# Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 38

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Lady Anne's page led the way to the duke's house; Lady Anne herself followed, explaining the business. The duchess soon had the case unpacked, the inner boxes drawn forth, and the whole contents taken out piece by piece, in the breakfast parlour.
"Oh! what sweet, sweet things!" cried Lady Ginevra.
"Did you ever see such loves?" exclaimed her younger sister. "Here are velvet reticules—real velvet (eighteen shillings a yard), trimmed so beautifully! and purses, with bead work, and bead bracelets; and there are babies' robes, with lace let in at the tucks; I never saw any thing so pretty. Look, what droll pincushions! all kinds of devices perfectly new" she continued; "what genius they must have had that invented them! and lace cuffs—the prettiest things—so advantageous to the hand. I wish I might buy a pair of these, your grace; they would be so very becoming when one puts out one's hand Do just look at the way in which they sit."
"Surely, Lady Ginevra, you will do my daughters the honour to accept any little matter you see ​here before it is seen elsewhere. Your finely-formed hand and beautiful fingers make you fancy the cuffs pretty; but I will say this, they are singularly becoming, and I do hope her grace will take the other pair."
As the dress must be to a certain point en deshabille adopted on this occasion, and the hand and arm which Phidias might have copied must be covered, her grace did accept the cuffs, and very carefully proceeded with the unpacking, in the course of which a note directed to Lady Anne was found, and immediately handed to her, with a request that she would read it that moment; it was from Mrs. Penrhyn, and ran thus:—
"My dear Mother,
"Both Helen and myself have done our best to fulfil your wishes, though my part of it has been necessarily little, in comparison with hers, for she has fulfilled your commands literally, and, by working day and night, is become so poorly, it is impossible for her to travel at present, yet I did my best to save her from suffering, by engaging the services of several young friends, as you will perceive from the quantity of articles sent. A parcel addressed to me——."
"How extremely ridiculous!" exclaimed Lady Anne, who had hitherto been reading aloud, "to be ill, and not able to come, to put me to all this frightful expense, and then take no advantage from it; really, my daughters are the plagues of my life, and——."
​ "Not a word, not a word, will I hear against them; they have sent you materials for a stand, that will cut down every bodys, and it is plain, poor things, they have impoverished themselves to obey your wishes. We must look up some pretty young women to assist you, or really, Lady Anne, with this stock of goods, and your own fine person, you might take a plain one or two off our hands. What do you say? the charity is our grand object, of course, you know?"
Lady Anne thought for a moment, and then said:
"Provided they are ugly enough, not by possibility to be mistaken for daughters of mine, I have no objection. Nor would I dislike them for being smart and witty on such an occasion as this, though I never allow any l'esprit at home."
"You are charmingly accommodating, dear Lady Anne, and we will drive out together, call on Lady Linlithgow, and secure her youngest May-pole, Lady Jemima; she retains the pure Doric in phraseology as well as accent, and her 'a weals,' and 'ye kens,' will be sure to tell, besides, her complexion is as pure as the snows of her native mountains. Then, suppose we get for a pendant that little dowdy round about Mrs. Montmaitre, she is a bride, and an honourable, you know?"
"But she is rich, and would do better to buy than to sell."
"I expect her to buy, certainly, and, by putting her into the midst of your beautiful collection, place ​her in a scene of temptation, no bride with a full purse can resist. She cannot be scolded in the honeymoon, you know, and it may be of use to her in after life, to prompt her to do what she will with her own money."
It struck Lady Anne that this companion of her toils might be, indeed, useful, for surely any purchases made between themselves within the stand might, with little or no legerdemain, find their way into her own private purse, instead of the large business-like affairs provided by the committee for the reception of money. "It was very well to enjoy the éclat of bestowing the best contribution to the charity, and, perhaps, not amiss to have daughters so enthusiastic in the good cause, as to work themselves to death in it, but there could be no possible necessity for giving it so much actual property. She now regretted much having had the case taken to the duke's, for surely it might have been weeded to very good purpose, and no one the wiser."
When reading the note, and arriving at an assurance of Helen's absence, Lady Anne had indignantly crushed it in her hand, and thrust it into her reticule, but, on her return home, whilst Fanchette was industriously employed upon her hair with the invaluable liquid dye, she drew out the rumpled paper, and read the concluding paragraph.
