University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

The seniors of the party at Benfield Lodge
were all assembled one morning in a parlour,
when its master and the Baronet were occupied
in the perusal of the London papers. Clara
had persuaded her sisters to accompany her and
Francis in an excursion as far as the village.

Jane yet continued reserved and distant to
most of her friends, while Emily's conduct
would have escaped unnoticed, did not her
blanch'd cheek and wandering looks, at times,
speak a language not to be misunderstood.
With all her relatives she maintained the same
affectionate intercourse she had always supported;
but not even to her aunt did the name
of Denbigh pass her lips. But in her most
private and humble petitions to her God,
she never forgot to mingle with her requests
for spiritual blessings on herself, one fervent
prayer for the conversion of the preserver of
her life.

Mrs. Wilson, as she sat by the side of her
sister at their needles, first discovered an
unusual uneasiness in their venerable host,
while he turned his paper over and over, as if
unwilling or unable to comprehend some part
of its contents, until he rang the bell violently,
and bid the servant send Johnson to him
without a moment's delay.

“Peter,” said Mr. Benfield doubtingly, as
he entered, “read that—your eyes are young.”

Peter took the paper, and after having adjusted
his spectacles to his satisfaction, proceeded
to obey his master's injunctions. But
the same defect of vision as suddenly seized
on the steward, as had affected his master.
He turned the paper sideways, and appeared
to be spelling the matter of the paragraph to
himself. Peter would have given his three
hundred a year, to have had the impatient
John Moseley at hand, to have relieved him
from his task; but the anxiety of Mr. Benfield,
overcoming his fear of the worst, he inquired
in a tremulous tone—

“Peter?”—hem!—“Peter, what do you
think?”

“Why, your honour,” replied the steward,
stealing a look at his master, “it does seem so
indeed.”

“I remember,” said the master, “when
Lord Gosford saw the marriage of the Countess
announced, he—.” Here the old gentleman
was obliged to stop, and rising with dignity
and leaning on the arm of his faithful
servant, he left the room.

Mrs. Wilson immediately took up the paper,
and her eye catching the paragraph at a
glance, she read aloud as follows to her expecting
friends:—

“Married, by special licence, at the seat of
the Most Noble, the Marquess of Eltringham,
in Devonshire, by the Rt. Rev. Lord Bishop of

—, George Denbigh, Esq. Lt. Col. of his
Majesty's — regiment of dragoons, to the
Rt. Hon. Lady Laura Stapleton, eldest sister
of the Marquess. Eltringham was honoured
on the present happy occasion with the presence
of his Grace of Derwent, and the gallant
Lord Pendennyss, kinsmen of the bridegroom,
and Capt. Lord Henry Stapleton, of
the Royal Navy. We understand the happy
couple proceed to Denbigh Castle immediately
after the honey-moon.”

Although Mrs. Wilson had given up the expectation
of ever seeing her niece the wife of
Denbigh, she felt an indescribable shock as
she read this paragraph. The strongest feeling
was horror at the nearness of Emily to an
alliance with such a man. His avoiding the
ball, at which he knew Lord Henry was expected,
was explained to her by his marriage.
For, with John, she could not believe a woman
like Lady Laura Stapleton was to be
won in the short space of one fortnight, or indeed
less. There was, too evidently, a mystery
yet to be developed, and she felt certain
one, that would not elevate his character in her
opinion.

Neither Sir Edward or Lady Moseley had
given up the expectation of seeing Denbigh
again, as a suitor for Emily's hand, and to
both of them this certainty of his loss was a
heavy blow. The Baronet took up the paper,
and after perusing to himself the article,
muttered in a low tone, as he wiped the tears

from his eyes:—“ Heaven bless him—I sincerely
hope she is worthy of him.” Worthy
of him, thought Mrs. Wilson, with a feeling
of indignation, as taking up the paper,
she retired to her own room, whither Emily,
at that moment returned from her walk,
had proceeded. As her niece must hear
this news, she thought the sooner the better.
The exercise, and unreserved conversation
of Francis and Clara, had restored, in
some degree, the bloom to the cheek of Emily,
as she saluted her aunt on joining her;
and Mrs. Wilson felt it necessary to struggle
with herself, before she could summon sufficient
resolution, to invade the returning peace
of her charge. However, having already decided
on her course, she proceeded to the discharge
of what she thought her duty.

