Read Ebook: A Marriage in High Life Volume II by Scott Lady Caroline Lucy Bury Charlotte Campbell Lady Editor

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Ebook has 380 lines and 42624 words, and 8 pages

When in her carriage, and when too late, Emmeline remembered Pelham's often repeated advice, to endeavour to control, or, at least conceal, her feelings better. She was aware she had humbled herself before her, who, of all people, she would least wish should read those feelings; and she felt also that she had left herself and her husband subjects for animadversion, certainly not of the most charitable nature. But poor Emmeline, in common with all those who allow their affections to control their judgment, never, till too late, discovered what her conduct should have been--an artlessness of disposition, ill-calculated to contend with a guileful world.

This evening's adventure completely sickened her of the amusements of London; and aware from constant, sad experience, of her inability to perform her hard part properly, she resolved to avoid in future the possibility of any recurrence of such scenes; for though her mind had long been intent on meeting Lady Florence, from a sort of anxious, jealous curiosity, yet now she felt she could not endure the trial again; and, that weakened both in health and spirits, she was no longer equal to the exertions which she knew she should make. She remained, therefore, in spite of Lady Saville's repeated attacks and railleries, for some time entirely at home; and, catching gladly at an excuse for avoiding even the opera, she gave away her box the following week, to some Hampshire neighbours, who she heard were in town; and the weather being uncommonly hot, she had, on the Saturday, ordered her carriage, after her solitary dinner, to take a drive out of town, in the hope that a little fresh air might revive and compose her spirits.

But just as she was going, a note arrived from Lady Saville, to say, that she was disappointed of a friend, with whom she was to have gone to the opera, that night, and, who being now unavoidably prevented, had made over the box to her, but her carriage being broken, and having no one to go with, she would be obliged to give up the plan entirely, unless Emmeline would be compassionate and carry her; and she entreated she would overcome her abominable laziness, and agree to the proposal--adding, it was the new opera, and that it would do her good, for she gave herself the blue devils, by moping so much at home.

Too indifferent to every thing, even to refuse, Emmeline gave up her intended drive, changed her dress, and she and Lady Saville went together to the opera.

About the beginning of the second act, she saw Lady Florence come into a box on the same tier, about ten or twelve off; she was alone--and at that distance, Emmeline thought would probably not recognize her; but, wishing to conceal herself from her view, she made some apology to Lady Saville for being whimsical, and, begging to change places with her, she moved to the opposite seat, drawing the curtain of the box so as entirely to hide herself; although, like the poor bird ensnared by the serpent, she never could withdraw her eyes from her rival.

Never before had she beheld them together; never before had she, in a manner, witnessed those words, those looks of love, addressed to Lady Florence, which should now have belonged to her. Though but too well aware of the whole truth, she had as yet suffered merely from a vague, unembodied feeling of jealousy. She had been wounded by neglect; by the mortifying conviction that she was not beloved by her husband; but had never yet actually witnessed his demonstrations of love to another.

Lady Florence leant towards Fitzhenry, and seemed to whisper something to him. He shook his head, as if contradicting her; but soon after, Emmeline saw him look round towards the box where she was, with a glass, as if in search of some one. She hastily, although she hardly knew why, shrunk back, hiding herself behind the curtain, which she drew still more forward.

They then appeared to be engaged in most earnest conversation for some time, till at length Fitzhenry, leaning back in his chair, sat with his hand over his face, and there seemed to be a total silence between them. Ere long, a third person came into the box. Fitzhenry then moved from his place, and disappeared.

"What here! and alone! I thought I saw strangers in your box, so never went near it; how comes it I find you in this desolate situation? Do take my arm."

Emmeline made no reply; and, soon perceiving that she was more than usually depressed, Pelham, after one two ineffectual efforts, forbore even to speak to her. They made their way towards the door at the top of the great stairs; and, leaving her there, Pelham went to look for her carriage.

Emmeline shrunk behind the door, wrapping herself close up in her cloak, and not daring to raise her eyes from the ground for fear of meeting those of her husband, or of Lady Florence. Her own name, however, pronounced close by her, soon roused her, and she saw Mrs. Osterley coming up to speak to her, accompanied by Mr. Moore.

"My dear Lady Fitzhenry," said she, "what an age it is since I have seen you! Where have you been hiding yourself? What can you have been about?"

"I have been out of town," replied Emmeline, in a faint voice.

