# Lady Anne Granard/Chapter 61

CHAPTER LXI.
Having placed Arthur under the restraining care of Lord Meersbrook, assured the reader that he fulfilled his promise to Sally Bragley, and rewarded her husband as sailors are accustomed to deal recompense, we must now return to Paris.
The information given by Count Riccardini, in the first place, made every one anxious to lose not an hour in setting out for England.
French roads are not English roads, nor French travelling English travelling; and, on reaching the coast, such was the state of the Channel, that three more days passed before they ventured to cross. Riccardini was not very sanguine with regard to Lady Anne, and the remarks he made on the subject were of a nature to make them prepared for the worst, since he maintained the probability of the weather having a fatal effect on a patient of her description.
Their passage was rough and dangerous, though not very long; but they were all rendered so ​unwell that it was impossible to proceed without a few hours' rest, which Isabella's situation compelled them to renew at Canterbury, so that it was nine o'clock when they arrived at the hotel where their courier had been sent to procure accommodation, Lord Allerton's house not being in readiness for his reception.
The very first thing was to secure all possible comforts for Francis II., who, albeit small, was great in the eyes of all; when, finding that the Count had already set out for Welbeck Street, they put themselves into the most comfortable coach which could be procured at the moment, and followed. It was between nine and ten; few people were stirring, but several carriages were standing near the place where Lady Anne lived, and their courier, who was still in attendance, on alighting to look for the number, said "there was a rout at the house, which was lighted up and company entering."
"Poor mamma has let her house and gone to the sea-coast," said Lady Allerton: but, just as she was about to give orders for inquiry, the Count, opening the carriage-door, cried out with more than his usual buoyancy*—
​ "Joy! joy! I giving you large joy! The telegraph this morning say to the city the Thetis have arrive, the crew is save, Arthur was the capitaine."
"But my mother, Count! where is she?"
"Oh! she is at the toilette. She have party in honour of the wedding of Miladi Allerton; and those who will not come before (as the Palmers) come now; and Georgiana, who was the willow that weeping, she is the laurel, the rose, the every thing which will smile. I telling her to go to her mamma and say to her, very gently, you are here; but I am no uneasy at all for her."
"But, dear uncle, you have made us very uneasy; and, as it now appears, without a cause."
"Oh! for the cause you will see for yourself. Come, come; there will be great crowd in few minutes, and you cannot be seen, remembère."
Lady Allerton gave her hand in silence to the Count, and was quickly followed by the rest, who, when they found themselves in the handsome passage Lady Anne termed the entrance-hall, looked anxiously upon each other, as if they had been on their way to prison, so small and cribbed did every thing appear after their residence in the noble mansions of Italy, and the ladies could scarcely believe it was the house they came from, whilst their husbands were amazingly struck by the incongruity of giving an entertainment of any kind in such a ​place, especially as they heard name after name announced of rank and importance.
"That she is not ill," said Glentworth, "internally is evident; but that she is mad is not less so. The Count must have meant his account to be metaphorical, or emblematical, or some thing of that kind."
The dining and back parlour were locked, and they hastened up stairs to Lady Anne's dressing-room, from which she had been carried in the arms of Mr. Palmer's coachman, and safely deposited in the drawing-room, whilst the Count was speaking with them at the door. On hearing of their arrival from Georgiana, she gave orders for the ladies to take off their bonnets, obtain Fanchette's assistance, and then come to her, since it was impossible for her to come to them.
"Then poor mamma is lame, it appears," said Mrs. Glentworth, as she led the way to what was formerly their own apartment, leaving her mother's dressing-room to the gentlemen. On entering it they were alike struck by the air of want and discomfort it exhibited; and perhaps their hearts had never turned so warmly to their husbands as in that moment, and they understood each other well when Lady Allerton answered to the observation—
"The Count may have been wrong about ​mamma, Isabella; but depend upon it he was quite right about her daughters and their duties."
Fanchette was engaged on Lady Allerton's redundant tresses, when Georgiana and Helen burst into the room, overwhelming them with caresses, and receiving them with a joy almost amounting to sorrow in its effects; and before composure could be obtained, Louisa joined the circle—grateful, happy Louisa, whose joy on beholding Glentworth and remembering all he had done, was such she found herself obliged to fly from the room, and find a spot in which the warm tears of her glowing gratitude might have leave to flow.
Message after message arrived to hasten the appearance of the strangers, with assurances that their situation was known as travellers, and would be excused by every body; and Lady Allerton soon went down stairs, and, notwithstanding the disadvantages of her appearance in many respects, looked so happy and so handsome as to surprise those who had known her previous to her journey. She was led by her lord proudly forward to Lady Anne, who half rose, received her with a kindness she never remembered to have awakened before, and placed her on a chair by her side, when she became indeed aware that her uncle Riccardini had not, in the slightest degree, exaggerated the change which had taken place in the person of her mother, ​and it was matter of astonishment, not less than sorrow, that any one so reduced should be capable of her present exertion. True, she was dressed à merveille at once richly and becomingly. The face was comparatively little altered, but never had it been so lighted up with smiles as now, when the name of her lady daughter so often met her ear, accompanied by kind wishes, in this case not always words of course; for many persons had known Mary of old, and pitied her sincerely, and scarcely any had failed to feel indignant on her lord's behalf, therefore their union was agreeable to every one's sense of justice.
At length Mary saw her old mamma again as she cast her eyes around, and perceived Helen enter the room, unaccompanied by Georgiana and Isabella. "Where are your sisters? what are they about? Tell Isabella to come this moment; she can't make herself fit to be seen, one doesn't expect that of her."