“Emily--my child,” she whispered, pressing
her affectionately to her bosom, “you have
been all I could wish, and more than I expected,
under your arduous struggles. But one
more pang, and I trust your recollections on
this painful subject, will be done away.”

Emily looked at her aunt in anxious expectation
of what was coming, and quietly taking
the paper, followed the direction of Mrs. Wilson's
finger, to the article on the marriage of
Denbigh.

There was a momentary struggle in Emily
for self-command. She was obliged to find
support in a chair. The returning richness
of colour, excited by her walk, vanished—But

recovering herself, she pressed the hand of
her anxious guardian, and gently waving her
back, proceeded to her own room.

On her return to the company, the same control
of her feelings, which had distinguished
her conduct of late, was again visible; and although
her aunt most narrowly watched her
movements, looks, and speeches, she could discern
no visible alteration, by this confirmation
of Denbigh's misconduct. The truth was, that
in Emily Moseley, the obligations of duty
were so imperative—her sense of her dependence
on providence so humbling, and yet so
confiding, that, as soon as she was taught
to believe her lover unworthy of her esteem,
that moment an insuperable barrier separated
them. His marriage could add nothing to the
distance between them. It was impossible
they could be united; and although a secret
lingering of the affections, over his fallen character,
might and did exist, it existed without
any romantic expectations of miracles in his
favour, or vain wishes of reformation, in which
self was the prominent feeling. She might
be said, to be keenly alive to all that concerned
his welfare or movements, if she did not
harbour the passion of love; but it showed itself,
in prayers for his amendment of life,
and the most ardent petitions for his future
and eternal happiness. She had set about, seriously,
and with much energy, the task of
erasing from her heart, sentiments which,
however delightful she had found it to harbour

in times past, were now, in direct variance
with the path of her duty. She knew,
that a weak indulgence of such passions,
would tend to draw her mind from, and
disqualify her to discharge, those various calls
on her time and exertions, which could alone
enable her to assist others, or effect in her own
person, the great purposes of her creation. It
was never lost sight of by Emily Moseley,
that her existence here, was preparatory to
an immensely more important one hereafter.
She was consequently in charity with all
mankind, and if grown a little more doubtful
of the intentions of her fellow-creatures, it
was a mistrust, bottomed in a clear view of
the frailties of our nature; and self-examination,
was amongst the not unfrequent speculations
she made, on his hasty marriage of
her former lover.

Mrs. Wilson saw all this, and was soon
made acquainted by her niece in terms, with
her views of her own condition, and although
she had to, and did, deeply regret,
that all her caution had not been able to
guard against deception in character, where
it was most important for her to guide
aright; yet she was cheered with the reflection
that her previous care, with the blessings
of providence, had admirably fitted her charge
to combat and overcome the consequences of
their mistaken confidence.

The gloom which this little paragraph excited,
extended to every individual in the family;

for all had placed Denbigh by the side
of John, in their affections, ever since his
weighty services to Emily.

A letter from John announcing his intention
of meeting them at Bath, as well
as his new relation with Grace, relieved in
some measure their depression of spirits.---Mr.
Benfield alone found no consolation in
these approaching nuptials. John he regarded
as his nephew, and Grace he thought a
very good sort of young woman; but neither
of them beings of the same description with
Emily and Denbigh.

“Peter,” said he one day, after they had
both been expending their ingenuity, in vain
efforts to discover the cause of this so-much-desired
marriage being so unexpectedly frustrated,
“have I not often told you, fate governed
these things, in order men might be humbled
in this life. Now, Peter, had the Lady Juliana
wedded with a mind congenial to her
own, she might have been mistress of Benfield
Lodge to this very hour.”

“Yes, your honour—but there's Miss Emmy's
legacy;” and Peter withdrew, thinking
what would have been the consequences, had
Patty Steele been more willing, when he wished
to make her Mrs. Peter Johnson; an association
by no means uncommon in the mind
of the steward; for if Patty had ever a rival
in his affections, it was in the person of Emily
Moseley, though indeed with very different
degrees and colouring of esteem.

The rides to the cottage had been continued
by Mrs. Wilson and Emily, and as no
gentleman was now in the family to interfere
with their communications, a general visit
to the young widow had been made, by the
Moseleys, including Sir Edward and Mr.
Ives.

The Jarvises had gone to London to receive
their children, now penitent in more
senses than one; and Sir Edward learnt
with pleasure, that Egerton and his wife had
been admitted into the family of the merchant.