"A parcel addressed to me, on the inner wrapper of which were these words, 'a friend to the Brighton dispensary, unable to use these materials to good ​purpose, intreats you to render them available for the assistance of that charity,' has enabled us to fulfil your wishes. We apprehend it must be some rich old lady, who found herself unequal to using what she had so liberally purchased, and having by chance heard we were employed in a little way, thus generously made it a great one. Charles says it must be somebody in the city, for there is not a creature left at the west end. Mrs. Gooch thinks it is from Clapham Common, where all the rich people are religious and charitable. However, guessing is foolish, and it is enough for us to know we have turned the gift to good account, and, we trust, given you, dear mamma, much satisfaction."
Satisfaction unquestionably in the figure she should cut, and the fame she would acquire, but still a host of wishes had arisen, which refused to be contented without avarice could be gratified, not less than ambition. The golden apple of discord had been thrown into her mind, awakening contention and suspicion, and she was busy with fifty plans for recalling the box and its contents, when the duchess's woman arrived with the key of the breakfast-room, which her grace thought it best to commit to her care.
Poor Lady C———, so long accused (and often very falsely) of possessing the organ of appropriation largely developed, and the "itching palm," which made snuff-boxes, cambric handkerchiefs, lace frills, glittering brooches, and gold chains, liable to changing their domicile, never felt a propensity to robbing her ​neighbours more than Lady Anne felt at this moment for robbing herself. Still, on accepting the key, she said with an air of great condescension:—
"I am sure Mrs. Wilkins this could not be in better hands than your own."
"Why as to looking sharp ater things, my lady, I may say for myself I can do that, and I'll be bound at this moment that the littlest tweedy pincushion ever was made could neither be taken from your ladyship's lot, nor our own lot, but I should miss it in a moment; 'once seen, always remembered,' is my motto; but, lor, my lady, what's the use o' missing a thing, when it's gone? and why should I increase my cares for this fancy fair, who am but a servant, my lady?"
With a wish, not very distantly related to a curse, did Lady Anne see Mrs. Wilkins flit past her window homewards, sensible that she was utterly foiled in her scheme for the present, as she recollected that she had heard the duchess herself boast of her maid's memory, which, like the well-known faculty of the royal family, always retained what it once admitted; "with this characteristic difference," said her grace, "they remember persons, and Wilkins remembers things, a very great property in those who have the care of a wardrobe."
Not to be able to select a single thing for her own use out of so many, which were bona fide her own property, to remember even the "beautiful loves of lace-trimmed cuffs," gone for ever, had no parallels, ​therefore offered no excuse for rummaging the things previous to their removal, was certainly so provoking, that, had any one of her daughters (to say nothing of the two who were the real delinquents) been near, her ladyship's wrath would, undoubtedly, have vented itself in a very unlady-like manner, for anger must be vulgar, unless it is put in fetters of blank verse; no power less than a poet's can restrain the errors of that "unruly member, which no man can tame," and which Lady Anne Granard's daughters knew full well could send forth "bitters as well as sweets, salt water, and fresh."
What could she do but write an angry letter, that did not half empty her heart of its overflowing bile, reproaching both Louisa and Helen with unbounded extravagance in making up all their materials for one bazaar, and unparalleled folly on Helen's part for becoming worn out, and, of course, ill-looking; since she had joined the affair, from the first, solely with a view to getting her an offer before she became of age, which was the more necessary, because her younger sister had refused what some people termed a suitable offer; and a still younger was married and a mother.
"I also fear," added Lady Anne, "that some improper overture, some absolutely shocking eclaircissement will follow your acceptance of the present you speak of, and which has been so lavishly given, as to derogate from the duchess's stand exceedingly, and will, therefore, mortify her, of course, however, she ​may carry it off; and render her either a cold friend, or an active enemy.
