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Tales And Novels, Vol. 8

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales And Novels, Vol. 8



TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME VIII

PATRONAGE, concluded; COMIC DRAMAS; LEONORA; AND LETTERS.

BY

MARIA EDGEWORTH.

IN TEN VOLUMES. WITH ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.







PATRONAGE




CHAPTER XXXVI.


No less an event than Alfred's marriage, no event calling less imperatively
upon her feelings, could have recovered Lady Jane's sympathy for Caroline.
But Alfred Percy, who had been the restorer of her fortune, her friend in
adversity, what pain it would give him to find her, at the moment when he
might expect her congratulations, quarrelling with his sister--that sister,
too, who had left her home, where she was so happy, and Hungerford Castle,
where she was adored, on purpose to tend Lady Jane in sickness and
obscurity!

Without being put exactly into these words, or, perhaps, into any words,
thoughts such as these, with feelings of gratitude and affection, revived
for Caroline in Lady Jane's mind the moment she heard of Alfred's intended
marriage.

"Good young man!--Excellent friend!--Well, tell me all About it, _my
dear_."

It was the first time that her ladyship had said _my dear_ to Caroline
since the day of the fatal refusal.

Caroline was touched by this word of reconciliation--and the tears it
brought into her eyes completely overcame Lady Jane, who hastily wiped her
own.

"So, my dear Caroline--where were we? Tell me about your brother's
marriage--when is it to be?--How has it been brought about?--The last I
heard of the Leicesters was the good dean's death--I remember pitying them
very much--Were they not left in straitened circumstances, too? Will
Alfred have any fortune with Miss Leicester?--Tell me every thing--read me
his letters."

To go back to Dr. Leicester's death. For some months his preferments were
kept in abeyance. Many were named, or thought of, as likely to succeed him.
The deanery was in the gift of the crown, and as it was imagined that the
vicarage was also at the disposal of government, applications had poured
in, on all sides, for friends, and friends' friends, to the remotest link
of the supporters of ministry--But--to use their own elegant, phrase--the
hands of government were tied.

It seems that in consequence of some parliamentary interest, formerly given
opportunely, and in consideration of certain arrangements in his diocese,
to serve persons whom ministers were obliged to oblige, a promise had long
ago been given to Bishop Clay that his recommendation to the deanery should
be accepted on the next vacancy. The bishop, who had promised the living to
his sister's husband, now presented it to Mr. Buckhurst Falconer, with the
important addition of Dr. Leicester's deanery.

To become a dean was once the height of Buckhurst's ambition, that for
which in a moment of elation he prayed, scarcely hoping that his wishes
would ever be fulfilled: yet now that his wish was accomplished, and
that he had attained this height of his ambition, was he happy? No!--far
from it; farther than ever. How could he be happy--dissatisfied with his
conduct, and detesting his wife? In the very act of selling himself to this
beldam, he abhorred his own meanness; but he did not know how much reason
he should have to repent, till the deed was done. It was done in a hurry,
with all the precipitation of a man who hates himself for what he feels
forced to do. Unused to bargain and sale in any way, in marriage never
having thought of it before, Buckhurst did not take all precautions
necessary to make his sacrifice answer his own purpose. He could not
conceive the avaricious temper and habits of his lady, till he was hers
past redemption. Whatever accession of income he obtained from his
marriage, he lived up to; immediately, his establishment, his expenses,
surpassed his revenue. His wife would not pay or advance a shilling beyond
her stipulated quota to their domestic expenses. He could not hear the
parsimonious manner in which she would have had him live, or the shabby
style in which she received his friends. He was more profuse in proportion
as she was more niggardly; and whilst she scolded and grudged every penny
she paid, he ran in debt magnanimously for hundreds. When the living and
deanery came into his possession, the second year's fruits had been eaten
beforehand. Money he must have, and money his wife would not give--but
a litigious agent suggested to him a plan for raising it, by demanding
a considerable sum from the executors of the late Dr. Leicester, for
what is called _dilapidation_. The parsonage-house seemed to be in good
repair; but to make out charges of dilapidation was not difficult to
those who understood the business--and fifteen hundred pounds was the
charge presently made out against the executors of the late incumbent.
It was invidious, it was odious for the new vicar, in the face of his
parishioners, of all those who loved and respected his predecessor, to
begin by making such a demand--especially as it was well known that the
late dean had not saved any of the income of his preferment, but had
disposed of it amongst his parishioners as a steward for the poor. He had
left his family in narrow circumstances. They were proud of his virtues,
and not ashamed of the consequences. With dignity and ease they retrenched
their expenses; and after having lived as became the family of a dignitary
of the church, on quitting the parsonage, the widow and her niece retired
to a small habitation, suited to their altered circumstances, and lived
with respectable and respected economy. The charge brought against them by
the new dean was an unexpected blow. It was an extortion, to which Mrs.
Leicester would not submit--could not without injury to her niece, from
whose fortune the sum claimed, if yielded, must be deducted.

