“Charlotte, don’t be a goose! You are not assisting at a tragedy! Oh, I know what’s in your mind, but that was put out of the question whether I married, or stayed single. Don’t, I beg of you, make a piece of work of it!” He gave her a slight hug, which told her more than anything he had said. “Has Mama made up her mind where she wishes to live? Does she remain at Fontley, or does she hold by the Bath scheme?”
“By the Bath scheme, and — oh, Adam, I am in such a worry over it, and can’t help feeling that perhaps it is my duty to accompany her! But Lambert thinks that if once I go to Bath Mama will renew all her objections to my marriage. I am in the wretchedest indecision, and wish you will advise me!”
“You’ll marry Lambert, of course. Mama will have Lydia to bear her company, and Aunt Bridestow as well. Why should you hesitate?”
“If you don’t think it would be wrong — Mama so lately bereaved!” she faltered.
He assured her that he did not, which made her look brighter, and later won him a hearty handshake from Mr Ryde, who told him that the Dowager had been showing disquieting signs of rescinding her consent to the marriage.
“The thing is, old chap, that now you are going to mend matters so handsomely she won’t like the match any more than she ever did,” he confided. “Let her but take Charlotte off to Bath and shell find first one excuse and then another to keep her there!”
“I see. Well, if my mother insists on going there at once we had best fix the date of your wedding for the week following my — Jenny’s and my return from Hampshire,”
“This arrangement quite failed to win the Dowager’s approval. She said that two such hasty weddings in one family would present a very odd appearance.
“I must own that I think it would be better to postpone Charlotte’s marriage for a few months,” Adam agreed. “If you feel that, don’t remove to Bath till the autumn! There is no occasion for you to do so, after all.”
“Dearest, you must not ask too much of me!” countered her ladyship. “If my remaining at Fontley could benefit you I would stay, exerting my last strength to suppress the painful feelings that must arise from seeing a stranger — and one who I cannot believe is worthy of the position she is to fill — set in, my place! But there is nothing I could, do to help you, my poor boy.”
This did not augur well for the forthcoming visit to Russell Square; but this seemed, from what Adam could gather, to have passed off fairly well. Lady Lynton and Charlotte found Miss Chawleigh and her chaperon at home, but since theirs was a morning-call they did not meet the master of the house. Charlotte thought that Mama had been agreeably surprised by Miss Chawleigh, for although she deplored her lack of countenance, and prophesied that she would be fat before she was forty, she had said, as she and Charlotte drove back to Albemarle Street, that she was thankful at least that she would not have to blush for her daughter-in-law’s manners. “And, indeed, Adam, I thought her very unaffected and pleasant, and I am sure I shall learn to be fond of her,” said Charlotte nobly.
Lady Lynton’s severest strictures were reserved for Mrs Quarley-Bix, whom she described as odious and insinuating. She said that a worse trial than to be obliged to endure the company of such a person could not be imagined. But that was before she had made the acquaintance of Mr Chawleigh.
The meeting took place at Lothian’s Hotel, and was of an informal character, the task of inviting the Chawleighs to dine quietly there being entrusted to Adam, Lady Lynton, facing this subdued festivity with the courage of a martyr, adjured him to do what he could to exclude Mrs Quarley-Bix from the invitation, but very handsomely exonerated him from future blame by saying that she had no hope of his succeeding, since such Encroaching Females could be depended on to thrust themselves in wherever they were least welcome. However, all was rendered easy by Mr Chawleigh, who, after expressing his gratitude for what he termed her la’ship’s condescension, added: “And mind, now! Not a word to Mrs Q.-B., for I’ll be bound her la’ship don’t want her simpering and writhing all over!”
Only the Chawleighs, therefore, presented themselves at Lothian’s Hotel on the appointed evening, and were ushered into Lady Lynton’s private parlour. Miss Chawleigh’s jewels were rather too magnificent both for her age and the occasion, but there was no fault to be found with her half-robe of lilac silk: and if her parent’s knee-breeches and blazing tie-pin were more suited to a Court function than to a family dinner-party this outmoded style did him no disservice in the Dowager’s eyes.
