as the newspapers said?"
"He has, Georgiana, and a worthier man or a better officer is not on the sea, wide as it is, and many fine fellows as there are on its bosom. I have seen a great deal more of him, from circumstances that have occurred, than I expected to do, and I never read a brighter page in human nature than that young fellow's heart presented to me."
Georgiana did not attempt any reply, for none appeared called for, but her eyes told how sweet were the words she heard to her heart, and how truly the speaker had judged what would console her for the loss she had had the last time she saw him. Not a word more was uttered.
Lady Anne listened to Helen's negotiation with profound attention; that Mr. Palmer should ever meet her again flattered her pride of rank, since she thought no other motive than a mean subserviency to the possessor of a title could induce him to forgive, or rather to get over, the many offences she had within a week or two practised towards him, and which, it must be allowed, savoured of ingratitude, all things considered; ​but "what was the value of caste, if it did not absolve one from the usages of the vulgar? Lord Meersbrook talked of gratitude to Mrs. Palmer; but, then, he was a young man who had lived abroad, and did not understand the privileges of his order. Besides, his father was the first peer in his family; and they being remarkable, age after age, for their learning and virtues, chose to retain the character, even now the family peculiarities might be dispensed with. To be sure, a good many people of high rank did entertain the same notion; and, if convenient, it was desirable, on the whole, that the nobility should be honourable, and compassionate, and generous, especially to their own body; but to be grateful to those below them was carrying the thing too far, especially if a little haughtiness, or a mixture of suavity and insolence, would answer the purpose as well."
A whole string of great names rose, uncalled for, to Lady Anne's mind of her own compeers, whose lives are daily passing in the practice of every virtuous action and elegant occupation suitable to their high station, their talents, and attainments; but it was not agreeable to dwell on their characters. It required the goad of poverty, and all the native energy she possessed, "to screw her courage to the sticking point" to meet Mr. Palmer; but, as the sooner it was done the better, she set out to the "man over the way" in a few minutes, recalling the remembrance of her station, and the graces of her manners to her aid, whilst that ​of her obligation, being never very vividly impressed, vanished into thin air, thereby enabling her to meet Mr. Palmer with much of the coolness to which he had lately affixed a very unseemly epithet.
"You are always a very good neighbour, Mr. Palmer, and, I understand from my daughters, are willing to lend me a hundred or a hundred and twenty pounds."
"Say a hundred and fifty if you are pressed, Lady Anne, but it must be on certain conditions."
"Helen said nothing of conditions, but of course I must submit. What are they?"
"That you permit Helen to be with Mrs. Penrhyn during her confinement."
"Of course, I always intended that she should."
"I would also suggest, though I do not insist, on the propriety of remaining in London until her safety is ascertained."
"I fear I cannot promise that, as Pigget has let my house."
"I have taken it for a friend, whom I will accommodate in my own until you are enabled to set out to her satisfaction, as believing you have an interest in her. The laws of fashion do not bind people of rank to forget the ties of consanguinity and affection, for I could point out numerous instances where mothers really love their children, and wives their husbands. Who was ever so long and so tenderly a nurse as the late Duchess of Northumberland? and I am old ​enough to remember how often I have seen the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, about eight in the morning (when I was at Bath in 91 or 92), returning from the parade, where she had sate up the live-long night with her sister, Lady Duncannon; it can therefore be no disgrace to appear as if yon felt for your daughter."
"Very fine, sir! I ask the terms on which I am to have the money?"
"And I have named them. Your ladyship does dot speak to a money-lender, but a gentleman; fully aware, of course, that you are a woman of rank whom circumstances have laid under obligation to him of a nature never to be cancelled, but which would never have been remembered if your ingratitude had not been mingled with cruelty to your own sweet, unoffending child, in a way unknown to her, and held hitherto in secresy by me, but not therefore forgiven or forgotten. "
Mr. Palmer spoke "as one having authority," for he was a tall and handsome man, past the prime, but still in the vigour of autumnal life, and his features, in their impressive character, though generally benevolent and sweet, were now stern and intellectual, conveying the idea that he looked into the very recesses of the heart; and Lady Anne had a heart, small as might be its dimensions, and incrusted as its surface undoubtedly was with pride and selfishness. She had, during the absence of her daughters, actually ​felt great solicitude for Louisa, and the memory of her own days of trial had risen in vivid colours to her mind. "How very, very kind poor Granard used to be on those occasions! There could not be a better husband certainly, and I trust Charles Penrhyn will be equally so. I think he will, which is a great comfort. Probably Isabella has a child—surely it is a boy! One does not like to be a grandmother, but yet, when an heir is concerned, it is the sooner forgiven. She is very young; but then he is rich, and will leave nothing undone for her, I trust."