Alfred Percy, from the first moment of their distress, from the time of
good Dr. Leicester's death, had been assiduous in his attentions to Mrs.
Leicester; and by the most affectionate letters, and, whenever he could
get away from London, by his visits to her and to his Sophia, had proved
the warmth and constancy of his attachment Some months had now passed--he
urged his suit, and besought Sophia no longer to delay his happiness. Mrs.
Leicester wished that her niece should now give herself a protector and
friend, who might console her for the uncle she had lost. It was at this
period the _dilapidation charge_ was made. Mrs. Leicester laid the whole
statement before Alfred, declaring that for his sake, as well as for her
niece's, she was resolute to defend herself against injustice. Alfred could
scarcely bring himself to believe that Buckhurst Falconer had acted in the
manner represented, with a rapacity, harshness, and cruelty, so opposite to
his natural disposition. Faults, Alfred well knew that Buckhurst had; but
they were all, he thought, of quite a different sort from those of which he
now stood accused. What was to be done? Alfred was extremely averse from
going to law with a man who was his relation, for whom he had early felt,
and still retained, a considerable regard: yet he could not stand by, and
see the woman he loved, defrauded of nearly half the small fortune she
possessed. On the other hand, he was employed as a professional man, and
called upon to act. He determined, however, before he should, as a last
resource, expose the truth and maintain the right in a court of justice,
previously to try every means of conciliation in his power. To all his
letters the new dean answered evasively and unsatisfactorily, by referring
him to his attorney, into whose hands he said he had put the business, and
he knew and wished to hear nothing more about it. The attorney, Solicitor
Sharpe, was impracticable--Alfred resolved to see the dean himself; and
this, after much difficulty, he at length effected. He found the dean and
his lady tête-à-tête. Their raised voices suddenly stopped short as he
entered. The dean gave an angry look at his servant as Alfred came into the
room.

"Your servants," said Alfred, "told me that you were not at home, but I
told them that I knew the dean would be at home to an old friend."

"You are very good,--(said Buckhurst)--you do me a great deal of honour,"
said the dean.

Two different manners appeared in the same person: one natural--belonging
to his former, the other assumed, proper, as he thought, for his present
self, or rather for his present situation.

"Won't you be seated? I hope all our friends--" Mrs. Buckhurst, or, as she
was called, Mrs. Dean Falconer, made divers motions, with a very ugly chin,
and stood as if she thought there ought to be an introduction. The dean
knew it, but being ashamed to introduce her, determined against it. Alfred
stood in suspension, waiting their mutual pleasure.

"Won't you sit down, sir?" repeated the dean.

Down plumped Mrs. Falconer directly, and taking out her spectacles, as
if to shame her husband, by heightening the contrast of youth and age,
deliberately put them on; then drawing her table nearer, settled herself to
her work.

Alfred, who saw it to be necessary, determined to use his best address to
conciliate the lady.

"Mr. Dean, you have never yet done me the honour to introduce me to Mrs.
Falconer."

"I thought--I thought we had met before--since--Mrs. Falconer, Mr. Alfred
Percy."

The lady took off her spectacles, smiled, and adjusted herself, evidently
with an intention to be more agreeable. Alfred sat down by her work-table,
directed his conversation to her, and soon talked, or rather induced her to
talk herself into fine humour. Presently she retired to dress for dinner,
and "hoped Mr. Alfred Percy had no intention of running away--_she_ had a
well-aired bed to offer him."

The dean, though he cordially hated his lady, was glad, for his own sake,
to be relieved from her fits of crossness; and was pleased by Alfred's
paying attention to her, as this was a sort of respect to himself, and what
he seldom met with from those young men who had been his companions before
his marriage--they usually treated his lady with a neglect or ridicule
which reflected certainly upon her husband.