"Oh, yes! I suppose at Easter, of course; but surely you have been returned some weeks; for I have frequently met Lord Fitzhenry: and, by the bye, now I recollect, I heard of you the other evening, at Lady Mowbray's, where I was so unlucky, as just to miss you; and I was sorry to hear you were taken ill there: I hope you are quite recovered."

"Perfectly so," said Emmeline, coldly.

"How did you like our new opera, to-night?" continued Mrs. Osterley. "I thought it inexpressibly dull; yet, in Paris, I had liked it very much; what did you think of it?"

"I?" said Emmeline, absently, "I really don't know."

"Don't know? I suppose you mean you have been so agreeably engaged in conversation, that you did not attend," retorted Mrs. Osterley, laughing. "No one comes to the opera for the music in London."

The door closing, prevented Emmeline from hearing more than the burst of applause which followed this remark. Involuntarily she shrunk from Pelham; but he, not aware of any thing that had passed, intent on getting her to the carriage as soon as possible, only pressed her arm the closer, to steady her steps, and hurried her almost forcibly after him.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found an unusual crowd and bustle among the servants; and, by the noise and lashing of whips in the street, there appeared to be great contention among the coachmen. Pelham, anxious to get Emmeline out of the confusion, still drew her on, persuaded that her carriage must, by that time, be ready. But, when they got outside into the street, he saw that her coachman was engaged in violent contest with another, both endeavouring to drive up at the same moment.

The crowd of footmen who had gathered round the interesting spot, encouraging the merciless combatants, was so great, that to retreat was impossible. Pelham could not, among them, distinguish Emmeline's servants; and, amid the din of voices, whips, trampling of hoofs on the pavement, and shivering of breaking lamps, it was vain to attempt to make them hear him.

Emmeline, nervous and frightened at the uproar around her, forgot for a minute all her former apprehensions, and clung terrified to Pelham; who, to defend her as well as he could, from the unruly mob, put his arm round her. Just then, the horses in her carriage, high-bred, spirited animals, and lately little employed by their mistress, irritated beyond endurance by the lashing of the whip, became ungovernable; they reared up, throwing themselves away from their opponents, and, in the struggle, one of them fell down on the foot-pavement, increasing the confusion.

A loud scream was uttered by a female voice, and, by the rush of link-boys in an instant to the spot, Emmeline beheld Lady Florence Mostyn thrown back on Fitzhenry's breast. The pole of the carriage had touched her, but it was the cry of terror more than of pain.

"Stop! on peril of your life, you rascal!" exclaimed a voice, that shot through Emmeline's very soul.

"Whose carriage is that?" demanded Fitzhenry, in an authoritative tone, while still supporting Lady Florence in his arms. There was a sudden silence; the contending coachmen's whips instantly were both quieted. He again repeated his question more loudly than before.

"My lord!" said one of Emmeline's footmen, going up to Fitzhenry, "it is your lordship's carriage."

"We are here with my lady," replied the terrified footman. "Her ladyship is just getting in--shall I tell her your lordship wishes to be taken home?"

"No, no, you fool!" answered Fitzhenry, in a tone of passion which Emmeline had never before heard from his lips, and which made her shudder; "drive off as fast as you can."

Emmeline still made efforts to speak but Pelham could not distinguish a single word which she endeavoured to articulate; and, only bidding her compose herself, said every thing most kind and soothing, while he again and again pressed her hand in his. When they arrived in Grosvenor-street, he forcibly drew Emmeline's arm within his, to help her up stairs, and, placing her on a couch, demanded in a low voice, whether she would take any thing, and whether he should send for her maid.

"Oh no, I shall soon recover--make no fuss, I entreat--it is nothing--I have been very foolish--and frightened--that is all. But," added she, with an imploring look, "leave me--for God's sake leave me."

"Not till I see you better, I really cannot." For her bosom still heaved with convulsive sobs, and her heart seemed bursting.

Uncertain what to do, or say, and surprised at her repulsive manner towards him, Pelham walked, disturbed, up and down the room in silence, thinking it best for a little time to leave her to herself. At length, hastily coming up to her, "My dearest Lady Fitzhenry!" he exclaimed, "allow me to speak to you."

Emmeline started, and looked at him aghast; but without noticing, or even looking at her, Pelham continued in a hurried manner, "I trust you will pardon me for venturing on so sacred a subject,--for touching on sorrows, which you, with such courage, such delicacy, conceal in your own breast--but I know all;--and I know your husband so well, that I am sure I can give you comfort and hope."

Inexpressibly relieved as Emmeline was by these words, which satisfied her that she still had a friend on whom she could rest, yet other feelings for the moment prevailed, and clasping her hands with the vehemence of despair: "Oh, that is impossible! there is no hope, no happiness for me in this world!"