These passing thoughts were, of course, unknown to Mr. Palmer. Had he given Lady Anne credit for them, his manners would have been more bland and his words less pointed. They were answered so far as it was convenient to notice them.
"I hope you will continue to be silent on the subject to which you refer, as there is no occasion for Georgiana to know she has received an offer I could not accept, having much higher views for her, which, in due time, will be developed."
"They are known to every body, Lady Anne, already; your new friends were less discreet than your old ones. They have boasted of their having converted you during the enforced absence of your wicked children, one of whom, they observed, was going through a course of discipline necessary for the beautiful young wife of a very particular elderly nobleman, who neither chose his estates to be dilapidated, ​nor the legitimacy of his heir to be doubted. God knows, neither Georgiana nor any of your daughters merited to be thus reflected upon! If she could bring herself to be Marchioness of Wentworthdale, she would be an honour to her high station;—however, that is over now, he is grouse-shooting in Scotland."
Lady Anne was relieved; the absence of the marquess had greatly puzzled her, as he had bade adieu for a short time, which had become a long one. Baskets of game had reached her house, but not a single line, in his own hand, had met her eye. Better it should be so: Georgiana was not yet in a state to "lure the gentle tassel back," but no thanks to the chattering coterie whom she had courted for the sole purpose of rendering the marquis reassured on the subject of proper acquaintance. With much less tact than was usual, she had concluded that the reverse of wrong must be right, and that the occasional appearance of a serious lady in her drawing-room, would neutralize the flirtations of her gayer friends; and this she now mentioned, with many indignant expressions, venting on those she called "prosy old hypocrites" the anger she really felt for Mr. Palmer.
"It was not a wise thing to enter a close clique, my good madam, until you had examined both them and yourself, and considered how far you were likely to coalesce. Your true friends would say either party were unworthy, or unfit, for your associates; the ​unerring propriety of Lady Anne Granard as wife, or widow, has never been doubted (fine woman as she certainly is), yet it must be said she degraded herself in chaperoning Lady Penrhyn; but, as she loves the world, lives in the world, and for the world, surely she was ill-calculated for the associate of those who run into the extreme of discarding it, despising it, classing its amusements with the most heinous sins, and earning a better, by utter renunciation of what we have mercifully received in this. Every profession implies education, and you had not taken your degree in my Lady Betty's college. You had better by half have turned Catholic."
"Spare me, Mr. Palmer! I was wrong—have been wrong in many respects, I fear, but I meant well. I had a great end in view, and-I have it still in view!"
"Yes, I see how it is! You are playing for the odd trick, but it is the bystander who sees the game, and I tell you honestly, you have not cards to carry it, neither physically nor figuratively. You have already—like the dog in the water—lost the substance for the shadow. That reminds me I had better pay you as I agreed to do—a month or six weeks in advance for your house. Suppose I give you forty pounds, it may be a convenience."
Lady Anne took the money eagerly, and, in truth, thankfully; professed an intention of seeing her daughter the next day, and returned home with her ​heart so much lighter, that she forgot every remark which had awakened her resentment, except inwardly acknowledging "that much of what the man had said was too true. Of course the sailor would forget Georgiana directly; but should the marquis really slip through her fingers, there would be no difficulty in getting another younger brother. The worst of it was, that in her pertinacious refusal of the sailor, she had lost the lord his brother, who, in time, and with the advantage of family connexion, might have thought of Helen, who was at this period the more attractive of the sisters." Alas! what a weary world must this be to the plotting part of it! the plodders have infinitely the advantage.
We hasten over the next ten days (for we are anxious to reach our friends so long abroad, and of whom we know so little), but in them much occurred, for a letter was received from Lord Rotheles, not only reproaching his sister for having robbed Georgiana of an honourable and excellent connexion, but insisting on her being sent down to the castle, and informing her that "her family being so much reduced, his allowance would be so too, as it was plain that money only fostered the pride it was her duty to subdue." The postscript added, "that the countess was completely overcome by the misconduct of Lady Allerton, who had eloped with an officer—a circumstance which also affected his own mind severely, by recalling events long gone by, but never ceasing to be painful."
​ Georgiana, in a few days, had the comfort of seeing Louisa the mother of a sweet child; Lady Anne, in affectionate attendance upon her; and her own invaluable letter, the companion of her journey, which Mr. Penrhyn partook, until she was placed in her uncle's carriage, which was sent to meet her. Lady Anne had, therefore, the satisfaction of proceeding to Brighton unencumbered by a single daughter, immediately after she had received the good news she most desired, that Mrs. Glentworth had presented her husband with a young Roman as his heir. The circumstances surrounding her were therefore, on the whole, extremely pleasant; for it cannot be supposed she had much sympathy for the Countess of Rotheles's mortification, and she relied on the good offices of Georgiana for the restoration of her uncle's kindness and allowance, the former being of little importance, if unaccompanied by the latter.