Alfred never yet had touched upon his business, and Buckhurst began to
think this was merely a friendly visit. Upon Alfred's observing some
alteration which had been lately made in the room in which they were
sitting, the dean took him to see other improvements in the house; in
pointing out these, and all the conveniences and elegancies about the
parsonage, Buckhurst totally forgot the _dilapidation suit_; and every
thing he showed and said tended unawares to prove that the house was in
the most perfect repair and best condition possible. Gradually, whatever
solemnity and beneficed pomp there had at first appeared in the dean's
manner, wore off, or was laid aside; and, except his being somewhat more
corpulent and rubicund than in early years, he appeared like the original
Buckhurst. His gaiety of heart, indeed, was gone, but some sparkles of his
former spirits remained.

"Here," said he, showing Alfred into his study, "here, as our good friend
Mr. _Blank_ said, when he showed us his study, '_Here_ is _where_ I read
all day long--quite snug--and nobody's a bit the wiser for it.'"

The dean seated himself in his comfortable arm-chair. "Try that chair,
Alfred, excellent for sleeping in at one's ease."

"To rest the cushion and soft dean invite."

"Ah!" said Alfred, "often have I sat in this room with my excellent friend,
Dr. Leicester!"

The new dean's countenance suddenly changed: but endeavouring to pass
it off with a jest, he said, "Ay, poor good old Leicester, he sleeps
for ever,--that's one comfort--to me--if not to you." But perceiving
that Alfred continued to look serious, the dean added some more proper
reflections in a tone of ecclesiastical sentiment, and with a sigh of
decorum--then rose, for he smelt that the _dilapidation suit_ was coming.

"Would not you like, Mr. Percy, to wash your hands before dinner?"

"I thank you, Mr. Dean, I must detain you a moment to speak to you on
business."

Black as Erebus grew the face of the dean--he had no resource but to
listen, for he knew it would come after dinner, if it did not come now; and
it was as well to have it alone in the study, where nobody might be a bit
the wiser.

When Alfred had stated the whole of what he had to say, which he did in as
few and strong words as possible, appealing to the justice and feelings
of Buckhurst--to the fears which the dean must have of being exposed, and
ultimately defeated, in a court of justice--"Mrs. Leicester," concluded he,
"is determined to maintain the suit, and has employed me to carry it on for
her."

"I should very little have expected," said the dean, "that Mr. Alfred Percy
would have been employed in such a way against me."

"Still less should I have expected that I could be called upon in such a
way against you," replied Alfred. "No one can feel it more than I do. The
object of my present visit is to try whether some accommodation may not be
made, which will relieve us both from the necessity of going to law, and
may prevent me from being driven to the performance of this most painful
professional duty."

"Duty! professional duty!" repeated Buckhurst: "as if I did not understand
all those _cloak-words_, and know how easy it is to put them on and off at
pleasure!"

"To some it may be, but not to me," said Alfred, calmly.

Anger started into Buckhurst's countenance: but conscious how inefficacious
it would be, and how completely he had laid himself open, the dean
answered, "You are the best judge, sir. But I trust--though I don't pretend
to understand the honour of lawyers--I trust, as a gentleman, you will not
take advantage against me in this suit, of any thing my openness has shown
you about the parsonage."

"You trust rightly, Mr. Dean," replied Alfred, in his turn, with a look not
of anger, but of proud indignation; "you trust rightly, Mr. Dean, and as I
should have expected that one who has had opportunities of knowing me so
well ought to trust."

"That's a clear answer," said Buckhurst. "But how could I tell?--so much
_jockeying_ goes on in every profession--how could I tell that a lawyer
would be more conscientious than another man? But now you assure me of
it--I take it upon your word, and believe it in your case. About the
accommodation--_accommodation_ means money, does not it?--frankly, I have
not a shilling. But Mrs. Falconer is all _accommodation_. Try what you can
do with her--and by the way you began, I should hope you would do a great
deal," added he, laughing.

Alfred would not undertake to speak to his lady, unless the dean would, in
the first instance, make some sacrifice. He represented that he was not
asking for money, but for a relinquishment of a claim, which he apprehended
not to be justly due: "And the only use I shall ever make of what you have
shown me here, is to press upon your feelings, as I do at this moment,
the conviction of the injustice of that claim, which I am persuaded your
lawyers only instigated, and that you will abandon."

Buckhurst begged him not to be persuaded of any such thing. The instigation
of an attorney, he laughing said, was not in law counted the instigation of
the devil--at law no man talked of feelings. In matters of property judges
did not understand them, whatever figure they might make with a jury in
criminal cases--with an eloquent advocate's hand on his breast.