"To think the parcel came from a devout old lady, proves total ignorance of the world, and an entire forgetfulness of what I must have mentioned many a time—that as people grow old they become wise enough to take care of themselves, knowing that nobody else can care for them. When they give any thing, if privately, it is in purchase of attention, which is affection's proper substitute; if publicly, it is to gain popularity, the last thing any one resigns. Perhaps they may give from a more pressing motive than either—an existing necessity for 'keeping up appearances;' for seeming rich when you are poor, either in order to render your creditors patient, or your friends generous, in the hope of getting good legacies to repay them handsomely. Under any circumstances, the old are to be pitied; but I scarcely know one case in which they could be thanked. Yet, one proof of great goodness has certainly come before me this very year—a very extraordinary fact of generosity in an aged woman; and it may be the same person who has thus assisted you; but I greatly fear it came from a more questionable party. Altogether, I am disappointed, uncomfortable, distrait excessively. I desire you will come to me, Helen, the moment you are able; Mr. Penrhyn will contrive for you; it is of no use sending money when I shall be returning so soon—by the way, call and see if the Palmers are come home, and ask him ​to pay the remainder of the rent for my house—it will be a convenience to me, and can make no difference to a young man who has no family to maintain. You must bring me this money entire—I can't do without it—mind what I say. Should Mr. Palmer not be at home, call on the gentleman who holds the house, and ask him yourself. Louisa will accompany you, to take away any awkwardness; and have it I must. You had better say nothing to Charles Penrhyn."
It will be evident, that whatever had been the vexation experienced on this occasion by Lady Anne, she had taken care to give her duteous and unoffending daughters much more than she had received, and which only arose from her own conduct. In the first place, they were bitterly disappointed that their good fortune and great exertion should have caused anger, when they had every reason to expect praise and pleasure as the result; and she had contrived to alarm them on the subject of their present; beyond these, her ladyship's observations went for nothing—"their best friends were the Palmers, dear old people; and who would have made poor Georgiana a settlement, but those kind, considerate old people, Sir Edward Hales and his sister? Mamma was very clever, but she did not know one half of the goodness there was in the world."
Neither did she know that the report of her grand contribution had already run through all ranks and conditions, gathering as it went the usual ​exaggerations, until the molehill of a deal packing-case became the mountain of a waggon-load; after which, Lady Anne's good name sunk in an inverse ratio. "It was quite abominable, that a widow lady, with a large family and a small income, should presume to rival a duchess, especially such a handsome, amiable, cheerful duchess as her Grace of C——, who had a kind word for every body, whether gentle or simple; besides, she had been three years in her milliner's books, and her lodgings last summer were not settled till Christmas—she was "one of them what could pinch their own flesh and blood, so she pleased her own self and provided for her own pleasures. Many people believed that she really broke the heart of Squire Granard, who was as good a man as ever lived; and every body was quite sure that she would compel her daughters to marry any old fogram as chose to take 'em. Her very youngest had been forced to marry a man full twenty years older than herself, poor thing! and the other made a run-away marriage with the man of her heart, pretty creature."
Although the railroad did not take people from London to Brighton in two hours, as it proposes to do in a few years, yet coaches do their work pretty well; and two days before the important one arrived, for which Lady Anne Granard had laboured in spirit, and her daughters in person, the news of her occupation and contribution had reached her own neighbourhood; not, indeed, to be discussed in the now solitary ​parks, or commented upon in drawing-rooms consigned to silence and brown holland. No, her grandeur and her charity, her ambition and her indiscretion, her appearances, which resembled other apparitions, as being "unreal mockeries," and her realities, which were noun-substantive inflictions, to be seen, felt, heard, and understood, were told and talked over in the back parlour of the grocer, and the counting-house of the coal merchant. The result was, a determination, on the part of both these worthies, to be "blarneyed by my Lady Anne no longer, since a woman who goes to outshine her betters, and to give in charity what she owes in justice, cannot be any great shakes, though she might be a born lady."
So said Mrs. Plumpound, and so said the seller of black diamonds; and let those who sneer at their vulgarity remember, that derision is not argument, nor ridicule the test of truth. No form of words, however poetic, eloquent, droll, or epigrammatic, can warp, elongate, or contract, the straight lines of simple integrity. It has been said, "that honesty is the virtue of a footman;" and so it is; but not the less ought it to be that of his master, and of every other human being.* Whenever the obligations of society ​ are evaded, the social compact is destroyed, the great deep is broken up, and "gorgons, monsters, and chimeras dire," rise from the abyss, to astonish and terrify both the guilty and the innocent. Such was the punishment preparing for Lady Anne, and likely to involve her perfectly innocent daughter.