Her son might view with dismay the trappings of her woe, but on Mr Chawleigh they exercised an instant effect. He bowed low over the frail hand extended to him, and said that he took it very kindly of her to have invited him to dine. “Which I’ll be bound must have gone against the pluck with your la’ship, when it stands to reason you ain’t feeling able for company.”
A sad smile acknowledged this tribute. “So pleased!” murmured the widow, sinking down into her chair again, and indicating with a movement of her fan that he was to take the one beside hers. While the younger members of the party made rather laborious conversation amongst themselves the widow gave Mr Chawleigh of her best. By the time a waiter came to announce that dinner awaited them in the adjoining parlour Mr Chawleigh knew how many and how grievous were the sufferings she had undergone, and how bravely she had borne up under the bludgeonings of misfortune. He even knew what an effort it had cost her to undertake the journey to London (in circumstances of extreme discomfort), and he was quite as much shocked as she could have wished. He thought it dreadful that a highborn lady of obvious fragility should have been jumbled over bad roads in a cumbersome old coach, and without even one outrider for her protection. He assured her that he would think himself honoured to be permitted to convey her back to Fontley in his own post-chaise. “None of your yellow bounders, my lady!” he told her. “It’s as well-sprung as any you’ve ridden in, which it ought to be, when you think what I paid for it And proper Hounslow-bred postilions, and that you may depend on, for only the best is good enough for Jonathan Chawleigh.”
Over dinner he entered with alarming vigour into her ladyship’s Bath scheme, offering not only to arrange all the details of her journey, but to send immediately to Bath a smart young fellow from his counting-house to discover what houses were for hire in the town. Lady Lynton said in thread-like accents that she should not dream of troubling him; but he assured her that it would be a pleasure to him to save her the fatigue of house-hunting, and no trouble at all. It began to seem as if the poor lady would find herself swept off to Bath and installed willy-nilly in an establishment chosen for her by the smart young fellow from the counting-house; but just as she cast an anguished glance at her son Miss Chawleigh said bluntly: “Lady Lynton would prefer to chose her own house, Papa.”
“Yes, and her ladyship has two sons to serve her, sir,” chimed in Lambert jovially. “That is, if I may be allowed so to term myself!”
He cast an arch look at her as he spoke, which had the effect of making her smile graciously at Mr Chawleigh, and say that she was much obliged to him, but believed that Wimmering would manage her affairs for her.
“Ay, so he will!” agreed Mr Chawleigh, adding with a chuckle: “A regular downy one he is! He’ll see you ain’t clerked, my lady!” He saw that, this remark had produced constraint, and said cheerfully: “No need to colour up, my lord! You won’t want to concern yourself with business either: you leave me and Wimmering to settle things in our own fashion! I warrant we understand one another as you never could!”
Having in this masterly style put the family at their ease, he then turned his attention to Charlotte. His shrewd eyes looked her over with approval, but conversation did not flourish between them. With every will in the world to talk pleasantly to him, an over-delicate refinement made Charlotte regard him with much the same nervous surprise as she would have felt at being addressed by an aboriginal. Mr Chawleigh’s manner with young females was jocular and paternal. He was convinced that they liked to be complimented on their looks, and quizzed about their beaux; but his compliments made Charlotte blush; and when he made a sly reference to her approaching nuptials, prophesying that there would be a score of broken hearts when the news was made public, she raised her eyes in astonishment to his face, unable to conceal how little to her taste was this ponderous gallantry. Lambert came to her rescue, responding for her jokingly. His efforts to entertain Mr Chawleigh were praiseworthy, but the attempt to adapt his tone to what he thought would be acceptable caused him to assume something of the manner of a man good-naturedly humouring a child, and soon earned him a set-down.