Alfred let Buckhurst go on with his vain wit and gay rhetoric till he had
nothing more to say, knowing that he was hiding consciousness of unhandsome
conduct. Sticking firmly to his point, Alfred showed that his client,
though gentle, was resolved, and that, unless Buckhurst yielded, law must
take its course--that though he should never give any hint, the premises
must be inspected, and disgrace and defeat must follow.

Forced to be serious, fretted and hurried, for the half-hour bell before
dinner had now rung, and the dean's stomach began to know canonical hours,
he exclaimed, "The upshot of the whole business is, that Mr. Alfred Percy
is in love, I understand, with Miss Sophia Leicester, and this fifteen
hundred pounds, which he pushes me to the bare wall to relinquish, is
eventually, as part of her fortune, to become his. Would it not have been
as fair to have stated this at once?"

"No--because it would not have been the truth."

"No!--You won't deny that you are in love with Miss Leicester?"

"I am as much in love as man can be with Miss Leicester; but her fortune is
nothing to me, for I shall never touch it."

"Never touch it! Does the aunt--the widow--the cunning widow, refuse
consent?"

"Far from it: the aunt is all the aunt of Miss Leicester should be--all the
widow of Dr. Leicester ought to be. But her circumstances are not what they
ought to be; and by the liberality of a friend, who lends me a house, rent
free, and by the resources of my profession, I am better able than Mrs.
Leicester is to spare fifteen hundred pounds: therefore, in the recovery of
this money I have no personal interest at present. I shall never receive it
from her."

"Noble! Noble!--just what I could have done myself--once! What a contrast!"

Buckhurst laid his head down upon his arms flat on the table, and remained
for some moments silent--then, starting upright, "I'll never claim a penny
from her--I'll give it all up to you! I will, if I sell my band for it, by
Jove!"

"Oh! what has your father to answer for, who forced you into the church!"
thought Alfred.

"My dear Buckhurst," said he, "my dear dean--"

"Call me Buckhurst, if you love me."

"I do love you, it is impossible to help it, in spite of--"

"All my faults--say it out--say it out--in spite of your conscience," added
Buckhurst, trying to laugh.

"Not in spite of my conscience, but in favour of yours," said Alfred,
"against whose better dictates you have been compelled all your life to
act."

"I have so, but that's over. What remains to be done at present? I am in
real distress for five hundred pounds. Apropos to your being engaged in
this dilapidation suit, you can speak to Mrs. Falconer about it. Tell her I
have given up the thing; and see what she will do."

Alfred promised he would speak to Mrs. Falconer. "And, Alfred, when you
see your sister Caroline, tell her that I am not in one sense such a
wretch--quite, as she thinks me. But tell her that I am yet a greater
wretch--infinitely more miserable than she, I hope, can conceive--beyond
redemption--beyond endurance miserable." He turned away hastily in an agony
of mind. Alfred shut the door and escaped, scarcely able to bear I his own
emotion.

When they met at dinner, Mrs. Dean Falconer was an altered person--her
unseemly morning costume and well-worn shawl being cast aside, she appeared
in bloom-coloured gossamer gauze, and primrose ribbons, a would-be young
lady. Nothing of that curmudgeon look, or old fairy cast of face and
figure, to which he had that morning been introduced, but in their place
smiles, and all the false brilliancy which rouge can give to the eyes,
proclaimed a determination to be charming.

The dean was silent, and scarcely ate any thing, though the dinner was
excellent, for his lady was skilled in the culinary department, and in
favour of Alfred had made a more hospitable display than she usually
condescended to make for her husband's friends. There were no other guests,
except a young lady, companion to Mrs. Falconer. Alfred was as agreeable
and entertaining as circumstances permitted; and Mrs. Buckhurst Falconer,
as soon as she got out of the dining-room, even before she reached the
drawing-room, pronounced him to be a most polite and accomplished young
man, very different indeed from the _common run_, or the usual style, of
Mr. Dean Falconer's dashing bachelor beaux, who in her opinion were little
better than brute bears.

