“It can be more difficult to provide for one child than four, if you have not the income.”
“Yes, but that is not the case with you, as you were left a very fine house in town—a house in town, so handsomely furnished, may be let or sold for a very good price, and there is your own income, which must be above seven hundred pounds per annum. That ought to keep you and my niece quite comfortably until she marries, and she has two thousand settled upon her, has she not? That is very handsome.”
“It cannot be said to be handsome, if it is only a portion of what she was intended to have. Charles, I must be frank. If my husband’s injury and ill health prevented him from carrying out his wishes as far as Frederica was concerned, is it not for you, his heir and brother, to see that they are fulfilled? You know that he intended to settle ten thousand upon her.”
“My dear sister, you suppose that I was in my brother’s confidence to a greater degree than was the case. If his motives for leaving matters as he did are obscure to you, who lived with him daily, how much more so must they be to me? All I can know of his intentions were set down in his will, and as this was influenced by the manner of provision favored by our honored father, I must take it to be a genuine expression of my brother’s desire. And if that is the case, how can I contradict it?”
Until that moment, Lady Vernon did not know how far she had continued to hope, for the sake of her husband’s memory as well as her own comfort and Frederica’s future, that her ill opinion of Charles might have been undeserved.
With as much dignity as she could command, Lady Vernon rose from the table and left the room.
They did not meet again until dinnertime, and although the ladies sat for nearly two hours after dinner, the dullness of Mrs. Vernon’s company was only relieved by the appearance of the children for half an hour. Charles did not join them.
The next day and the next were much the same—Charles kept himself very much engaged, and though Lady Vernon saw no evidence of anything that could so completely occupy his time, and some very disheartening indications that the property was not being attended to as it ought, he did not appear again at breakfast, nor did he sit with them after dinner. Catherine, without accomplishments or conversation, spared Lady Vernon the pain she might have felt for detesting the husband of an amiable woman. Only the company of her little nieces and nephews gave her any pleasure. They were still too young to have had their tempers impaired by the indulgence of their mother or the neglect of their father.
Thus did the first week of Lady Vernon’s return to Churchill Manor pass away.
chapter twenty-three
With the foolhardiness of many selfish men, Charles Vernon had thought only of the pleasures of acquisition without the sting of conscience. He was entitled to all that his brother’s will had assigned him, and had been in a fair way to arguing himself out of any reproach. Yet while Lady Vernon’s reproving gazes could be avoided, the quantity of letters she received could not. Vernon began to put a troubling construction upon each letter she sent off to the post and each one she perused at the breakfast table. He imagined her confiding her situation to the Martins, to Lewis deCourcy, or to one of the gentlemen at the banking house, and although Vernon knew that the law was on his side, they might be prevailed upon to aggravate him with appeals for charity or compassion.
One morning, a week into her visit, Lady Vernon descended much earlier than usual and espied Vernon in the passage, examining the mail that had just been brought in, giving particular attention to the direction on several of the letters.
“Are there any letters for me, brother?” Lady Vernon asked.
He turned upon her with a start and a guilty flush spread over his cheeks. He muttered something about Mrs. Vernon’s expecting a letter from her mother that morning. “Why, yes, here are three—no, four!” said he as he handed them over. “So many letters, and so soon after your arrival, but I expect at least two or three of them are from my niece. Catherine and I shall be very eager to hear how she gets on in town.”
Lady Vernon made no reply and took her letters to the breakfast table, sensible of the reason for her brother-in-law’s discomfort. If he was anxious that she had confided the particulars of their conversation abroad, she was not inclined to make him comfortable by correcting him.
The first letter she opened was from Sir James. She had not sent him any word that she meant to go to Sussex until after she had left Frederica at school. Her letter to him had begun:
You will be very happy to know that I have taken your advice and brought my time at Langford to an end. You will be surprised to learn that I do not remain in London to be near Freddie, and you will be angry when you learn where I have gone. I pray you, cousin, do not take up your pen to reply until you have reconciled these incompatible sensations and are capable of making a rational reply.
Sir James, however, was too impetuous—upon receiving her letter, he immediately dashed off a reply full of astonishment and anger; Lady Vernon found herself smiling at his excessive expressions, certain that the next day’s post would bring a retraction that was equally immoderate in its remorse and affection. Lady Martin’s letter was more resigned.
I am excessively disappointed that you did not come to us. I shall have to put up with James until the new year, with nobody to relieve me of his company. But do not be alarmed for me—if he becomes too troublesome, I have only to remark upon the shabbiness of his attire to get him off to his tailor in London. That is always sure to get me a fortnight of peace and quiet.
The next letter had her address penned with all of the loops and flourishes of a female hand, but when Lady Vernon opened the sheet, she saw that it was from Manwaring. She read, not without amusement, his dismal accounts of the tedium of Langford and his eagerness to quit it for London.
And when I get to town, you may write to me under the cover of our mutual friend, Alicia Johnson. You need have no fear of our correspondence being intercepted, as Alicia tells me that Mr. Johnson has accepted an invitation from Mr. Lewis deCourcy to pass a few weeks at Bath. Mr. Johnson continues to hate me for taking away his ward when he was so opposed to the match, and I confess that I begin to be on his side. Alicia, however, likes to be on the side of whoever gives her the greater share of participation in a romance. We must not disappoint her.
The last letter was from Mrs. Johnson.
Mrs. Johnson to Lady Vernon
Edward Street, London
My dear friend,
We have been very dull here, but it promises to be more exciting, as Manwaring (who has contrived, in spite of Mr. Johnson, to get a letter to me) will come to town before Christmas. He is in a deplorable state and laments over your premature departure from Langford as fervently as Eliza delights in it. I advise you to be as firm with him as you can, lest he commit the grave impudence of attempting to come to you at Churchill. It is said that he will take rooms on Bond Street, and leave Maria and Eliza to shift for themselves. Everything points to a strong desire on both sides to part, and it is only the mutual ambition to get Maria married that keeps them from acting upon it.