Sir Edgar had died suddenly, and the
entailed estates had fallen to his successor
the colonel, now Sir Harry—but the
bulk of his wealth being in convertible property,
he had given by will to his other
nephew, a young clergyman, and son of a
younger brother.---Mary, as well as her mother,
were greatly disappointed, by this deprivation,
of what they considered their lawful
splendour--but found great consolation in
the new dignity of the Lady Egerton; who's
greatest wish now was to meet the Moseleys,
in order that she might precede them, in or
out, of some place where such ceremonials
are observed---the sound of, Lady Egerton's
carriage stops the way—was a delight
ful one, and never failed to be used on all occasions,
although her ladyship was mistress of
no such vehicle.

A slight insight into the situation of things,

amongst them, may be found in the following
narrative of their views, and a discussion
which took place about a fortnight after
the re-union of the family under one roof.

Mrs. Jarvis was mistress of a very handsome
coach, the gift of her husband for her own
private use—after having satisfied herself, the
baronet (a dignity he had enjoyed just twenty-four
hours) did not possess the ability to furnish
his lady, as she termed her daughter, with
such a luxury, she magnanimously determined
to relinquish her own, in support of the
new-found elevation of her daughter—accordingly
a consultation on the alterations
which were necessary, took place between
the ladies—“ the arms must be altered, of
course,” Lady Egerton observed, “and Sir
Harry's, with the bloody hand and six quarterings,
put in their place—then the liveries
they must be changed.”

“Oh, mercy—my lady—if the arms are
altered, Mr. Jarvis will be sure to notice it—
and he would never forgive me—and perhaps—”

“Perhaps what?” exclaimed the new
made lady, with a disdainful toss of her
head.

“Why,” replied the mother, warmly, “not
give me the hundred pounds, he promised,
to have it new lined and painted.”

“Fiddlestick with the painting, Mrs. Jarvis,”
cried the lady with great dignity, “no

carriage shall be called mine that does not
bear my arms and the bloody hand.”

“Why your ladyship is unreasonable, indeed
you are,” said Mrs. Jarvis, coaxingly,
and then after a moment's thought, she continued,
“is it the arms or the baronetcy you
want, my dear?”

“Oh, I care nothing for the arms, but I
am determined, now I am a baronet's lady,
Mrs. Jarvis, to have the proper emblem of my
rank.”

“Certainly, my lady, that's true dignity
---well then---we will put the bloody hand on
your father's arms, and he will never notice
it, for he never sees such things.” The arrangement
was happily completed, and for a
few days, the coach of Mr. Jarvis bore about
the titled dame---her mother and sister,
with all proper consideration for the dignity
of the former---until one unlucky day---the
merchant, who, occasionally, went on change,
when any great bargain in the stocks was to be
made, arrived at his own door suddenly, to
procure a calculation he had made on a leaf
of his prayer-book, the last Sunday during
sermon—this he obtained after some search; in
his haste, he drove to his broker's in the carriage
of his wife, to save time, it happening
to be in waiting at the moment, and the distance
not great—in his hurry, Mr. Jarvis forgot
to order the man to return, and for an
hour it stood in one of the most public
places in the city—the consequence was,

when Mr. Jarvis undertook to examine into
his gains, with the account rendered of the
transaction by his broker, he was astonished
to read, “Sir Timothy Jarvis, Bart. in account
with John Smith, Dr.”—Sir Timothy
examined the account in as many different
ways as Mr. Benfield had the marriage of
Denbigh, before he would believe his eyes,
and when assured of the fact, immediately
caught up his hat, and went to find the man,
who had dared to insult him, as it were, in
defiance of the formality of business—he had
not proceeded one square in the city, before
he met a friend who spoke to him by the title
---an explanation of the mistake followed,
and the ci-devant barouet proceeded to his
stables; here by examination he detected the
fraud---an explanation, with his consort followed---and
the painter's brush soon defaced
the self-created dignity, from the pannels of
the coach---all this was easy, but with his
waggish companions on change, and in the
city, (where, notwithstanding his wife's fashionable
propensities, he loved to resort,) he
was Sir Timothy still.

Mr. Jarvis was a man of much modesty, but
one of great decision, and determined to have
the laugh on his side---a newly purchased borough
of his, sent up an address, flaming with
patriotism—it was presented by his hands. The
merchant seldom kneeled to his creator, but
on this occasion he humbled himself dutifully
before his prince, and left the presence,

with a legal right to the appellation, his old
companions had affixed to him sarcastically.