At coffee, when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing-room, as
Alfred was standing beside Mrs. Falconer, meditating how and when to speak
of the object of his visit, she cleared the ground by choosing the topic of
conversation, which, at last fairly drove her husband out of the room. She
judiciously, maliciously, or accidentally, began to talk of the proposal
which she had heard a near relation of hers had not long since made to a
near relation of Mr. Alfred Percy's--Mr. Clay, of Clay-hall, her nephew,
had proposed for Mr. Alfred's sister, Miss Caroline Percy. She was really
sorry the match was not to take place, for she had heard a very high
character of the young lady in every way, and her nephew was rich enough
to do without fortune--not but what that would be very acceptable to all
men--especially young men, who are now mostly all for money instead of all
for love--except in the case of very first rate extraordinary beauty, which
therefore making a woman a prey, just as much one as the other, might be
deemed a misfortune as great, though hardly _quite_, Mrs. Buckhurst said,
as she had found a great fortune in her own particular case. The involution
of meaning in these sentences rendering it not easy to be comprehended, the
dean stood it pretty well, only stirring his coffee, and observing that it
was cold; but when his lady went on to a string of interrogatories about
Miss Caroline Percy--on the colour of her eyes and hair--size of her mouth
and nose--requiring in short a complete full-length portrait of the young
lady, poor Buckhurst set down his cup, and pleading business in his study,
left the field open to Alfred.

"Near-sighted glasses! Do you never use them, Mr. Percy?" said Mrs. Dean
Falconer, as she thought Alfred's eyes fixed upon her spectacles, which lay
on the table.

No--he never used them, he thanked her: he was rather far-sighted than
short-sighted. She internally commended his politeness in not taking them
up to verify her assertion, and put them into her pocket to avoid all
future danger.

He saw it was a favourable moment, and entered at once into his
business--beginning by observing that the dean was much out of spirits. The
moment money was touched upon, the curmudgeon look returned upon the lady;
and for some time Alfred had great difficulty in making himself heard: she
poured forth such complaints against the extravagance of the dean, with
lists of the debts she had paid, the sums she had given, and the vow she
had made, never to go beyond the weekly allowance she had, at the last
settlement, agreed to give her husband.

Alfred pleaded strongly the expense of law, and the certainty, in his
opinion, of ultimate defeat, with the being obliged to pay all the
costs, which would fall upon the dean. The dean was willing to withdraw
his claim--he had promised to do so, in the most handsome manner; and
therefore, Alfred said, he felt particularly anxious that he should not be
distressed for five hundred pounds, a sum for which he knew Mr. Falconer
was immediately pressed. He appealed to Mrs. Falconer's generosity. He
had been desired by the dean to speak to her on the subject, otherwise he
should not have presumed--and it was as a professional man, and a near
relation, that he now took the liberty: this was the first transaction he
had ever had with her, and he hoped he should leave the vicarage impressed
with a sense of her generosity, and enabled to do her justice in the
opinion of those who did not know her.

That was very little to her, she bluntly said--she acted only up to her own
notions--she lived only for herself.

"And for her husband." Love, Alfred Percy said, he was assured, was
superior to money in her opinion. "And after all, my dear madam, you set me
the example of frankness, and permit me to speak to you without reserve.
What can you, who have no reason, you say, to be pleased with either of
your nephews, do better with your money, than spend it while you live and
for yourself, in securing happiness in the gratitude and affection of a
husband, who, generous himself, will be peculiarly touched and attached by
generosity?"

The words, _love, generosity, generous_, sounded upon the lady's ear,
and she was unwilling to lose that high opinion which she imagined
Alfred entertained of her sentiments and character. Besides, she was
conscious that he was in fact nearer the truth than all the world would
have believed. Avaricious in trifles, and parsimonious in those every-day
habits which brand the reputation immediately with the fault of avarice,
this woman was one of those misers who can be generous by fits and starts,
and who have been known to _give_ hundreds of pounds, but never without
reluctance would part with a shilling.

She presented the dean, her husband, with an order on her banker for the
money he wanted, and Alfred had the pleasure of leaving his unhappy friend
better, at least, than he found him. He rejoiced in having compromised this
business so successfully, and in thus having prevented the litigation,
ill-will, and disgraceful circumstances, which, without his interference,
must have ensued.

The gratitude of Mrs. Leicester and her niece was delightful. The aunt
urged him to accept what he had been the means of saving, as part of
her niece's fortune; but this he absolutely refused, and satisfied Mrs.
Leicester's delicacy, by explaining, that he could not, if he would, now
yield to her entreaties, as he had actually obtained the money from poor
Buckhurst's generous repentance, upon the express faith that he had no
private interest in the accommodation.

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