"Mrs. Glentworth can't be hurried," said her husband, proudly; "indeed I must speak to her before she sees her mamma."
"I'm afraid you spoil her," said Lady Anne, suddenly returning to the gracious in her manners: "you make her a petted wife."
"Indulge her I may, spoil her I cannot," he replied, elbowing his way to the door, where Isabella ​was really waiting an opportunity for entering with Mr. Penrhyn. "Hold yourself prepared for a great, indeed, an alarming change in Lady Anne, my dear Isabella; she is a shadow of her former self, but by no means a change from it. Go forward with your brother; I will be near to protect you, if she scolds."
Isabella was seized with as genuine a sensation of girlish fear as if she had never left the paternal dwelling, yet she had also an ardent desire to see her mamma, and a sincere pity for her complaints, be they what they might; and between these various emotions of the mind her countenance was lighted into positive beauty; she was grown not only taller but fuller, and her contour, which was perfect, was aided by a bearing expressive of self-possession, the grace of which was rather heightened than compromised by the earnest, yet timid expression of her features. Lady Anne absolutely started with pleased surprise as she threw her thin arms around her and exclaimed—"Well! I never expected to see my little brown girl grown into so fine a woman; but what a pity it is to receive you thus en déshabille! Dress must become you much, Isabella."
"Pity to receive us at all to-night," said Mrs. Glentworth, who could not utter another syllable for the suffocating sensation in her throat; and the ​moment she caught sight of Mrs. Palmer, she seized her arm and drew her into a corner, overcome with many memories of all that had passed since her wedding, impatient to converse of her sisters and with them, more particularly Georgiana, who being nearest her own age, had been most closely associated in all her childhood's history, and under existing circumstances was especially interesting. Indeed, nothing could be spoken of in the room but the return of the Thetis, and since no one had got later particulars than the travellers appeared to have picked up at Cherbourg, the little they could tell was eagerly sought after, until Mr. Palmer appeared with the second edition of an evening paper in his pocket, which made him the observed of all observers, especially as he had seen a person who had seen a score of the crew, and heard from them such praise of their wonderful young captain as pointed him out as a man whom the sovereign must delight to honour.
Poor Georgiana's whole existence was a blush. She blushed for modesty, for pride, for thankfulness, and for love. In the midst of Mr. Palmer's news came the Marquis of Wentworthdale, leaning on the arm of his nephew. Lady Anne declared to her eldest daughter that it was really overcoming, and would, she feared, oblige her to retire sooner than she intended. "I could have ​borne the sight of his crutch," said she, "but the crutch and the nephew together really oppress me like a mephitic vapour."
"They appear to me exactly suited to each other; when a man's infirmities compel him to the use of one, it is happy that the other should be supplied to his affections."
"But it says as plain as can be, I find myself old, or poorly; I have given up all thoughts of marrying, and consider my nephew my heir."
"It does that, certainly and properly, in the present case."
"You have been a short time a peeress, or would have known better the value of strawberry leaves on a coronet. You don't suppose, if I could have induced the marquis to propose for Helen, that she would have thought much of his crutch; indeed, I should have taken care she should not; but the nephew gives the coup de main to all my hopes. It is really dreadful, for, though convalescent, I am not strong, I confess."
"Dear mamma, don't trouble yourself about Helen; she is very lovely, and very young, very amiable, too, and by no means desirous of marrying, I dare say."
"More shame for her, she ought to think of her mother, in my opinion; if you look at her, you will see how I have thought for her. I have lent ​her my pearl necklace, given her a gown I never wore but once, and contrived that she should be talked of for her charity, her industry, humility, and all that; in fact, I know her to be admirably calculated for the wife of an old nobleman, and I hope you will assist me in looking out for her."
"I must own I had rather see her suitably married in point of age, though to a private gentleman."
"You are unworthy of your own good fortune, or else you meanly determine to be as superior in rank, as you are in age; but, remember this, you can't compete even with your youngest sister, in point of fortune."
There was a working of the mouth in poor Lady Allerton's face, which was literally between laughing and crying; her eye had been glancing from sister to sister, after their long, long, absence, with ever new delight; now resting on the blooming, happy countenance of Louisa, and remembering the painful way in which she had been driven from the maternal home, in the most material period of her existence; now glancing at the girlish figure and glowing cheek of Georgiana, anticipating the triumphs and the fears of her future life; and now looking at the quiet demeanour, the beautiful but subdued expression of Helen, whose pale but perfect features indicated more of thought than she ​desired, but which a single glance at the shrunken form of her mother seemed to account for:— "was she likely to look down in the pride of rank on these fair creatures? On the contrary, its best gift was the power of presenting them favourably to the world." Least of all, was it possible Lady Anne could, by insinuation or command, make a breach between her and Isabella? the thought was ludicrous; little did she know, or ever would know, how closely the sorrows of one, and the sympathies of the other, had bound them to each other.
But where was Isabella? Did she give herself wholly to Mrs. Palmer, or, unable to bear the heat of the rooms, had she gone home with the Count, who, unlike the younger men, had returned to the hotel, dressed, and made his appearance in the drawing-room, but was now missing. Lady Allerton rose to seek her, and inquire if she should not like to go home before the supper rooms were opened, for which she had become exceedingly impatient, understanding that Lady Anne would then be carried to her room, her physician having looked in, and earnestly advised that measure, though he acknowledged that she was by no means as much worse from her present proceeding, as he expected.
"Worse!" exclaimed Lady Anne, "how can a woman be worse for receiving her own children, and the congratulations of her friends? Heated ​rooms and large parties are to me the native atmosphere, required for health, not inimical to it."
"We shall see to-morrow," said the doctor.
"We shall," replied Lady Anne, very sententiously.