The rapture of Lady Jarvis may be more
easily imagined than faithfully described;
the christian name of her husband alone,
threw any alloy into the enjoyment of her
elevation; but by a license of speech, she ordered,
and addressed in her own practice, the
softer and more familiar appellation of---Sir
Timo—two servants were discharged the
first week, because unused to titles, they had
addressed her as mistress---and her son, the
captain, then at a watering place, was acquainted
express with the joyful intelligence.

All this time Sir Henry Egerton was but
little seen amongst his new made relatives;
he had his own engagements and haunts,
and spent most of his time at a fashionable
gaming house in the West End. As, however,
the town was deserted, Lady Jarvis
and her daughters having condescended to
pay a round of city visits, to show off her
airs and dignity to her old friends, persuaded
Sir Timo---the hour for their visit to Bath had
arrived, and they were soon comfortably settled
in that city.

Lady Chatterton and her youngest daughter
had arrived at the seat of her son;
and John Moseley, as happy as the certainty
of love—returned, and the approbation
of his friends could make him, was
in lodgings in the town—Sir Edward
had notified his son of his approaching visit

to Bath, and John had taken proper accommodations
for the family, which he occupied
for a few days by himself as locum tenens.

Lord and Lady Herriefield had departed for
the south of France; and Kate removed from
the scenes of her earliest enjoyments, and
the bosom of her own family, to the protection
of a man she neither loved nor respected,
began to feel the insufficiency of a name or
a fortune, to constitute felicity in her own, or
indeed, any other circumstances. Lord Herriefield
was of a suspicious and harsh temper
by nature; the first propensity was
greatly increased by his former associations,
and the latter, was not removed by the humility
of his eastern dependants.---But the
situation of her child gave no uneasiness
at present to her managing mother, who
thought her placed in the high road to happiness,
and was gratified at the result of her
labours---once or twice her habits had overcome
her caution, so much, as to endeavour
to promote, a day or two sooner than had
been arranged, the wedding of Grace---But
her imprudence was checked instantly, by
the recoiling of Moseley from her insinuations
in disgust, and the absence of the
young man for twenty-four hours, gave her
timely warning of the danger of such an interference,
with one of such fastidious feelings---John
punished himself as much as the
dowager on these occasions, but the smiling
face of Grace, with her hand frankly placed

in his own at his return, never failed to do
away the unpleasant sensations created by
her mother's care.

The Chatterton and Jarvis families met
in the rooms, soon after the arrival of
the latter, when the lady of the knight
approached the dowager with a most friendly
salute of recognition, followed by both
her daughters---Lady Chatterton, really forgetful
of the person of her B— acquaintance,
and disliking the vulgarity of her air,
drew up into an appearance of great dignity
as she hoped the lady was well. The merchant's
wife felt the consciousness of rank too
much to be repulsed in this manner, and believing
the dowager had forgotten her face, added,
with a simpering smile, in imitation of what
she had seen better bred people practice with
success,

“Lady Jarvis—my lady---your ladyship
dont remember me---Lady Jarvis of the
Deanery, B—, Northamptonshire, and my
daughters, Lady Egerton and Miss Jarvis.”
Lady Egerton bowed stiffly to the recognising
smile the dowager now condescended
to bestow, but Sarah remembering a certain
handsome lord in the family, was more urbane,
determining at the moment to make
the promotion of her mother and sister stepping-stones
to greater elevation for herself.

“I hope my lord is well,” continued the
city lady, “I regret Sir Timo---and Sir
Harry---and Captain Jarvis, are not here this

morning to pay their respects to your ladyship,
but as we shall see a good deal of each
other, it must be deferred to a more fitting
opportunity.”

“Certainly, madam,” replied the dowager,
as passing her compliments with those of
Grace, she drew back from so open a conversation
with creatures, of such doubtful
standing in the fashionable world---There is
no tyranny more unyielding or apparently
more dreaded than that of fashion---one half
the care to observe she laws of our maker,
that is given, to adhere to the arbitrary decrees
of this worldly tribunal, would make
us, unexceptionable in morals, and useful in
society; its influence is felt from the highest
to the lowest;—without it---virtue goes unnoticed;
and with it---vice unpunished; it is
oscillatory, unreasonable, and capricious---
subjects men and morals, to the government of
the idle, the vain, and the foolish---and takes
its rise, from the error, of making man instead
of God, the judge of our conduct and
opinions.