"On my honour," replied Pelham, with earnestness, "you may trust me; I would not deceive you;" and, sitting down by her, he took her nervously shaking hand in his. A few minutes before, Emmeline would have shrunk from his touch, but those words had been sufficient to banish entirely all her former miserable apprehensions; soothed by hearing once more the consolatory voice of friendship, for an instant she smiled in gratitude on his kind countenance, and then, quite overcome with the variety of her feelings, tears again burst forth, and her head sank on his shoulder.

At that instant, the door was hastily pushed open, and Fitzhenry appeared! He started on seeing Pelham and Emmeline. As she quickly raised her head at the noise he had made on entering, involuntarily a faint exclamation of dismay escaped her, and even Pelham seemed disconcerted.

"Lady Fitzhenry is not very well;" the latter at length said, after an awkward pause, as if feeling that some explanation of the scene was necessary; "and," added he, addressing himself to Emmeline, "allow me to recommend you to retire to your own room."

Emmeline rose from her seat; every limb shook. Fitzhenry came towards them, fixed his eyes sternly upon her, but said nothing. "I have not been very well lately," she with difficulty stammered out: "the heat in town does not agree with me; and, I think, I will go to Charlton to-morrow."

Still Fitzhenry spake not, but Emmeline plainly saw anger and contempt written on his countenance: she faintly wished him and Pelham good night. The words died on her lips; for a sad foreboding told her she was taking a final leave of her husband, as she was aware that it was impossible they could any longer continue even on the footing they then were. She paused a minute in hopes Fitzhenry would speak. One word would have brought her to his arms, all forgiven, all forgotten. But he seemed resolved on silence, and Emmeline went on into the inner drawing-room that led to her own apartment.

Pelham perplexed, and uncertain how to act, followed her with his eyes without moving from the spot she had quitted, while Fitzhenry, in great apparent perturbation, paced the room. At length, just as Emmeline had reached the door of her own apartment, seeing her trembling hands had some difficulty in opening it, Pelham hurried to her assistance.

"You mean then," said he in a low voice, as he turned the lock, "to go to Charlton to-morrow. You shall hear from me, probably see me, and I will bring you good news, perhaps even Fitzhenry;--cheer up, I entreat you, all will yet be well."

Emmeline forced a faint smile, and held out her hand to him; he seized it with affection. "God of heaven bless and support you," he said, with earnestness, and hastily left her.

When he returned to the outward drawing-room, Fitzhenry was gone; he hurried down stairs in hopes of finding him in his own room, but the servants informed him, he had again left the house.

Emmeline ordered her carriage after church next morning, to take her to Charlton; but how great a change do a few hours often make in our views! She already repented having declared her intention of leaving town. Twice, as the hour named by her drew near, she delayed the carriage, wishing to see Fitzhenry before she went. It was now past three, but still he did not appear, and no message came from him. She rang the bell--"Is Lord Fitzhenry gone out?" She enquired, rather fearfully.

"No, my lady," answered the footman; "I believe my lord is not yet up; at least he has not rung his bell; but shall I enquire?"

"Oh! no matter," said Emmeline, with a faltering voice, and dismissing the man. Convinced by this, that it was her husband's intention they should not meet, she determined to write to him; for to part thus, in what seemed a decided, open rupture, without some sort of reconciliation taking place, she now felt to be impossible: she therefore sat down, and took her pen, although not knowing what to say. She once thought she would beg for an interview--demand to be released from her promise of silence, in order to come to some explanation. But yet what had she to say? what had she to learn?

Even if Mrs. Osterley's strange and cruel hints had reached his ears,--if he could so mistake her and his friend, as to give any credit to them, could she flatter herself he was enough interested about her, to care whom she might prefer? On the other hand, to endeavour to exculpate herself from suspicions which he might never have entertained, seemed ridiculous. Besides, could she now, as a new thing, charge him with coldness, dislike, and infidelity--all which he had openly declared, and for all which he had prepared her months before.

Discouraged by these considerations from adverting to what had passed the night before, she at length, after various doubts and indecisions, merely wrote these words:--

"A very few days in the country will, I am sure, quite restore me to my usual health. I will return to Grosvenor Street by the end of the week; but if, for any reasons, you should wish me to come home sooner, I trust to your letting me know, and I shall be most willing to obey your summons. You will find me at my father's.

"EMMELINE FITZHENRY."

This she intended should be given to Fitzhenry after her departure, and she sealed and directed it for the purpose.

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